Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world are the inestimable creation of J.K.
Rowling. I am a trespasser, playing for my amusement (and hopefully yours).
In the Great Hall, that evening, Harry looked around to see who had stayed. There were more students than usual, but that was still not very many, and the long house tables had been replaced by short ones with space for twelve students at each. None were close to full. At the Gryffindor table sat Harry, one seventh-year girl, Linda Talbot, and one second-year boy, Davey McDoughal. Hufflepuff had two third-years that looked barely familiar, but Ravenclaw had a full six people, all fourth year or above, who seemed coolly comfortable with each other. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, with one scared-looking first or second year boy, sat at the Slytherin table.
Harry surveyed each group several times. If his correspondent had stayed, he or she was somewhere in this room. Harry began to evaluate the remaining students, eliminating the ones who could not have written the words in the chamber.
Crabbe and Goyle he dismissed as too stupid, and the first- and second-year students as too young. No Hufflepuff, Harry judged, would have his correspondent's disregard for rules. He was certain Linda, the remaining Gryffindor, would not wander around the school at night. That left all the Ravenclaw students - two girls and four boys - and Draco Malfoy. Harry decided he didn't want to think about that last possibility, right now. Perhaps he should investigate the Ravenclaw students.
As he lay in bed, however, in the otherwise deserted sixth-year boys' dormitory, his thoughts returned to Malfoy. Malfoy's father certainly was a terror, and his friends - at least, Crabbe and Goyle - were idiots, so those facts fit, but the attitude seemed wrong. Harry had never heard Malfoy speak ill of his father, or any other member of his family, before. Indeed, he tended to bring up his father to bully others ... Harry frowned. That fits, actually, he thought. But his family - he used to make fun of me for not having a family - I can't imagine him saying he doesn't want his own.
Quite suddenly, Harry remember Malfoy, during their first year, saying loudly and insincerely how sorry he felt for people who couldn't go home for Christmas, because nobody wanted them. For a moment, Harry thought of Ron and Hermione, enjoying the merry chaos of the Burrow, and a wave of self-pity swept over him.
You told Ron you'd be fine, he scolded himself. It's not his fault if you lied.
He forced his thoughts back to Malfoy. Yes, that was what Malfoy had said their first year, but then, the second year, he had been here, himself. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had assumed it was because he was the Heir of Slytherin, but they had been wrong. Why had Malfoy been at school? Was he there to keep an eye on the plot, or had his family just not wanted him, that year?
The next night, there were no new messages in the Chamber. Harry, with mixed annoyance and relief, considered the possibility that his correspondent had gone home after all, though five days ago he had written "... I'm staying." Harry wondered if he should re-seal the Chamber. Under his message from the last day of exams, he added:
By the end of the next day, Harry reluctantly eliminated one of the Ravenclaw girls as someone who would not go anywhere as dirty as the tunnel that led to the chamber of secrets, and all of the Ravenclaw boys as simply too unimaginative to find anything so far from the library. This, he noted apprehensively, left the other Ravenclaw girl and Malfoy.
On December 23rd, he lay in bed, considering this.
Over holidays, he had planned to try to meet his correspondent. It seemed clear he had merely to violate the alternating-day rule and he stood a good chance of surprising the other. But if it was Malfoy, did he want to?
I can go down there quietly, he thought, leaving my cloak on until I see the other person. If it's the girl, there's no problem. But what if it's Malfoy? What do I want to do then?
I could ignore it, never publicly violate the schedule, and be sort of friends with him, in writing, as if I didn't know.
I could stop writing to him.
I could take off the cloak anyway, and see what he does. He's probably as horrified as me, if it's him. He may be lying in bed now, thinking, what if it's Potter?
Draco Malfoy, Harry remembered, had tried to make friends with him, the first time they met. He had gone about it in entirely the wrong way, trying to sound important, confiding plans to extract presents from his father, and warning Harry against the "wrong sort", but he had done so, nonetheless, and without knowing who Harry was.
Of course, ever since Harry had refused to be friends with him, during their second encounter, he had been perfectly horrid.
Dumbledore, Harry thought, gave people second chances. He was famous for it. On the other hand, what reason did he have to give Malfoy a second chance? Some vague expressions of unhappiness and fear? But then, if there was some good to Malfoy, what chance did he have of finding it, when they were enemies?
The next morning, Harry wandered aimlessly through the school. He thought he had best go down to Hogsmeade in the evening, after Honeydukes closed, take what he wanted and just leave money. He had decided he wanted butterbeer, but wasn't actually sure where to get it, other than for drinking in The Three Broomsticks. Perhaps, he decided, he could ask Dobby. Fred and George had found some way to get bottles of the stuff.
