Chapter 22
Against his will, Christof opened his eyes a fraction of an inch. A great, lithe figure clothed in a venomously green skin lay half-curled on the cold stone floor of the Chamber. Its head was lifted high above Riddle's but it swayed as if under a trance, until Riddle pointed one long, thin finger towards Christof.
As if the finger had total control, the snake lunged forward towards the boy. Instinctively, Christof's hands flew to shield his face-the snake rushed towards him and he could feel the chill emanating from its scaly body-A rush of wind caught him as the snake reared back to strike-
"Stop it!" he cried out, hardly realizing that he had uttered the words. And it was all over: the snake settled back docilely, as if it was a tame pet and not a fearsome, twenty-some foot long monster fond of death and destruction.
Riddle made a startled, angry noise. "Get him!" he hissed, his features contorted in senseless rage. "Get him now! The boy is behind you! Kill him!"
Christof stared at the large, motionless reptilian form before him. What had happened? Why had it stopped so suddenly, halfway through its fatal attack?
"Get the boy! Kill him!" Riddle screamed in frustrated fury. The snake rose up, swaying slightly as if unsure of whether or not to follow its master's direction. As Riddle continued to shout commands, it slithered once more towards Christof-but this time slower, less bent on destruction.
Christof shut his eyes tightly and did not see the hesitation in the Basilisk's movements. Any moment now, he knew, would be his last.
Riddle, who had been silent, uttered a loud oath as the snake made as if to stop. "Go on! Kill him!" he shouted feverishly.
Unable to stop himself, Christof opened his eyes a tiny bit again. The snake was hovering over him, unsure what to do-
"Good! You are almost there! Kill him! Kill him!"
Riddle's frenzied cries seemed to agitate the Basilisk, and it swayed abover Christof, rearing back once more to strike.
Suddenly Christof spun out of reach, breathing hard. Adrenaline gave him strength, and fear made him think quickly. Casting about with his hands for something-anything-he grasped something hard and cold and long, and swung it up and over his head. A shock ran through his entire form as the object collided with the head of the large snake, and he dropped it as if it was a hot coal.
The ground shook as the snake fell to to floor with a thud. His heart beating rapidly, Christof opened his eyes again to see that the Basilisk now lay limply on the floor, one enormous fang buried in a loose, rotting piece of wood.
At his feet lay a large metal pipe, several feet long and about five or six inches wide. It was bent quite out of shape where it had connected with the Basilisk.
Riddle gave a soft, bitter laugh, drawing Christof back into the present situation. "Very good, very good," he murmured. "A surprising trick of fate, but very good."
His hands still slightly numb from the shock that had run through the metal pipe, Christof glanced over at Ginny. She lay in exactly the same position she had when he entered the Chamber, but Riddle's outline was distinctly clearer.
Riddle followed his gaze. "Soon she will be but a mere memory," he said with a trace of triumph in his voice.
Christof didn't answer, but turned to look steadily at Riddle. "I prefer it this way, then, Christof Malfoy," said Riddle after a moment, running his long fingers along the smooth wood of Christof's wand. "Just you and me." he raised the wand with a small smile. Involuntarily, Christof shut his eyes tight, knowing that this time there would be nothing to save him-
Suddenly, a breath of wind touched him gently, and a soft whir as if a great many birds were winging their way to the other side of the Chamber above him sounded. Startled and curious, Christof looked up, almost forgetting Riddle-
Not many birds, but one enormous scarlet-and-gold phoenix, was flying past him. And as it did, a small, semi-heavy object dropped into his lap.
The diary.
* * *
For the first time in what must have been months, Harry had left the moldering cot and was pacing to and fro from the door to the back wall of the cell by candlelight. A sense of premonition was in the air; he felt nearly sure that something was not right-although where or how it was not right, he didn't know.
The globe glinted eerily at him from where he had set it on the bed; it was almost as if it were mocking him for his needless worries-surely they are needless worries? He thought frantically. What could be happening.where.I've no cause to worry.
Restlessly, he sat back down, running a finger along the surface of the globe. He blinked in surprise as a picture began to whirl inside it-what had he been thinking about, hard enough to call up a vision in the seeing- globe?
