Omg, Comma totally updated! Wow!

But... um... yeah, I was so terribly unnice about the end of this chapter. I feel kinda bad about it.

ThreeBooksInTheFire: O.O I totally hope I updated fast enough. I don't want to meet Buffy the Rabid Hippogriff. I don't deny being a fummin, but still.

Hmm.

Disclaimer: If I owned the HP series, I'd be fcking rich and living in a damn castle in Scotland. Here I sit in a middle of nowhere town in South Carolina. I so don't own Harry Potter. I just own my original concepts and characters.

Warnings: I'm so cruel.

Quick Quotes Quill: When Malfoy found something funny, it generally had to do with bad things happening to his enemies. Here at Hogwarts, I was practically his only enemy. This was very problematic.

When classes ended, the Great Hall was open for lunch. Annabelle and I, being the only two Slytherin sixth years in Divination, headed down together, taking particular care to keep away from the group of Gryffindors that seemed to be plotting to push me down the stairs of the North Tower. For as much hatred as I had incurred from them over the years, it seemed to have at least tripled since this Chamber of Secrets business started. I honestly couldn't say I blamed them, but it didn't mean I had to enjoy it.

We both arrived in the Great Hall as quickly as anyone coming from the North Tower could have – going from the top of Hogwarts to the bottom definitely was not the fastest trip in the world. It was, as always, teeming with all sorts of life. Also as usual, half of the Gryffindor table glared at me as I entered. And as was usual lately, ever since the Hufflepuff prefect was sent to the Hospital Wing petrified, the Hufflepuffs followed suit. What wasn't usual was that most of the Ravenclaws joined them as well this time – at least, the few that were there did. I looked at the table (which was most unfortunately situated right behind where I normally chose to sit at the Slytherin table) warily, somewhat puzzled by this sudden change of mood. Slytherins, though we didn't normally get along exceptionally well with anyone outside of our own house, generally did get on best with the Ravenclaws. I rarely ever received any trouble from them, nor did they from me.

I took my regular seat next to Tom, glancing back cautiously over my shoulder. Annabelle sat next to me.

"Is there any reason three quarters of the Great Hall looks like they're plotting to kill me?" I mumbled to Tom. He looked over his shoulder as well, and then nodded shortly.

"Xandaria Pertin," he said quietly. "They found her in the library petrified, holding a book on magical creatures. Third year Ravenclaw."

Magical creatures… what if she figured out… dammit, it could be bad if… my thoughts trailed off into a mixture of what if's and why's. This could turn out to be a very bad thing.

"She was a Ravenclaw, and the one stipulation to be sorted there is you have to be smart," it said. "So those were my thoughts as well."

Why wasn't she killed?

"She was looking out a window. I'm guessing she saw its reflect– Dumbledore."

And immediately Tom's mind was closed off completely. I did the same for mine when I glanced up at the High Table and saw Dumbledore taking his seat there. Already seated in the Headmaster's chair was Armando Dippet, looking extremely fatigued and worn as he gazed around at the whole of the disgruntled student body. I highly doubted he would address the issue now, nor would he allow Dumbledore to. Dippet was the type of superior that was only as honest as he needed to be with anyone he believed to be below them – a believer of "Tell them only as much as they need to know to keep them quiet and out of my hair (for what little hair I have left)." Dumbledore believed in being completely honest with us.

It would be easier to explain with a hypothetical situation, I suppose. If anyone ever does read this, they will be of a generation that knows Albus Dumbledore as the headmaster of their Hogwarts (a luckier generation than my own, then). In the event that Gellert Grindelwald decided to plan an attack on the school, Dippet would have merely informed the student body that there was threat that dark forces may be attempting to infiltrate us – nothing to worry about, we'll just update the protective charms surrounding the place and make sure they can't get in, perhaps cancel the next Hogsmeade trip. Dumbledore, on the other hand, would be sure to let us know exactly what was going on so, in the event that if any one of the students came into contact with Grindelwald himself, they would at least be expecting it and know not to be off guard. In some ways, Dippet's method was better in that it wouldn't create mass panic. However, in my own personal opinion, it would be better for every single entity at Hogwarts to be on guard in case of a serious attack.

Now, forgetting Grindelwald – Dumbledore was talking in what appeared to be a quite serious manner with Dippet. Dippet was remaining distinctly agitated by this, so I had no doubt Dumbledore was trying to talk him into addressing the issue that three students had been transformed into statues of their former selves this year and that something needed to be done. One other thing about Dumbledore was that he was never quick to give up. I wouldn't have been surprised if he spent most of the rest of the day doing whatever he could to convince Dippet to openly recognize the danger.

