She was pulled through the water at an incredible speed.

The Bubble Head charm had dissipated. She pressed her lips together, holding on, praying that she would reach the surface soon; every part of her body was screaming that she absolutely needed to breathe, to open her mouth– her chest spasmed and by reflex she inhaled a little water up her nose– it burned– bubbles tore out of her mouth and she thought, just a little longer–

Hermione surfaced like a buoy, her head and shoulders clearing the water for a moment – to air, wonderful air – gasping and choking and spluttering. And then, she was struggling to stay afloat, tilting her head back, the water lapping at her chin while she took in deep shuddering breaths, swallowing water that tasted foul.

When she had calmed, though her entire body was still shaking, she noticed that she was no longer in the Lake.

Above her was not the night sky. There was no cool breeze against her skin. Instead the air smelt stagnant.

Hermione was grateful that she had managed to hold onto her wand.

Lumos.

She appeared to be in some sort of ante-chamber. The walls were made of roughly cut blocks of stone, glistening with slime. There was another pipe, just as big as the first one, its bottom edge sitting half a metre above the water. It looked to be dry and seemed to be the only exit.

Ascendio worked by propelling the caster to the closest surface ... she had gone right into the sewerage pipe instead. Which she meant she was still far underground.

She was too weak to feel anything more than mild alarm.

And if this were sewerage, it didn't smell like it.

Comforted by this thought, Hermione swam with great difficulty towards the jutting pipe; it felt like her entire body was boneless, heavy flesh.

Looking up, she realised she needed to haul herself onto the rim. She reached up an arm…

Her school robes were weighing her down. For several minutes she struggled to get them off.

Panting, exhausted, Hermione reached up again to grip the edge with one hand. She held her wand between her teeth and reached up with other. Her hands were wet and slippery but she began to slowly, laboriously, pull herself up; she managed to get an elbow on the edge, and then, gasping, almost crying from the effort, the other elbow, until she was dangling, kicking her legs.

Inch by inch she pulled her wet, trembling body up, using her elbows to wriggle forwards. When she finally managed to get one knee over the edge, she paused to catch her breath.

Eventually, she succeeded in hauling herself into the pipe. She allowed herself another moment; the urge to sob was strong. But with the same grim determination she used to pull back the covers each morning to run in the middle of winter, she stopped wallowing and staggered upright.

Hermione wasn't cold (her warming charm remained) nevertheless her teeth began to chatter loudly as she walked, still barefoot, further down the pipe.

Rubbing her shoulders, she mused about where she was. It was clearly underground beneath the castle. Where this pipe led, Hermione tried not to think about too much. She didn't have a choice, not when she knew she didn't have the strength to swim back out the way she had came.

She gripped her wand tightly in front of her, the sound of her footsteps echoing. If she ran into the basilisk, she'd gouge out its eyes first– avis then oppugno. Or perhaps a Conjunctivitis Curse. And then, impedimenta, immobulus, reducto … some Darker spells that would eviscerate the snake before it saw what was coming. Perhaps none of them would work, or perhaps all of them would work. Protego wouldn't work against physical strikes - basilisk venom was fatal, a single drop would burn right through her thin school blouse and into flesh …

The pipe twisted and turned, sometimes slanting upwards, sometimes downwards.

She was so, so tired.

It was probably past curfew now.

The pipe suddenly curved downwards again; the angle was too steep this time and she ended up sliding all the way down, her heart thumping, hoping to Merlin that it would level out and not just end –

She flew out of the pipe and fell for a heart-stoppingly long moment before landing with a great splash into yet another body of water.

Flailing her arms, she surfaced for the second time that night.

The sounds of her splashes echoed like it would in a cavern. She relit her wand.

The light reached precisely nowhere except a small radius around her in the water. No walls, no pipes. Darkness surrounded her completely.

Hermione decided she would never think of James and Sirius as the troublesome duo ever again, not when she was the one breaking about fifty school rules every month. Why was her life even like this? None of her aspirations involved nearly dying so frequently.