As the picture began to revolve more and more slowly, he saw that the scene was a strange one-set in a large, dark stone chamber that looked as if it were someplace underground. Three people were at one end of the hall-and as Harry watched, the pictured closed in on that end, until he could see each person quite well.
He drew in his breath softly as his eyes rested on the first person-a small, red-haired figure he knew very well, both from his own life and from previous pictures in the seeing-globe: Ginny Weasley. She was sprawled as if asleep at the foot of an enormous stone statue, her medium-length red hair fanned out behind her and one arm flung outwards as if she had fallen there and not moved or drawn a breath since.
Another person stood nearby. Or rather, didn't stand-he looked as if he didn't quite exist, although how this could be possible Harry didn't know. He was somewhat tall, with dark hair and cold, laughing eyes. He was twirling a wand in his long white fingers, and seemed to be talking triumphantly to the other person in the room.
Harry gave a start as he recognized this third person-he was the same black- haired boy whom Lucius Malfoy had identified as Christof Malfoy-Danady. Confused, Harry remembered that the last picture in which Christof had been present was when he and Nearly Headless Nick were Petrified-but how could he be standing there, then, certainly as warm and living as Harry himself?
This must be either before or after, Harry thought, perhaps something was done, and he's not Petrified any longer, and this happened after he became un-Petrified.
His thoughts turned once more to the picture in front of him. His jaw dropped as the great stone mouth of the enormous statue began to open, revealing a great, gaping black hole. Something moved inside of its dark depths; something sinewy and poisonously green.
Harry's heart gave a small drop as the long form of a Basilisk slid out of the statue's mouth and onto the floor, its bulbous yellow eyes focused on the dark-haired boy with the wand. The boy spoke something, and the Basilisk reared back, turning around to advance upon Christof.
Christof threw his hands up to guard his face, his every feature spelling defeat. But just as the Basilisk prepared to strike with its long, venemous fangs, Christof cried something aloud and the snake stopped abruptly.
Harry stared at the globe-what had made it stop? But his attention was pulled back to the scene before him as the snake began to sway before Christof, as if it had not quite made up its mind what to do-or what not to do.
Meanwhile, the other dark-haired boy's face contorted with rage, and he began shouting things Harry could not hear. After another moment of indecision, the snake turned once more on Christof, and somehow Harry knew that this time it would not stop mid-strike.
As it hurled itself upon the helpless boy, Christof rolled away with surprising agility, and caught up a long metal pipe. His eyes tightly shut, he swung it recklessly-and Harry watched, openmouthed, as it connected soundly with the snake's green-skinned skull.
The snake reared back in agony, and then fell to the floor, one fang imbedding itself in a soft, rotting board. The strange boy stared in shock for a moment, and then became very angry in a calm, cold sort of way. He smiled icily at Christof, twirling the wand in his fingers, and spoke a few silent words.
* * *
Almost without thinking, Christof hurled himself at the form of the dead Basilisk-not knowing why he did it, he pulled the fang from the soft, rotten wood and plunged it into the diary.
A piercing scream split the air. Ink spurted out of the diary in torrents, staining Christof's hands and robes red as if with thick, vividly scarlet blood. Riddle was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing and then-
He had gone. Christof's wand fell to the floor with a clatter and then there was silence-broken only by a low moan.
Christof rushed to Ginny Weasley's side. She opened her eyes a tiny bit, and then blinked in surprise as an unfamiliar face greeted her.
"Who are you?" she asked distrustfully. It was no wonder, Christof thought- not after what she had been through.
"There's no time to explain right now," he said quickly. "We should get out of here-Riddle's gone, and the diary and the monster-but who knows what else might be waiting around here. Your brother and Hermione Granger are waiting for us further down the passage. Come on, I'll help you."
Ginny stared at him for a moment, and then her face crumpled and she began to sob brokenly. Startled, Christof wondered what to do now.
"Oh," she said, "I'm so sorry-I didn't know-the diary-he was so nice to me- and-and Hermione got it-and I had to get it back and-I went through her things-oh, what'll Mum and Dad say!"
"It's going to be okay," said Christof, patting her head awkwardly. "Come on, we'll get you to your brother."
