Author's Note: Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.

I am simply having fun with my imagination.

...He's onto you, a voice told him. Best be careful.

Don't worry, Tom answered it, now straightening up and wiping sweat from his forehead, I will be...

CHAPTER 14: DUMBLEDORE'S WARNING

The next couple of months seemed to fly by. Tom attended all his classes as usual and, as usual, excelled at every task. The Death Eater meetings were more frequent and Davis had turned out to be an excellent addition to the group. Tom's prefect status was also granting him a lot of respect from others and so he was in great spirits. The rest of the school however, was not.

There had been several more attacks on muggle-born students, which got out by word of mouth. The whole school was now frightened to death. By Christmas, the hospital wing was crowded with petrified students, most of whom happened to be in Gryffindor. Not all the students who had been attacked were muggle-born, however. Tom had made a few exceptions, and their names were Emily Troops, Anna Wood, and Jonathan Buckley.

On the next Hogsmeade weekend, Tom and the Death Eaters went to the Three Broomsticks and took a seat at one of the booths. The Chamber of Secrets and the attacks on the muggle-borns were all anyone around them could talk about.

"I bet it's someone in Slytherin who's behind all this!" hissed a hufflepuff boy in the booth next to theirs.

Tom strained his ears to listen.

"It's probably one of those creepy ones," said another. "You know the ones... they...they attacked Emily, Anna, and Jonathan last year."

"Yeah!" the others agreed.

"My money is on that Rosier bloke," said a confident boy who Tom recognized to be his own year. "There's something seriously off about him."

"I do hope they catch the culprit soon," said the worried girl sitting next to him.

It was because of these mysterious attacks that nearly everybody went home for the Christmas holidays. Tom had specifically instructed his Death Eaters to go home too, for he didn't want Dumbledore growing even more suspicious than he already was. The only other students that had stayed at school for the holidays were a couple of Ravenclaw fourth-year girls, two Hufflepuff sixth-year boys, and that third-year giant Hagrid from Gryffindor. Tom kept a close eye on him all throughout Christmas dinner. The giant ate by himself, walked by himself, and studied by himself. Always. This was most peculiar to Tom, as he didn't know anyone else, besides himself, who was so independent.

Tom practiced his summoning charm in the common room that night. He was the only Slytherin who had stayed behind, so he had the common room all to himself. After a while, he got bored and decided to take a walk. He did not dare going to the Chamber of Secrets now. He knew that Dumbledore would be watching him more closely so he kept his distance and went about innocent tasks like studying or usual prefect duties.

Turning the corner from out of the dungeons, Tom came to a halt. There he was, the giant Hagrid, standing at the end of the corridor, apparently trying to get into a room. Tom hid behind a wall and watched him closely. Hagrid let himself in and closed the door quickly behind him. Without thinking, Tom marched up to the door and flung it open. Hagrid, who had been hovering over a big black trunk, jumped a few feet back, with his wand pointing shakily at the door.

"What are you doing here?" he cried.

"I might ask you the same question, Hagrid," said Tom, calmly. "What brings you to this corridor? Last time I checked, you weren't in Slytherin."

"I…" said Hagrid, moving in front of the trunk. "I told you, didn't I? I was just explorin'."

"Hmm," said Tom, nodding. "What's in the trunk?"

"Nothin'!" cried Hagrid.

Tom let out a small chuckle.

"Relax, Hagrid," he said. "I'm not going to tell on you. I'm just being curious."

"You—you're not?" said Hagrid, lowering his wand.

"No," shrugged Tom. "I have better things to do."

"But…but you're a—a prefect," said Hagrid.

"Yes, but I'm also a fifth-year," said Tom. "I have OWLs to complete this year. Those are my priority right now."

"Right," said Hagrid. "Okay. Well, you promise you won't tell anyone then, yes?"

"I promise," said Tom, stepping into the room. "Go on, show me."

"Alright," whispered Hagrid. He moved away from the trunk.