Ridiculously, she wondered if some part of her was overcompensating - a Muggle-born with nothing, no history of magic, trying to demand her place, drawn to experience everything like an overzealous tourist with a full itinerary.

Hermione scoffed to herself.

And then, something touched the underside of her bare foot.

Hermione shrieked and jerked away. The water was inky black; the light only reflected the surface, failing to illuminate below …

The water moved first.

One moment she was peering into the darkness, the next there was a great rushing sound as the water churned; something rammed into her from below, lifting her up high into the air. As she screamed it surged forwards – the smell of something sharp and cloying filled her nostrils. A deep rumbling began, a sound that she could feel reverberate through her entire body…

And then she was falling.

Falling forwards, tumbling, her hands reached out to brace for impact–

–She landed jarringly and rolled a few times before stopping on her back. Pain bloomed in her right shoulder and knee. Her chest heaved up and down as she tried to catch her breath.

She stared at the ceiling - it was high and embellished. The unfamiliarity of it made her sit up and look around.

But before she could take in the tall carved pillars, the marble statues, the flickering green torches which cast reflections on the shiny puddles, she saw their faces, mouths wide open in shock.

Malfoy she saw first, with his pale hair and grey eyes. His mouth was probably open the widest.

Nott was recognisable too, tall and arrogant, all sharp angles and cold eyes. She'd never seen him so disturbed.

Zabini, Avery, Macnair, Lestrange, Carrow and a few older boys. Each staring at her as if petrified.

And Riddle. His dark hair glinting in the low light, his eyes boring into her own.

Oh. He was furious.

There was a short silence.

Hermione's mind made many connections in this time. The pipe, the basilisk, the secret chamber. The Knights of Walpurgis. Their shocked and thoroughly unsettled expressions, their mouths so open, like she had frightened them, leapt out from behind a tapestry, an apparition that had shaken them Edvard Munch-style, as if she were the monster in the chamber, a half-drowned, exhausted girl with no shoes.

Unexpected mirth rose within her and her lips twitched into a smile.

"Surprise," she said.

And then her smile spread wide and then she broke out into a chuckle.

The sound of it was slightly unhinged and – oh, the look in their eyes –

"Has she gone mad?" said Malfoy.

She must look a sight. Sopping wet, her hair plastered to her face, shivering. Malfoy was looking at her legs; dimly, she realised that her skirt had ridden up her thighs. She pulled it down with a sneer and stood up, her wand in hand.

Riddle advanced with his wand drawn also. To her surprise, Nott shed his outer robes and all but threw it at her, his eyes averted.

"Cover yourself, it's indecent."

Hermione let her lip curl in another sneer. "Keep your bloody clothes." She waved her wand and her uniform, which had been clinging to her skin, began drying; the hole torn in her right sleeve was also repaired. Her hair, she knew from experience, shouldn't be dried magically so she left it as a lost cause.

"So, the Knights of Walpurgis," she said, conversationally, as she wrung out her hair, the ends dripping onto the stone floor.

"Unbelievable," said Nott, crossing his arms. He glanced over at Riddle. "Tom."

Riddle was standing off to the side, firmly pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes shut. His shoulders were stiff and he seemed a hair away from exploding with rage.

Eventually he took a deep cleansing breath and looked up.

"I'm happy to do it," offered Lestrange. His voice was much deeper than the other boys'; he was a good head and shoulders above even the seventh years. "I've been practising. She won't remember a thing. We can make it look she fell and hit her head–"

"Lestrange. Do shut up." Riddle was still trying to rein in his temper, with great difficulty.

The bigger boy shut his mouth obediently.

Hermione took in her surroundings. The Chamber of Secrets. The fabled place that Salazar Slytherin had built himself all those years ago. She was the first Muggle-born to step in it, in all of Hogwarts' thousand-year history. It was ornate, in a medieval way. They were standing at the end of a wide aisle formed by serpentine pillars that stretched up into smooth stone arches; almost like they were at the front of a church, the altar a worn stone mural of Slytherin's bearded, gaunt face that covered the entire wall. Only the pews were missing and, of course well, the piety such places inspired. Half the chamber was draped in shadow.