"Which one?" Ginny hiccuped. "You don't mean Percy-I can't face Percy right now-he suspected me all along-he'll hate me after this-,"
"Not Percy," said Christof, struggling to remember the red-haired boy's name. "Uh-Ron. He and Hermione Granger are waiting for us," he repeated.
Ginny allowed him to help her to her feet, and she followed him, still hiccuping loudly, to the other end of the Chamber.
Christof stopped as he heard a whirring of wings once more. The phoenix flew over him, alighting on his shoulder. "Thanks," said Christof softly, stroking the bird's scarlet feathers. "I don't know who you belong to, but thanks."
"That's Fawkes," sniffed Ginny. "He belongs to Professor Dumbledore. I saw him the other day when-when I-," she drew a deep, shuddering breath, and then continued, "When he asked to see me cause-because I looked like I w- wasn't feeling-quite well. Which I wasn't," she added forlornly.
"Oh," said Christof, wishing he knew how to deal with the eleven-year-old's tears.
They walked in silence for a moment until they came in sight of the barricade of stone-which now had a sizable hole cleared in it. A black robe covered the hole, as if someone in a Hogwarts uniform was standing in front of the hole that had been opened.
"Er-hello," Christof called softly. Fawkes suddenly flew off his shoulder and into the hole, just as Hermione stepped away from it. She smiled brightly and waved Christof and Ginny in, noting with concern Ginny's tearstained cheeks. "She's had a rough time," Christof murmured as Ginny rushed to greet her brother. "Don't make her answer any questions."
Suddenly he looked around sharply. "Where's Aracidia?" he asked, his heart sinking. Hermione smiled brightly.
"He's still out cold," she said, pointing to where she and Ron had dragged him, off the the side of the passage. "He woke up a little, but when he tried to sit up the effort made him pass out again."
"How are we going to get him out of here?" Christof asked anxiously. "None of us can carry him-and if we were to wake him-," he shivered involuntarily, remember the cold light in Aracidia's eyes, identical to that in Riddle's.
"We've been discussing that for the past half-hour," Hermione agreed. "I don't-what is that?" she cut herself off. Fawkes the Phoenix had alighted on Professor Aracidia's still form, gripping his robe hard in his steely talons. Slowly, though seemingly effortlessly, he rose in the air with the man still clutched firmly in his grip.
"He is a phoenix," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I've heard they can carry frightfully heavy loads."
"Woah," said Ron reverently. They stood in awed silence for a moment as Fawkes hovered, adjusting his grip on Aracidia's robes. Then the phoenix began to fly slowly back down the passage, towards the pipe that would lead them back up into Hogwarts.
* * *
"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley rushed towards her daughter. "Oh, Ginny, Ginny!"
"Mum!" Ginny said in a small, quavery voice, and allowed herself to be enveloped in a hug.
Hermione, however, looked passed them. Standing beside the mantelplace in Professor McGonagall's officse stood not only Professor McGonagall, but Professor Dumbledore also, smiling benignly. Fawkes went whooshing past Hermione, after setting Aracidia's limp body to the floor, and alighted on Dumbledore's shoulder, looking serenely pleased with himself.
Suddenly Mrs. Weasley looked up at the three other slime-covered students as if seeing them for the first time. "You saved her!" she cried to none of them in particular. "Oh, you saved her! How did you do it? Who did it?"
"I think we'd all like to know that," said a Professor McGonagall weakly.
Mrs. Weasley unwrapped one arm from around Ginny and embraced Ron. "How did you do it?" she asked again.
"Mum-there was a cave-in in this tunnel-I didn't really do anything," Ron said honestly, his ears reddening.
"Yes, you did," said Christof suddenly. Mrs. Weasley turned to him as if seeing him for the first time, but before she could ask any questions he continued. "Listen, it was all an accident that we ended up on different sides of that barrier-and if you two hadn't've cleared a hole, I-we-never would have been able to get back in."
"So-it was you who." Mrs. Weasley trailed off, nonplussed. Then, seeming to recover her sense of courtesy, she asked his name politely.
"Christof," he said slowly, not sure what reaction she would have if he revealed his full name.
Professor Dumbledore stepped forward quickly. "Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy is a very courageous young man. I am sure that you have heard of his father, Arrlimon Malfoy-more commonly known as Arrlimon Danady."