I wouldn't even find out if he spent the rest of lunch doing this, however, as I was being quite literally dragged out of the Great Hall by Annabelle a moment later. Around the corner of the doors, she let go of my sleeve and crossed her arms. "If that dream had anything to do with the Cham –" she began in an undertone.

"It didn't," I said, then added as an afterthought: "Not… not directly, at least."

And now I got her calculating, maternal-instinct stare. Anyone who's ever even seen a mother knows that look: brow furrowed, sharp eyes, lips pursed, arms crossed, even with an occasional twitch of the muscle located in the cheek for heightened effect. It normally amused me to no end, because I was fully aware that she never knew when she was doing this. Given the situation (and the subject matter of the dream itself), however, I wasn't at all amused. I was anything but amused, even a bit ashamed for whatever reason. But not amused.

"Timothy," she said, "if it had anything to do with the Chamber, you're going to tell me."

"I will, just not in the middle of the Entrance Hall," I mumbled, glancing over my shoulder at the door into the Great Hall. "Anyone could walk out here and hear me talking about it."

"All right," she said impatiently, perhaps a bit crossly. She grabbed my sleeve again. "Then outside with you."

"But – I – they'll think I'm off to petrify someone and –"

I should have known by that point that protesting Annabelle when she got into these states of mind was absolutely pointless. I went on anyway, all the way out to my usual hideaway by the edge of the lake. Relieved as I was when she let go of me, I was put instantly on guard again when she crossed her arms and gave me that same look. "So?"

With a sigh of resignation, I gave her my recount of the dream. While it didn't take much time at all to get everything out in a rather rushed manner, it felt to me to have taken hours – I was so surprised that it wasn't dark outside by the time I had finished that I had to give a quick glance at my watch in order to believe it. I looked back up at Annabelle, who looked contemplative. "Now," I said, leaning back against a tree. "Your family is apparently good with these sorts of things. What do you believe it meant?"

She pursed her lips and stared out at the lake. "The first part is simple enough, that doesn't requite any guessing at all," she said. "That's just memories leaking out of your subconscious, it sounds like. The part where you first wake up is also fairly obvious; you're feeling guilty about the two victims; that was the bit with the petrified Longbottom. The last part gets me. I could only guess why the… er, it resembled your mother in the first half of the dream. The eye color could have just been random –" I knew it wasn't, but I still wasn't telling Annabelle about the Basilisk. "– but the hair could have been metaphorical. Greek mythology, Medusa was a woman with hair made of snakes and eyes that could turn anyone who looked at her to stone, which is probably in direct connection with the Chamber of Secrets. The fact that the steak knife and the ring are both in one hand might be important, but I don't know anything about your childhood at all –" She said this with a distinctive tone, one that told me that this annoyed her a tad bit. "– so I can't help you with that. The scythe is obvious enough, as your life has been in danger since you got into all of this. How many times did you say you've had the dream?"

"Twenty-five," I said immediately.

"Then it's doubtful it will stop any time soon. It probably will when the Chamber of Secrets is closed, which Tom obviously isn't planning to do until the end of our seventh year."

I sighed to myself quietly while her back was turned, glaring down at my feet. I had known everything she had told me already. I had to admit, I really had worked out quite a bit of the dream. I wasn't entirely sure what I had been hoping Annabelle could tell me about it. I did know why I had been having it. I knew what everything but the ring and the knife meant. Had I thought she might know a way to make it stop? Perhaps it had been an idle hope in the back of my mind, but not much else.

"Can I see the ring for a moment?"

I looked up to see that she had turned to face me again. "Why?"

"I'm just curious about something," she said. "I've obviously seen it before, I don't think I've ever seen you take it off, but I've never actually noticed it before."

I shrugged and removed the ring from my left hand and dropped it in her hand. She looked at it for a moment, though just at the stone. Her brow furrowed as she looked at it. "That's odd…" she said quietly.

"What is?"

"The symbol on the stone," she said, looking up at me. "It's Grindelwald's mark. You never noticed?"

I shook my head slowly. "I wasn't fully aware he had his own mark," I admitted. It was a bit daft for me not to know, given how active he had been lately. I never really looked at the Daily Prophet. Annabelle or Tom would mention articles occasionally, but I never took the time to read it myself. I was in the minority of the student body that didn't even subscribe to it.

"Well, that's what it is," Annabelle said. She looked back down at the stone. "But you said your father told you that it's been in the Gaunt family for ages, so that doesn't make much sense."