On his way downstairs, he saw Albus Dumbledore, just inside the Great Hall. Harry slipped in through the door. No one else was in the huge room. The headmaster appeared to be surveying the twelve Christmas trees, all hung with gold stars. The enchanted ceiling was a flat slate grey, but everything below it glittered with Christmas cheer. Dumbledore swung round.
"Harry! We missed you at breakfast, this morning. Are you enjoying your holidays?"
Harry glanced down. "It's a bit quiet," he admitted.
Dumbledore nodded in understanding.
"I've grown accustomed to seeing you with young Mr. Weasley, or with Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. It requires practice to enjoy having the run of the place to oneself."
Harry nodded, though he wasn't sure he understood. Did Dumbledore mean he would learn to do without friends? He looked at the giant, glittering evergreen in front of him, and sighed.
"What makes people friends, sir?"
He thought it was an idiotic question as soon as it left his mouth, but Dumbledore appeared to seriously consider the matter.
"That depends, Harry, that depends. There are as many ways for people to be friends as there are for them to be lovers." He looked up at the nearest tree. "Perhaps more ways. Shared interests, complementary interests, sympathy, even just inexplicable love. Nor is that all."
"Ron just ignores me, now," Harry complained.
"Ah yes. He is in love with Miss Granger, is he not? It's hard to lose a friend to true love." Dumbledore sighed. "I recall when my daughter married. Suddenly, I had no one to play checkers with in the morning. I was compelled to take this job as Hogwarts Headmaster, so that I had available players."
Harry laughed out loud.
"You realize I don't believe that for a minute."
"And why not, young Potter?"
"I'm told you had your choice of this or Minister of Magic."
Dumbledore waved a hand dismissively. "There was never any contest, Mr. Potter. Ministry of Magic people play only wizard chess."
Harry grinned. A checkerboard, he noticed, was sitting out on the Gryffindor table. Either he had overlooked it, earlier, or it had just appeared. "Would you like a game of checkers, professor?" he asked.
"I could not imagine anything better."
At first, Harry played with great concentration. He did not have much practice at Muggle games, and Professor Dumbledore was a superb strategist. Ten minutes in, most of the pieces were still on the board, and Harry could see that Dumbledore's next move would leave him unable to move without being captured.
Suddenly, Dumbledore jumped three of Harry's pieces, exposing two of his own and opening up the middle of the board.
"Sir?"
"Your turn, Harry."
"But - why did you do that? You could have -"
"I did that because it was too fun to miss." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled over his half-moon glasses, and Harry grinned in response.
After that, both Harry and Professor Dumbledore played recklessly, taking any possible capture. In two minutes, only three of Harry's pieces and four of Dumbledore's were left, and every remaining piece had been kinged. They met in the middle for foolish duels, and Dumbledore won.
Dumbledore sat back. "Very satisfying," he said. "It is so rare that I encounter an opponent who understands how to play."
Harry looked down and smiled. Dumbledore was clearly commenting on his ability to play, rather than his ability to play checkers. He looked up.
"Another game, sir?"
"Something different, I think."
"Exploding Snap?" Harry suggested daringly.
Professor Dumbledore was properly silly about playing Exploding Snap. He patted his eyebrows nervously after a particularly exuberant explosion. Harry felt more relaxed than he had in days. On impulse, he asked:
"Professor? When do you decide to give someone a second chance?"
"Sorry?" asked Dumbledore politely.
"Someone like Professor Snape. Someone you know has done bad things. You're famous for giving people second chances. How do you know when to do it?"
"Ah." Professor Dumbledore thought. "It is hard to define. Sometimes you see a hidden goodness in someone - something that has had no opportunity to express itself. Sometimes you see some cause of ill behavior - and believe you may be able to counter it. Sometimes it is nothing more than sympathy for someone you see as trapped." He dealt out a hand. Harry's topmost card blew up, singing the ones beneath it.
"Children's stories would have you believe that when you release an animal from a trap, it is grateful," the headmaster added, his voice growing more serious. "This is not true. Most often, when you release an animal from a trap, it will turn and bite you. It is hurt. It is confused. It is full of hate for the world. People are only slightly better. When you release someone from a trap, you must be prepared for them to bite you; ready to endure that first, animal response. Soon after, you will know." He paused. "You won't always be right, you know. Even I am not always right."
"But how do I know when to try?" Harry persisted.
Professor Dumbledore peered over his glasses.
"If you are a good man, as I believe you will be, Harry Potter, son of James Potter, the glorious, son of Lily Potter, the perspicacious, you will feel the stirring of sympathy within your soul, and you will know when the time has come to take your risk." He held Harry's eyes for a moment, until three cards on the table simultaneously exploded. The headmaster chuckled.
"Well, I'm afraid I must get back to work - after this hand, of course. Thank you for the diversion, Harry - I haven't had such fun in too long a time."