Wow. I've had this chapter finished for going on a week and I haven't posted it yet.

Oops.

The wall – the stupid, damp, dark, stupid stone dungeon wall. Maybe it would break in half if I continued glaring at it for long enough. That would offer some sort of amusement, perhaps a distraction that I might be killed by either a giant snake or one of Slytherin's more loyal heirs in the next twenty-four hours. I was really beginning to consider telling Tom I was out, that I just couldn't take this anymore. Call me a coward, but I was scared senseless by the entire concept at this point. I just wanted out. People might continue thinking it was me, it was all my fault, that I had attempted to kill Algie Longbottom and accidentally petrified him instead, but I could assure myself that nothing that happened from this point forward had anything to do with me if I dropped out of it.

Even if I didn't last for more than twenty-four hours following my forfeit of association with the Chamber.

It had been no more than a few minutes since I had come up the stairs. In fact, I had just sat down in the middle of my bed in the sixth year dormitory. I did feel a bit brilliant for having the idea of swiping the invisibility cloak from between Tom's mattress and bed frame to throw over myself. Even if anyone did come up the stairs, who would notice me? No one. It would be impossible for them to notice something invisible. Tom might; I had a feeling that if it was at all possible to think loudly, then I was definitely doing it right now.

It hadn't been the wall that had primarily annoyed me, it had been the brigade of idiots down in the common room waiting to cheer me on for doing what I did to Algie Longbottom that had done that. Now though, the more I stared at the wall opposite me, the more I just wanted to punch a hole through it. I had broken my knuckles before (on Longbottom's face, no less), so another time couldn't hurt. Just head to the Hospital Wing and

(get tackled by an angry mob of Gryffindors)

let Madam Millden take care of it. That would be a fun conversation. How did this happen, you ask? Well you see, my regular target is lying over in that bed in a statuesque state, so I decided to punch out a wall instead. Yes, quite fun indeed. I clenched my fist over a patch of loose bed quilt and let it go. I decided to just continue glaring at the wall though the semi-transparent cloak.

My fist clenched again when I heard footsteps by the door into the dormitory, which I had left fully open. There was a rather amused laugh, and it wasn't a wonder. Before sitting on my bed to contemplate whether or not to give the wall a good beating, I had taken everything out on the green hangings over my bed. They were now lying across the room. I would probably repair them later, I just wasn't sure when.

I didn't glance over when my bed sank on my right side. I crossed and continued having my stare down with the sightless wall. I heard sigh then.

"I know you're here, Timothy, the mattress is dented in the middle," said a solemn voice.

"How do you know it's not because you're sitting there?"

"Because you just spoke," said the voice, now sounding slightly amused, though more sympathetic. I gave a low sigh of annoyance when the invisibility cloak was pulled off of me, my eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't you realize denying your involvement in this isn't doing you any good?"

I looked over at Annabelle. She recoiled a bit – I supposed my face was set to auto-glare, but I didn't bother switching the setting over, as I looked back at the wall a moment later. The wall deserved to be glared at. I wasn't entirely sure why it deserved it, I just knew that it did. "Would you want to be associated with it?" I asked frigidly.

"Timothy, it's useless denying it," she said, shaking her head. "No one suspects Tom, no, but that's because they only know you to be one of Slytherin's heirs, because of your family. You're going to be associated with it no matter how much you deny it. You would be even if you had absolutely no involvement in it. You would be if you had been sorted into Gryffindor your first year. That comes with your family name."

I flinched slightly. "Had I been sorted into Gryffindor my first year, I wouldn't have lived to see my twelfth birthday," I said, still grimacing at the thought.

"You know what I mean."

"And that wasn't what I asked you," I continued. "I asked you if you would want to be associated with it."

"No, no one would want to be, not even by people who would support it," said Annabelle. "I wouldn't want anyone to know because it could get out over the castle and I'd be accused. As it is, though, everyone thought it was you from the moment the message was found on the doors in the entrance hall; it was speculation over your being a Gaunt. So regardless of how much you protest it, everyone's still going to think it's you. Admitting it to them won't change it."

"Is that so?" I said. "Right. Suppose Dippet gets permission from the ministry to use Veritaserum on students regarding this. Would I rather want them saying that I told them it was me, or that I denied it completely?"

"But," said Annabelle reasonably, "he won't get permission from them. Dumbledore seems to be on your side, and he practically runs this school as it is, so it would be up to him to send a request to the Ministry."

"This would be something Dippet would go around Dumbledore to do," I said crossly, clenching my fists. "He doesn't want any of my family in his precious school, he was just looking for any reason to kick my father out his third year. The bastard gave him reason, of course, he set a bunch of snakes on the Gryffindors."

(Which is technically what I'm doing, except it's one big snake and almost the entire bloody school, looks like I'm a Gaunt after all oh joy)

"And now he thinks I've gone and opened the Chamber of Secrets. He'd do anything to prove it's me and get me out."

