Tom's First Basilisk

“Gwen, wait!” Tom hissed and got hold of the sleeve of her robe before she had entirely disappeared around the corner. There was a loud rip, and she broke off abruptly, then turned around.

He wouldn’t have cared if she had started crying or if she’d threatened to tell her brothers. When they first got to know each other, she’d probably have laughed. This time she held up her wand while maintaining eye-contact. Inscrutable, or so she thought. As if other people’s thoughts provided much challenge to him. Mostly they weren’t interesting enough to bother with. He had a lot on. But Gwen had something a little extra about her.

With a wave of her wand the fabric stitched itself back up. She had a certain flourish to her magic which interested him a lot more than her reactions to his or anyone else’s actions did. There was so much personality in magic.

“You were supposed to show me what became of your attempt at the animagus transfiguration.”

“And now I’ve changed my mind.”

He breathed in sharply, fingers tightening around the wand in his pocket.

“If you’re so curious about the transformation, why don’t you become an animagus yourself?”

Because it’s beneath me, he thought dully. It wouldn’t benefit him in any way he could envision. The process seemed time consuming and rather ridiculous.

“At least tell me what animal you become?”

She looked differently at him than she had before. She’d realized something about him. He thought it’d taken her long enough. Women could be so gullible. Easily flattered and they’d lend you astounding amounts of their time once you had them where you wanted them. But you had to break them down or eventually they’d see through you. Lesson learned for next time.

“Leave me alone, Olive, just leave me alone!”

A small, unbecoming girl ran past them, almost tripping when she obscured her face with her sleeve, wiping off snot and tears. Some laughter, retreating footsteps. The door not far behind Gwen slammed shut.

“Why does she have to use that bathroom?” he muttered, perhaps unwisely.

Gwen’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t speak, and how could she? She wasn’t clever enough. No one on earth, and certainly no student at Hogwarts, was clever enough to figure him out.

Gwen had proven useful to him in more ways than one. She had reminded him of how there were spaces in this castle where wizards never went. After some innocent quizzing he had discovered that there was a girl’s bathroom where there was a queer atmosphere and that all the witches avoided if they could. Also, one of the sinks never worked. It had put him on the right track.

Pity this was such a well-trafficked corridor, though.

“Ah, Gwen, my favourite student! And Tom, good evening to you! What are my two most brilliant students dissecting this evening?”

Professor Merrythought laughed after she spoke, as did Gwen. Sharing a little joke.

In their last Defence Against the Dark Arts class, they’d gotten to dissect a chimaera, although all of their classmates had seemed almost grossed-out now Tom thought about it. Most had kept their distance, even though it had been such a unique opportunity.

Tom, of course, had carved into the cadaver with gusto, as had Gwen. They both had that need in them. The need to figure out where magic came from. Presumably Merrythought’s quip was in reference to that.

“… but do tell me you’re staying until graduation? Your NEWT:s will be an asset to you no matter what you choose to do with the rest of your life.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Gwen said with a smile. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve already learnt all Hogwarts has to offer. I want to explore the world. Meet foreign witches and wizards and learn the things they know.”

“Well, there’s certainly some old colleagues and friends on the continent I could put you in touch with,” Merrythought said. Tom frowned between the two of them. Merrythought was sad and she had meant it when she said Gwen was her favourite student. Gwen wanted her to stop talking. Yet she hid it. If it had been Tom, he’d’ve just steered the conversation somewhere else. “Won’t your parents miss you?”

“They’ve got plenty of other kids, as a teacher with your work history should know,” Gwen said with a grin. “Grandchildren, weddings… I’m the last one to fly the nest, I bet they’re counting days.”

“I think you’ll find that you’re rather a special child to them,” Professor Merrythought said contemplatively.

Tom nodded. Now this he understood. Magic and numbers. Old legends.

“I’m needed someplace else,” he interjected smoothly. He bowed courteously for Merrythought’s benefit. The old biddies lapped that sort of thing up. He didn’t always bother, but mostly it benefitted him to keep up appearances.

“Goodnight Tom! Don’t let the bed pixies bite.”

“Bye, Tom,” Gwen said. There was finality in her tone.

Perhaps Gwen thought that he’d leave her alone now. He smiled mirthlessly, his feet taking him to the library. She had not yet outlived her purpose.

Interesting how she wasn’t planning on sticking around. She was the next best student in the school, but she was no academic. She wanted out in the world, and everyone knew it. He wondered if she’d told her family she was leaving the country.

Months ago she’d guided him to the entrance, although he knew he would have found it on his own too, given time. He was used to doing everything alone, and a witch befriending him like Gwen had still surprised him. Not that he’d let her get to know him properly, but she’d certainly gotten closer than anyone. Closer than anyone.

A flash of a burning wardrobe flickered in front of his vision, but he resolutely ignored it.

He was the most brilliant student this castle had ever seen. He’d explored the castle more extensively than any other student. Well, perhaps other than Gwen. Gwen had shown him some rather marvellous places, like the room where all things were hidden. He would be lying if he said it didn’t annoy him that there was another person alive who knew of its existence. Made it difficult for him to really utilize it. He was sure it had potential, but not for as long as she could just stroll in there whenever she pleased. But, by the sounds of it, her departure from Hogwarts was imminent.

He would not let her leave until she’d answer his question, though.

