The room Harry found himself in was architecturally beautiful, if not overly dressed up. In fact it seemed exactly the kind of office a highly placed politician might want to keep. Grand enough to speak to the importance of the station without sufficient extravagance to smell of corruption. The only expensive looking items were a solitary painting and a pair of stone busts. These, however, were not what caught Harry's eye. A long, panoramic window behind the desk revealed a vast swathe of the Coruscanti cityscape, with a nearby set of skylanes placed almost as if on purpose to the lower-right, stretching off into the distance.
"Master Jinn," said a middle aged woman in what seemed to be formal robes. Her accent was cut-glass Queen's English, such that Harry wondered if she might be nobility. "A pleasure to see you again. And who might this young man be? A new apprentice?"
"Likewise, senator," said Master Jinn. "This is Harry Potter, and yes, he is my newest padawan. Harry, this is Senator Averna Genzhu for Coruscant."
"I'm pleased to meet you," said Harry, shaking her hand.
"Your Jedi traditions have always fascinated me," she said, smiling gently. "Tell me, Qui-Gon, what can I do for you today?"
"I am wondering whether the Republic still honours its bounty on Sith insurgents," Master Jinn said.
"Sith..." she muttered, tapping away at her datapad. "Ancient enemy of the Jedi. The story was that you slew one on Naboo during the battle. But I didn't think you the type to chase bounties."
"I'm not," Master Jinn agreed. "But it was not I who killed the assassin."
The senator's jaw dropped. "I'll need to contact the senator from Naboo. Has this been officially recognised?"
"Young Harry received a knighthood from the Queen herself for his actions," Master Jinn said, pleased.
"The bounty stands," said Senator Genzhu. "25000 alive, 15000 dead. We had the body, until the Jedi cremated it, so I will simply have to liaise with the senator from Naboo to have the paperwork pushed through. And has your Royal honour been ratified?"
"I... don't think so," said Harry.
"Let me see if he's available," said Senator Genzhu. "Roan, can you put a level 3 to Senator Bhakan of Naboo? It's to do with the dead Sith."
"Yes, ma'am," said a voice through the commlink on the desk.
"Bounty hunting is a strange hobby for a Jedi," said the senator. "Still, both lucrative and well-suited to your skill set."
"If it helps," said Harry.
The senator smiled, typing furiously. "Now that is a Jedi talking. May I have your ID?"
Harry offered the card they had only just secured for him in the State Ministry building. With Grand Master Yoda to vouch for him, he had encountered little resistance.
Senator Genzhu tapped the card on her datapad and handed it back to him. "Well then, we simply need Senator Bhakan to confirm the details and I can have funds transferred to you."
Harry smiled, thinking of their adventure through Coruscant to get him a bank account and the other trappings of citizenship. It was hardly Diagon Alley, but the rapid transport links and turbolifts meant that getting himself fully set up as a citizen of the Galactic Republic had taken only a couple of hours.
"How goes the mission to extend Republic jurisdiction on Coruscant?" said Master Jinn.
"We were making decent headway until the mess with the Trade Federation," said Senator Genzhu. "So many resources are tied up with internal investigations and review committees... To be frank, Qui-Gon, the Republic is suffocating under its own weight."
Master Jinn frowned deeply. "My master always said it would come to this."
"Yes, well, he has been quite vocal recently," said Genzhu. "All but calling us a laughing stock, and finding creative ways of shaming the whole institution. He's a keen political mind, he knows he is only making it worse, but I fear that, like many, he has simply lost all hope."
"I'm sorry to hear it," said Master Jinn.
Harry said nothing. He knew how that story would end. In his mind's eye, he envisioned Imperial Star Destroyers looming over the skyline, and TIE fighters patrolling the skies. He was still gazing out through the window when the doors slid open.
"Senator Genzhu," said a tall, dark man, who swept into the room in formal robes of his own. "You called."
"Senator Bhakan," said Genzhu. "This is Master Jinn..."
"Of course," said the Naboo senator, bowing. "You and your apprentice are quite well known on our planet for the service you did us."
"It was only our duty, but it was a pleasure to do what we could," Master Jinn smiled.
