"Tom!" the eerie scream echoed through the halls, one that the patrolling future headmaster recognized in an instant. Anger gripped him hard. Could that have been it? Had she been discovered so soon, a couple months into her mission? No, she was too smart for that. He turned towards the shout, but only made it a few steps before a brilliant blue-lit horse came galloping towards him.

"I've made this decision myself. He will discover my body in the lavatory of the second floor girl's lavatory and it will make affect him I assure you. I hope to see you when I awaken. Thank you for your faith in me," the horse said in a calm, collected voice before fading away. Dumbledore stared in awe for a few moments, never having seen someone so young produce such an advanced patronus. He snapped out of it though when he realized where she was. He made his way quickly towards the second floor corridor. He was not fragile in his old age and was able to get going in a quick run towards his protege.

As Dumbledore came close to where Ginny had told him she was, he first noticed that the entire corridor was flooded and more water was flowing from the female lavatory door that had been blown off its hinges by great some force… probably magical in nature. He drew his wand swiftly, stepping through the water swiftly, taking in some of the damage carefully. It appeared as if an explosion had occurred. The door had not simply been blown away, but a large hole was in its place, stone having been blown back as well. He swallowed hard, afraid of what he was about to see. He conjured a patronus himself, sending it to the headmaster straight away with a message that was short and to the point, "Emergency, Second Floor Corridor."

"Gin," an aggrieved voice shouted. "Gin, please!" There was a voice that Dumbledore could recognize with even more ease, a voice he had never heard with such emotion, with such feeling. Pain, agony, shame, all things that could not bode well for Dumbledore's young friend Ginny.

He stepped over a large chunk of stone in the doorway, seeing how the stone had created a crater from the center of the room where the sinks and mirrors had been completely blown away, sending fresh water spraying into the air, flooding the room easily. The destruction was centered around a huddled form.

Young Tom Riddle, was crouched and shaking in the middle of the crater. Dumbledore stared at him for a moment, trying to take in the whole scene. He was kneeling a pool of bloodied water, cradling a stiff figure. Dumbledore moved forward and his breath caught in his throat to see that it was indeed Ginette Wesley laying there, completely petrified in his arms. Her face was set with determination. She had told him that she had something to keep the basilisk at bay. She hadn't let on that this was at any time part of her plan. Perhaps she hadn't known this was what she would do until she had done it. He couldn't tell from where the blood was coming, but he imagined it was Ginny not Tom.

He looked at Riddle's shaking back, and knew instantly that he was crying. Ginny had planned this. She may not have had time to tell him more than that patronus, not been able to give him time to react, but he instinctively understood that this was something she felt necessary. She was forcing Tom to think about what he was doing, what he had done. The basilisk was uncontrollable. It had harmed one of his closest companions and could have very well killed her.

"Tom, what..." Dumbledore began, staring down at him with no suspicion in his eyes, only worry and compassion. This was perhaps the thing that had been missing in their relations from their earliest meeting. Speaking with Ginny had planted that seed within him.

"Professor, I... I don't- I went looking for her and..." Tom looked panicked and had Dumbledore not known of his guilt, he would have in that instant. Tom was shattered. Ginny had done that. Perhaps she had more of a chance of changing him that Dumbledore had realized. She had made a significant difference in him already. This sort of compassion was not something Dumbledore would have accused the boy of before.

"I- I understand Tom, I understand. Please, let me," Dumbledore knelt beside him, shoulder to shoulder. He looked the girl over. Her uniform from the previous match obviously made it difficult to tell where her fresh injury was, but Tom immediately seemed to snap out of a daze, reaching for her leg, while not relinquishing hold of her stiff, unyielding shoulder. Dumbledore took hold of his hand, squeezing it reassuringly and pushing it away carefully as he turned his wand on the now-apparent wound to her leg, wood from one of the stalls had apparently been aimed directly for her. He vanished the wood with a flick of his wand and healed the wound with another.

"Albus!" the out-of-breath, stunned headmaster gasped from the doorway.

"Another attack, Headmaster. My own Miss Wesley," Dumbledore said. "Young Tom found her soon after. Tom did you see anyone? Anyone who might have wanted to harm Miss Wesley?"

"Everyone liked Gin, even the Gryffindors!" Tom muttered, a note of self-loathing in his voice.

