Thanks again to ChuckTheElf for beta-reading.

Chapter 9: Aftermath

Alex let out a laugh as Holly poured crisps into a bowl on the kitchen counter. "I still can't believe Dudley got a pig's tail! What did that Hagrid bloke say again?"

Holly gleefully mimicked Hagrid's words and tone. "'He was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do'."

Alex chuckled again. He reached into the biscuit jar and deposited several cookies on the plate. "I wish I could have seen it."

"Yeah, Petunia was livid once she found out I already knew about magic. Vernon passed out."

"Serves them right."

"Yeah," Holly said. Then she frowned.

"What's wrong?" Alex poured apple juice into two glasses.

"Petunia and Vernon knew I had magic."

"They did? For how long?"

"Since I was brought there after my parents were killed. Before that, even. Petunia knew all about Hogwarts. My mum went there too." She scowled, clenching her hands. "She knew this whole time and didn't say anything."

The kitchen shook dangerously.

"Well that's not your fault," said Alex, putting a hand on her shoulder. "She's a rancorous woman."

She stared down at her fists. "I know but...I spent years wondering why I was so different, why I could do all these things, why they hated me so much, and it turns out they knew this whole bloody time."

Alex gently patted her back, not saying a word as she embraced him. Holly took deep breaths, trying not to cry. For years she knew that the Dursleys weren't trustworthy and that most of what they said were lies, but she didn't think they'd lie to her about her parents' deaths. She should have known better.

After a few minutes she pulled away. "Thanks."

"No problem."

She sighed. "I don't think they'll take me to the station."

"Don't worry, I'll ask mum and dad."

Holly gave him a weak smile as they gathered their snacks and headed upstairs. "Thanks. Where are your parents anyway?"

Alex brightened as they reached his room. The food was set on the floor as they made themselves comfortable. "Some sort of convention. Dad's been working on this solar battery that's supposed to store loads of power. How it works is that solar panels collect a ton of energy but most people with them can't use all of it. So the battery stores the extra power that can be used later on, like at night or during blackouts. It can hold up a month of energy when it's full."

"So you won't have to pay for power anymore?"

He frowned. "Well, it still costs a lot to get it working. Dad doesn't know if people will want to buy it yet."

"Well, it's still brilliant. Where is he going to sell them?"

"Mostly abroad. The weather here isn't the best for solar."

Holly relaxed on the beanbag while Alex took out his laptop. "I haven't seen the twins running around. How'd you get them to stay so quiet?"

"That's 'cause I dosed them. Mum keeps a bit of sleep potion hidden away. I put some in their milk," Alex smirked, putting in a CD, "had them out like a light. They'll wake when mum and dad come back."

Holly nodded, thoughtful. Maybe she could do the same to Dudley.

They spent the better part of two hours playing video games—which she was getting better at—and talking about magic. Holly eagerly recounted her trip to Diagon Alley and agreed to bring him her history textbook and her owl, Hedwig. Soon the conversation turned to Hogwarts.

"Potions should be really fun to work with, don't you think, with all the unknowns?"

"I thought you were interested in engineering," he said as he gently ran his fingers through her hair, having joined her on the chair.

"Yeah, but it'll take years to make something useful. Potions are more..." she waved a hand casually, unable to find the right word, before giving up.

Alex hummed.

"Still learning how to braid?" she asked, feeling him lift a section of hair away from the rest.

"Yup."

"Rhea will be happy."

His hands moved upwards. "I guess."

Letting the feeling of someone attending to her wash over, Holly thought about how much she was going to miss it. The delicious home-cooked meals, playful banter, the freedom to ask as many questions as she wanted, a place to learn and control her magic...

She hadn't expected anything like this. Alex was the best friend she could have asked for, even if he was a boy. Sure, they had a few rows over stupid stuff, but he was still her best mate. How would he take her leaving? He seemed excited for her, but—

"All done," he said, nudging her from her thoughts. There was an unmistakable note of pride in his voice.

Holly got up from the beanbag chair and admired the braids in front of the mirror behind the door. Her black chest-length hair was divided into six neatly pleated braids, framing her fringe quite nicely.

"It's fantastic," she said as she collapsed back in the chair. "Great work."

"Thanks," he replied, getting up to grab his laptop. "Up for another game?"

Holly looked out the window and saw the darkening sky. "Nah, I should probably get going. Best not to piss off the Dursley's."

"Yeah," he said reluctantly, picking up a book from his bedside table instead and collapsing on the bed.

"Al?"

"Hmm?" He flipped a page.

Holly paused, then voiced a question that had been on her mind for ages. "You know I won't forget about you at Hogwarts, right?"

Alex turned another page more slowly than before, his face unusually blank. "I wouldn't blame you if you did. It's magic."

"So?"

"Mum says that people who grow up..." he paused, "'Muggle' forget their old friends sooner or later."

"I won't."

He didn't seem convinced and put down his book. "You say that now, but who really knows?"

"I do!" She joined him on the bed. "The reason why people forget their old friends is because their old friends are Muggles."

As was Alex, she knew, but Alex's mum was a Squib. Squibs were much rarer than Muggle-borns and they tended to be kicked out from home anytime from birth to seventeen, the Wizarding majority age. Since Alex's mother informed her family of magic – she had no obligation not to – Alex knew, and thus she could tell him anything and everything about magic.

Besides that, it wasn't as if he hadn't seen nearly four years of magic from her. He certainly wasn't going to forget that in a hurry.

Alex still looked uncertain.

She sighed. "What will it take to convince you?"