"Actually, he said it was some coat of arms when he gave it to me," I remembered suddenly. "Apparently it was a really old wizarding family that the Gaunts were descended from. He never really mentioned the name except when he was showing off the ring, I don't even remember what it was," I said as she handed back the ring.

She sighed. "We need to get back in the school before classes –" And with that, the bell promptly rang.

"Bloody hell…" That was definitely the best way to describe it. While Annabelle already had her textbook for Defense Against the Dark Arts – she would merely have to rush back into the Great Hall, grab it, and run – mine was in my dormitory. "And with my luck, someone else'll be petrified while I'm off getting my bloody book…"

"Maybe you'll be lucky and Dippet will want to have a word with you now about Pertin."

"Lucky?" I said, raising my eyebrows at her.

"Joking," she said with a laugh.

The joke wasn't there when we entered the castle and Abraxas Malfoy was waiting there for me. I refrained from groaning in utter agony – this was damnation. If Dippet was pulling me out of class, he must have had some new interrogation tactic in store for me that I didn't even want to know about. Annabelle and I both stopped in front of him. He looked between us.

"Off petrifying someone else, Gaunt? I would think two in one day would be a bit conspicuous, especially after disappearing from lunch as quickly as you did. Run along, Miss Potts," he added to Annabelle. "You wouldn't want to be late for your next class."

She gave Malfoy a glare as she walked around him. I didn't bother glaring at him. I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows. "But of course I was, sir. If I seem too suspicious, no one will suspect me, will they? Oh, wait, I'm already too suspicious and everyone suspects me. Oops."

"Sarcasm won't get you anywhere, Gaunt," Malfoy said, and I was surprised to see that he smiled with this. "Headmaster Dippet has asked that I escort you to his office. Follow me, if you will."

I did indeed follow him up the stairs, saying, "Oh, goody, more interrogations," in a dry manner. Malfoy laughed. That was really beginning to worry me. Anything Abraxas Malfoy found amusing was never good. Not as bad as anything that Tom found amusing, perhaps. When Tom found something funny, it most often involved Muggle torture. When Malfoy found something funny, it generally had to do with bad things happening to his enemies. Here at Hogwarts, I was practically his only enemy.

This was very problematic.

"You're in a good mood today, sir," I said, cautiously guarding my voice as we step onto the first flight of stairs. "Does it please you this much that people are being petrified?" And there went that bloody filter again. Or, there went my lack of a filter for my thoughts and words.

"No, quite the opposite," he said. "You see, Gaunt, Dippet has changed his tactics in finding out who has been attacking students."

"Oh? How has he done that?" I asked curiously.

"He has discovered that in this situation, it is perfectly fine for enhanced interrogation techniques to be used upon any suspect." I raised my eyebrows, which did no good since Malfoy's back was to me. I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to know, anyway. If it was veritaserum, I was going to be out. If it was Legilimency, I was going to be out – even if I could block it, blocking would mean I had something to hide.

The atmosphere in Dippet's office was just as tense as I had expected it to be as I took my seat in the chair in front of Dippet's desk. Malfoy left after he had delivered me, and only Dippet and Dumbledore were present at the moment. If I said I wasn't the least bit worried, I would be lying. This was the worst thing in the world. There was no way around it. I already had a block around my mind, just to be safe, and it would stay there until I left the room. I could hold it for as long as I had to.

Dippet surveyed me with tired eyes for a moment before speaking up. When he did speak, his voice was dead serious, straight to the point.

"Gaunt," he said, "I am going to ask you a few questions. I expect you to answer all of them honestly. I will know if you haven't."

Upon seeing his glance at Dumbledore, I knew immediately what was going to be used on me, and that my block was completely necessary.

"Firstly," he says, "a simple question. Are you a Parselmouth, as your father was?"

"Yes sir." I allow this thought to slip through my block. I could afford letting that information out. "Why do you ask?"

"That," he said, "was merely a test. I believe your answer was truthful, as not many would admit to such a thing."

"Of course, sir," I agree. "But my family is known for it. Lying would have been pointless."

"Of course. Now, on a more serious note. Who within the school has been petrified thus far?"

"Algie Longbottom, Leanne Larring, and Xandaria Pertin," I said. "It would be pointless lying about that as well."

"Did you have any part in what happened to them?"

"No sir." I didn't let a single thought slip through my blockade at this. Dippet looked up at Dumbledore, who was still watching me silently. It was Dumbledore who chose to speak up next.

"Timothy, blocking me from your thoughts will only incriminate you further."