"Sir Harry Potter," said Senator Bhakan, bowing once more. "Her majesty Queen Amidala asked that I look out for you."
"Well, that answers that," said Senator Genzhu. "Perhaps you would like to finish the bounty form for Mr. Potter?"
"I would be delighted," said the senator, tapping their datapads together and working away for a moment. "You are 15000 credits richer, sir. I hope you will use the money wisely."
"Thank you, senators," said Harry.
It certainly pleased him that he would have resources on Coruscant of all places, but somehow it could not raise his spirits. Now that the excitement of discovering a new world was wearing off, the words of the Jedi High Council were beginning to weigh upon him.
"And I have registered your Naboo royal honour with the Republic," said Senator Bhakan. "It will not make much difference outside of Naboo space, I'm afraid, but it is there."
"Thank you very much," said Harry, smiling and shaking his hand.
With that, they concluded the meeting, and Harry hurried outside to find Ginny idly scuffing the ground with the toe of her shoe.
"Are we going home, then?" she said.
"There's just one more thing," said Master Jinn. "You might have noticed that time works differently here."
"Yeah," said Harry, smiling slightly as he remembered Queen Amidala's revelation.
"It is a big galaxy," said the Jedi Master. "If I might make a recommendation, you could quite comfortably afford an old, functional starship."
"Master Jinn," said a grinning Harry. "I don't think you need to persuade me."
A starship of his own. A private vessel to explore the vastness of space... Harry almost forgot his worries as they left the governmental district behind.
Almost was the operative term. As soon as he turned to share his joy with Ginny, whose mood surely couldn't extend to the wonders of space travel, he found a brooding look and a complete lack of attention.
"What's the-" Harry began, concerned.
"Nothing," Ginny smiled. It might have been the most forced smile Harry had ever seen. And he used to live with the Dursleys.
"Master Jinn, would you mind if we-" said Harry, frowning when Ginny cut across him.
"Really, there's nothing," said Ginny. She was talking to the Jedi more than to him. "Please. Let's carry on."
Master Jinn gave a curt nod, but said nothing.
Harry found himself utterly lost. He wanted to be enthusiastic about potentially buying his own space vessel, but on realising that he could no longer sense Ginny's thoughts, Harry didn't know down from up. Through the Force she was... afraid... and angry?
"Harry!" said Master Jinn, pulling him to the side before he could walk headfirst into a tall, reptilian creature who looked rather like he might eat Harry if given an excuse.
They made the shuttle trip to the primary trade sector in near silence, as Harry tried to figure out how to talk to Ginny about whatever was bothering her and Ginny kept resolutely to herself. He barely gave note to the vast shopping centres and warehouses they passed on the way. Harry's stomach was on its way to his feet. He followed Master Jinn on a kind of autopilot, so distracted that he did not even realise they had entered the ship sales yard until the alien woman Master Jinn was talking to began excitedly extolling the virtues of the spacecraft they were standing beneath.
After the Naboo vessel they had arrived in, most of the ships seemed rather unremarkable. Luckily, it seemed Master Jinn had a discerning eye.
"The Loronar E-7," the woman said neutrally. "A noble thing to be sure, but if you truly want a long-range vessel, something newer, easier to find parts for..."
"Loronar are well known for their back catalogues," Master Jinn pointed out. "Is something wrong with the craft?"
"No, it's in fine condition for it's age," said the trader. "The hyperdrive in particular is immaculate. Replaced two years ago and serviced every six months since."
"Might we take a ride?" said Master Jinn. "You can tell us more on the trip."
"Of course," the woman smiled, looking slightly wistfully at the ship they were leaving behind.
The craft Master Jinn had picked out was sleek without beauty, a thing that had been designed for a purpose and little else besides. Finished in a nondescript grey, it seemed rather the definition of utilitarian. That did not change when they entered. Harry turned to Ginny, looking for something, anything... But she still seemed to be pretending that he did not exist.
The saleswoman had returned to advertisement mode, reeling off praise for the vessel's range and storage capacity. Lift off was certainly quite smooth, and Harry had to appreciate the smooth hum from the engines as they pulled away.
