I plan to finish this book and start the next one before i leave for vacation! And (cover your ears) I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER WHATSOEVER! ALL RIGHTS GO TO THE QUEEN HERSELF! Whoo!

Except for my OC's. Those, are the sole property of moi :)

For a moment, there was silence as Harry, Ron, Tess, Ginny, and Lockhart stood in the doorway, covered in muck and slime and (in Harry and Tess' cases) blood. Then there was a scream. "Ginny!" It was Mrs. Weasley, who had been sitting crying in front of the fire. She lept to her feet, closely followed by Mr. Weasley, and both of them flung themselves on their daughter.

Tess smiled warmly at them, happy that two parents got their daughter back.

Harry, however, was looking past them. Professor Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece, beaming, next to Professor McGonagall, who was taking great, steadying gasps, clutching her chest. Fawkes went whooshing past Harry's ear and settled on Dumbledore's shoulder, just as Harry found himself along with Tess and Ron being swept into Mrs. Weasley's tight embrace. "You saved her! You saved her! How did you do it?"

"I think we'd all like to know that," said Professor McGonagall weakly.

Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry and Tess, who hesitated for a moment, then walked over to the desk and laid upon it the Sorting Hat, the ruby encrusted sword, and what remained of Riddle's diary. Then he, accompanied with Tess' sarcastic commentary and Ron's added comments, started telling them everything. For nearly a quarter of an hour he spoke into the rapt silence: He told them about hearing the disembodied voice, how Hermione had finally realized that he was hearing a basilisk in the pipes; how he and Ron had followed the spiders into the forest, that Aragog had told them where the last victim of the basilisk had died; how he had guessed that Moaning Myrtle had been the victim, and that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets might be in her bathroom. None of them dared to mention their Polyjuice Potion episode. The last thing they needed was to meet the wrath of one Severus Snape.

"Very well," Professor McGonagall prompted him as he paused, "so you found out where the entrance was — breaking a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add — but how on earth did you all get out of there alive, Potter?" So Harry, his voice now growing hoarse from all this talking, told them about Fawkes's timely arrival and about the Sorting Hat giving him the sword. But then he faltered. He, Ron and Tess had so far avoided mentioning Riddle's diary — or Ginny. She was standing with her head against Mrs. Weasley's shoulder, and tears were still coursing silently down her cheeks. What if they expelled her? Harry thought in panic. Riddle's diary didn't work anymore. . . . How could they prove it had been he who'd made her do it all? Instinctively, Harry looked at Dumbledore, who smiled faintly, the firelight glancing off his half-moon spectacles.

"What interests me most," said Dumbledore gently, "Is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania."

Relief — warm, sweeping, glorious relief — swept over the three wizards.

"W-what's that?" said Mr. Weasley in a stunned voice. "You-Know-Who? En-enchant Ginny? But Ginny's not . . . Ginny hasn't been . . . has she?"

"It was this," said Tess quickly, picking it up and showing it to Dumbledore, then showing it to the Weasley parents. Ginny looked down in shame. "Riddle wrote it when he was sixteen then left it behind. Ginny found it and started writing in it. I think it's pretty obvious that she never had a diary that wrote back with a voice of it's own."

Dumbledore took the diary from Tess and peered keenly down his long, crooked nose at its burnt and soggy pages. "Brilliant," he said softly. "Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen." He turned around to the Weasleys, who were looking utterly bewildered. "Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school . . . traveled far and wide . . . sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here."

"Ginny!" said Mr. Weasley, flabbergasted. "Haven't I taught you anything? What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain. Why didn't you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was clearly full of Dark Magic —"

"I d-didn't know," sobbed Ginny. "I found it inside one of the books Mum got me. I th-thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it."

"Ginny." said Tess, taking the sobbing girl and embracing her in a hug. "It's ok. You're gonna be ok." She then looked at The Weasleys and Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore. "Look, Ginny's just a kid, Mr. Weasley. A sweet innocent kid is the kind of person Voldemort would try to brainwash. It's not really her fault that all of this happened. I should have been there for her instead of just leaving her to find her own way, so this is partly my fault and I am sorry. But for now, who gives a crap? She needs rest."

"I could not agree more." said Dumbledore. "Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away. This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort." He strode over to the door and opened it. "Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate. I always find that cheers me up," he added, twinkling kindly down at her. "You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She's just giving out Mandrake juice — I daresay the basilisk's victims will be waking up any moment."

"So Hermione's okay!" said Ron brightly.