"Why are there no women in your little club, hm?" she asked. "Dahlia Parkinson too fancy for you lot?"

Malfoy flushed red.

"Why? Are you trying to join us?" said Riddle abruptly, his eyes flashing.

The Slytherins laughed. She spotted a familiar black head of hair – Sirius' younger brother, Regulus. His sharp little face was twisted into a grin.

"Oh, is that an invitation?" she asked innocently.

"Absolutely fucking not," spat Macnair.

"Let's get rid of her already, Tom," said an older boy. He checked his watch impatiently. "We have things to do."

"What things?"

"Enough," said Riddle. He was gripping his wand tightly as if curbing his urge to shoot spells indiscriminately. "As I've told you all before, Dumbledore has been keeping a close eye on me since Warren. Any more incidents and he will come sniffing around. A few of you," he glared at the boys, "have been caught past curfew. There have been questions."

He turned around suddenly and began to hiss angrily. The boys cringed backwards, throwing their arms over their faces.

The stone behind her began to rumble. The curved lines that formed the mouth of Salazar Slytherin began to open. She realised she must have tumbled out from it the first time.

Hermione instinctively shut her eyes.

A terrifying hiss answered from within; much, much louder than Riddle, it caused all the nerve-endings in her body to prickle.

Malfoy let out a muffled whimper.

She stood still, even as she felt the basilisk slither heavily along the ground behind her, so close that she could probably reach out and touch it. The air that was being displaced indicated its tremendous size.

The hissing ceased.

"Granger," Riddle called. "Open your eyes."

The basilisk hissed again and the vibration of it was so close to her head she immediately flinched and stumbled. Her outstretched hands blindly groped the air and they landed on the wet ridges of something that she immediately registered as horribly, grotesquely alien.

Hermione repressed a scream.

"I've already told her not to hurt students."

She gritted her teeth, keeping her eyes closed.

"Tell it to go away."

"No. I don't think I will."

"What. Do. You. Want." She suspected it was a gratifying display of power for him. To make them all afraid.

"That's really the question I want to ask you. Why do you keep stumbling into our meetings uninvited, Granger? Iselda tells me you entered from the Lake. Quite resourceful really, if not stupid. She almost mistook you for a fishy snack."

He was gloating.

"Open your eyes."

"No."

"I won't kill you, not when that would end up in another investigation."

She sneered. "Self-preservation is certainly a strong instinct."

The basilisk hissed again, a long drawn-out hiss that made the hairs on her arms stand up. It was still much too close. Something flicked the side of her neck. It hissed again.

She fought herself from shivering.

"Interesting."

"What's interesting, Riddle?"

He ignored her. "You can all open your eyes, now." A pause. "I said, now."

There was a bit of rustling and shifting of feet.

"Merlin, Tom. A bit of warning, you know? I'm glad your snake listens to you but can you really trust that it wouldn't–" Malfoy cut himself off abruptly.

Hermione cracked her eyes open, looking at the stone floor. In her peripheral vision, she could see a long dark mass coiled at her side. And above her right shoulder was a heavy presence, one that she did not dare to glance up at.

"Iselda is a basilisk, Abraxas. Not just a snake," Riddle corrected. "She answers to me."

There was another pause. More shuffling of feet.

"You can look up now, Granger," said Riddle. He seemed amused.

She did so, defiantly.

A few of the Slytherins had retreated a good distance away. Avery was as pale as a sheet. Lestrange was looking at his shoes.

Nott was the only one who stared right back at her.

"You should begin with how you got here and why," said Riddle.

Hermione glared. "I was swimming in the Lake."

"What? Why?" Avery interrupted suddenly in evident disbelief.

"The merpeople have been losing their young to the basilisk. One of them asked me to help."

"Did they? Interesting considering that they rarely converse with wizard kind."

"Look, I won't tell anyone about your stupid club, alright? I've been through quite a night and I just want to get to bed."

