I was extremely tired of Professor Lockhart's classes. All we did now was listen to him read passages from his book, and he would ask for volunteers to help him act it out. He always called on me first, but since I always adamantly replied with 'no,' he'd only call on someone else. No one but me dared to tell him 'no.'

During one class period he was describing his defeat of a werewolf, which Becky was picked on to play. I didn't listen to any of it, already having read Wanderings with Werewolves. The only things I heard was him give Slytherin twenty points for Becky's perfect performance, and say our homework was to compose a poem about his defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf.

Just as I was about to leave with my friends, Professor Lockhart called out, "Melody! I'd like a word with you…"

I sighed and stayed behind.

"Why don't you ever let me volunteer you to act out –" he began.

"I won't, Professor. I'm not like Becky where I can act flawlessly." I lied, sitting down atop a desk.

"What do you do, then?"

"Just read," I said simply, "I read your books over the summer to be caught up for class. They're very memorable stories, but they're not exactly schoolbooks."

"Y-You are very unlike your mother… very unlike most students actually."

"Oh, I can think of a couple." I said, grabbing my stuff so as to leave. "Something I may add… do you ever think about the fact I could be more like my dad?"

"That's what's so frightening." I heard him mutter, causing me to stop from my current trek out the door, my back facing him.

I turned to Professor Lockhart with the best confused expression I could muster. He turned white as a sheet. "What do you mean? Y-You knew my dad? A-And you didn't like him I take it?"

"J-Just for the fact that he stole your mother from me, Melody. I h-honestly only know about him for that, and I was saying –"

"Sure, right, I'll believe that." I said sarcastically, now stomping my way out of the classroom.

Should I write a letter to my mom about this? If I sound angry enough she could possibly tell me, finally, that my dad is Lord Voldemort. It's been going on for quite a while… I'm not a baby, she should tell me who my real dad is. Even though I already know, it's just infuriating that she would tell stupid Lockhart about him and not me. Because he'd obviously never met dad, or else he would have been killed on sight… I'll ask, then, to gauge her reaction to my curiosity. It has been long enough, I thought.

I went up to the Owlery in the school to write my letter:

Dear Mom,

I have to talk to you about something… I took it upon myself to ask Professor Lockhart about his past with you. He told me everything. Don't be angry with him, he didn't know you didn't want me to know.

Just today he told me he was afraid I'd become like dad – my biological dad. So I instantly took into accord that he knows him well.

Please, tell me about dad. I know nothing about him. You've never told me whether he's alive or dead and what he was like.

Sincerely,

Melody

I looked around and chose a jet-black owl whose feathers were fairly sleek, attaching the note to it and sending it away.

Turning around to make my way downstairs, something was in the way. "Dobby!" I said in surprise. I brought my voice down to a whisper, "What are you doing here?"

"Dobby wanted to know if there was some other way to get Harry Potter out of school."

I had totally forgotten!… Forget letting Harry save the day, this would be the best time to get him out of school. Tom was now after him so if I got him out of harm's way, he'd be safe.

Thinking quickly, I said, "Harry has a Quidditch game tomorrow."

Dobby smiled, "Say no more! Dobby knows what to do…"

"Then do it… the diary is going to go after him. The best we can do is put all rules aside and get Harry out." I said softly to him.

When Saturday came around, the game was just like any other. We had breakfast and went out to the Quidditch field… the only new part was wishing Draco good luck for winning and going into the stands without him.

"There's no way we'll lose today." Becky whispered to me gleefully.

I nodded thoughtfully, wondering about what Dobby's plan was.

We sat in the back doing homework as usual while Vincent and Greg went to the front of the crowd. I had just one essay I needed to finish for Professor Snape, since I was supposed to see him for my lesson right after the game.

After a little while, it started to rain.

"No, my Transfiguration homework!" Becky shrieked, shielding it from the rain with her body.

I went up front to see what was going on so I could figure out how much longer it would take. The Gryffindors had called a time out. According to Greg, one of the Bludgers was following Harry around… Oh no, Dobby! I didn't ask him to kill Harry!

