Everything in bold is directly from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. This is to hopefully avoid confusion or messing up the dialogue. There shouldn't be much more once the events of Chamber of Secrets are over. All rights for Harry Potter and characters go to J.K. Rowling.

"Alright, Mr. Potter, you're free to go," Madam Pomfrey announce.

Harry threw himself off the bed and dashed out of the Hospital Wing.

"Come back if you feel anything strange!" she called after him.

He made his way to the Great Hall, carrying his dirty robes with him. A glance down at his pants and shoes made realize that they probably smelled like a dank old chamber would smell after not being opened much for 1,000 years.

Upon nearing the Griffandor table, his eyes found Ron and the red-haired boy paled when he saw him. The bushy-haired girl opposite him turned to see what he was looking at and her face blossomed into a wide grin.

"Harry!" she gave him a quick hug before he sat down.

"Look mate," Ron began. "I'm sorry I didn't come see you when you were in there. I just—"

"Forget about it," Harry interrupted with a shrug.

The rest of the meal was eaten with little silence as Ron and Hermione filled him in on Dumbledore's announcement that all students, Mrs. Norris and Sir Nicholas were back to their normal selves.

"Guess he didn't want to mention anything about the basilisk," Harry grumbled.

"Well the parents are gonna be scared enough as it is," Ron reminded him. "If Dumbledore says that the monster has been dealt with, they'll take it for that. I mean, he's Dumbledore."

"He's still human," Hermione put in.

Harry gave her a grateful smile. "I've still got to talk to him later."

Hermione chewed her bottom lip.

"Don't worry. I've called down a lot. I know I was out of line even if he is keeping things from me. I'll apologize."

The witch gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand. "That's very mature of you, Harry. I'm glad you're keeping a handle on your emotions especially considering what happened."

"What happened?"

Harry glanced at Hermione, surprised she hadn't told Ron. It was nice that she had kept this little secret from him if only to spare him some embarrassment from his other best friend. It's not like Ron had accidental magic in front of the Headmaster.

"I got really mad when I woke up and Dumbledore wouldn't tell me things about what was going on. I lost control of my magic but Hermione calmed me down."

"Blimey. Glad I didn't show up then. You might've been cheesed off at me too."

"Yea, there was already a crowd there," Hermione said.

"Thanks for reminder." Harry saw Dumbledore walk away from the staff table and stood up to follow him.

"Herbology start in fifteen minutes. Make sure you get a note from Dumbledore if you're going to be late."

He gave her half a wave. That was Hermione—always making sure he got out of trouble. This made him remember that Dumbledore had told him and Ron that if they got into any more trouble, they would be expelled. Dumbledore wouldn't really expel him, would he? Not after he had just saved the school from Slytherin's monster.

Harry caught up to Dumbledore just before he got the stone gargoyle.

"Professor Dumbledore!"

The Headmaster turned with a look of mild surprise. "Harry. What can I do for you?"

"Well, you said you wanted to speak with me about this when I've calmed down. I'm calm, and I'm sorry I lost my temper before."

"Very well." Dumbledore waved his hand and the stone gargoyle moved without the need for the 'Sherbert Lemon' password.

"Sir, can all wizards do magic without a wand?"

"An interesting question with an even more interesting answer. No, few wizards can and those that can are limited by low level spells. Even I, reputed to be powerful, am limited to disarming spells at best. Although I've never truly tested my limits, I'm certain that I could not produce the same results as I could with my wand."

Harry nodded as he sat down opposite Dumbledore.

"Harry, do you remember anything about what happened after you stabbed Tom Riddle's Diary with the basilisk fang?" Dumbledore asked immediately.

"I felt a lot of pain in my scar and in my chest. Fawkes cried on me and that made the pain go away before I passed out."

"Have you ever felt anything like this from your scar?"

"No. Never." He hesitated. "There was something else or rather someone else."

"Oh?"

"In my head. It sounded like Voldemort but his voice was so much clearer than when I met him last year. Of course, this time he wasn't on the back of a head so I can't really be sure."

"Interesting. What did the voice say?"

"Um something like I was a fool for dooming us both."

Dumbledore leaned forward. "Harry, can you remember the exact wording. Anything could be very important."

Harry thought for a moment. "You fool. You've killed us both."