"Well, maybe you could find a way for me to visit? Not all the time, just once, just to see what it's like. A castle! I saw the one in Devon, but it's practically modern compared to how old Hogwarts must be! It's got to have more than a few secrets!"

Holly smiled as his cheerful demeanour returned. "I think I can manage that." Hogwarts lasted for seven years. There had to be at least one occasion the Muggle-born and raised could have their parents and siblings come to the castle, wasn't there?

~•~

It had been hours since Holly and Ron had started talking. The food was long gone, the pitcher emptied, and the plates covered in chicken bones. Everything that needed to be said had been said, and now, it was time to head back.

Ron expressed great reluctance to the idea.

"So you plan on living down here for the rest of your life?" Holly asked while Dobby started cleaning.

"No, of course not," he said, pretending to look offended. "Only 'till I'm seventeen and mum can't make me de-gnome the garden until my hands fall off."

Holly laughed. "Well, it looks like you have everything sorted now, don't you? I'll try to visit, say once a year?"

"Once a year? Blimey Holly, I'd go mad!"

"There's only one way to prevent that." She nodded upwards.

Ron deflated even as Fawkes decided to make his left shoulder its new perch. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Dobby had Vanished the last of their mess. Standing up, Holly tucked the Sorting Hat into her jeans and the handle around a belt loop. She carried the diary in her left hand, and Dobby's hand in her right and Ron held Dobby's other hand, albeit reluctantly.

"Wait," she said suddenly. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Ron looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You aren't going to take your wand?" With a wave for hers, Ron's came zooming towards them from where it had fallen on the floor, looking worse for wear.

"Oh," she said softly.

The wand had snapped completely, part of wood dangling at an angle, the unicorn hair sticking straight out. The normally pale wood was a dingy grey, except for the handle where it had turned black.

Ron gave a wry smile and shrugged. "It's alright. It was never really mine anyway." He plucked it out of midair, looking at it with faux dismissiveness. "Now I'll have to get a new one."

"What do you want to do with it?" No one ever said how broken wands were disposed of. Were they burned? Given to a wandmaker? Kept in some box in the attic?

"I reckon I'll leave it here." He dropped the wand. "I'll tell mum and dad it got snapped."

With that, Holly gave Dobby's hand a squeeze. The Chamber disappeared.

As soon as it began, it was over—both of them were hitting the wet floor of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and the sink that hid the pipe was sliding back into

place.

Dobby let go of their hands. "Dobby really must go now," he said, looking rather worried, and before either of them could respond, he popped out of existence.

Myrtle goggled at them.

"You're alive," she said blankly.

"There's no need to sound so disappointed," she said grimly, wiping her smudged glasses on a 'clean' section of her T-shirt.

"Not you," she snapped at Holly before turning her attention to Ron. "You," she said flirtatiously. "I'd been thinking…if you had died, you'd have been welcome to share my toilet," said Myrtle, her face turning an odd shade of silver.

Ron looked slightly frightened. "Er—"

"Well, bye then," said Holly as she steered him out of the bathroom.

Myrtle huffed.

"Urgh!" said Ron as they stepped into the dark, deserted corridor. "I think Myrtle's grown fond of me!"

Holly didn't know how to feel about that, so she remained silent.

"Where now?" asked Ron as Fawkes flew off his shoulder.

Holly pointed.

The phoenix was leading the way, glowing gold along the corridor. They strode after him, and moments later, found themselves outside Professor McGonagall's office.

Holly knocked and pushed the door open.

"Ronald!"

It was Mrs Weasley, who had been sitting crying in front of the fire. She leapt to her feet, closely followed by Mr Weasley, and both of them flung themselves on their son.

Holly, however, was looking past them. Professor Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece, beaming of all things, next to Professor McGonagall, who was staring at them in shock. Fawkes went whooshing past Holly's ear and settled on Dumbledore's shoulder, just as Holly found herself and Ron being swept into Mrs Weasley's tight embrace.

"You saved him! How did you do it?"

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

That's rich, coming from you. But she wasn't about to blurt that out loud. Even as Mrs Weasley let go of her, she continued to look between McGonagall and Dumbledore, collecting her thoughts.

So they wanted an explanation. She wanted one too.

"How come you wanted to send Lockhart to save Ron?" she said finally, staring at McGonagall intently.

The older witch's already pale skin had paled even further at her question.

"I was in the staffroom watching," she continued, struggling to keep her tone level. McGonagall's eyes widened. "I heard you all discuss what to do after Ron was taken. You were going to send Lockhart to go down to the Chamber while shutting down the school. You were willing to let Ron die just to shut Lockhart up."

Ron, who had already been told all this, looked at McGonagall with renewed betrayal. The elder Weasleys stared on with surprise.

Mr Weasley finally spoke, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Is this true, Minerva?"

McGonagall strengthened up in her seat. "I can assure you we were doing everything we could—"

"Everything you could? You're the one who told everyone that Ron was taken, and that everyone had to be sent home tomorrow. Then Lockhart burst in and Snape suggested that he go down to the Chamber, and you all agreed. 'We'll leave it to you then, Gilderoy', you said. And after Lockhart left, you all did too! When exactly were you going to go down to get Ron?" Holly trembled in anger. "Do you know where the entrance is? Do you know what was down there? You weren't even going to call the Ministry for help! It was me and me alone who faced what was down there, and I very nearly died!"

Mrs Weasley let out a gasp, covering her mouth. Mr Wealsey looked gravely at the Professors.

There was silence. McGonagall sank into her chair like a deflated balloon, and Dumbledore looked heartbroken by the Weasley's expressions.

