Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

For a split second, both Harry and Riddle, wand still raised, stared at it. Then, without thinking, without considering, as though he had meant to do it all along, Harry seized the basilisk fang on the floor next to him and plunged it straight into the heart of the book.

Many things happened all at once – Riddle started screaming, Ginny's body jerked up and started convulsing in symphony and the diary began to shrivel and blacken.

The screaming was awful. It was the sound of a person dying in a torturous way, and it seemed to go on forever and ever, burning itself into Harry's head, until finally, it trailed into choked sounds of misery, like prisoners-of-war who still scream although their voiceboxes are cut off.

Then it was over.

Harry remembered lying there for a moment, feeling the slip-slide of ink dripping down his arms and soddening his clothes, still breathing hard from the adrenaline rush. He forced himself still, watching for signs of movement, but there were none, save for Ginny stirring, red hair shifting on the ground.

He breathed a sign of relief – they weren't too late then, Ron would get his sister back. The damsel was saved, the enemy was slain, and the hero would emerge victorious from his ordeal.

With a great deal of effort, Harry placed one hand on the floor, intending to push himself up using the stone as a lever. His fingers felt warm; the basilisk's blood was still cooling on the ground. The shock and the slick wetness made him skid a little, but he quickly corrected that.

Dumbledore's phoenix trilled softly, with a little note of what Harry imagined to be encouragement in the phoenix's song. It gave him energy, enough to stuff the wrecked remains of Riddle's diary into his Gryffindor robes, retrieve his wand, the Sorting Hat and sword, and shake Ginny awake. He sat her up, and was very surprised at how little she weighed – Ginny was very light, even for a girl in first year. When she only moaned and fell back, Harry decided that she was light enough to carry.

Fawkes helped out, flying the the couple to Ron and Lockhart, who had mysteriously developed a case of amnesia, before flash-teleporting the whole lot of them to Dumbledore's office. If Harry had seen Ginny's eyes open a fraction, well, the red in them was just the reflection from the phoenix's fire.

:::

In the space of one night, news that the "Heir of Slytherin" had been caught had spread through the ranks and files like fiendfyre. Celebrations in the Great Hall were in full swing and the noise could be heard through the doors a corridor away, where Harry and Ron were. As they opened the doors, the volume doubled – Hermione was the first to spot them, and she took advantage of their stunned surprise by running up to them and enveloping both of them in a chokehold of a hug, blabbering on about how they had solved it. Justin came up and apologised to Harry. ("It's fine," Harry replied, thinking about Draco Malfoy. Better not say anything. He wasn't about to be friends with Justin any time soon though.)

They got smiles from Hagrid, McGonogall cancelled the exams, Dumbledore gave them four hundred house points and told everyone Lockhart was gone and Defense Against the Dark Art classes would become free periods for the rest of the year. It could've easily become the best moment of the Harry's year, except for –

"Where's Ginny?" Percy asked, trying to shuffle past the crowd between him, Ron and Hermione, with a little difficulty.

Harry looked around the table, and saw that the spot where Ginny normally sat was empty, a small unused space in between a group of rough-housing third-years and two girls chatting about transfiguration homework.

"Is she still in the hospital wing?" Harry asked, feeling a bit guilty about forgetting to visit her. The question prompted twin looks of alarm on Hermione's and Percy's faces.

"Yeah. She's fine though," Ron responded, biting into a chicken drumstick he had taken from the Hufflepuff table. "Madam Pomfrey only wants to keep her there a bit longer because she went ballistic when she woke up."

"She was thrashing and screaming and throwing jugs of water into the wall with magic. Dad nearly got hit. Windows are shattered, there's glass all over the floor. Absolute bananas," Ron explained, in between bites.

Harry frowned. "Are you sure she's fine?"

Ron finished his drumstick and started another. "Yeah, she calmed down once Mum told her she was in the Hogwarts infirmary."

"Dumbledore's said he would come by tomorrow and explain everything to her. He just can't right now because he needs to find a new school governor," Ron gave Harry a smile, remembering how had given Lucius Malfoy his just desserts.

"She's asleep now. She probably won't be up for much until the sun's shining again, anyway," he continued.

Hermione, who still didn't know the whole story but understood that Ginny had been victimised by the Heir of Slytherin, made a decision.