The Slytherins bristled.

"I know you," the older boy suddenly said, pointing his finger at her. "You hang out with little Reggie's blood-traitor brother. You're the bastard offshoot of the Dagworth-Grangers."

A soft voice spoke up with surprising venom. "Sirius Black is no brother of mine."

"Yaxley–" Riddle began.

"A bastard offshoot of the– ?!"

The older boy, Yaxley, grinned. "Pity you're a Gryffindor as well."

Hermione pointed her wand at him and her curse rebounded off a glowing shield with a loud bang. Riddle, who had conjured the barrier, sighed in angry annoyance.

She was shaking with either fury or exhaustion; she leaned back unwittingly into the body of the basilisk. Before she could recoil in surprise, its snout suddenly loomed into her field of view; it wasn't smooth and angular at all, like a snake's would be. Instead it was leathery and ridged … like a lizard. Large eyes remained closed under a prominent brow, its jaws dripping with fangs. Rows of glistening horns lined the top of its head and ran down its back.

It was just as monstrous as it was strangely beautiful.

The basilisk hissed again and it took every bit of her courage not to jump back and hurl the first Dark curse in her mind.

Riddle gave Hermione a strange, terse look. "Iselda has some opinions about you."

"Yeah? Care to share?"

He didn't answer.

The basilisk nudged her with its wet snout again, as if sniffing her. Hermione felt the hot stench of its breath against her raised hands which she used to brace herself.

When her hands touched the side of its head, she felt an eerie coldness seep through her, like black ink; like Fawkes, but a different melody– hundreds and hundreds of years of silence– forgotten, lonely– a deep gnawing hunger and hatred so dark, so pitiful that Hermione sighed quietly…

When she returned to, her eyes were dry but she felt hollow, like the darkness had swept through her and washed away all feeling.

"–can't believe– the nerve of that bint– if Tom hadn't blocked it, my parents might have buried me in a snuffbox–"

"Say, what curse was that Granger?" asked Malfoy. "Granger?"

She raised her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic," she snapped. "It would have just turned his insides to jelly. There's a simple counter-curse."

Malfoy gaped at her. Yaxley was trying his best to hide his horrified expression.

"So you do want to join us, then? Is that what this is about?" asked Nott, who hadn't said a word since the beginning.

Hermione groaned and actually stomped her foot. "No, I don't want to join your silly little duelling club."

"Duelling club?" said Malfoy, aghast.

Riddle was pinching the bridge of his nose again.

"Last time I crashed your party, you were duelling. Have you been practising since then?"

The torches on the walls flickered ominously and then went out. Riddle raised his head, his eyes black and furious. "Meeting dismissed. Everyone out."

The basilisk gave a soft hiss of agreement.

The boys immediately obeyed. They turned and hurried away down the length of the chamber and into the shadowy recesses beyond.

"Not you, Granger. We have things to discuss."

Hermione slid down onto the floor. Her eyelids were becoming heavy. All the adrenaline that had been surging through her had suddenly been spent.

"Later, Tom." She yawned.

There was a long silence in which Riddle didn't say anything.

"I thought we weren't friends," he said, at long last. His tone was cold. It made her long for the warmth of her four-poster bed.

"We aren't– oh." She flushed suddenly, realising her mistake. "Well, it's your name isn't it? They were calling you Tom. But you're right, Riddle. We are not friends. My apologies."

When she glanced at him, she was shocked to find that he was once again almost vibrating with suppressed fury.

"You're absolutely enraging, you know," he managed at last. "You have that unique effect."

She shrugged. "You know I can't tell anyone about … this," she gestured around the chamber tiredly. "I didn't mean to crash your meeting. I almost drowned, actually. Cast ascendio and then got sucked into the pipe, which led here."

"Yes, here, a place which you don't belong."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "A Muggle-born in Slytherin's secret murderous lair. I know." Then she gave him a sharp look. "Does it pain you that you can't continue on your ancestor's 'noble work'?"