Holly couldn't help but glare at them. These were adult witches and wizards with decades of experience under their belt. Even if Lockhart was unable to do anything, why not McGonagall and Flitwick? Even Snape would have been a better option. They could have defeated the Basilisk in minutes, recusing Ron with very little injury. She was just a schoolgirl. She didn't have the magical power, the experience, or the knowledge that they did.

It was nothing short of a miracle that she and Ron both made it out alive.

"I-I did it," said Ron softly, looking at his feet. "I opened the Chamber."

From there, the whole story came out. Ron did most of the talking, with Holly adding pertinent details here and there. He talked about how he found the journal in Diagon Alley, how he'd written in it thinking it was one set of a two-way journal, how he discovered Tom, who claimed to be a decades-old memory. Tom had taught him non-verbal magic after his wand became too worn down to be used properly. Ron even told how he became more and more ensnared with it as time went on, and how after Hermione and Clearwater had been attacked, he'd tried to get rid of it, but it was too late…

Holly took over then. She told them how she came across the journal—which had changed form, slightly—and given it to Flitwick before Easter break, after Dumbledore and Hagrid's dismissal from Hogwarts.

"Very well," Professor McGonagall prompted her as she paused, "but why Professor Flitwick? The Deputy Headmaster or Headmistress is usually who students go to when matters as serious as this occur when the Headmaster is unavailable."

A wave of anger flooded through her again. "Because Flitwick was the only professor to take us seriously last year." She hadn't forgotten how the Transfiguration Professor dismissed them about the Philosopher's Stone.

McGonagall got the message, if her frown was any indication, and allowed her to continue.

Holly went on. She informed the group how she went to the staffroom and overheard all the teachers, how she went to find the Chamber entrance, her talk with Myrtle and her discovery of the Chamber.

She and Ron had both agreed to tell a slightly altered version of events, keeping Dobby entirely out of it, and making it seem as though Ron wasn't possessed per se, but rather unconscious throughout the events of the Chamber.

"Mum and Dad would never let me hear the end of it," Ron had said.

At some point, chairs appeared for both of them and they sat down graciously, continuing to speak. Standing behind Ron, Mrs Wealsey alternated between patting his hair and kissing his forehead and looking at Holly, her brown eyes shining with overwhelming appreciation. Mr Weasley kept his hand on his son's shoulder, looking stonily between the two professors.

Holly, her voice now hoarse, quickly went over what happened in the Chamber: Fawkes' arrival, her defeat of the Basilisk, Ron's 'awakening', and how they cleaned up and how Fawkes brought them back up to the Chamber, omitting their picnic.

"I see," said Dumbledore gently. "And this journal? Do you know of its whereabouts?"

Holly placed the journal on the desk, along with the Sorting hat and Gryffindor's sword.

Dumbledore leaned forward 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 elder 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… travelled 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."

Ron sniffed miserably, staring at his shoes.

Mr Weasley let out a long sigh, rubbing his left hand over his face, before addressing his son. "What have I always told you, Ron? 'Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain'? A suspicious object like that, it was clearly full of Dark Magic!"

Ron didn't respond. Mrs Weasley continued to pat him, tear streaks shining on her face.

"Mr Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away," Dumbledore interrupted in a firm voice. "This has been a terrible ordeal for him. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than he have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort."

Holly nudged Ron with a look. Told you.

Dumbledore 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 him.

Mr Weasley led Ron out, and Mrs 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, shall I?"

She left. Dumbledore crossed to one of the chairs by the fire. "First of all, Holly, I want to thank you," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling again. "You 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. Holly grinned

awkwardly as Dumbledore watched her.

Her face grew hot when she remembered everything she said to McGonagall. Should I backtrack? It was something she was adept in. The Dursleys would do something stupid, she'd make some remark, and she'd inevitably get into trouble and be forced to apologize. The more convincing it was, the laxer her punishment.

But the stakes were higher here. Much higher. Holly knew she could get suspended or even expelled for what she said. On the other hand, though, McGonagall and the other teachers had every intention of letting Ron die in the Chamber. If she hadn't done anything, she'd be blamed for it all. Hogwarts was the largest and oldest wizarding school in Britain. If the school closed, hundreds of students would need to be homeschooled or do some sort of owl correspondence, or go to a smaller school. Hundreds of students, thousands of parents and alumni… They would all vilify her.

Holly schooled her expression. That settled that. She wasn't going to apologize.

"And so you met Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "I imagine he was most interested in you…"

Tom Riddle was more interested in bragging, but she wasn't going to say that. With a shrug, she said, "He wanted to know how I survived that night, sir."

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

"Hagrid said that my mother must have done something, since she died last. I guess she cast some sort of spell to protect me."

Even before Hagrid came to deliver her letter, she knew the basics: Voldemort had come after her parents, her father was killed first, and her mother died to protect her. When Voldemort tried to kill her, it rebounded, killing him and marking her. The hows and whys, though, remained a mystery.

A thought came to her. "Professor, 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, Holly," 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?" said Holly, thunderstruck. Was that the secret behind her wandless magic?

"It certainly seems so."

It did make a disturbing amount of sense. She argued with the hat about her potential placement in Slytherin. Voldemort was a parselmouth, she was a parselmouth. Not to mention her very illegal potions business…

"So…I should be in Slytherin then?" she said, feeling rather nervous. The idea didn't appeal to her at all. She'd lose Ron and Hermione, if she hadn't already. Everyone would think she was a traitor. People would watch her constantly. Her Hideaway and Eternal Elixirs would be known to the world, least of all her friendship with Alex. "I don't want to be."

Dumbledore smiled. "Exactly. Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Holly, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

Holly breathed a sigh of relief. No re-Sorting, then.