It opened and a few large, black, and furry legs started to climb out. Tom stared at the creature as it sprung to life on the floor.

"This is Aragog," said Hagrid, beaming at the spider. "Isn't he beautiful?"

"Splendid," said Tom, blankly. "Is he your pet?"

"Oh yes," cried Hagrid, tears streaming down his eyes. "I love him so much, I couldn't bare leaving him behind another year."

"Yes," said Tom, sniffing. "That would be catastrophic. Well, I'll be going now. Take care, Hagrid."

"Oy, what's your name?" said Hagrid as Tom meant to leave.

"Tom," he answered, without looking back.

"Blimey, well thank you Tom! Thanks a lot!"

"Yeah," said Tom, closing the door behind him.

What a brainless oaf.

The Christmas holidays quickly ended and soon, the students returned and term resumed. Tom began revising heavily for the OWLs and so Death Eater meetings were scarce. However, he did not give up on the Chamber of Secrets. He made a point of visiting the chamber at least once a week to give the basilisk new instructions. And so, as the weeks went by, so did the mudbloods. More and more mudbloods were being attacked, daily now, and the castle corridors had never smelled better.

At long last, Tom decided to confide in his Death Eaters what he had been up to and who had been responsible for these attacks.

"BLIMEY!" cried Rowle. "THAT'S BRILLIANT!"

"Knew it was you!" exclaimed Rosier. "Knew it."

"It's a fantastic plan, sir," added Davis.

"I know," said Tom.

He turned to look at Avery who was sitting in an armchair by the fire, reading his charms book without so much as glancing at the group. Tom motioned for the other boys to busy themselves and went to sit with Avery.

"What's going on?" he asked him.

Avery sat up in his chair and closed the book in his lap.

"Nothing, sir," he said, quickly.

He was still not meeting Tom's eyes.

"Why are you so quiet lately?" asked Tom.

"I'm sorry, sir," said Avery.

"I don't want your sorries," said Tom. "I want an explanation."

"I…I d-don't have one…sir," said Avery.

"Pity," said Tom. "I really liked you once."

Avery gulped loudly.

"I—"

"Relax," said Tom. "Honestly, you'll give yourself a nosebleed."

Avery nodded vigorously.

"I hope you understand why I punished you that day on the train," said Tom, casually.

"Yes, sir," said Avery.

"You were not asked to go around and advertise who I am," said Tom. "You do realise, of course, the danger of spreading things like that…telling people that I am the Heir of Slytherin…Especially now, what with all these attacks going on."

Avery contented himself with nodding again.

"But it's all in the past now," said Tom, brightly. "Don't do it again and we'll forget it happened."

"You're too kind, sir," said Avery.

The next Hogsmeade weekend (in March) was cancelled because the professors feared to let the students out. All students were now being escorted to each lesson by a teacher. All prefects were instructed to escort the first-years everywhere. Tom therefore had to babysit his Slytherins nearly every day, which was definitely most frustrating. The atmosphere in the school was very dark and there was fear absolutely everywhere. Tom had never felt more at home. If only they knew that it was he who was behind all of this. If only.

Tom instructed his Death Eaters to revise hard for the upcoming OWLs , as good marks would provide no reason for suspicion. Therefore, the Death Eaters obeyed his commands and spent all their time in the library with their books. Tom too, spent a great deal of time revising as it was essential that he should achieve Outstanding in each and every one of his exams.

On the last day of March, also known as Attack #32, Tom was called up to the staff table over dinner, by none other than Professor Dumbledore. Headmaster Dippet had skipped dinner that night as he had an important meeting with the Minister of Magic regarding these ongoing attacks. Tom approached Professor Dumbledore and bowed once to him.

"I have to have a serious talk with you, Tom," said Dumbledore. "Please come to my office as soon as you have finished dinner."

"Yes, sir," said Tom, looking concerned.