A haunted look passed through Dumbledore's eyes for a fleeting moment. "I will look into that for both our sakes. Some things even I can't be sure of and sadly, the only one who could tell us would be Voldemort himself.

"Professor Dumbledore... Riddle said I'm like him. Strange likenesses, he said...

"Did he, now?" said Dumbledore, looking thoughtfully at Harry from under his thick silver eyebrows. "And what do you think, Harry?"

"I don't think I'm like him!" said Harry, more loudly than he'd intended. "I mean, I'm - I'm in Gryffindor, I'm..."

But he fell silent, a lurking doubt resurfacing in his mind.

"Professor," he started again after a moment. "The Sorting Hat told me I'd - I'd have done well in Slytherin. Everyone thought I was Slytherin's heir for a while... because I can speak Parseltongue ..."

"You can speak Parseltongue, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly, "because Lord Voldemort - who is the last remaining ancestor of Salazar Slytherin - can speak Parseltongue. Unless I'm much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I'm sure..."

"Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?" Harry said, thunderstruck.

"It certainly seems so. There is indeed a connection or rather, I think there was."

"Was?"

"I believe that the memory of Tom Riddle and the connection that was in your scar have now been destroyed thanks to the basilisk venom. It was good thinking on your part to use the fang on the diary. I dread to think of what might have otherwise happened. It was a good stroke of luck that you were bitten as well because of the power he gave you."

"So I should be in Slytherin," Harry said, looking desperately into Dumbledore's face. "The Sorting Hat could see Slytherin's power in me, and it-"

"Put you in Gryffindor," said Dumbledore calmly. "Listen to me, Harry. You happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his hand-picked students. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue - resourcefulness - determination - a certain disregard for rules," he added, his mustache quivering again. "Yet the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor. You know why that was. Think."

"It only put me in Gryffindor," said Harry in a defeated voice, "because I asked not to go in Slytherin..."

`Exactly, "said Dumbledore, beaming once more. "Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." Harry sat motionless in his chair, stunned. "If you want proof, Harry, that you belong in Gryffindor, I suggest you look more closely at this."

Dumbledore reached across to his desk, picked up the silver sword, and handed it to Harry. Dully, Harry turned it over, the rubies blazing in the firelight. And then he saw the name engraved just below the hilt.

Godric Gryffindor

"Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat, Harry," said Dumbledore simply.

"Thank you, sir," Harry managed to say.

Harry got up and crossed to the door. He had just reached for the handle, however, when the door burst open so violently that it bounced back off the wall.

Lucius Malfoy stood there, fury in his face. And cowering behind his legs, heavily wrapped in bandages, was Dobby.

"Good evening, Lucius," said Dumbledore pleasantly.

Mr. Malfoy almost knocked Harry over as he swept into the room. Dobby went scurrying in after him, crouching at the hem of his cloak, a look of abject terror on his face.

The elf was carrying a stained rag with which he was attempting to finish cleaning Mr. Malfoys shoes. Apparently Mr. Malfoy had set out in a great hurry, for not only were his shoes half-polished, but his usually sleek hair was disheveled. Ignoring the elf bobbing apologetically around his ankles, he fixed his cold eyes upon Dumbledore.

Harry felt the fury rising in him again but just barely managed to stamp it down. How dare he treat Dobby that way. Sure the little guy was quirky but that didn't give Malfoy a right to beat him. In that moment, he understood Dobby in some ways that others never would. He had been treating like a house elf all his life by the Dursleys. At least he could escape to Hogwarts. Dobby had no escape.

Harry listened at the door as Lucius Malfoy and Dumbledore spoke about the diary and that Lord Voldemort had once again been thwarted. The young wizard knew that it had been Mr. Malfoy that had put the diary in Ginny's pail in Diagon Alley but had no way to prove it.

Eventually, Lucius had seen that he would not be finding anything to his liking in the conversation with Dumbledore. Harry distinctly saw his right hand twitch as though he was longing to reach for his wand. Instead, he turned to his house-elf. "We're going, Dobby!"

He wrenched open the door and as the elf came hurrying up to him, he kicked him right through it. They could hear Dobby squealing with pain all the way along the corridor. Harry stood for a moment, thinking hard. Then it came to him-

"Professor Dumbledore," he said hurriedly. "Can I give that diary back to Mr. Malfoy, please?"