"If you want proof, Holly, that you belong in Gryffindor, I suggest you look more closely at this." Dumbledore slid the bloodstained sword across Professor McGonagall's desk.

Dully, Holly picked it up and turned it over, the rubies blazing in the firelight. And then she saw the name engraved just below the hilt.

[center]Godric Gryffindor [/center]

"Only a true Gryffindor could pull it out of that hat," he said simply.

For a minute, neither of them spoke. Then Dumbledore pulled open one of the drawers in Professor McGonagall's desk and took out a quill and a bottle of ink.

"What you need, Holly, is a good, long rest. I must draft an advertisement for the Daily Prophet, too," he added thoughtfully. "We'll be needing a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher…"

Holly frowned. "What about Lockhart?"

"Ah, it seems Professor Lockhart felt that Hogwarts is no longer the best place to teach, if what Minerva tells me is true, and left several hours ago. Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don't we?"

She suppressed her smirk. Serves the fraud right. "Maybe next year, sir."

Dumbledore's moustache twitched. "Perhaps."

Holly got up and crossed to the door. She 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 on his face. And cowering behind his legs, heavily wrapped in blood-stained bandages, was Dobby.

"Good evening, Lucius," said Dumbledore pleasantly. He looked at the window briefly. "Or rather, good morning."

Holly took a glance as well. It was faint, but she could see the beginnings of dawn creeping onwards.

Malfoy almost knocked her 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 Malfoy's shoes. Apparently, Malfoy had set out in a great hurry, for not only were his shoes half-polished, but his usually sleek hair was dishevelled.

Ignoring the elf bobbing apologetically around his ankles, he fixed his cold eyes upon Dumbledore.

"So!" he said. "You've come back. The governors dismissed you, yet you've come back."

What followed was an interesting sight. Malfoy had apparently threatened the other governors to arrest Hagrid and drive Dumbledore out. The whole thing turned out to be a plot to discredit the Muggle Protection Act Ron's dad was trying to pass. Thankfully nobody died.

Malfoy paled at the mention of Voldemort, and glared at her when Dumbledore brought up her involvement.

Her worry returned, though, when Dumbledore mentioned Ron was responsible. By the glint in Malfoy's eye, she knew it was only a matter of time before Draco and the rest of the Slytherins knew, and from there, the school.

"You know," she said, causing the wizards' eyes to fall upon her, "it's weird Ron came across the diary in the first place. Right after we talked to your son and Pansy Parkinson."

Malfoy's white hands clenched and unclenched. "Prove it," he hissed.

"Oh, no one will be able to do that," said Dumbledore, smiling at Holly. "Not now that Riddle has vanished from the book. On the other hand, I would suspect that anyone giving out more of Lord Voldemort's old school things would find himself in trouble. If any more of them find their way into innocent hands, I think Arthur Weasley, for one, will make sure they are traced back to you…"

At that statement, Holly knew he couldn't say anything without suspicion being directed back to him, and let out a breath of relief.

Lucius Malfoy stood for a moment, and Holly 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.

Holly cringed. Even if house-elves were treated like pets, that didn't make it alright to abuse them. And Malfoy was doing so in public, after Dobby had helped her and Ron so much… How bad was the abuse in private?

"Professor Dumbledore?" she asked, facing the old wizard, "Can I give the diary back to Malfoy?"

The windows shined with orange-yellow light as the sun properly rose. It was still early enough that nobody was in the corridors, though, so Holly didn't have to deal with whispers from early-bird students as she entered the hospital wing.

A familiar all-white room greeted her. She wasn't sure if Ron was still awake or if his parents were still there, but she couldn't wait any longer.

"Who's there?" asked Madam Pomfrey, rushing to the entrance. "Oh, it's you, Miss Potter," she said, relieved. "What, may I ask, are you doing here?"

"I-I just wanted to come and see Ron," she replied quietly.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, guiding her through the wing. Several of the beds were curtained from view, but Ron's was not. "He's doing much better now. He should be released in an hour, but you are still welcome to see him."

Holly glanced at the curtains. "When will they be back to normal?"

The Matron smiled. "The Mandrakes are mature and we've begun drying them. The potion is a rather tricky one, but Professor Snape and I will have it ready at the end of the month."

She nodded.

Once the medi-witch left, Holly turned her attention to a sleeping Ron. His robes had been replaced with Hospital wing pyjamas—probably by his mum. He seemed troubled. His ginger hair was plastered to his freckled face, turned away from the sunlight gleaming from the tall windows with a worried expression. Holly grabbed the stool nearest and sat on his right side, next to the half-filled mug of hot chocolate on the bedside stand.

"Ron?" she asked softly.

His face twisted into a grimace. "No…please…I don't want to do it," he muttered.

Oh no. "Ron!" she said louder. "Wake up!"

He turned back and forth. "Leave me alone Tom!"

"Ron!" Holly grabbed his arm and shook him. "Ron wake up! You're having a nightmare!"

He shuddered, not unlike when he was driving away Voldemort's spirit, and woke up with a groan. "Holly? Mornin'."

With great effort, she stamped down her concern. "Are you alright?" she asked. "Where'd your parents go?"

Ron rubbed his eyes. "I told them I was fine and they went home," he said, sitting up properly.

"Really?" That fast? Between her talk with Dumbledore and freeing Dobby, it couldn't have been more than an hour or so since they left the office.

Ron nodded. "I told them I was alright. Term's almost over anyway, so it's not as though I won't hear enough about this at home."