After a while the game resumed and Harry twirled and rolled around the stadium trying to get rid of the Bludger.

Vincent was laughing, "He looks like an idiot."

I gave a fake laugh, wishing I knew some counter curse to save Harry from Dobby's Bludger. But house elf magic was very different from wizardry…

Draco suddenly appeared some ways off from Harry, who stopped and stared at him. Don't stop, you idiot! I thought, but then I saw a shimmer behind Draco's head… the Golden Snitch. Draco was watching as Harry stared at the Snitch behind him. Turn around, Draco, you know he's not going to stop for no reason without -

The Bludger whammed into Harry, whose arm now stuck out at an odd angle. But he ignored the pain to speed straight at Draco, who moved quickly out of the way in the belief that he was trying to attack him. Harry caught the Snitch.

"What did I miss?" Becky asked, sidling up next to me.

I explained it all to her and she shook her head in complete annoyance.

"I should've realized Draco's big head would outweigh our chances of winning more than the fast brooms… agh, no party for him tonight." Becky said, backing away when seeing Vincent and Greg's angered faces.

"She has a point, you know." I told them. To Becky, I asked, "You were planning a party for him?"

"Yes! And I had it all set up! Bummer, guess the colors will have to be changed to Gryffindor. I'll force our House to celebrate their victory since Draco mucked it all up for us."

Soon after the game, I left to meet Professor Snape in his classroom. I handed him the essays and set my stuff down at a desk.

"Did you see the game?" I asked.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy had the Snitch right on top of him and didn't notice. Quite an easy treat for Gryffindor." Professor Snape said irritably.

"What happened to Harry after that? Did he go to the hospital wing for his arm?"

"Yes, however Lockhart decided to try his hand at healing his arm before he went."

I stared. "What did he do?"

"In attempting to mend Mr. Potter's broken arm, he rather deboned it."

I shivered, "I can't imagine that being at all pleasant. Madam Pomfrey can regrow bones, right?"

"Of course she can. Now, Miss Riddle, to the task at hand."

"Yes, sir." I said. Will I ever have a friendly conversation with him?

"Your essays are perfect," he said, still looking them through, "You have great paragraph and sentence structure, and you have perfect explanations and arguments."

"Thank you, professor." I said, smiling.

"How are your students doing?"

"Draco has been getting much better. He's paying more attention in class and understands everything after I break it down. Vincent and Greg, however, aren't even trying. I've been trying to prioritize homework on their schedule but they won't pay attention or ask questions." I said, watching his expression as I spoke. "Half of the time, they even skip out on my lessons."

"Would it make a difference," he asked perceptively, "if I take Mr. Crabbe's and Mr. Goyle's tutoring lessons out of your schedule?"

"Well, it'd make a difference for me with the extra time, but –"

"Then that's it. If you have only one student that is trying and benefits from your tutoring, then I'm taking the others away. They are a waste of your time and attention."

I sighed, "Thanks… now I'll have some more free time."

He nodded and said, "I'll let them know you aren't tutoring them anymore. Now to our lesson… I thought I'd let you try nonverbal spell-casting today."

Hm… I thought interestedly.

I aced nonverbal spell-casting easily, and was even more excited about the ways in which I could use it. It would be the best way to keep hidden in many cases.

"You are a natural." Professor Snape noted, as always.

"What year is that originally meant for?" I asked.

"Sixth."

After the lesson, I went to the library to get a start on the brand new essays Professor Snape gave me. Sometime later I heard a "Psst!"

Turning around, I saw behind one of the bookshelves a pair of bulging eyes. I walked over behind the bookshelf and quietly berated, "I wasn't asking you to kill Harry! His body may be sent back home, but he wouldn't be alive!"

"No, no! Dobby never meant to kill Harry Potter! Never kill! Dobby only wanted to seriously injure him so he would want to go home."

"You sent a Bludger after him! A couple of times, you aimed at his head so you could've split his head open! You made it go at him with enough force to do so."