"Certainly, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly. "But hurry. Harry grabbed the diary and dashed out of the office. He could hear Dobby's squeals of pain receding around the corner. Quickly, wondering if this plan could possibly work, Harry took off one of his shoes, pulled off his slimy, filthy sock, and stuffed the diary into it. Then he ran down the dark corridor.

He caught up with them at the top of the stairs.

"Mr. Malfoy," he gasped, skidding to a halt, "I've got something for you-"

And he forced the smelly sock into Lucius Malfoy's hand.

"What the -?"

Mr. Malfoy ripped the sock off the diary, threw it aside, then looked furiously from the ruined book to Harry."You'll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry Potter," he said softly. "They were meddlesome fools, too."

He turned to go.

"Come, Dobby. I said, come."

But Dobby didn't move. He was holding up Harry's disgusting, slimy sock, and looking at it as though it were a priceless treasure.

"Master has given a sock," said the elf in wonderment. "Master gave it to Dobby."

"What's that?" spat Mr. Malfoy. "What did you say?"

"Got a sock," said Dobby in disbelief. "Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby - Dobby is free."

Lucius Malfoy stood frozen, staring at the elf. Then he lunged at Harry.

"You've lost me my servant, boy!"

But Dobby shouted, "You shall not harm Harry Potter!"

There was a loud bang, and Mr. Malfoy was thrown backward. He crashed down the stairs, three at a time, landing in a crumpled heap on the landing below. He got up, his face livid, and pulled out his wand, but Dobby raised a long, threatening finger.

"You shall go now," he said fiercely, pointing down at Mr. Malfoy. "You shall not touch Harry Potter. You shall go now."

Lucius Malfoy had no choice. With a last, incensed stare at the pair of them, he swung his cloak around him and hurried out of sight.

"Harry Potter freed Dobby!" said the elf shrilly, gazing up at Harry, moonlight from the nearest window reflected in his orb-like eyes. "Harry Potter set Dobby free!"

"Least I could do, Dobby," said Harry, grinning. "Just promise never to try and save my life again."

The elf's ugly brown face split suddenly into a wide, toothy smile.

"I've just got one question, Dobby," said Harry as Dobby pulled on Harry's sock with shaking hands. "You told me all this had nothing to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, remember? Well-"

"It was a clue, sir," said Dobby, his eyes widening, as though this was obvious. "Was giving you a clue. The Dark Lord, before he changed his name, could be freely named, you see?"

Dobby threw his arms around Harry's middle and hugged him.

"Harry Potter is greater by far than Dobby knew!" he sobbed. "Farewell, Harry Potter!"

And with a final loud crack, Dobby disappeared.

The rest of the final term passed in a haze of blazing sunshine. Hogwarts was back to normal with only a few, small differences - Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were canceled ("but we've had plenty of practice at that anyway," Ron told a disgruntled Hermione) and Lucius Malfoy had been sacked as a school governor. Draco was no longer strutting around the school as though he owned the place. On the contrary, he looked resentful and sulky. On the other hand, Ginny Weasley was perfectly happy again.

Too soon, it was time for the journey home on the Hogwarts Express. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny got a compartment to themselves. They made the mos of the last few hours in which they were allowed to do magic before the holidays. They played Exploding Snap, set off the very last of Fred and George's Filibuster fireworks, and practiced disarming each other by magic. Harry was getting very good at it.

Each time he did however, he felt a surge of his magic unlike any he had before. He casually levitated his book to himself using Wingardium Leviosa and felt a similar flow of magic. For some reason he could feel his magic leaving him when he cast a spell now. It didn't make him feel weak, but he definitely noticed it leaving. The difference was almost like he was a lake and knew when someone took a pail of water from him.

The Hogwarts Express slowed and finally stopped at King's Cross.

Harry pulled out his quill and a bit of parchment and turned to Ron and Hermione.

"This is called a telephone number," he told Ron, scribbling it twice, tearing the parchment in two, and handing it to them. "I told your dad how to use a telephone last summer - he'll know. Call me at the Dursleys', okay? I can't stand another two months with only Dudley to talk to..."

"Your aunt and uncle will be proud, though, won't they?" said Hermione as they got off the train and joined the crowd thronging toward the enchanted barrier. "When they hear what you did this year?"

"Proud?" said Harry. "Are you crazy? All those times I could've died, and I didn't manage it? They'll be furious..."

And together they walked back through the gateway to the Muggle world.