"Did you tell them about the wand?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied, looking downcast. "Dad said that they'll try to bring me one of the old family wands to use for exams and that I might get a new one over the summer. Dad plays this Ministry raffle every year. Maybe he'll get lucky this time and win a few Galleons."

"Maybe," said Holly, but she had her doubts. Wasn't having an old wand the reason all this happened in the first place?

Ron straightened up. "Well what about you then?"

"Me?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes, you. You killed a Basilisk with a sword and got stabbed yourself. Are you alright?"

Holly shrugged. "I'm fine. Fawkes did most of the work, anyway. He healed me too."

Ron looked sceptical. "Right."

"I'm fine. Look, see?" She pulled her collar away far enough that he could see the unblemished skin. "No scar."

But Ron wasn't looking at her anymore, and his ears were a tell-tale shade of red as he stared at his bedspread.

Oh. She re-adjusted her clothes and stared at her feet.

They had chosen not to address the fact that Ron fancied her in the Chamber—there were too many other things to worry about—but now it was a giant elephant in the room. But Holly still didn't want to talk about it. At least, not until everything else was sorted.

She coughed. "Er, Madam Pomfrey says you'll be out in an hour." When he didn't respond, she added, "And Dumbledore told McGonagall to arrange for a Feast, so it'll probably be during breakfast."

Ron spun his finger around the sheets. "Alright. What else happened?"

Holly spent the better part of an hour recounting everything that had happened after the Weasleys left, sparing no detail.

"And then Dobby cast some sort of spell and sent Malfoy crashing down the stairs, he was really happy to be freed from them, and after that he thanked me and popped away."

"Serves them right," said Ron, in much better cheer. "It takes a lot to make a bonded house-elf practically beg for freedom like Dobby did. House-elves like working, and most families treat them well, but it's always Dark families that abuse their elves."

"Hmm. Well at least he's out of there. Maybe Dumbledore will let him work here."

They continued chatting as the sun rose higher into the sky, staining the Hospital wing with yellow light, and footsteps sounded in the corridors. Holly wondered if the Professors told everyone that they were staying. She also wondered what they were going to tell everyone.

"Hermione is going to go mad once she finds all this out," said Holly, lifting her right knee to her chin.

"Right," muttered Ron. He fell back into bed with a thud. "Just what I need. My parents and Hermione ganging up on me."

A terrible thought came to mind. "Unless you don't want to tell her?"

Ron turned his head. "Well, you said it yourself. She'll go barmy knowing I got possessed by a book and you killed a Basilisk. But she has to know."

Holly switched feet. "I just hope she reacts well."

"I wouldn't bet on it. We never did apologize to her, did we? About the non-verbal magic practice?"

Even though Ron and Holly had long since made up, they and Hermione never got the chance to work things out. Shaking her head, Holly said, "And then she got Petrified. That'll be the first thing she remembers when she comes to."

Ron's eyes widened. "Bloody hell, I forgot. She'll be back to hating and avoiding us, won't she?"

"Probably."

"What are we going to tell her?" asked Ron.

"We should apologize, first," said Holly, putting both feet down. "We never did."

Ron looked as though he felt they shouldn't have to, but nodded. "What do we say after that? Everyone will know I got sent down there, even if they don't know who did it. You said my brothers and sister know, right?"

Holly nodded. "McGonagall probably told them after the staff meeting."

A calculating look came across his face. "And they sent away Lockhart to go down into the Chamber to find me, but he ran off, didn't he?"

"I don't think she told them about that," she said, drumming her fingers on her lap. "We could say that Lockhart was the Heir all along, opening the Chamber caused all the Petrifications, and blamed it all on me. Then he took you down to the Chamber…"

Ron grimaced again, this time in disgust. "That's what we're going to say? Lockhart kidnapped me?"

Holly shrugged. "That and I came down to save you from Lockhart. When he called the Basilisk, he lost his nerve and ran away, leaving the two of us to fight it together. We wouldn't have to mention the diary or Tom at all to anyone. Of course, Dumbledore, McGonagall and your parents know most of the truth, but we'll be the only ones who know everything. Well, us, Dobby and Fawkes."

Ron looked thoughtful. "It would keep Hermione from going mental, wouldn't it? But…" he sighed and looked off towards the curtained area of the wing. "I don't know. Are we doing the right thing, keeping what happened from her?"

"I don't know. But you have to promise you won't tell anyone about me having Voldemort's powers stuff."

Ron shifted in bed. "That's right odd, mate."

"Think about how I feel," she muttered, absentmindedly rubbing her scar. "It's probably why I can speak parseltongue."

Neither of them mentioned the Slytherin sorting part.

"Wait a minute!" said Ron suddenly. "What if Hermione thinks that the diary wasthe reason why I got good at non-verbal magic? She'll think it's all a fluke!"

"That's rubbish. You worked hard for that. Flitwick said so."

"Well, that's not going to convince Hermione. She'll think I had some sort of unfair advantage."

Holly reached into her sleeve. "There's only one way to settle that." She handed him her wand and pointed at the forgotten mug.

Raising the wand, Ron swished and flicked silently, and the mug obeyed, sloshing hot chocolate as it floated a few feet in the air.

"See?" she said triumphantly as it settled back on the table, "It wasn't a fluke."

Ron handed her back her wand, looking relieved. "I reckon it wasn't. But what do we say to her?"

"If you want to tell Hermione or anyone else, I'll support you through it," said Holly. "She wasn't the only one affected. We all were, and you arguably the worst. I just want you to know your options."

As Ron looked up to the ceiling and thought, Holly did some thinking of her own. Holly knew that adults didn't always do what was right. It was a lesson hammered in all her life, from the Dursleys and St Grogory's to the Philosopher's Stone the year before. But when McGonagall dismissed her, Ron, and Hermione, Professor Flitwick was willing to give them a chance.