"You know, I think I might actually hate you," he said, twirling his wand between his fingers.

"Yes, well. Can't be helped. Unique effect and that."

It was becoming difficult to maintain the conversation. She refreshed her warming charm and watched her hands tremble with faint interest.

"It's past curfew, you know," she added conversationally.

"Then I suggest you get out."

She left him as he turned and began to hiss at the basilisk.

.

Riddle found her slumped beside the large sealed door.

"Don't know how to open the thing. It sliced my hand when I touched it. See?" She showed him.

He sighed and muttered something under his breath. He grabbed her arm none too gently, lifting her to her feet as he opened the door.

The cold trickle of his Disillusionment spell did little to stay the sleepiness.

"You smell like Dark magic."

Her next words died in her mouth. It took a while before she could loosen the Silencing charm. But she did it eventually and then said tiredly, "I'll manage from here."

"We're already at the portrait."

"How do you know where our common room is?"

"Just say the password, Granger."

"Not when you're here. Not supposed to."

He released her arm and she swayed against the frame.

"Riddle?"

"Yes?" His voice was further away now, his Disillusioned form somewhere in the darkness. He sounded impatient.

"I don't actually hate you. Thought you should know, I don't know– do you think I should? Hate you that is?"

He never replied and she was squinting into the dark hallway for some time before she realised he'd gone.

"Arrogant sod."

"Young lady! Watch your mouth! And just what are you doing at this forsaken hour?" screeched the now awake Fat Lady.

"Ingleberries. Ingleberries! Oh, let me in already."

She woke to a heavy presence on her chest.

Blinking, she found herself face to face with a green-eyed tabby who looked most unimpressed.

"Gah! Darragh, what are you doing here?"

He pressed a paw onto her sternum, making her wince. Her entire body felt sore. Her shoulder was still throbbing.

You missed our lesson.

"What time is it?" She tried to shift away from him but he pinned her with his glare.

Need I remind you, little witch, that not just a month ago you were lying in the infirmary with half your bones crushed?

"I–I suppose you already know what happened."

Eidyr told me.

"She asked for my help! And then she watched me almost drown–"

She was punished by her leader for taking you into the Lake. It is not your place to help, nor would they appreciate it.

"It'll be easy enough. I can block the pipe. There's a basilisk–"

I know.

"But–"

You are not to go down there again.

"I- yes, fine, but maybe–"

(The cold, empty feeling that had washed over her … hungry and lonely and hateful…)

"–the basilisk is probably just hungry. Maybe the merpeople could leave out some prey for the basilisk, some fish, I don't know, and then it won't have to hunt their children," she said hopefully.

Does it matter to you?

She frowned. "Of course it matters, Darragh. They're children. Eidyr lost one of her own as well."

Would you stop a lion from hunting and killing its prey? Nature is not so soft-hearted. The Merpeople catch and kill Grindylows for sport. Don't look so horrified.

Hermione tried to push him off. "That's different, the merpeople are just as intelligent as us, they're not beasts, no matter what the Ministry calls them– argh, my shoulder, I think it's bruised– I think I cut my hand as well–"

She stopped suddenly, looking down at her hand. It was fine. But she definitely remembered cutting it when she tried to open the door on the way out …

Riddle must have healed it.

"… Anyway, I'm sorry for sleeping in."

Darragh blinked once at her before stepping off her chest.

She shook away her confusion as he leapt down from her bed and stalked away, tail held high.

Tomorrow.

.

She walked into a mostly empty Great Hall for breakfast. She rolled her shoulder, grimacing, as she sat down next to Claire who was in the middle of arguing with Sirius.

"I don't care what he said, you shouldn't have done it!"

"Claire, sweetheart, he deserved it and much more," said Sirius darkly.

"What's this about?" Hermione asked.

"He's gotten into another fight just this morning and now he's banned from Hogsmeade for the rest of the school year! On top of all the detentions he has!"

"Who was it?"

"Just some Slytherin," Sirius said evasively.

"Was it about your brother?" Hermione asked.