"There has been no lasting harm done, Ginny," said Dumbledore. Tess let go of Ginny and Mrs. Weasley led her daughter out, and Mr. Weasley followed, still looking deeply shaken.

"You know, Minerva," Professor Dumbledore said thoughtfully to Professor McGonagall, "I think all this merits a good feast. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens?"

"Right," said Professor McGonagall crisply, also moving to the door. "I'll leave you to deal with Potter, Crosswell and Weasley, shall I?"

"Certainly," said Dumbledore. She left, and Harry and Tess and Ron gazed uncertainly at Dumbledore. What exactly had Professor McGonagall meant, deal with them? Surely — surely — they weren't about to be punished?

"If this doesn't go well, I want you to to have my Exploding Snap set." Ron whispered to Tess.

"I seem to remember telling you three that I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules," said Dumbledore.

"We're dead." Tess whispered to the boys. "So very, very dead."

Ron opened his mouth in horror.

"On the contrary Miss Crosswell." said Dumbledore. "This goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words," Dumbledore went on, smiling. "All three of you will receive Special Awards for Services to the School and — let me see — yes, I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor." Ron went as brightly pink as Lockhart's valentine flowers and closed his mouth again. "But one of us seems to be keeping mightily quiet about his part in this dangerous adventure," Dumbledore added. "Why so modest, Gilderoy?"

Harry gave a start. He had completely forgotten about Lockhart. He turned and saw that Lockhart was standing in a corner of the room, still wearing his vague smile. When Dumbledore addressed him, Lockhart looked over his shoulder to see who he was talking to.

Tess chuckled sheepishly. "It's kind of a funny story, TBH."

"Professor Dumbledore," Ron said quickly, "there was an accident down in the Chamber of Secrets. Professor Lockhart —"

"Am I a professor?" said Lockhart in mild surprise. "Goodness. I expect I was hopeless, was I?"

"He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired," Ron explained quietly to Dumbledore.

"Dear me," said Dumbledore, shaking his head, his long silver mustache quivering. "Impaled upon your own sword, Gilderoy!"

"Sword?" said Lockhart dimly. "Haven't got a sword. That boy has, though." He pointed at Harry. "He'll lend you one."

"Would you mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the infirmary, too?" Dumbledore said to Ron. "And would you take these release papers to Azkaban?" He handed Ron a letter. "I do believe we need our gamekeeper back. I'd like a few more words with Harry and Quintessa. .."

Lockhart ambled out. Ron cast a curious look back at Dumbledore and Harry as he closed the door. Dumbledore crossed to one of the chairs by the fire. "Sit down, you two." he said, and the second years sat, feeling unaccountably nervous. "First of all, Quintessa, Harry, I want to thank you," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling again. "You both must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you." He stroked the phoenix, which had fluttered down onto his knee. Harry grinned awkwardly as Dumbledore watched him. "Now Quintessa, I sense, something conflicts with you."

"Yeah." said Tess, bringing out her wand. "When we were fighting Slytherin's King Kong of a Snake in that chamber, my wand started acting kind of weird. This, sort of, uh, fire whip came out of it and when I flashed it at the Basilisk, it hurt it. My wand's never done anything like that before. I may not be an expert on wands and stuff but I'm pretty sure that they're not supposed to have a giant fiery whip coming out of it."

"Ah yes." said Dumbledore, taking Tess' wand and inspecting it. "I have been meaning to talk to you about your wand. And you're right. Most wands don't create such spontaneous phenomenon. But there is a certain family of wands that does, and it's history goes back to the War of 1812. Quintessa, do you know what happened to the Liberty Tree?"

"It was burned down by the British." Tess replied.

"But do you know why?" Dumbledore asked.

"Some people say that it was an act of mockery." said Tess.

"Mockery and self triumph." said Dumbledore. It amazed Harry, the way he was talking to her. It was as if he had been waiting to have this conversation with her for quite some time. "Yes, the Tree was burned down, the original source in the new country for wand making. When a British wizard destroyed it with a powerful curse, all hope was lost. Until a witch named Abigail Adams, who was one of the few surviving women of the Daughters of Liberty came right after the wizard left. She salvaged the last 7 pieces of the roots and branches that were intact and yet still burning from the flames. With a friend's aid, she forged wands out of the pieces and in the process, created a failsafe; should the witch or wizard who uses the wand ever be in grave peril, the very thing that was intended to destroy the source of the wand could be used as a beacon of hope and victory. Over time, the wands were lost or forgotten. And you Quintessa, hold the last of these precious wands."