She had no idea who he truly was. No one knew, no one would know until he decided to tell people. And she would not be in that number. She wasn’t in Slytherin, for one.

She might be special in her way, but no one was on his level. No one else in this entire castle was the last heir of Slytherin.

He’d read thousands of books in his years at the school. Most to aid his own astonishing powers, but quite a few had been to shed light on who he was. The Riddle trail, admittedly, had yielded him nothing, but the Gaunt trail had led him somewhere beyond even his wildest dreams.

The legend of the Chamber of Secrets had loomed like a fever dream in his mind ever since. It had been so obvious, such a stroke of brilliance. His ancestor had been so right, even now there was trash walking the corridors. Witches and wizards who had never deserved their place here, not like he had.

The entrance had been where the broken sink was.

The chamber itself had been a bit of a disappointment, though. But never mind, Salazar Slytherin’s renown was so great it didn’t matter that the chamber had no monster anymore, that it had lain empty for hundreds of years. Students were till awed by who the great founder had been. The stars aligned and Salazar finally had a relative worth his salt at Hogwarts.

Tom stroked the spine of an ancient tome thoughtfully. Sirius had needed to be ascendent, and the cockerel had been under the Imperious Curse. The hatching had worked in the end, but other obstacles had been put in Tom’s way.

The basilisk was barely 12 inches long, similar to some skeletons Tom had found of the old basilisks of the chamber. No matter what he put in front of it, it refused to eat. Its eyes, too, remained closed, so weak was the reptile it could not open them. He had needed to go back to his research, while the poor basilisk grew weaker by the day. And still it refused to eat. To cap it all, Dumbledore had started asking questions, particularly about if he’d made any excursions to the south of Scotland recently. Tom had never forgotten about the first day he met Dumbledore, and rather than lie he had evaded the question.

Tom had indeed used his latest Hogsmeade weekend to apparate to a dull little village in West Lothian, where he’d found a tiny muggle child playing alone in its garden. It had been too easy. He’d never told anyone at school he’d learnt apparition. How Dumbledore had guessed… But no matter.

He’d had to stun it because it would not stop crying after he’d apparated them both back to Hogwarts. But the basilisk had been unable to kill it, and barely tried the meat after Tom did the honours himself.

Pliny the Elder had a lot to say about basilisks. He didn’t see how special they were, they were just a monster amongst many. They had their strengths and their weaknesses. There were things they feared, a bird and a mammal, for instance. Indeed, the only time his hatchling had seemed tempted to eat had been when he’d offered it the hearts of one cockerel and one weasel, respectively. Seeing the reaction, no matter how faint, had reinstated Tom’s hope. He’d get there.

But according to Pliny they only reached twelve inches. This was not the sort of monster Tom wanted for the chamber. He was certain the great Salazar Slytherin had had powers to make the original basilisk much larger than that.

There were other books on basilisks, and Tom had devoured them all. The trial and error of the human child and the weasel heart had gotten him closer than any of the book authors had gotten. But the basilisk needed more magic. The magic that chimaera had inside of it… The sparkle on the inside of its ripped up hide. The still-beating heart inside, because you could never ever kill it, no matter how incapacitated it was…

“Arithmancy,” he mumbled, patting a different book. “Sacrifice.” He knew he could do it. “I just need to figure out… ah.” A book he’d never looked in before landed with a thump on his table. Everything You Need to Know about Animagi.



He ambushed her after their Astronomy lesson. She’d believed him when he asked, with so much sincerity he almost convinced himself, that he wanted to explain himself and apologize to her before she left for the world.

As if he had anything to apologize for. As though the world needed her for anything.

She wasn’t expecting anything, but still it was almost too easy. No resistance. Just stupefy! and down she went.

He disillusioned them both, just in case. Dumbledore had an unnerving habit of appearing where he was least wanted. But tonight, the castle was empty.

He took her down to the Chamber, down to the basilisk. He’d been wondering if he’d need to explain the prey he was bringing it. But the basilisk went from feeble and morose to trembling with anticipation when he lowered Gwen to the floor in front of it.

“She’s the seventh child,” he began, twirling his wand expectantly between his fingers, “seventh child, but only daughter of her family. Pure of blood, full of magic. She and her family represent your mortal enemy in every way.”

The basilisk hissed and an otherworldly thrill went through Tom’s spine. It was the first time the basilisk had said something to him.

“Yes,” he said, noting that his voice was shaking. “She’s a Gryffindor. And what is more…”

Tom cleared his throat and spoke the incantation he’d found earlier in the book in the library. He’d always taken to magic that forced others against their will like a chimaera took too decapitation.

The unconscious body on the floor began to twist and turn. She’d refused to tell him, but he’d known the answer instinctively. Like with so many things in the wizarding world, her name was a dead giveaway.

“Gwen Weasley no longer,” he said quietly as the red hair on her head became soft fur. “For your first meal in this castle, I offer you this humble sacrifice. The person closest to me in the castle, to cement our new bond. I, the last living heir of the greatest Parselmouth of them all, Salazar Slytherin, offer you this meal. With it, I command you to grow more fearsome and stronger than any of your kind before you. Eat, basilisk, eat this, your mortal enemy the weasel, that I have incapacitated for you!

And the basilisk opened its mouth wide and struck.