Now it was Christof's turn to redden. Mrs. Weasley gave him a long, searching look, and then turned back to Professor Dumbledore. "As a matter of fact, I have heard the name before," she said evenly. "I have great respect for your father," she added, looking at Christof.
Christof looked down at the floor, remembering Riddle's biting words. "The curse was meant, in a burst of thoughtless anger, for Potter.."
Dumbledore seemed to notice Christof's unhappy state. "Christof, I am sure that we would all like to hear what has happened to you and your friends this evening."
Taking a deep breath, Christof began to talk uncertainly into the rapt silence. He told about his own attack, how the Basilisk had come from behind and all he had seen was a pair of large, hypnotic eyes through Nearly Headless Nick. How Ron had snuck into the hospital wing after the Mandrake Draught had been administered, and how Ron had told them that Ginny had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets; how Ron had led them to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom as a place to talk things over, and how they had deduced that the monster inside the Chamber of Secrets was, indeed, a Basilisk. Astonished cries met him when he told of Aracidia's part. Dumbledore frowned as he related his conversations with Riddle-and frowned even more when he described the way that the Basilisk had turned from him in mid-strike. Then he faltered-so far he had managed to avoid relating the story Riddle had told him, of the diary and the one who was caught under its malicious spell. What if Ginny was expelled? Pleadingly, he looked at Dumbledore, who smiled faintly as the firelight glinted on his half-moon spectacles.
"What interests me most," he said gently, "Is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently hiding in the forests of Albania."
Mr. Weasley stepped forward quickly from where he had been standing behind his wife. "What?" he asked in startled concern. "You-Know-Who? Enchant Ginny? But how.she hasn't been.has she?"
Christof held up the diary. "It was this diary, sir," he said rapidly. Suddenly, Ginny looked up from where she had been sobbing brokenly on Mrs. Weasley's shoulder.
"I've been wri-writing in it the wh-whole year," she hiccuped. "I di-didn't know it was wr-wrong. I didn't kn-know who it w-was. R-Riddle was so n-nice and un-un-understanding."
"Riddle wrote in the diary when he was younger," Christof explained. "I don't know how Ginny found it, but."
"Brilliant," said Dumbledore softly. "Brilliant. Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen."
"Brill-student-what on earth do you mean?" Mr. Weasley said, thoroughly nonplussed.
"Few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore mildly. "I taught him myself when he was at Hogwarts. But after he left the school he disappeared.he traveled far and wide, into places so dark that even the most pure mind can be corrupted and even the most unblemished record marred by horrible deeds. He sank so deeply into the Dark Arts that when he emerged, many years later, he was nearly unrecognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was Head Boy at Hogwarts."
"But Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley dazedly. "What's Ginny got to do with him?"
"H-his diary!" Ginny said again. "I-I've been writing in it and-and h-he's been wr-writing back and and-,"
"Ginny!" said Mr. Weasley, flabbergasted. "We've taught you better than that! 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?"
Ginny began to sob even harder. "I d-didn't know," she wailed. "I f-found it in one of the b-books Mum got for me and-and I thought th-that someone had just left it there and-and I th-thought I could use it as m-my d-diary- ,"
"Miss Weasley needs to go up to the hospital wing immediately," said Dumbledore firmly. "This has been a terrible ordeal for all of us. She will not be punished. Older and wiser wizards have been hoodwinked by the Dark Lord. Bedrest and a mug of hot chocolate," he said as he strode over to the door and opened it, "Is just what she needs. And remember," he added gently, "No lasting harm has been done, Ginny."
Mrs. Weasley led Ginny out of the office, Mr. Weasley following closely behind. As he closed the door again, Dumbledore looked thoughtfully at McGonagall. "All of this seems to merit a good feast," he said thoughtfully. "Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens? Oh, and while you are at it, would you send Severus down with his strongest Truth Potion?"
"Of course," said McGonagall, and left the room quickly.
As soon as she had gone, Dumbledore turned his penatrating gaze on Hermione, Ron, and Christof. "I must commend you on your courage and your cleverness this evening," he said seriously. "All of you will receive Special Awards for Services to the School and two hundred points apiece to your respective houses. Now, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, you may go and prepare yourselves for tonight's festivities. Mr. Malfoy, if you could remain for a moment, I have a few things to discuss with you."