"My goodness, in my very own school," the headmaster sighed, looking down at Ginny's fierce face. He looked around at the wreckage.

"Quite the powerful witch," Dippit murmured in awe, looking around at the damage that obviously came from Ginny's precise location. "These walls are magically reinforced," he commented.

Tom brushed Ginny's hair from her frozen face. "Headmaster, is there nothing... is there nothing you can-"

"I'm afraid we've had no luck with the Morris boy, Mr. Riddle. I'm not sure."

"Madame Pomphrey has informed me that she has a contact with a personal batch of mandrakes nearing maturity. I'm not sure whether or not it will work, but there is a chance it will prove helpful. It has been shown promising against many forms of paralyzation, but there is no way to know. She might be alive, but there may not be a way to pull her out of-"

"Albus, in front of a student?" Headmaster Dippit interrupted chidingly.

"Forgive me, I was not thinking," Dumbledore exclaimed, looking surprised at himself. He looked at Tom, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder. Tom flinched. "We'll do everything we can Tom."

"I- I'll find who did this sir," Tom said, uneasily. "I'll find them and they'll be sorry." Dumbledore controlled his emotions swiftly, not wanting him to catch a glimpse of them in his eyes. The boy was saying he would make himself sorry? Even in a situation like this he'd lie to save himself.

"I'm going to levitate her to the hospital wing now, headmaster," Dumbledore said.

"Professor, couldn't I-"

"I'm sure Professor Dippit needs you to help lock down the school immediately Tom. You are head boy after all, an important figure of authority for the younger students," Dumbledore said, gently guiding the headmaster. Headmaster Dippit was becoming a bit forgetful. It was a wonder he hadn't set the alarm to lock all the dormitories down the moment he'd received the message.

"Right, Tom please hurry along to the Slytherin Common Room. I'll call on the heads of houses immediately. "Keep Miss Wesley's identity secret for now, alright? It may be better that way."

Tom released Ginny reluctantly and stood, though everything in his expression and stance said he didn't want to let her out of his sight. Dumbledore was pleased to see the regret in his eyes, even though it came at the cost of his friend and Dumbledore's informant on all things to do with Tom Riddle.

"I will take good care of her Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore promised. Tom nodded sharply, before stalking from the room, careful not to trip on the rubble, seeming a bit dazed in his own right.

Tom moved through the hallways angrily, blinded by tears. He was... and he would admit it if only to himself... afraid. It was not a familiar fear however. He was not afraid that Dumbledore suspected something. Actually, it was quite the opposite. All suspicions from Dumbledore disappeared when he saw that it was Gin on the floor. He didn't care that no one thought he was guilty. He was guilty. That damned snake had attacked the one person... the only one... he stopped midstride. Did he really care for her that much after only two months? He was afraid because he hadn't even looked into possible reversal of the basilisk's gaze. He could have so easily killed... he had hurt her.

Moreover, she had destroyed the entrance to the chamber in her unbelievable show of accidental magical. The unbelievable raw energy that had come off of her… he had never imagined she was that powerful. He wanted nothing more than to go down there and destroy it. He had looked into that. He hadn't planned on doing anything like that of course, but... he was not considered a genius for nothing. Controlling a magical being was... difficult.

"I'll find a way," he muttered to himself.

"Lord Vo-" a voice broke through his thoughts. Septimus had stepped out of the shadows. Tom held up a hand, staying out of the light, lest Septimus see the state he was in.

"Go to the dormitories. Do not allow anyone to leave. Someone else has been petrified," Tom said, seriously, silently banishing traces of his tears, of his weakness a weakness he had never anticipated having.

"What? Who was it?"

"You have no reason to be asking me questions, Prince. Just do it," Tom growled.

"Yes, Lord Voldemort," Septimus said, bowing and disappearing.

"Tell Antonin to meet me at-"

"Here, m'lord," Antonin's voice came from the end of the corridor. He'd obviously come from the Slytherin Dormitories.

"I will require your assistance," Tom said curtly.

"Yes m'lord," Antonin muttered. They both stood, watching Septimus leave in a huff. Tom glared after him, before turning to his friend.

"Antonin, you are my most loyal friend. I need you to hear what I am saying and maintain your calm, understood?" he asked.

