Second Heir

"Wh - what?" I said quietly, slightly startled; not many people would want a Basilisk to be completely free to roam the halls of Hogwarts, it could kill anyone.

"Quiet," said Tom, glancing over at me. "Basilisk."

"Master, I cannot freely roam the castle."

I saw Tom nearly look up at the snake in surprise. It was lucky for him that he was a rather quick thinker, or he would have been lying dead on the floor right now. "Are you disobeying an order?" Tom asked.

"No, my master. Even at these depths of this castle, I can hear the crowing of the roosters, not loud enough to be fatal, but just loud enough to have weakened me from my strongest state."

Tom nodded to himself, and then looked over at me as though to ask me something. Not knowing what this silent question was, I shrugged in response. However, he seemed to take this as a valid answer to his question. I was, to say the least, a bit confused, until he spoke.

"We will be sure to take care of the roosters before you enter the main castle again," I heard Tom hiss in reply to the snake.

Take care of them? I knew exactly what he meant by this, but I didn't particularly want to think about it. I knew some sacrifices would have to be made on my part in order to help my friend with this obsession of his, and I couldn't draw the line at frying a few chickens. I knew well that there was much more to come than such a petty crime. We both knew our curses well enough, so the slaughtering wouldn't be at all bloody. The Killing Curse could take care of anything that wasn't armored against it, and there was no doubt in my mind that feathers wouldn't protect roosters from such a spell. I had never much thought of using it for anything other than showing off, killing spiders and rats for the gawking underclassmen that often asked Tom and me if we really knew the Unforgivable Curses, but this was for a purpose. It wasn't like I was killing a human. Granted, I would be murdering these birds in order to make way for a creature that would be killing humans, but that couldn't have been quite as bad.

I did despise how utterly stubborn my morals could be. I knew full well that there would be a voice in the back of my head for the entire school year telling me that this was wrong, that I couldn't let Tom kill everyone regardless of what they were born as, but I knew I would have to ignore it. We were friends, so I should be willing to help, and as one of his "followers," I was basically obligated to do as he asked regarding his status as "Voldemort." I did find the idea of "Voldemort" at least slightly on the strange side, but I wouldn't have told Tom that. I was tactful enough when it came to friends and acquaintances, and I also knew Tom was rather short tempered and either as powerful as or more powerful than me, so I had no intentions of challenging him.

"And, if I'm not mistaken, while it isn't particularly important, durring previous times the Chamber has been open, some way to alert the castle of its opening has been enacted, is that not correct?"

"Indeed it is, master."

"Good," said Tom, and I could tell he already had something in mind. "Then you may rest for now. I will call upon you again when you may leave your prison."

The Basilisk hissed its thanks before slithering away back into its slimy system of pipes. Tom and I looked at each other. He was eager to get to the next part of his plan, I could tell. I can't say I was anywhere near as eager, but again, I felt compelled to help. I listened vaguely on the way out of the chamber as Tom explained his plan quite gleefully; I was more worried about the thought of the deaths that would soon begin to accumulate in the school.

"... the roosters first, obviously," Tom was saying. "There're only a few teachers left in the castle on Hogsmede trips, almost no students, and Blanell's always at the Hog's Head on the trips."

Blanell was the "gamekeeper" at Hogwarts, though many just considered him to be the resident drunk. He was a rather fat and stout man, and could be seen on most occasions stumbling around his hut on the grounds with a bottle of Firewhiskey, yelling at the roosters for crowing so early in the morning. We would be taking care of that problem soon, but that wasn't to say he would be particularly happy about it.

"That absurdly large third year boy might be something to deal with if he's there," I said. "Blanell seems to leave him in charge on his binges lately."

"Rubeus Hagrid is no threat," said Tom with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Large or not, he's not particularly bright to say the least. He's also been afraid of me since I deducted fifty points from Gryffindor when I found him out of bed after hours around two weeks ago."

"It's surprising he's not in Hufflepuff with the rest of the dimwits."

"There're just as many of them in Gryffindor," said Tom. "Now, we'll dispose to the roosters in as clean as possible a manner as we can, so we'll use the Killing Curse on all of them. One of them will be hung in the entry hall in front of a wall to allow the school to know the heir of Slytherin is in their midst, and on that wall will be a message of some sort alerting the school that the Chamber has opened. You'll need to borrow Annabelle's invisibility cloak and allow me to borrow it from you, the message will be made tomorrow night. If they catch me that way, they won't know anything."

"There's always someone patrolling the entry hall at night, isn't there?" I asked. "I thought it was usually the Head Boy or Head Girl."

"Yes, but only because no one likes volunteering for it," said Tom. "Nothing much happens there. People find secret passages to sneak out of the castle, not many dare to use the front door. As I'm on duty tomorrow night, I will volunteer for it. After watch duty is over, I will put the cloak on and leave my warning, so it will be the first thing everyone sees when they head downstairs for breakfast on Sunday morning. I might even put a permanent-sticking charm on it to make it harder to remove."