Against his will, Christof opened his eyes a fraction of an inch. A great, lithe figure clothed in a venomously green skin lay half-curled on the cold stone floor of the Chamber. Its head was lifted high above Riddle's but it swayed as if under a trance, until Riddle pointed one long, thin finger towards Christof.
As if the finger had total control, the snake lunged forward towards the boy. Instinctively, Christof's hands flew to shield his face-the snake rushed towards him and he could feel the chill emanating from its scaly body-A rush of wind caught him as the snake reared back to strike-
"Stop it!" he cried out, hardly realizing that he had uttered the words. And it was all over: the snake settled back docilely, as if it was a tame pet and not a fearsome, twenty-some foot long monster fond of death and destruction.
Riddle made a startled, angry noise. "Get him!" he hissed, his features contorted in senseless rage. "Get him now! The boy is behind you! Kill him!"
Christof stared at the large, motionless reptilian form before him. What had happened? Why had it stopped so suddenly, halfway through its fatal attack?
"Get the boy! Kill him!" Riddle screamed in frustrated fury. The snake rose up, swaying slightly as if unsure of whether or not to follow its master's direction. As Riddle continued to shout commands, it slithered once more towards Christof-but this time slower, less bent on destruction.
Christof shut his eyes tightly and did not see the hesitation in the Basilisk's movements. Any moment now, he knew, would be his last.
Riddle, who had been silent, uttered a loud oath as the snake made as if to stop. "Go on! Kill him!" he shouted feverishly.
Unable to stop himself, Christof opened his eyes a tiny bit again. The snake was hovering over him, unsure what to do-
"Good! You are almost there! Kill him! Kill him!"
Riddle's frenzied cries seemed to agitate the Basilisk, and it swayed abover Christof, rearing back once more to strike.
Suddenly Christof spun out of reach, breathing hard. Adrenaline gave him strength, and fear made him think quickly. Casting about with his hands for something-anything-he grasped something hard and cold and long, and swung it up and over his head. A shock ran through his entire form as the object collided with the head of the large snake, and he dropped it as if it was a hot coal.
The ground shook as the snake fell to to floor with a thud. His heart beating rapidly, Christof opened his eyes again to see that the Basilisk now lay limply on the floor, one enormous fang buried in a loose, rotting piece of wood.
At his feet lay a large metal pipe, several feet long and about five or six inches wide. It was bent quite out of shape where it had connected with the Basilisk.
Riddle gave a soft, bitter laugh, drawing Christof back into the present situation. "Very good, very good," he murmured. "A surprising trick of fate, but very good."
His hands still slightly numb from the shock that had run through the metal pipe, Christof glanced over at Ginny. She lay in exactly the same position she had when he entered the Chamber, but Riddle's outline was distinctly clearer.
Riddle followed his gaze. "Soon she will be but a mere memory," he said with a trace of triumph in his voice.
Christof didn't answer, but turned to look steadily at Riddle. "I prefer it this way, then, Christof Malfoy," said Riddle after a moment, running his long fingers along the smooth wood of Christof's wand. "Just you and me." he raised the wand with a small smile. Involuntarily, Christof shut his eyes tight, knowing that this time there would be nothing to save him-
Suddenly, a breath of wind touched him gently, and a soft whir as if a great many birds were winging their way to the other side of the Chamber above him sounded. Startled and curious, Christof looked up, almost forgetting Riddle-
Not many birds, but one enormous scarlet-and-gold phoenix, was flying past him. And as it did, a small, semi-heavy object dropped into his lap.
The diary.
* * *
For the first time in what must have been months, Harry had left the moldering cot and was pacing to and fro from the door to the back wall of the cell by candlelight. A sense of premonition was in the air; he felt nearly sure that something was not right-although where or how it was not right, he didn't know.
The globe glinted eerily at him from where he had set it on the bed; it was almost as if it were mocking him for his needless worries-surely they are needless worries? He thought frantically. What could be happening.where.I've no cause to worry.
Restlessly, he sat back down, running a finger along the surface of the globe. He blinked in surprise as a picture began to whirl inside it-what had he been thinking about, hard enough to call up a vision in the seeing- globe?
