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ATHENA had spent the rest of that night contemplating Dumbledore's words, rewriting the Ancient Runes essay, reading the novel about Gellert Grindelwald, and wondering who the hell was the "heir" mentioned in blood-red writing that first night a student was petrified.

As a result, she had barely gotten any sleep.

Classes had resumed the next day. They resumed the day after that, too. They resumed for a whole week—no petrifications happening during the days that passed.

But Athena could not stop thinking about the Hufflepuff boy, who was now in the hospital wing. Still petrified. Still unwoken.

Truth be told, she cared less about his safety than what was looming in the walls of Hogwarts. That made her feel a little guilty, if she was being honest, but she quickly dismissed the thought. The Hufflepuff had a last name she did not recognize—showing him to either be a half-blood or a mudblood.

Both of which did not sit well with the Malfoy name, and with every other Pureblood family for that matter.

Instead of worrying, Athena spent the days in the library, trying to get her hands on any book that could give her a hint toward what chamber was in Hogwarts. Or any little information, at that point.

She didn't find a single bit of information.

And that made Athena Ravena Malfoy go crazy. She was used to finding her answers in the texts of her books, textbooks, or novels. She was used to finding her answers, not in evidence, but in research.

She had the ego of a Slytherin enough to tell herself that she could find whatever danger loomed in Hogwarts.

But she did not have the mind of a Ravenclaw. Nor did she have the bravery of a Gryffindor, for that matter. Patience was not what she had either—the trait of a Hufflepuff.

But she had the ambition of a Slytherin. Had the cunning of a Slytherin.

And to Athena Malfoy, that was more than enough for her to believe she could achieve just about anything. And maybe she was right.

She had spent the first three days researching in many books about Magical Creatures. She had asked around—asked the Care of Magical Creatures professor, even—about what could petrify but not kill. She never got a direct answer, only received glares and looks of disdain from everyone else.

But she found out. She found out when she flipped to the last page of the fourth book about Care of Magical Creatures and discovered information on a basilisk.

A basilisk could petrify its victims.

Athena hadn't connected the dots quickly enough.

She had debated for a night or two about the possibility of it being a basilisk—after all, if someone looked into its eyes, they'd be killed, not petrified.

But then she remembered the water on the floor in the corridor.

Meaning one thing: the Hufflepuff first-year had seen the basilisk through the reflection in the water.

And what, exactly, controlled a basilisk?

What could talk to it—could control it, tell it what to do, when to do it?

A Parselmouth.

She found out what the monster was, then. She did not know where it hid—that, she would try to find out later on. For now, she had research to do about an ancient family that could talk in the language of snakes.

And as she sat down in the library for the seventh evening in a row, Athena felt a rush of air leave her lungs at the page she had found in the book she had searched for two evenings.

Pureblood Families and Its Origins was the book's title. It was a thick, ancient book—its pages so brittle Athena was worried it would rip. So, as gently as she could, she flipped to the other page and frowned.

Gone.

The page was ripped from the book.

She peered closer, bringing the book as near her eyes as she could. The remnants of the page were there, marked by the uneven way it had been torn. But the brittleness of it was the same as the other pages, showing that it being ripped wasn't too long ago. Otherwise, those little remains of the ripped page would not be attached to the spine at all.

Athena let out a sigh that had built up in her as she shut the book closed.

The book held a magic that bound itself to its contents; whenever a Pureblood family married or welcomed a child, the name would appear in that very moment.

Athena had reached the last page—the page that had to have the Gaunt family on it. And yet, the page was ripped from the book.

The book she had searched for, for two long days.

For this one page.

She laid her head on the book, her forehead hitting the ancient back cover. She was in her usual spot at the library, away from the prying eyes of Dumbledore and from the whispers of the other students.

News had gotten out after that night. Everyone made up their own stories of what might've happened. Athena hadn't known what to do when the rumor of her being the 'heir' reached her ears—had only laughed in disbelief after Lucinda had told her.