I didn't know what sort of message he planned to leave, exactly. However, something told me I probably didn't really want to know, judging by the almost red glint in his eye. Tom, with this power complex of his, could be quite frightening. While there was the stubborn belief in my mind that I could easily take him in a duel or even a fistfight, there was a hidden worry that if it ever came down to that, I might lose a lot more than just my pride. I myself had a very short temper, but Tom and I luckily had yet to have clashed on any subject. Perhaps this was because I avoided disagreeing with him most of the time.

As far as I could see, this Chamber of Secrets bussiness could have turned out to be our first big disagreement - sure, I agreed with the torture and killing of Mudbloods and their herritage, but I didn't want to start it out in Hogwarts. I would go as far as killing the roosters, and then I would make my decision. I didn't want to make it right now with Tom in this ambitious a mood. I might be left down here as Basilisk food if I stated my doubts right now.

When we made it back to the pipe we had journeyed through to get here, the purpose of the broomsticks became quite obvious - we couldn't exactly climb back up through the pipe, but we could definitely fly. For me, that was much easier said than done. I could fly almost as well as a penguin. As far as I was concerned, things without wings or with nonfunctional wings weren't meant to become airborne at any point in their lives. However, I did need to get out somehow, and flying seemed to be the only option available. I headed up first, as we both knew it would take me longer to fly at such slow speeds, trying hard to twist and turn to match the curves in the tunnel.

I finally made it out and, with my feet planted firmly on the wonderful stone floor of the girls' bathroom, I yelled down to Tom that it was safe to go on without having to worry about flying into any obstacles. He took much less time than I had (I had determined that an ostrich could have flown up that tunnel better than I, so it still wasn't saying much), and actually landed on the floor on both feet. I had tried to land as such, but rather stumbled off of my broomstick, nearly running into a bathroom stall headfirst in an utterly graceful manner.

Tom turned to the tunnel and commanded it to close itself in Parseltongue, which it did promptly. I shook my head in amazement. "Slytherin was bloody brilliant."

Tom nodded shortly. "If we're seen, then I'll do the talking. We're heading to Slughorn's office, as I caught you out of bed after hours."

"And the broomsticks?" I asked.

"You had stolen them to play a joke on the Gryffindor House Quidditch team."

I nodded at this, grinning at the idea itself. "Sounds about right. I might just do that before the first Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match. Nice idea."

--

Sleep seemed to be a foreign concept to me that night, as I believe it also was to Tom. It was for very different reasons for the two of us - Tom was anxious about tomorrow. I was nervous. As I had thought about it, I came to a realization that I couldn't get off of my mind. I realized that I would be the greatest suspect in this for a number of reasons.

Firstly, I was a Gaunt. This was reason enough. My father's sister used to own Slytherin's locket until, like the traitorous muggle-loving tramp she was, she sold it to Borgin and Burkes' for ten sickles just before she died, where it still lie to this day (I had recently saved enough money to buy it back, which I planned to do this summer). Gaunts were the remaining known heirs of Slytherin, and I was the only one at Hogwarts. That alone was probably enough reason to prosecute me.

Then, of course, I openly despised any and all Gryffindors, hence the sabotage of their game I had started planning earlier tonight. I was known to cause trouble with them, yell at them in the hallways, hex them; all the usual things. I was never particularly violent, except with that Longbottom. It was all fine and well - Algie Longbottom had stood up to me by disarming me, which landed him in the hospital wing with a broken nose and a fat lip, blubbering like the great bloody baby he was.

I knew it was that very attitude that was bound to get me into trouble in this Chamber of Secrets situation, but there seemed to be no filter between my thoughts and my reality in that area. Tom had an adequate amount of self control (which the bloody arse never saw fit to share with me no matter how many times I asked) compared to my complete lack of it. Tom was the goody-two-shoes. Tom was the Slytherin Prefect who treated Gryffindors just as he did his own house members: indifferently, but still civilly. Nearly everyone liked him and pitied him for having to keep his troublemaking best friend in line, that insolent boy that was always getting himself into a jam, what was his name again? Oh, right, Timothy Gaunt.

I always found it funny how people thought he tried to keep me in line. If anything, he encouraged me - was it not him that gave me my idea to steal the Gryffindor Quidditch team's brooms and shove them in the Room of Requirement before the next game? He hadn't said anything about the Room of Requirement, I had come up with that myself, but he had still initiated the plan in my mind. I sometimes wondered if I would be half as bad if he didn't accidently make such suggestions.