"That settles it then. We'll go and visit her tomorrow morning."

:::

However, by the time the trio, plus Percy, had arrived at the hospital wing, Ginny was long gone.

'She had a nightmare in the middle of the night, the poor dear,' Madam Pomfrey said. Against all advice from Dumbledore to wait until he had visited, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley took their daughter home early. No one saw a problem with this, since Madam Pomfrey's cursory exam could not find anything that was physically wrong with her and there were no exams for her to do.

Ron shrugged, agreeing that familiar scenery could do his sister some good, and took the time to exaggerate his heroics in the Chamber of Slytherin to Hermione, who was disgusted to learn the entrance to the Chamber had been found in a girl's toilet. ('What sort of man was Salazar Slytherin?')

After a bit of speculation, they went their separate ways. Percy went to the owlery to write his parents a letter, confident that Ginny would not be revealing his secret rendezvous with Penelope Clearwater any time soon, and the 2nd years went to breakfast in the Great Hall and everything was forgotten. The rest of the term passed in this casual, languid manner, and before Harry knew it, he was back at the Dursleys.

:::

Harry could have spent his summer worrying about Voldemort's two appearances in the space of two years and realising that future encounters were extremely likely, but he was much too busy trying to do his homework by flashlight under the bedsheets. Since he wasn't at Hogwarts anymore, his family's dislike of magic was a bigger issue.

So far, the atmosphere was unsteady, but fine. His wizarding items were out of sight, out of mind, Hedwig only flew at night, where Aunt Petunia and Uncle Dursley couldn't see, and as long as Harry made no reference to his freakishness, they could pretend that everyone was normal, except for Harry, the delinquent who they were trying to rehabilitate.

"If that boy says anything odd to you," Aunt Petunia mentioned to Mrs. Fenton who ran the community newsletter, "pay it no mind. He's been doing drugs."

Harry snorts, and pays them no mind either as he finishes with the weeding. The chores keep him busy, which he is thankful for, because it lets him crawl into bed without thinking. There are nights when the homework keeps him up late.

Then there are other nights where he falls asleep with a smile, thinking about what Dobby would do with his new-found freedom, and dreams of Professor Quirrel holding him down.

Professor Quirrel never bothers with his wand. His hands move from Harry's face down to his collarbones, leaving fingermark bruises and blisters on Harry's neck. 'Two times, boy, that's twice, you won't be so lucky the third,' he whispers, as Harry gurgles and falls out of bed, tangled in his bedsheets and choking on nothing at all.

But of course, there are chores to be done in the morning, and then there are ten-inch essays on the properties of Belladonna to be written at night. It leaves Harry with thick bags under his eyes and not a lot of time to think about Voldemort.

:::

"I never had a chance to thank you for saving my life," Ginny says, with a bright toothy smile and shadowed eyes.

The Leaky Cauldron is bustling with traffic; Hogwarts students doing last-minute shopping for school supplies, friends reuniting after a long summer break. Mrs Weasley opens her mouth to say something, but changes her mind.

"Don't worry about it," Harry replies.

"I mean," he continues, nonchalant, "I didn't do it for the thanks. And you've been ill, your dad had to bring you home from Hogwarts. I completely understand."

Harry gives her a quick once-over, checking for injuries or signs of illness. It's not an appreciative look, because she's still Ron's sister and also because he's never thought of any girl that way before. Aside from their matching eye-bags, Ginny doesn't look like she's come to any permanent harm, with her calm expression and her Egyptian family-holiday tan-lines, and the sight loosens something inside of him.

"I'm only sorry we weren't quicker – we could've saved you some time in the infirmary."

Besides, now that he's reassured she's fine, between Aunt Marge and Voldemort's second-in-command running free, the memory of a tattered diary from last year was old news.

"Well, I'm glad you came right when you did."

Ginny slides into the seat next to him with an easy confidence, but less grace, as though puberty has struck a second time and rendered her body unfamiliar to her again. She hits her elbow on the table, which isn't new, but the way she smooths the action over is. Ginny looks him in the eye; that's new too.

They sit in silence for a while before she smiles again. "My knight in shining armour," she says. "Friends?"

Ron groaned. Ginny ignored him.

"Friends."

:::