She decided to spend her time "being the heir" hidden in the library, where she researched as much as she could.

"I never took you for a quitter, Malfoy."

She recognized that drawling voice and its owner well. She was familiar with the sharp edge to it, the coldness that coated each word.

"Leave me alone, Riddle." Athena reluctantly raised her head and glared at him.

Riddle was standing there, his hands behind his back as he raised an eyebrow at her, a smirk on his face. He had his bag slung over his shoulder as usual, his robes neater than ever. She recognized that smirk, too—knew the fact that he had something planned that made him willingly talk to her for once.

Riddle made a show of looking around, his smirk only widening at the emptiness. "Where's Lestrange? I assumed he was your bodyguard after that petrification a week ago." He glanced at her, his smirk faltering as he noticed the bags under her eyes.

It faltered even more when he noticed the book she had laid her head on—and for once, his eyes widened only a fraction before it was immediately masked by a look of boredom.

She did not bother telling him she was the one avoiding Titus Lestrange.

Dumbledore's words from that night kept repeating in her head, as if they were on loop.

"I would keep an eye on the company you keep, Ms. Malfoy."

Athena pushed that thought away before boredly asking, "Come to gloat for his absence, Riddle?" and dismissed him with a shake of her head.

She made the candle's flame go out by blowing on it and stood up, putting the book back onto the shelf she had taken it from.

She turned around and raised an eyebrow at Riddle's silence—though his eyes followed her every move. "What?" she snapped immediately.

Riddle merely shrugged, a movement so calculated and yet confident.

He watched her roll her eyes before grabbing her bag from the chair and leaving, making sure to shove his shoulder as she walked past him.

Without a word, he slipped the brittle paper he had been hiding behind his back into the bag slung over his shoulder

A Gryffindor girl with black hair and streaks of dark red leaned to whisper in her friend's ear as Athena passed them.

Acting like she didn't notice, Athena merely continued walking and clenched her jaw. The frustration and lack of sleep were getting to her. She desperately needed a nap, she supposed. After a week of constant searching, no other petrifications had happened.

That was a good sign, then.

Until it wasn't.

She passed by the corridor where the sentence was still on the ancient bricks of Hogwarts—its bloody red color standing out against the beige and brown bricks of the castle.

The chamber of secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir... beware.

No amount of scrubbing seemed to get the writing off. She noticed the two professors by the wall, muttering things to each other as the Hogwarts caretaker tried to get the writing off.

After realizing that scrubbing was getting them nowhere, they had decided to rely on magic, Athena realized when she noticed the professors weren't actually muttering to each other—but muttering spells as they waved their wands and pointed at the writing.

It did not seem to work, though, as the writing stayed there in the way it had been written.

One of the professors turned around—making Athena duck behind a pillar immediately. Enough whispers were spreading about her; she did not need any more.

She waited for a moment before leaving and heading down to the Slytherin common room. With each step she took, she could not stop the many thoughts passing through her mind.

Chamber of secrets.

What chamber?

Enemies of the heir.

What enemies?

She arrived at her dorm ten minutes later and paced, voicing her thoughts to her friends. Lucinda seemed to be more interested in painting her nails with a spell by her wand, and Athena did not even blame her.

She could only imagine how insane she looked, pacing around their shared dorm as she ranted about Riddle, Dumbledore, Lestrange, the chamber, the petrifications—

"Relax, Athena. It's not like you're next, anyway. Only mudbloods are targeted." Druella inspected her own perfectly manicured nails and froze, slowly looking up to find Athena's unflinching gaze on her.

"How do you know that?" demanded Athena immediately. She stared into Druella's blue eyes, who did not look away and held her chin up.

"Because the only two petrified were mudbloods," replied Druella as if it was obvious, with a nonchalant shrug.

"Three," Lucinda corrected her.

Both heads snapped in her direction.

Lucinda glanced between the two and frowned, noticing the shock in their eyes. "You did not hear?" she asked, surprise evident in her voice. "A Gryffindor fifth-year girl was found petrified an hour ago."