Another thing Tom had going for him in the case of the Chamber of Secrets was his own herritage. His father was a Muggle and he didn't even know who his mother was. He had grown up in a Muggle orphanage his entire life, but it seemed he had come out of it more mature, a better student and a better person, when in reality it had only driven him to madness. However, only I knew that. His supporters, the "Knights of Walpurgis" (it was a working name, there was no doubt it would be changed in the future - I'd already told him it was a tad bit queer-sounding), hung on his every word about change and the future of the wizarding world. I supported his ideas, but it was easy to see that aside from being a megalomaniac, he was a mental case. It was his past that did it to him, and I did feel sorry for him. However, I hadn't come out of the best living conditions myself and I had turned out all right (minus the lack of a filter between my mind and my mouth, but I was working on that).

It was at around six in the morning that I decided I couldn't lay down for any longer. There was a sick feeling in my stomach, and I needed to walk it off somewhere. Six o' clock was a valid time to head up to breakfast, so I could probably settle my stomach wandering through the dungeons and up to the Great Hall.

Though I believed I might have gone mad if they were serving chicken biscuits... or if I heard a rooster crowing on my way.

Despite my desire to get out now before I went mad, I was stopped as soon as I reached the common room by a positively livid redhead standing in front of the stairs leading from the boys' dormitories. I flinched slightly. Even compared Tom in his most demented state of happiness over something dealing with muggle torture, this girl scared the life out of me when she was angry.

"You're not borrowing my cloak, you bloody -!" she began, pointing at me threateningly.

"A - An- Anne, calm down for a moment -"

"I will not!" she said, stomping her foot on the floor and putting her hands on her hips, glaring up at me. "What exactly were you doing out after hours last night? Hmm? You know I had prefect duty, I could have found you and given you- Oh! I take it that was why Riddle volunteered to patrol the second floor, then? Because you were waiting there for some sort of orders? It's ridiculous, this Lord Voldemort garbage, what is it you need my bloody cloak for now? What? Are you going out tonight to sacrifice small animals in the name of your Lord? You're despicable!"

I walked over to the couch and sat down with Annabelle Potts chiding and nagging me all the way there. I had decided a year ago when we began dating that if I had a mother, I might have committed suicide by now - there was no way I could have dealt with this much pestering from two women.

"Bloody hell, did you even change your clothes last night?"

"I was tired," I lied - I wasn't tired at all when I got back, but more so lacking the willpower required to change into clean clothes.

"Out until two in the morning, oh I wonder why you were tired! Listen," she said, sitting down on the couch next to me, "Riddle's changed since his first year, Timothy. You should know that better than anyone, I know he hasn't completely brainwashed you. I'm just worried you're getting mixed up in something that's going to land you in Azkaban after school."

Or durring my sixth year... I thought - I managed to refrain from saying it out loud, however. "I won't end up in Azkaban."

"You will if you keep on with Tom Riddle. He's not a good friend, he's only using you as one of his followers. That's why he's getting you to borrow my cloak."

"But- wait, how did you know that?"

"I was having trouble sleeping. I was sitting out here when you came back with him. In my cloak, yes, you nearly sat on me when you fell on the couch, thank you."

"Well, I couldn't exactly see you, could I?"

"And I heard something about him needing the cloak to sneak out tomorrow night, and I'm not letting him near my cloak. You, yes, but not him, you know I don't like letting it get away from me. Are you planning on going to Hogsmede today?" she added suddenly.

Now I faced a dilemma. I could say no and she would suspect me, or I could say yes and she could figure out I was lying. Either way, it would be a headache on my part. I supposed it didn't matter which I said.

"I don't think so," I said. "I'm still a bit exhausted from getting in so late last night, I'll probably stay at the castle. I might go if I've managed to wake up by then."

Perfect, she looked more concerned than suspicious. "Oh..." she said. "I should have thought about that. I suppose Tom won't be going either, then?" I felt a muscle near my eye twitch. Annabelle was far too good at acting - she managed to go from worried to disbelieving in a matter of seconds. "Don't think you can fool me, Timothy, I know you too well. Now, I'm going to breakfast." She stood up. "I suggest you think about who you've managed to become friends with."

I heaved a sigh of mixed relief and exasperation. She didn't understand what was going on at all. I understood that she was concerned, but I didn't see what problem she had with Tom - he was a little on the strange side, but he was perfectly civil with everyone except a select few. She didn't seem to know about the Chamber of Secrets, so I could excuse her - she didn't understand entirely that I might be killed if I went against Tom. I doubted he would kill me himself, but that Basilisk might see me as a blood traitor if I suddenly decided to stop taking responsibility for being one of Slytherin's heirs and kill me.

I generally liked snakes a great deal, as I could hold decent conversations with them when there weren't any humans available to talk to, but that Basilisk more or less petrified me with terror. And now I had to help kill the rooster population of the school to make sure it stayed alive. It was unjust, in my opinion, but the problem with my feeling of obligation reminded me that my opinions didn't really matter in this game, and I would be suspected whether I helped or not.

This wasn't a particularly enjoyable situation I was stuck in the middle of.