Darwinism | hp

019: Parselmouth

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Colin's bed was covered with curtains the next day. Marilyn sat up, and as soon as Madam Pomfrey saw her, she placed a breakfast tray on her lap, and began stretching and poking her re-grown arm.

"Alls in order. You may go when you finish eating."

And so, she did. She rushed back to the dormitory to find Hermione, Harry and Ron, but they weren't here. So, she made her way out, and went to the library, as that was often their second place to go, but as she walked through the door, she walked right into someone.

"Oh, God, Locke!" Riddle groaned, as he snatched his books from the ground, and she quickly helped. "Do you ever watch where you're walking?"

"Not really. I look at the ground a lot." She picked up his battered copy of Fantastic Beasts, handing it to him as she stood up in the narrow hallway, standing a step above him on the stairs. 

"Yeah, I know. You weren't meant to answer that." His eyebrows were furrowed, and he looked extremely angry. But she didn't think she'd ever not seen him angry or making fun of her.

She furrowed her eyebrows. "You've been let out."

"How observant." He shoved his books into his bag. Then froze, looking at her. "Someone's been attacked, haven't they? I knew he wouldn't just let me off the hook."

She glanced around them, as students were coming out of the library door behind him, and turned and walked back out to the hall, hearing him following. 

She lead him across the central hall, down a staircase, and into an old storage room, shutting the door behind him.

"Colin Creevey."

"Who?" He questioned.

"The - the first year Gryffindor with the camera." She spoke quickly, then thought for a moment. "Makes sense he was Muggle-born. Always asking a lot of questions. He was so enraptured by it all, poor thing."

He glanced around nervously, though there was nothing to look at aside from a few cloth-covered statues and Marilyn, who his eyes fell to. "So, it's open, then? The Chamber of Secrets?"

She nodded.

"Who do your friends think did it?"

She hesitated, and decided not to say his name. "Malfoy."

He hesitated, too, before sighing.  "The Slytherin line is dead."

She narrowed her eyes. "How do you know that?"

"Because it's well known in wizarding families like Malfoys, which my Mother . . . she likes history. There's no Slytherin heirs left."

"But someone who . . .believes in them?"

"So, Malfoy's your best bet. Got a plan?"

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Not telling you."

"Oh. You seemed so open a minute ago. Thought I'd gotten you in a good mood." He frowned sarcastically.

"Well, I'm not telling anything I don't think you deserve to know."

"Deserve? What does that mean?"

She rolled her eyes. "It makes sense in my head, Riddle."

"You roll your eyes weird." He shrugged. "I need to stop pointing out odd things you do, there's too many."

She groaned, running a hand over her face. "Well, seems Dumbledore thinks you're off the hook, so have fun going back to normal, Riddle. I'll see you when you burn my hand in potions."