This year was different. The signs had been there for months. Apart from Filch's cat, Justin, Colin, Fay, Hermione and Penelope had all been Petrified, and the Professors did nothing. She'd been revealed as a Parselmouth, and still, the teachers did nothing. When Ron was taken into the Chamber, their best idea was to send Lockhart to save him, and it wasn't really to save Ron, just to get him out of the way so that they could go about shutting down the school.

From Snape, she expected it. Even McGonagall. But Flitwick and Sprout, the nicest professors on staff? Not to mention all the other teachers who were there and kept quiet.

Ron sighed, breaking her train of thought. "I think we should tell Hermione the truth. Not the full truth, mind, but what we told Dumbledore and McGonagall."

She nodded, somewhat expecting that. It would only be a matter of time before Hermione found out the truth if they told her the same story that everyone else would hear. Speaking of… "What about everyone else?"

A smirk grew on Ron's face. "Lockhart?"

Holly crackled a smile. "Well, he did run off."

"Shame, that. He was really starting to grow on me."

"Like a fungus?"

"Exactly."

They burst into laughter for a good while. The story was settled.

Footsteps rounded the curtains as Madam Pomfrey arrived, cutting off the laughter. "Alright, Mr Weasley," said the Medi-witch as she waved her wand over Ron. Nodding at the results, she said, "You're free to go." She waved her wand again.

Holly stood. "I'll meet you outside," she said as Ron's freshly-laundered robes hovered toward the bed.

There was something quite odd about having dinnertime meals at seven in the morning, according to Ron, but Holly was too hungry to care. Even Dumbledore's announcements had gone mostly over their heads, though Ron gave an extra-loud cheer when Dumbledore announced that Lockhart would not be returning and classes were cancelled for the day. By mid-afternoon, Holly and Ron's version of events had taken hold, and only they knew the full truth. Hagrid had re-joined his place at the teacher's table by dinner, and things had significantly improved. McGonagall had even re-scheduled Quidditch matches, and Oliver Wood wept tears of joy.

That wasn't the only surprise from the teachers, either. The staff had given her and Ron Special Awards to the School, four hundred house points combined, and, according to Ron, Dumbledore gave the Weasleys money to replace his damaged wand.

On the twenty-fifth of May, Fay, Colin, Justin, Penelope and Hermione were finally revived, and Holly didn't know whether the best bit was Hermione re-joining them, the rest of the Gryffindors finally and truly accepting that they were wrong—except for Leanne Clearwater, who was stubbornly refusing to acknowledge her—or the fact that Justin Finch-Fletchley had come hurrying over from the Hufflepuff table, looking rather distraught.

"Potter," said Justin, who had just walked up to her. "Would you mind having a word with me?"

By now a good number of people were watching. Ron was staring at him with suspicion, but Hermione gestured for her to go.

"Alright."

Once they were some distance away from the Hall, Holly crossed her arms. "So talk. I haven't got all day."

"Professor Sprout said that you helped sort everything out with what was going on and that you had nothing to do with it."

Justin made a motion to adjust his collar, looking sheepish. "And, well, I wanted to apologize to you for overreacting earlier in the year, with the duelling club. You were only trying to help. Thank you."

Holly didn't know how to respond, so she settled for, "You're welcome Justin."

"Holly, I really can't express how thankful I am," said Justin, "If you—or Ron—ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

She simply nodded. She had briefly thought about her potions' business, but she doubted that Justin could help her and Alex with that. Then again, he was rich and it could solve their problems of finding people with deep pockets who would be willing to pay for their products. The idea bore merit.

"I won't hesitate," she finally said.

As they walked back, Holly voiced a question that had been bothering her for some time. "Are you and the others taking exams?"

Justin shook his head. "No, we missed so many months of school," he said mournfully. "The Dunbars were very angry, so they forced Dumbledore and McGonagall to make us take summer school so that we wouldn't be behind next year. They also have to pay for our textbooks until OWLs. They told us about it right after we woke up. That was quite a shock."

"Oh," she said, sympathetic. At least McGonagall was doing something, now. Holly hadn't quite forgiven the Professor for what she'd done—or rather, what she hadn't. "At least you'll be learning magic. You normally can't over the summer."

"Yes, but it feels as though we're being punished for being attacked. And do you know who's running it?"

"Who?"

"Snape. It's five days a week, too." He sighed as the Great Hall came into view. "Do you think I can skip ahead if I study now?"

Holly frowned. "How many months were you Petrified?"

Justin closed his eyes for a moment. "Five. Well, I suppose I should enjoy my free time while I can. I feel sorry for that little first year, the one with the camera, I forgot his name…"

"Colin Creevey?"

"Yes, him. He'll practically be starting from scratch. At least the rest of us have some background."

She hadn't thought about it that way. Hermione and Penelope had been attacked so late that they wouldn't have as much trouble catching up. The others, though…

They parted ways at the door and Holly headed back to her table.

A week after exams, the Gryffindor second years were using their DADA class time to discuss the electives they were going to take.

"It could affect our whole future," Hermione told Holly and Ron as they pored over lists of new subjects, marking them with checks at their table in the sunny Common Room.

Third-year elective selection had been postponed due to the attacks, Hagrid's arrest and Dumbledore's dismissal, but now that summer was fast approaching it was time to make their choices.

Holly tapped her fountain pen against the list, which listed the basics of each subject and what careers it could be used for. "Hermione, what are you taking?"

"All five of them," she said promptly.