Tom rushed back to his table, quickly finished his dinner and folded up his essay on Knarls and their habitats, and went ahead to Dumbledore's office.

"Shut the door, please," Dumbledore instructed him. Tom did so.

He crossed the room without Dumbledore's invitation and sat across from him.

"Well," said Dumbledore. "I wanted to ask you again, Tom. Is there anything you know about these attacks that have been going on?"

"No, sir," said Tom.

"Ah, just think about it," said Dumbledore. "Think about it carefully."

"I have, sir," said Tom. "There is nothing I can tell you."

"I'm afraid I am going to need a little more persuasion," said Dumbledore. "You see, Tom, I have reason to believe that you may know something."

Tom raised an eyebrow.

"Do you, sir?"

"I do," nodded Dumbledore.

"I am sorry to hear that, professor," said Tom. "But I don't know what you mean to imply here."

Dumbledore paused.

"You are sweating, Tom," he said, observantly.

Tom quickly wiped his forehead on his sleeve and met Dumbledore's eye.

"It is rather hot in here," he said, shrugging.

"I do not think it is—"

"Are other prefects also being interrogated, professor?" interrupted Tom, coldly.

Dumbledore was very much surprised by his words and stared at him for a long time.

"Be careful how you address your teachers, Tom," he said. He then leaned forwards and his next words surprised Tom indeed.

"I know what you are up to, Tom," he said, in a low voice, "Don't think that I don't because I do."

"I'm afraid I don't know what—"

"You know perfectly well what I mean, Tom," said Dumbledore, quickly. "Just think about that."

Tom stared at him.

"Off you go," said Dumbledore, now leaning back against his chair.

Tom did not stand up.

"Tom?" said Dumbledore. "Did you hear me?"

"I…" Tom attempted to stutter. "I'm just very s-sorry."

"About what, Tom?" frowned Dumbledore.

"I'm… I'm sorry to hear that you think so badly of me."

"Tom!" exclaimed Dumbledore. "Tom, I do not!"

"I try my best to be a good student," said Tom.

He made to get up but Dumbledore stopped him.

"Nonsense, Tom!" he cried. "Relax, I am not punishing you or accusing you of anything. I most certainly do not believe that you have been behind these attacks. But, being in Slytherin, and seeing as how it is Slytherin's chamber that has been opened, I feel that, as a prefect, you may have found out something. I of course understand your reluctance to turn over one of your classmates as, being an orphan, well…they must be like your family, no?"

"Yes, sir," said Tom.

"I just hope that in the end, you will choose to do the right thing," said Dumbledore, who was now smiling.

"Thank you, sir."

"I'm sure I have told you before that there is a kind of magic that is more powerful than any other..."

Tom stared at him without blinking.

"Love," he said to the old man.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, smiling sadly. "Love."

"I must say, professor, that I'm not sure I agree."

At this, Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"You don't?"

"No, sir," said Tom. "I don't think that love is the most powerful magic out there. My family history is an example of it."

Dumbledore eyed him carefully.

"What do you mean by this, Tom?"

"I did a little bit of research and found out that my mother died on the very night she dropped me off at the orphanage. She was a witch and she chose to die. That's not love, sir."

Dumbledore smiled sadly.

"She fell in love with my father and that right there was her very downfall," Tom went on. "I hardly call that a wise choice."

"One day perhaps, you will understand. You may go now, Tom."

"Good night, sir."

Back in the Common Room, Tom paced for what felt like hours. He had so far managed to attack plenty of mudbloods. Even if they were revived, they would surely never want to return to the school again, and others out in the wizarding world would be reluctant to send their children to the school. The deed was done. He would have to seal the chamber now. If Dumbledore was really onto him, it would be most dangerous for him to continue instructing the basilisk. Tom sat on the couch in the deserted Common Room, and wiped a panicky tear that had surprisingly trickled down his cheek. Only Dumbledore was capable of doing this to him. Pfft...Love.