As the picture began to revolve more and more slowly, he saw that the scene was a strange one-set in a large, dark stone chamber that looked as if it were someplace underground. Three people were at one end of the hall-and as Harry watched, the pictured closed in on that end, until he could see each person quite well.
He drew in his breath softly as his eyes rested on the first person-a small, red-haired figure he knew very well, both from his own life and from previous pictures in the seeing-globe: Ginny Weasley. She was sprawled as if asleep at the foot of an enormous stone statue, her medium-length red hair fanned out behind her and one arm flung outwards as if she had fallen there and not moved or drawn a breath since.
Another person stood nearby. Or rather, didn't stand-he looked as if he didn't quite exist, although how this could be possible Harry didn't know. He was somewhat tall, with dark hair and cold, laughing eyes. He was twirling a wand in his long white fingers, and seemed to be talking triumphantly to the other person in the room.
Harry gave a start as he recognized this third person-he was the same black- haired boy whom Lucius Malfoy had identified as Christof Malfoy-Danady. Confused, Harry remembered that the last picture in which Christof had been present was when he and Nearly Headless Nick were Petrified-but how could he be standing there, then, certainly as warm and living as Harry himself?
This must be either before or after, Harry thought, perhaps something was done, and he's not Petrified any longer, and this happened after he became un-Petrified.
His thoughts turned once more to the picture in front of him. His jaw dropped as the great stone mouth of the enormous statue began to open, revealing a great, gaping black hole. Something moved inside of its dark depths; something sinewy and poisonously green.
Harry's heart gave a small drop as the long form of a Basilisk slid out of the statue's mouth and onto the floor, its bulbous yellow eyes focused on the dark-haired boy with the wand. The boy spoke something, and the Basilisk reared back, turning around to advance upon Christof.
Christof threw his hands up to guard his face, his every feature spelling defeat. But just as the Basilisk prepared to strike with its long, venemous fangs, Christof cried something aloud and the snake stopped abruptly.
Harry stared at the globe-what had made it stop? But his attention was pulled back to the scene before him as the snake began to sway before Christof, as if it had not quite made up its mind what to do-or what not to do.
Meanwhile, the other dark-haired boy's face contorted with rage, and he began shouting things Harry could not hear. After another moment of indecision, the snake turned once more on Christof, and somehow Harry knew that this time it would not stop mid-strike.
As it hurled itself upon the helpless boy, Christof rolled away with surprising agility, and caught up a long metal pipe. His eyes tightly shut, he swung it recklessly-and Harry watched, openmouthed, as it connected soundly with the snake's green-skinned skull.
The snake reared back in agony, and then fell to the floor, one fang imbedding itself in a soft, rotting board. The strange boy stared in shock for a moment, and then became very angry in a calm, cold sort of way. He smiled icily at Christof, twirling the wand in his fingers, and spoke a few silent words.
* * *
Almost without thinking, Christof hurled himself at the form of the dead Basilisk-not knowing why he did it, he pulled the fang from the soft, rotten wood and plunged it into the diary.
A piercing scream split the air. Ink spurted out of the diary in torrents, staining Christof's hands and robes red as if with thick, vividly scarlet blood. Riddle was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing and then-
He had gone. Christof's wand fell to the floor with a clatter and then there was silence-broken only by a low moan.
Christof rushed to Ginny Weasley's side. She opened her eyes a tiny bit, and then blinked in surprise as an unfamiliar face greeted her.
"Who are you?" she asked distrustfully. It was no wonder, Christof thought- not after what she had been through.
"There's no time to explain right now," he said quickly. "We should get out of here-Riddle's gone, and the diary and the monster-but who knows what else might be waiting around here. Your brother and Hermione Granger are waiting for us further down the passage. Come on, I'll help you."
Ginny stared at him for a moment, and then her face crumpled and she began to sob brokenly. Startled, Christof wondered what to do now.
"Oh," she said, "I'm so sorry-I didn't know-the diary-he was so nice to me- and-and Hermione got it-and I had to get it back and-I went through her things-oh, what'll Mum and Dad say!"
"It's going to be okay," said Christof, patting her head awkwardly. "Come on, we'll get you to your brother."