"Five?" said Ron, looking aghast. "You can't fit five into your schedule."

"They didn't say that on the form," said Hermione smugly, and Ron frowned. "Some of us like to apply ourselves."

Holly looked at the form again. "Is Arithmancy like Maths?"

Hermione beamed at her. "It's close. They combine magic with it to make prediction trees. From what I grasp of it, it's a lot of statistics and equations, but once you get the hang of it, it's incredibly powerful."

"I'm taking Care of Magical Creatures and Divination," said Ron. "I'm not taking any harder classes if I don't have to," he said pointedly, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Seriously, Ron?" asked Holly, giving him a look. Hadn't they discussed this? "Don't you want to challenge yourself?"

Ron's face darkened. "I think I've challenged myself enough this year."

Holly closed her eyes momentarily at the implication. Hermione looked between the two in confusion before understanding dawned on her face.

"Hermione, give us a minute," said Holly with a sigh as she stood. "Ron, can we talk in private?"

The redhead grunted as he stood and followed her out the portrait hole.

"What is it?" he asked petulantly once they were in the corridor, crossing his arms.

"This is exactly what we were talking about in the Chamber," she said with a frown. How had Ron forgotten such a talk so easily?

He looked at her, confused. "What are you going on about?"

"You not applying yourself! Hermione's right, these subjects are important for our future and you just want to pick what's easy!"

"So? It's not anyone else is taking it seriously." He kicked at the stone floor. "Did you see Dean? He jabbed his wand at the list and chose his classes like that."

Holly did see, and mentally wished him the best of luck in Arithmancy, Care and Divination.

"He should. All of us should. Look, Ron," she said, trying to be sympathetic, "I know you're insecure about your brothers, but you need to at least try. None of them got to where they're at by lazing about like you are, they worked hard."

Her words seemed to be getting through to him, even if he was looking away from her at the moment.

"Remember chess and non-verbal magic? It isn't a fluke that you're good at them. You worked hard and practised. It's the same thing here. Even Hermione has to study. If you keep expecting things to come easy, it's not going to happen. If you want to take the easiest classes, fine by me, but don't complain later."

Ron gave her a long, considering look before saying, "I'm not taking five electives."

Finally, a breakthrough! "And I'm not asking you to. But you should at least pick a serious subject and a fun one. Or two fun ones and a serious one. You can ask Percy."

"He'll say I should play to my strengths, but I don't think I have any," said Ron, leaning against the wall.

Holly didn't think she had any either, but that would defeat the purpose of the talk. "So let's read the list over again and ask some more sixth and seventh years about what they took and how difficult the choices are."

Ron muttered his agreement, and they rejoined Hermione. After they told her their idea, Hermione talked to several of the sixth- and seventh-years and returned to their table ten minutes later with a new outlook.

"We will take Arithmancy, Care for the Magical Creatures and Study of the Ancient Runes," said Hermione in a tone that booked no argument.

But Holly wasn't going to let her steamroll them. "Let me see." Holly motioned for her to give her her notes on the different subjects. After Hermione obliged, Holly read aloud carefully:

"Runes, used in a lot of jobs, from enchanting toys to curse-breaking. The subject is moderately difficult. To truly succeed you need language skills and a good work ethic." Holly wondered if parseltongue counted as a language, but decided not to voice that thought. Some people—like Clearwater—were still a bit twitchy.

"Arithmancy studies the magical properties of numbers, but more importantly, it is the basis of number-based divination. The most difficult subject in Hogwarts. You have to be good at Maths."

Ron frowned. "I'm definitely not taking that."

"Care of Magical Creatures is a study of various beasts with magical origins, from pixie to dragons. The course is considered relatively easy and the most practical." Holly paused for a moment. "I think this is one I can see myself taking."

Ron perked up while Hermione rolled her eyes.

"'Divination: extremely easy, though completely illogical subject. Professor Trelawney is most likely a fraud and during each lesson predicts a violent death of a currently present student. Why she does it is unclear. Right, I'll pass on that one."

Hermione agreed, but Ron looked thoughtful.

"Muggle Studies: the course is supposedly dedicated to learning the society and culture of the Muggle world. In reality, the course is outdated and taught by a pure-blood who wouldn't know what a TV is if it was dropped on his head."

"What's a TV?" asked Ron. Hermione extended her hand.

Holly adjusted her glasses and looked at the parchment again. "Who said this?"

"One of the Muggle-born seventh years," said Hermione, taking her notes back. "So," she said, looking between her and Ron, "What do you plan to take, other than Care?"

"Muggle Studies and Divination are definitely out for me," began Holly, seeing that Ron was still considering his answer. "I know how to get along with Muggles, so long as I'm not related to them." Not to mention she was already taking Muggle subjects, but they didn't need to know that. "And Divination sounds like an interesting class with a bad teacher. There's enough of that in Potions."

Ron made some notes on his parchment. "So you're taking Care, Runes and Arithmancy?"

"Well, not Arithmancy," said Holly with a frown. At Hermione's glare, she added, "I'm not taking the hardest subject in Hogwarts, and Arithmancy sounds like a lot of work for not a lot of payoff until NEWTs. With Runes, it sounds like we'll start making our own stuff by fourth year."

"But you could learn so much from Arithmancy!" Hermione argued.

"Yeah, but it also sounds like a lot of work." Holly knew her timetable would be full as it was, and she had no desire to add to it. "Runes seem a lot more practical and I really don't feel like taking three subjects. Besides, most people are going for the Care-Runes combo. They're apparently the most popular choices."

Hermione reluctantly accepted and turned her glare to Ron. "And you?"