"Whoa...but I still don't understand how I actually conjured a fire whip." said Tess.

"What went through your mind at that moment you were cornered by the Basilisk?" Dumbledore asked with a genuine smile.

"At first I felt that there was nothing I could do." said Tess. "But I think somewhere inside me, there was this gut feeling that I had to try to do something."

"The wand chooses the wizard, Quintessa." said Dumbledore proudly. "There's no clear answer as to why. But I think we know why this wand did. The qualities needed to activate the failsafe in can only be found when the person is worthy enoguh. If you don't believe me," He walked to his desk and pulled a powerful glass figure, then put the wand underneath it. "Read the inscription."

Tess brought it up to her eyes and read, "Don't give up the ship. Fight till she sinks."

"Do you know who said that?" Dumbeldore asked. Tess shook her head no and Dumbledore told her in reply, "He was a wizard by the name of Captain James Lawrence of the American Navy, who served fighting in the War of 1812. And from what I hear, he was a brave chap that one, so only a brave girl like yourself would be able to harness the power within that wand."

"Whoa." Tess breathed, looking at her wand. "I never thought of it that way."

"Every day is a new opportunity to learn something new or unexpected." said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "Now Harry, so you have met Tom Riddle. I imagine he was most interested in you. . . ."

Suddenly, something that was nagging at Harry came tumbling out of his mouth. "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 descendant 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."

"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. But that is not the only quality that makes us who we are." He turned to Tess. "Why did you go to Gryffindor?"

"Because even though I was new, I didn't care where I went." She said. "I wanted to keep an open mind."

"Exactly." said Dumbledore. "It is not through obtaining knowledge that makes someone, wise, magical or now. It is how, to the best of our ability, we keep not only keep an open mind to the vast unknown, but also an open heart."

Harry sat motionless in his chair, stunned. "Now if you want proof, Harry, that you belong in Gryffindor, I suggest you look more closely at this." Dumbledore reached across to Professor McGonagall's desk, picked up the blood-stained 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.

Suddenly, however, when the door burst open so violently, 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.

"Dobby." Harry whispered. "So this is your master. The family you serve is the Malfoys."

"It's a small world-" Tess began to sing quietly before being nudged in the arms by Harry.

"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. Malfoy's 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. "So!" he said "You've come back. The governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts."

"Well, you see, Lucius," said Dumbledore, smiling serenely, "the other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They'd heard that Arthur Weasley's daughter had been killed and wanted me back here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all. Very strange tales they told me, too. . . . Several of them seemed to think that you had threatened to curse their families if they didn't agree to suspend me in the first place."

Mr. Malfoy went even paler than usual, but his eyes were still slits of fury. "So — have you stopped the attacks yet?" he sneered. "Have you caught the culprit?"

"We have," said Dumbledore, with a smile.

"Well?" said Mr. Malfoy sharply. "Who is it?"

"The same person as last time, Lucius," said Dumbledore. "But this time, Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else. By means of this diary." He held up the small black book with the large hole through the center, watching Mr. Malfoy closely. Harry, however, was watching Dobby. The elf was doing something very odd. His great eyes fixed meaningfully on Harry, he kept pointing at the diary, then at Mr. Malfoy, and then hitting himself hard on the head with his fist.

"I see . . ." said Mr. Malfoy slowly to Dumbledore.

"A clever plan," said Dumbledore in a level voice, still staring Mr. Malfoy straight in the eye. "Because if Harry nor Quintessa here" — Mr. Malfoy shot Harry a swift, sharp look — "and their friend Ron hadn't discovered this book, why — Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn't acted of her own free will. . . ." Mr. Malfoy said nothing. His face was suddenly masklike. "And imagine," Dumbledore went on, "what might have happened then. . . . The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pure-blood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing Muggle-borns. . . . Very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Riddle's memories wiped from it. Who knows what the consequences might have been otherwise. . . ." Mr. Malfoy forced himself to speak.

"Very fortunate," he said stiffly. And still, behind his back, Dobby was pointing, first to the diary, then to Lucius Malfoy, then punching himself in the head. And Harry suddenly understood. He nodded at Dobby, and Dobby backed into a corner, now twisting his ears in punishment.

Lucius Malfoy stood for a moment, and 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. The feast, remember. . . ." Harry grabbed the diary and dashed out of the office.

"Quintessa." said Dumbledore, handing Tess an envelope. "I do believe some friends of your uncle's sent this to you?"

It was Harry's DNA test.

Aaaaannnnnnnd we're done here