"Which one?" Ginny hiccuped. "You don't mean Percy-I can't face Percy right now-he suspected me all along-he'll hate me after this-,"
"Not Percy," said Christof, struggling to remember the red-haired boy's name. "Uh-Ron. He and Hermione Granger are waiting for us," he repeated.
Ginny allowed him to help her to her feet, and she followed him, still hiccuping loudly, to the other end of the Chamber.
Christof stopped as he heard a whirring of wings once more. The phoenix flew over him, alighting on his shoulder. "Thanks," said Christof softly, stroking the bird's scarlet feathers. "I don't know who you belong to, but thanks."
"That's Fawkes," sniffed Ginny. "He belongs to Professor Dumbledore. I saw him the other day when-when I-," she drew a deep, shuddering breath, and then continued, "When he asked to see me cause-because I looked like I w- wasn't feeling-quite well. Which I wasn't," she added forlornly.
"Oh," said Christof, wishing he knew how to deal with the eleven-year-old's tears.
They walked in silence for a moment until they came in sight of the barricade of stone-which now had a sizable hole cleared in it. A black robe covered the hole, as if someone in a Hogwarts uniform was standing in front of the hole that had been opened.
"Er-hello," Christof called softly. Fawkes suddenly flew off his shoulder and into the hole, just as Hermione stepped away from it. She smiled brightly and waved Christof and Ginny in, noting with concern Ginny's tearstained cheeks. "She's had a rough time," Christof murmured as Ginny rushed to greet her brother. "Don't make her answer any questions."
Suddenly he looked around sharply. "Where's Aracidia?" he asked, his heart sinking. Hermione smiled brightly.
"He's still out cold," she said, pointing to where she and Ron had dragged him, off the the side of the passage. "He woke up a little, but when he tried to sit up the effort made him pass out again."
"How are we going to get him out of here?" Christof asked anxiously. "None of us can carry him-and if we were to wake him-," he shivered involuntarily, remember the cold light in Aracidia's eyes, identical to that in Riddle's.
"We've been discussing that for the past half-hour," Hermione agreed. "I don't-what is that?" she cut herself off. Fawkes the Phoenix had alighted on Professor Aracidia's still form, gripping his robe hard in his steely talons. Slowly, though seemingly effortlessly, he rose in the air with the man still clutched firmly in his grip.
"He is a phoenix," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I've heard they can carry frightfully heavy loads."
"Woah," said Ron reverently. They stood in awed silence for a moment as Fawkes hovered, adjusting his grip on Aracidia's robes. Then the phoenix began to fly slowly back down the passage, towards the pipe that would lead them back up into Hogwarts.
* * *
"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley rushed towards her daughter. "Oh, Ginny, Ginny!"
"Mum!" Ginny said in a small, quavery voice, and allowed herself to be enveloped in a hug.
Hermione, however, looked passed them. Standing beside the mantelplace in Professor McGonagall's officse stood not only Professor McGonagall, but Professor Dumbledore also, smiling benignly. Fawkes went whooshing past Hermione, after setting Aracidia's limp body to the floor, and alighted on Dumbledore's shoulder, looking serenely pleased with himself.
Suddenly Mrs. Weasley looked up at the three other slime-covered students as if seeing them for the first time. "You saved her!" she cried to none of them in particular. "Oh, you saved her! How did you do it? Who did it?"
"I think we'd all like to know that," said a Professor McGonagall weakly.
Mrs. Weasley unwrapped one arm from around Ginny and embraced Ron. "How did you do it?" she asked again.
"Mum-there was a cave-in in this tunnel-I didn't really do anything," Ron said honestly, his ears reddening.
"Yes, you did," said Christof suddenly. Mrs. Weasley turned to him as if seeing him for the first time, but before she could ask any questions he continued. "Listen, it was all an accident that we ended up on different sides of that barrier-and if you two hadn't've cleared a hole, I-we-never would have been able to get back in."
"So-it was you who." Mrs. Weasley trailed off, nonplussed. Then, seeming to recover her sense of courtesy, she asked his name politely.
"Christof," he said slowly, not sure what reaction she would have if he revealed his full name.
Professor Dumbledore stepped forward quickly. "Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy is a very courageous young man. I am sure that you have heard of his father, Arrlimon Malfoy-more commonly known as Arrlimon Danady."