Thinking for a moment, Ron said, "Runes, Care, and Divination."

Holly smirked, more than a bit smug her talk had worked. "Three subjects. Our newest overachiever."

"Come off it," said Ron, his ears turning red. He turned to Hermione, who had been looking at their exchange with an oddly neutral expression. "What about you?"

"Everything except Divination," she said proudly.

What? "But you don't even need Muggle Studies, you're Muggle-born!" said Holly.

"It'll be interesting to see how Muggles are viewed from a Wizarding perspective," Hermione countered. "I want to see where all the prejudice comes from, other than the witch hunts."

"The Professor is a pure-blood, isn't he?" asked Holly. "The one that looks like an older version of McGonagall?"

Ron frowned. "Well what does that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing," said Holly in a placating tone. "But would you let a Muggle teach you about magic?"

"'Course not," said Ron while Hermione shook her head.

"Then why have a pure-blood teach Muggle Studies? He wouldn't know anything about Muggles."

Ron looked thoughtful. "I reckon you have a point there."

"Well, supposedly there's a new Professor teaching the subject next year, so I doubt it'll be a problem," said Hermione, checking out her form with her final selections.

Holly followed. "Alright, so Ron's actually applying himself, I'm choosing the easiest 'serious' option, and Hermione's going for the overachiever's dream."

"Sounds about right," said Ron.

As they finished filling out their forms, Holly could feel Hermione's eyes looking between her and Ron suspiciously and mentally sighed. And, if the way Ron was focusing on his parchment was any indication, he noticed it, too.

Of course, they had apologized to Hermione for not telling her about their non-verbal magic practice, and for not including her in it. But it felt funny apologizing in one breath while telling her a somewhat falsified version of what happened in the Chamber with another.

It made her stomach churn.

Ron was not handling it well, either. Once Hermione and the others had awakened, the cheers, accolades, and sympathy sent his way were accepted with stiff smiles. There were no bragging or grandiose stories from him. Even when he'd gotten his new wand—fourteen inches, willow and unicorn hair—before exams, it had done little to improve his mood.

Sooner or later, she knew Hermione would ask questions that she couldn't give the answers to. She was a good friend, but there were certain things she wouldn't understand, not being down there in the Chamber with them. She wasn't the one possessed by a Dark Lord's spirit, fighting his control for months, and sending the king of serpents after his friend. Nor did she face a centuries' old Basilisk and her temporarily evil friend with a hat, a sword and a phoenix, or face the idea that taking down the spirit of a madman could mean killing off her friend.

Not to mention the incompetence of adults that were supposed to protect you.

Hermione's biggest worries right now were studying and summer school, not nightmares and secrets.

At the end of the day, Hermione would be fine with not knowing all the sordid details. Part of Holly—and Ron, for that matter—was worse off for knowing.

It was this thought that straightened her resolve. No matter what Hermione asked, she'd take this secret to her grave.

She only hoped Ron did too.

~•~

As Alex had promised, his parents agreed to drive her to the station on September 1st. There was a bit of a hiccup on getting through the stone wall, but they all made it in one piece. Mr and Mrs Kann were talking to other Muggles while the twins, now seven, ran around mischievously.

"So, I suppose this is it, huh?" Alex shuffled his feet after he helped her load her trunk into a compartment. Holly nodded slowly, her—Alex's—hat bobbing up and down to hide her scar. She didn't want a repeat of what happened at The Leaky Cauldron with Hagrid. Footsteps sounded everywhere as parents and children hurried around, loading trunks and finding seats.

"I'll miss you," she said, staring at her feet. "What if I don't make any friends?" After all, it had taken weeks and getting beaten up by Dudley to make the only friend she had now.

"Holly," he began, putting his hands on her shoulders, "you're famous! Of course you'll make friends. And if it ever gets too much, you can always send a letter with Hedwig." He stroked said bird from its place on his shoulder.

Holly met his eyes. "That'll take forever!"

Hedwig hooted almost indignantly before flying through an open train window.

Alex smirked and she knew he had something up his sleeve. "Not with this!"

A palm-sized PDA with wooden accents was placed into her hand. It was like the ones on TV the Dudley had asked for, but clearly better-made.

"Dad and I worked all month to put it together." He beamed. "What do you think?"

She didn't say a word as she admired the hard work. Wood wasn't used much in electronics anymore. To be able to carve a piece to meld so seamlessly with the electronics without damaging either piece was nothing short of amazing. Trying not to burst into tears, Holly hugged him as hard as she could.

"Thank you so much," she said as she pulled away. "You guys are brilliant!"

Alex flushed. "Yes, well, you'll tell me everything?"

Holly laughed, nodding. "Of course." She was still nervous about going to Hogwarts, but she always knew he would be there for her. He looked around as his parents corralled the twins into one place. The train whistle blew.

Their smiles faded.

"Better get on before someone takes your compartment," said Alex as he glanced at a redheaded group of boys rushing into the train.

The truth of the moment finally hit her. She was leaving. For months. "Yeah." She fingered the hat again.

Alex nodded and let out a breath. "Well, get on then."

"Okay," she nodded back, still hesitant. She wanted to go—this was her parents' world, her birth world—truly, she did, but her nervousness wouldn't go away.

As if he knew what she needed, Alex pulled her into a hug.

"Thanks," she said as they separated.

He smiled, then looked up as steam started to bellow. His face steeled. "You have to go."

Holly nodded, reaching into her pocket and taking out the nine-and-three-quarters ticket Hagrid had given her. "So you can find your way back," she explained as she handed it to him.

Alex nodded, almost pushing her towards one of the entrances. "Thanks, now go!"

She did.