"I know, you –"

"You don't know," I said through gritted teeth. "You don't know how it is being condemned for –" I stopped abruptly, but she chose to finish for me, sounding quite irritated.

"Being part of a family?" she said. "And yes I do, you damn well know that."

"Sorry…"

"Of course you are…. At least you got put in the house you 'belong' in. I'm barely welcomed at home over the summers for getting sorted into Slytherin. My mum's fine with it, but my father… let's just say I have every intention of living up to his current expectations of me. I am going to move away the moment I graduate and I am going to take part in any anti-Muggle or anti-blood traitor movement I can. My brother's no better than him, thank God he's not living at home anymore." She smiled wryly. "Anna Belinda Potter," she spat loathingly, then scoffed. "First one put in Slytherin in generations. I'm changing my name the moment I turn seventeen." She looked down at the invisibility cloak she was wringing out in her hands as though to get some sort of imaginary water out of it. "To Peverell. I'm sure my ancestors would have been more sensible about matters of Muggles than my more recent relatives are. None of them deserve to live, not one of them. They tried to kill us a few hundred years ago, and by their logic, they think they succeeded. I think they need a taste of their own medicine, if I'm to be honest, them and all of their supporters."

That name – Peverell, it struck me as familiar, but I didn't bother wondering about it. I was dumbstruck enough that Annabelle was saying anything about her family. They were normally a subject she avoided at all costs; anyone who brought it up would find their head spinning from how quickly she would manage to change subjects or just leave the conversation entirely. Now, though, as I listened to her speaking of it openly, I was completely taken aback by it. I felt her hand on my shoulder and I looked over.

"Be glad you've gotten on for this long," she said. "There's not a day in this place that a Gryffindor doesn't walk past and asks about my brother just to spite me. They all know full well who I am. Most everyone else has forgotten by now, but anyone who ever said Gryffindors were caring or forgiving was on… something."

"I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to say that…"

She smiled and put her hand over my still-clenched fist. "It's all right," she said. "I've had to deal with it for longer, but what you're having to deal with is worse. I'm accused of going against my family name. You're accused of attempted murder. I think it's obvious which would make a bigger case in front of the Wizengamot. I mean, obviously being a traitor to the family name is worse than an attempted massacre of over half the student body of Hogwarts, right?"

I smiled. "Right."

"Just out of curiosity, why was Longbottom the first one? You both had to know it would make you seem even more to blame."

"I can't really tell you," I said. Annabelle didn't know about the Basilisk unless Tom had told her, and I didn't want to be to blame for her finding out anything she shouldn't know. "But I know he wouldn't have been my choice for the first one. I had hoped he wouldn't get it at any point in time, I knew exactly what it would do. I just narrowly escaped being killed by his older sister," I added with a laugh. "That huge girl, Augusta Longbottom."

Annabelle gave a laugh. "God, she could've snapped you like a bloody twig! What stopped her?"

"Minerva McGonagall took her wand. That just distracted her, though, she was about to snap McGonagall in half. I was trying to blend in with a tree, and Tom ended up using a Leg-locker hex on her and she fell over."

"How long ago?"

"Just before I came to the common room."

"That explains why the portrait fell off the wall in the common room earlier." I raised and eyebrow. "That was called a joke?"

I blinked a few times. "I knew that."

"I don't think you did," she said, smiling. "But that's all right, you're adorable when you're confused. Of course, with as confused as you've been looking for the past few days, you should know that already."

"Do you…" I trailed off and hesitated for a moment, but continued. "Do you really think this is right?" I asked. "If this all works out properly in the end, then someone'll end up dead before the Chamber's closed. I'm not supportive at all of Mudbloods, but I'm just not entirely sure doing this and chancing Hogwarts being closed over it is–"

"That's not it, really. You just don't want to be responsible for killing anyone."

I shrugged. "Not while I'm still in school, at least…"

"If everything you say about your father is true, then I think you inherited loads of morals from your mother's side of your family," said Annabelle. "If you don't think it's right, then don't do it."

"I'm asking whether you think it's right," I said, directing my sight back to the wall to glare at it again. "I don't know what I think, that's why I'm asking what you think."

"You already know what I think about it, Timothy," she said with a sigh. "As long as it's going to get rid of the bloody filth that goes through this castle, I'm a full supporter. But I'm not going to judge you if you don't want to keep doing it, it's your choice."

I shook my head. "I have the choice right now of either definitely staying alive or most likely being killed," I said. "The choice might be mine, but morals or not, I'm not really up to dying just yet."

"Then don't stop it. If you're not willing to die for your beliefs, then they're not strong enough beliefs for you to even consider dying for them. And I don't want you to be killed…" she added sulkily, her head falling sideways onto my shoulder. "We've been dating for an entire year now. I know that's the longest any of your relationships have ever lasted."

"And like yours have lasted any longer," I said with a laugh.

"Oh, bite me!" she said in an amused tone, lifting her head back up and pushing me. "I'm not half as bad as you are and you know it. Of course I didn't turn into a complete loudmouth until last year, so not much of anyone really noticed me," she said thoughtfully. "You and Tom have both had your pick since our first year here. But you're the louder one, so you ended up with more of a pick."