Now it was Christof's turn to redden. Mrs. Weasley gave him a long, searching look, and then turned back to Professor Dumbledore. "As a matter of fact, I have heard the name before," she said evenly. "I have great respect for your father," she added, looking at Christof.
Christof looked down at the floor, remembering Riddle's biting words. "The curse was meant, in a burst of thoughtless anger, for Potter.."
Dumbledore seemed to notice Christof's unhappy state. "Christof, I am sure that we would all like to hear what has happened to you and your friends this evening."
Taking a deep breath, Christof began to talk uncertainly into the rapt silence. He told about his own attack, how the Basilisk had come from behind and all he had seen was a pair of large, hypnotic eyes through Nearly Headless Nick. How Ron had snuck into the hospital wing after the Mandrake Draught had been administered, and how Ron had told them that Ginny had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets; how Ron had led them to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom as a place to talk things over, and how they had deduced that the monster inside the Chamber of Secrets was, indeed, a Basilisk. Astonished cries met him when he told of Aracidia's part. Dumbledore frowned as he related his conversations with Riddle-and frowned even more when he described the way that the Basilisk had turned from him in mid-strike. Then he faltered-so far he had managed to avoid relating the story Riddle had told him, of the diary and the one who was caught under its malicious spell. What if Ginny was expelled? Pleadingly, he looked at Dumbledore, who smiled faintly as the firelight glinted on his half-moon spectacles.
"What interests me most," he said gently, "Is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently hiding in the forests of Albania."
Mr. Weasley stepped forward quickly from where he had been standing behind his wife. "What?" he asked in startled concern. "You-Know-Who? Enchant Ginny? But how.she hasn't been.has she?"
Christof held up the diary. "It was this diary, sir," he said rapidly. Suddenly, Ginny looked up from where she had been sobbing brokenly on Mrs. Weasley's shoulder.
"I've been wri-writing in it the wh-whole year," she hiccuped. "I di-didn't know it was wr-wrong. I didn't kn-know who it w-was. R-Riddle was so n-nice and un-un-understanding."
"Riddle wrote in the diary when he was younger," Christof explained. "I don't know how Ginny found it, but."
"Brilliant," said Dumbledore softly. "Brilliant. Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen."
"Brill-student-what on earth do you mean?" Mr. Weasley said, thoroughly nonplussed.
"Few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore mildly. "I taught him myself when he was at Hogwarts. But after he left the school he disappeared.he traveled far and wide, into places so dark that even the most pure mind can be corrupted and even the most unblemished record marred by horrible deeds. He sank so deeply into the Dark Arts that when he emerged, many years later, he was nearly unrecognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was Head Boy at Hogwarts."
"But Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley dazedly. "What's Ginny got to do with him?"
"H-his diary!" Ginny said again. "I-I've been writing in it and-and h-he's been wr-writing back and and-,"
"Ginny!" said Mr. Weasley, flabbergasted. "We've taught you better than that! 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?"
Ginny began to sob even harder. "I d-didn't know," she wailed. "I f-found it in one of the b-books Mum got for me and-and I thought th-that someone had just left it there and-and I th-thought I could use it as m-my d-diary- ,"
"Miss Weasley needs to go up to the hospital wing immediately," said Dumbledore firmly. "This has been a terrible ordeal for all of us. She will not be punished. Older and wiser wizards have been hoodwinked by the Dark Lord. Bedrest and a mug of hot chocolate," he said as he strode over to the door and opened it, "Is just what she needs. And remember," he added gently, "No lasting harm has been done, Ginny."
Mrs. Weasley led Ginny out of the office, Mr. Weasley following closely behind. As he closed the door again, Dumbledore looked thoughtfully at McGonagall. "All of this seems to merit a good feast," he said thoughtfully. "Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens? Oh, and while you are at it, would you send Severus down with his strongest Truth Potion?"
"Of course," said McGonagall, and left the room quickly.
As soon as she had gone, Dumbledore turned his penatrating gaze on Hermione, Ron, and Christof. "I must commend you on your courage and your cleverness this evening," he said seriously. "All of you will receive Special Awards for Services to the School and two hundred points apiece to your respective houses. Now, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, you may go and prepare yourselves for tonight's festivities. Mr. Malfoy, if you could remain for a moment, I have a few things to discuss with you."