Dippet looked back and forth between myself and Dumbledore. "Block? How is – how is that possible? The boy couldn't possibly know Occlumency, that's years beyond his level ­– isn't it, Albus?" Dippet obviously wasn't a scholar on these matters.

"Might be years beyond my level, sir," I agreed with him, "but I started years before most people. My mum apparently had an interest in the subject and had left behind a few books on it that my father didn't manage to burn. I read up on it and bought a few more before my first year because I found it all quite interesting. Maybe it's something of a natural talent of my family – on her side, not my father's. The only natural talent they have is inbreeding," I say disdainfully.

"Albus, did you know about this?"

I smiled and waited for Dumbledore to answer. "Indeed I did. However, regardless, I suppose I was not expecting Timothy to employ Occlumency. If he truly were innocent, then there would be no need for it."

"I just don't like people invading on my mind," I said, and that was at least part of the truth. "I have enough trouble with the filter between my thoughts and my words without people looking in my mind to see what I do manage to keep to myself."

"And what is it you are trying to keep to yourself?" Dippet asked me skeptically.

That was easy. "The biggest embarrassment in my entire life. My heritage. I take pride in descending from Salazar Slytherin. I wouldn't deny that for a moment. But my father, his father, their father – for years, Gaunts have kept their family name alive with incest and hatred. I don't want people to know what I know about them." Quite easy. Far easier than his next question would be.

"Well, now that all that is out in the open, why don't you open your mind and let us see that you are truly innocent in all of this, with your hatred of your heritage," Dippet said, sounding smug. I flinched inwardly, not so he could see. Had my block not been up, Dumbledore would have noticed it, but Dippet would have been none the wiser.

"I would rather not, sir," I said.

"And why might that be?"

"That wasn't nearly all of it. There are things that no one needs to see." Including, but not limited to, giant snakes. I managed not to say this.

"Mr. Gaunt," Dippet said seriously, leaning forward on his desk, "I have the authority to expel you if you do not do as I ask. You have something to hide, and unless we know what it is, then you will not remain a suspect, but rather be named the culprit behind these attacks."

I gulped inaudibly. The last thing I wanted was to be sent off, but regardless, I would. It seemed inevitable. Unless I could manage to disguise my thoughts, to camouflage them, then I would either make myself suspicious by blocking them or make myself known by revealing them. Either way, I was done. This was it.

"Fine," I said calmly, much to the protest of my pounding heart. "I'm not taking the block off. Go ahead and expel me." Dippet raised his eyebrows. "You know why?" He didn't reply, and I continued. "I'll tell you why. It's because it's not me, and if I need to leave to prove it, then fine. The attacks will continue after I have left because there is no way that expelling the wrong person could possibly stop them."

Dippet remained silent for a moment, studying my face and more than likely failing to read anything into my blank mask of calm. My reasoning was true enough. Tom would continue this even after I left, and that would prove it. That would prove that it couldn't possibly be me. Finally, Dippet nodded, making his decision on how to take my little speech.

"Very well, Mr. Gaunt. You may return to your common room."

"I have classes," I said, nearly grinning. Was it really that easy?

"No," he said, "you do not." My brow furrowed. "Return to your common room and pack your things. I believe your expulsion will end the attacks. If it does not, I will allow you to return to this school. Therefore, your wand will not yet be broken. If, in a month, no more attacks have occurred, it will be."

"So we've come to an agreement, now we're just haggling the price," I said. "Two months."

"You are in no position to haggle, Gaunt. If you wish to try, then you will be expelled indefinitely. Think of this as more of an out of school suspension. I am sure your father will think of something to do with you when you arrive home, so it is unnecessary for Hogwarts to assign any further punishment yet."

I scoffed. "If he thinks I opened the chamber of secrets, he'll be praising me half to death."

"And can you honestly say you will enjoy that?"

So Dippet could be cunning sometimes. "All right, that definitely is a good point." In no way did I ever want to do my father proud. That would involve destruction of Muggles… which would be exactly what he would think I was doing, think I was living up to my family name when, really, Tom was living up to my family name and he wasn't even a Gaunt.

The situation wasn't wonderful. If Tom didn't act, my wand would be snapped in two. If he did, I would be taken back away from my father, a blessing, and thrust back into this chamber of secrets business, a curse. I couldn't figure out which was worse: a giant snake or a giant sociopath.

This time, when I cringed at the thought, it wasn't inwardly. As I headed back to my common room with Abraxas Malfoy as my escort after the meeting with Dumbledore and Dippet, I didn't care who saw me cringe. I had a reason to. It was a six-foot-four, two-hundred-pounds of psycho-and-muscle reason, which seemed a damn good reason to me.