"And that's good or bad?"

"Not sure. I don't care either way, you're mine now. Can't get you to do anything I ask you to yet," she added slowly, "but I'm working on that."

I laughed. "Good luck with that."

"Thank you, I'm definitely going to need it. You have absolutely no idea how stubborn you can be."

––

Though I had gone through hundreds of scenarios to avoid it, including but not limited to actually attempting to punch a hole in the stone wall or staging a fight with Tom in the Great Hall, I headed out of my safe haven at fifteen of seven and into the damp, cold dungeons. I didn't bother bringing Annabelle's cloak along with me, which I had also contemplated. I was to meet my head of house in the entrance hall, according to Dumbledore's letter, and Abraxas Malfoy would only use that as an excuse to get me into further trouble.

So simply, if anyone decided to taunt me, they would get a bit more than a taunt in return.

I was slightly disappointed when I arrived at the entry hall that there was no one there except the worst head of house any student at Hogwarts could have asked for. On the way there, I had been half-hoping I would manage to get into a fight that would deem me unfit for heading anywhere but the hospital wing. The last thing that I wanted was to speak to Dippet; I'd have preferred to have this meeting with the rather greasy-looking man already standing here, and that was saying quite a bit.

"I see you managed to drag yourself out of the common room."

I smiled wryly. "As if I would ever miss an opportunity to grace you with my presence, sir," I replied in a sarcastically bright manner that made Malfoy scowl. "Shall we be off to the second floor, then?"

"Indeed. And I would suggest you wipe that smirk off your face, Gaunt." Then there came the trademark Malfoy sneer as he continued, "You'll be lucky if you're still in Hogwarts by tomorrow."

"Then I haven't got much to lose, have I?"

"If I'm to be honest," he said, starting up the stairs with me following, "I'll be quite happy not to have you in my house anymore. If there's any reason we've been losing the house cup to Gryffindor for the past six years, then it's you. I'm not surprised. I went to school a few years with your father. To say the least you're a bit more intelligent, but you're definitely not well behaved."

"In contrast to a man who set a load of snakes on the Gryffindors, I'd say I'm a right angel."

"Oh, no, you're just attempting to rid the school of anyone you see unfit to attend."

I gave a snort of laughter that caused him to look back. "Honestly, sir," I said, "the Malfoys share the same opinions as almost any other pureblood family with a right opinion of the Wizarding World. Even if it was me doing this, you wouldn't have much of a right to criticize me for it."

"Is that so?"

"Quite," I said happily. "We all know where your father is right now, What was it he was caught doing, using Muggles for slave labor?" I'd never been attacked by a teacher before, but I was fairly sure I would be if I kept up. Unfortunately, my mouth had a horrible habit of continuing even after I told it to stop. "I know it was something along those lines, and you never turned him in. And correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm fairly sure he also helped with the building of Nurmengard. Good friends with Grindelwald, wasn't he? He was all for the 'Greater Good,' and you are as well, aren't you? I'll bet Professor Dumbledore didn't have any say in the matter when Headmaster Dippet hired you, or you'd still be working part time at Borgin and Burkes as the delivery – sir, I think it's against the rules to point your wand at a student."

I crossed my arms and looked at him with raised eyebrows. He glared back, not lowering his wand. "You can hex me if you want, but I doubt it will go over very well. As long as I'm still a student here, you really can't do anything aside from assign me a detention or two, take away a good few points from the house, or report me to higher authority. Considering I'm already headed to the highest authority, there's really not anything you can do. You can take away points, but if your logic is right, I'm about to be expelled, so it really doesn't matter to me."

He glowered at me for a few moments longer. I had no doubt that he would have pushed me down the stairs if he thought he could have gotten away with it, but as it was, he knew he couldn't. I kept my arms crossed and continued looking back disinterestedly. With a scowl a moment later, he stowed his wand away and turned towards the door into the corridor the headmaster's office was located on. I followed him at a swift pace, resolving not to speak to him unless he spoke to me first. As we reached the gargoyle statue that guarded Dippet's office, he turned his head to the side to look at me.

"Twenty points from Slytherin for direct insubordination, Gaunt, I hate to take points away from my own house but it seems necessary with your behavior."

"I'm sure it's completely necessary, sir."

"And for future reference," said Malfoy, "my family derives from the noblest of pureblood families. Yours is only still alive because of a few inbred lunatics."

"I'm not as proud of my family as you are of yours, sir, so I'm sure you'll understand my lack of annoyance at your insulting them," I said. "I'd really rather not be late for this meeting, so would you mind?" I indicated the gargoyle by nodding at it. After another moment of glaring, in which he was no doubt silently debating over whether or not to curse me again, he turned to the gargoyle, mumbled a password quietly enough so I wouldn't hear it, and stepped aside for me to enter onto the staircase revealed when the gargoyle leapt aside.