Dobby shook his head vigorously.

I gave a sigh, "Look, I have work to do –"

"Wait!" Dobby said frantically. "Harry Potter still must go home! What else can Dobby do?"

That brought a bit of thought. "All right, I'm giving you one more chance. Harry is in the hospital wing now, so later tonight when no one else is there you should go reason with him. If he still doesn't see sense, then just give up and go home. There's nothing else you can do, as stubborn as he is to continue staying close to danger."

"Can Dobby tell him what it is he's trying to keep him safe from?"

"No!" I said quickly, looking around nervously. "You can't… he'll go investigating, and we really don't want that."

Dobby was crestfallen.

"I'm sorry, Dobby. The diary is already after him and I can't do anything about it… and I know Harry is not easy to hold back."

"It's all right, Miss," Dobby said reassuringly, "Miss Melody has been been so kind."

I gave a small nod, not so certain that I was as kind as Dobby said. Going back to my essays, I turned around once to find that Dobby was already gone.

A while later, there was a tap at my shoulder. I turned around expecting to see Hermione or Fred and George… but it was Ginny, holding the diary in her hand.

"Tom says he'd like to speak to you."

"Oh." I said with slight surprise.

Ginny sat down next to me and put the diary on the table.

I took my quill and wrote, "Hey, it's Melody."

"Is Ginny with you?" Tom wrote back.

"Yes."

"Make sure she doesn't see what I wrote you."

Looking up at Ginny, I said, "You could go read a book until we're done."

"Sure." Ginny said uncertainly, standing up to look around the library.

"Done." I wrote.

"I want you to let the Basilisk out every night."

I gave a small jump and looked around to make sure no one was watching.

"Why every night?" I asked worriedly.

"Do you question my authority?"

"No, I'm just curious… if not that, then can I ask you about something else?"

There was a pause. "Go ahead."

"What will Ginny be doing? Last time, she put that message on the wall, but she can't be doing that all the time. Right?"

"This is why I'm telling you to do this every night until I ask Ginny to go get you again. She will be doing something else, but it will help you all the same."

"Then that means I won't get to talk to her again until you think it's time to do so."

"Precisely, and I'll tell her something to make sure she doesn't go talk to you."

"All right then."

Later that night, I made my way to the out of order bathroom and opened up the chamber.

"It's time." I told it.

The Basilisk slivered up and out. I could now see the still deepened expression of hunger in its eyes.

"Come back in at least an hour."

"I can do better than that…" the Basilisk said, going out into the hallways after I held the door open for it.

Closing it, I gave a sigh and turned around to suddenly see a pair of eyes goggling at me. It was a ghost, a squat girl with lank hair and thick, pearly spectacles.

"Um…" I said awkwardly, "I can explain –"

"How are you going to explain a large snake?" she asked suspiciously, but then her eyes widened, "You're trying to scare me, aren't you?!"

That's when I realized that this was Moaning Myrtle. This is the bathroom she haunts! So that's why it's out of order…

"What? No, why would I want to scare a ghost?"

"Peeves could've put you up to this… he's always teasing me –"

"He couldn't ask me to do anything even if he wanted to." I said huffily.

Myrtle harrumphed and started to glide into one of the toilet stalls.

"Wait!" I said nervously. "You're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?"

Myrtle looked confused.

"Never mind, then. Just ignore me whenever I come in here. Is that okay?"

"Sure, no one likes me anyways." Myrtle said sniffily.

I hesitated at this, "Well, if you give me a chance… I can be friends with you. If you'd like to –"

"No, I won't force you into something you don't want!" she said angrily.

My mouth dropped open, "You can't just decide that no one likes you, Myrtle! I'm trying to be friendly –"

Myrtle burst into tears and flew into a stall, splashing toilet water everywhere as she dove on in. It was a wonder she ever stayed a ghost if she thought nobody ever liked her.

When the Basilisk came back, I asked it if it killed anyone. It still hadn't… but it did petrify a little boy who had tried taking a picture of it.