Sirius glanced at her. "Maybe. Anyway, he deserved it."

Hermione found out who it was later in Herbology. Alecto Carrow was absent, presumed to be in the infirmary. She confirmed it for herself when she went up to get some bruise paste for her shoulder. He was lying behind a curtain and when she peeked, a boy with a bright orange pumpkin head glared back at her. Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey heard her giggling and reprimanded her so harshly that her ears were still ringing on her way out.

Hermione was studying with Claire in the library in preparation for their end-of-term exams when a letter that she had entirely forgotten about slipped out of the pages of one of her books.

It was the letter with the unfamiliar seal.

Dear Miss Granger,

I hope that my letter finds you well and that you continue to excel, no doubt, in your studies at Hogwarts.

Please accept my apologies for the delay in expressing my gratitude for your part in the events of January 4 th . I was most dismayed that our guests encountered such a threat under my invitation. I confess I have been busy the last few months investigating the cause of the breach and strengthening Dunnottar Castle's security.

Your Potions professor has written to me expressing delight at your advancement in the subject and tells me that you have formed an even keener interest and talent since the conference.

After consulting with your headmaster, my dear old friend Albus Dumbledore, I wish to extend an invitation to you and Mr Riddle to re-visit Dunnottar Castle under my tutelage during your holidays. I realise that you were never formally given a tour – the Great Library contains some of the oldest surviving manuscripts in the country. But I am getting ahead of myself. I am currently in Egypt but will return for a week from 11 April to 17 April, if both of you find those dates amenable. I have written to Mr Riddle also. Please kindly let me know by return owl by April 1 st .

Best,

Hector

Hermione stared at the letter for a long time.

Claire leaned over and wrapped her arm around Hermione's shoulders in a surprising gesture of affection, asking if she was alright.

Hermione nodded. "It's an invitation to stay at Dunnottar Castle over the holidays. I wish I could bring you instead of Riddle, though."

"Weren't you planning to go home?"

"Yes. He's invited me during the last week of the holidays. I'll have to ask mum about it."

"You know, I was actually hoping to invite you over during the holidays. My father and his family will be in France."

"Oh, really? Maybe I can invite you over to mine … I haven't been home for a while… would you like that?"

Claire gave her a wide smile. "Yes. I'd love to."

The end-of-term exams passed by quickly. She fretted for a while about the Arithmancy exam, wondering if her proofs had been correct, but other than that, none were challenging.

The Divination exam was … interesting. It took the form of a series of readings, using first tea leaves, a crystal ball and then tarot cards. Hermione had shamefully made up her answers. She'd also worn the pendant prominently on her wrist. For good luck, of course.

"What do you see my dear?"

Hermione had peered into the swirling mist. Inspiration struck from memory. "I see a night sky over troubled waters … a quarter-moon is visible. I believe that the night indicates … lurking danger, perhaps extra caution should be exercised over bodies of water … it may also indicate unrest, or perhaps a mother's grief … " Trelawney's eyes had widened. She leaned in further to hear Hermione who furrowed her brows in faux concentration, hating herself.

The tarot cards were easy enough. Hermione had memorised a script for each potential card. They were also quite fascinating to look at, enchanted as they were, sort of like chocolate frog cards. The tea also, had been fairly easy, for a similar reason. She'd thrown in a reading of Trelawney's aura for good measure. ("White and fluttery, like the refined femininity that comes with age…")

When all was said and done, Hermione deserved an Outstanding for her acting.

(Did she feel guilty? Yes. But failure was never an option. Eleven Outstandings, after all.)

When she stepped off the Hogwarts Express, she spotted her mother almost instantly, standing a little away from the crowd, in a tan blazer and matching long skirt, her dark hair pinned neatly back. They embraced tearfully. After waving goodbye to her friends (James gave her a hug and dropped a kiss on her head that her mother surely noticed) and promising Claire to meet her at the Leaky Cauldron in a few days' time, Hermione collected her luggage and walked out of King's Cross holding her mother's arm tightly, right into the smog-filled world of Muggle London.