"Gin was the one attacked," Antonin muttered, no real question in his voice. The nearest light flared and then went out at Tom's nod. "I blame myself. I shall kill whoever had done this m'lord."

"Whatever has done this Antonin," Tom corrected. "I have reason to believe it is a basilisk."

"A basilisk? A big snake? How can...?"

"Both were petrified and Gin was attacked in the girl's lavatory, while Morris was attacked near a large window. They must have both seen reflections," Tom exclaimed, voice sounding as if just realizing it.

"A basilisk though? Even if it is one of those... how do we-"

"We find a way, Antonin. Ginny has been petrified and I will not stand by and do nothing!" Tom shouted. Antonin recoiled slightly, nodding briskly. He drew out his wand.

"Then we'll fight," he muttered.

"Right," Tom nodded, knowing it was a bit inhumane to kill his own beast, but Tom wasn't really thinking ethically or rationally right now. The beast had hurt her, had hurt his Gin and as guilty as he felt, he needed to do something to alleviate it if only a bit.

He and Antonin stumbled into the hospital wing two hours later. "Headmaster," Tom gasped out, for once not needing to act. A healer from St. Mungos rushed to them, looking them over swiftly. Professors Dippit, Dumbledore, and Slughorn looked up at him swiftly. "Sixth floor corridor... basilisk... dead..." His eyes slid from the headmaster's to Dumbledore's. "Antonin and I... it's done."

"Tom... you were told to return to your dormitories!" Dippit shouted, but Tom knew his anger would soon pass.

"It appears Mr. Riddle and Mr. Dolohov are heroes, headmaster," Dumbledore said quietly from his position standing over Ginny. Tom didn't listen to that, for once not caring about recognition, not caring about false pretenses and appearances. All he cared about was the fact that she was there, helpless, though she didn't look it. All he cared about was that he was the one that put her there. Antonin shuffled after him and they took seats on either side of her. Tom was surprised when Antonin placed a protective hand on her arm. Tom reached out and wrapped his hand around her stiff one. It was so small, so fragile.

"She won't need-" Professor Slughorn moved forward obviously intent on removing her wand.

"Don't!" Tom growled, standing up. Antonin was on his feet in an instant standing between Ginny's wand hand and the professor. "Don't touch her wand," his voice lowered with an intense authority to it, low and dangerous, something he had never shown before a professor before. He was exuding strength… warning. It was a form of dignity. A wizard's wand belonged in his hand. When he died it was buried with him and when he lived, to touch it was a great insult. The rules were different for witches in society, but Gin was not just some witch. She was strong and she was... his.

"Tom...?" Slughorn frowned.

"If I were in the same position would you take my wand from me?" he growled.

Slughorn seemed to think about that for a moment, before stepping back abashed. He would certainly not do something like that to any wizard. It was a serious taboo. Because she was a witch it would be assumed to that she would not mind. Since she was the weaker sex, she could have wizards to defend her, and wouldn't need it. This was all symbolic of course because she was of course petrified and was unable to use it in any sense, but Tom did not care.

"Headmaster, I think Miss Wesley is well-attended," Dumbledore murmured.

Professor Dippit nodded distantly, watching Tom in surprise. The quiet, even-tempered, and intelligent boy had never to his knowledge spoken in such a way to a professor with such thinly-veiled animosity, but the situation was of course unique. Tom lowered himself into the chair and reached his hand out without hesitation to take hold of Ginny's hand. Ginny did not respond in any way and the guilt was plain in his eyes, though few would be able to read it as such.

"Tom," Dolohov said gruffly as he sat on Ginny's other side, wiping his forehead which smeared it with blood, his own. "It's not your fault."

"I could have stopped it," Tom replied, darkly.

"We couldn't find her," Dolohov reminded him, but Tom merely shook his head. Ginny was petrified and he wouldn't ever be able to make up for this. Her beautiful face was frozen in perfect determination… as if she had looked up purposefully, as if she had known. He shook his head. Of course she had. She was Gin Wesley. Nothing escaped her and the maddening thing was that he had no idea why. Why did she know everything, some sort of magical intuition she held? Did she have a special ability, akin to his own such as using parstletongue? How was she surprising him at every turn, impressing him at every turn? He didn't know how school would seem without her now. He had grown too used to her familiar presence. He… cared about her.