It didn't take long for Master Jinn to make the call, and after an intense bit of haggling, they were ready to go. Harry was rather glad of it, too. The ship itself they left in a Jedi temple hangar bay, ready for preparation as soon as they returned. Lightning tickled his fingertips at the thought of it. After all the drama and the pain, Harry would not get to recover by spending time with his family. There was no time to heal those wounds, beyond the weeks he had spent with Ginny between this world and the next.
Before Harry could blink, they were teleporting back to Scotland, and Madam Pomfrey was sending them off to see Professor McGonagall. The basilisk victims were still behind curtains.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
His footsteps echoed like drum beats, turning his stomach into putty and shaking his brain until it rattled in his skull, for Harry walked to Professor McGonagall's office beside a stranger. There was nothing familiar about this girl who wore Ginny's face. He had walked the planes of Ginny's mind. Her very soul had touched his in ways that had changed him, and for the better. And not a week previously, in the shared space of their minds... Harry wanted to scream.
"Come in," Professor McGonagall said. The portrait swung open idly, revealing the surprisingly cosy and comfortable looking interior. Harry had rather been expecting something more spartan from the austere woman. Though it was hardly a Christmas card affair, it had a great deal of the warmth of the Gryffindor common room. "I am glad that your... adventure with Master Jinn has not been as taxing as your last ordeal."
Harry couldn't say with certainty that that was true. He noted after a moment that his gaze had drifted, and that their head of house was now wearing a mildly concerned frown.
"In any case..." she said. "You have both missed substantial parts of the curriculum. It was not your fault, I know. I didn't bring you both here to be punished for narrowly evading death again. But we do need to discuss if and how you could catch up before the final exams."
"I do still remember most of my classes, professor," said Ginny. "He kept me mostly on top of school work. Probably so that nobody would be paying attention."
Harry gritted his teeth and stood still. Perhaps he could kill Voldemort again next year. It would give him something to look forward to.
"Are you certain that you wouldn't like some extra provision, Miss Weasley?" said Professor McGonagall. "As extenuating circumstances go... let's just say that we are more than happy to do whatever we can."
"No, I'll be fine, thank you," said Ginny. "May I go?"
"Of course," Professor McGonagall said, her nostrils flaring as she looked, flabbergasted, at Ginny's retreating back.
"Hermione will see her right, professor," said Harry.
"Miss G-?" Professor McGonagall said, turning disbelieving eyes upon him. She shook her head. "Regardless, I would have hoped to give her some extra help. After what she went through..."
"Ginny's strong," Harry shrugged. "And she has lots of friends."
"I'll not argue with you, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, though she seemed quite ready to. "However, I hope you both know that my door is open, as is Madam Pomfrey's, and any of the other professors."
Harry nodded. "Thank you, professor."
"At any rate, we must sort out a schedule for remedial classes," said Professor McGonagall. "I have faith in you, Potter, you performed well last year, but you will need to double down if you want to pass to third year with the rest of your class."
"If Crabbe manages it..." said Harry.
"I should certainly hope that you are aiming higher than that, Mr. Potter."
It was a small thing, but it helped. For a moment, Harry had nothing else on his mind.
For what must have been half an hour they sat and discussed which subjects he had greater aptitude for and which ones he might need more help with, the timetabling of it all, and which classes he might not be ready to rejoin after being away for so long. Harry would have been all for it if it had meant skipping Potions, but as it was, the process seemed largely to separate him from his classmates. That was when the final nail hit.
"I asked the team not to bring it up with you," said Professor McGonagall. "But the match against Hufflepuff is this weekend."
"Professor?" said Harry, alarmed.
"You are very behind, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "You have missed months of schooling, and we need to somehow combine the remaining curriculum with remedial classes and enough physical training to keep you fighting fit. You do not have ten to fifteen hours a week free to practise Seeking."
Harry felt the despair grow in his heart. All the joys of his life were rapidly evaporating. "Surely I could still play in the matches, professor? We don't have a replacement."
"I am well aware of our position," said Professor McGonagall. "If the situation were less extreme I would not have chosen this. But as you are well aware, Quidditch matches can last days, and the only alternative here is to have you retake the year."
Harry gritted his teeth. "I'll find another hobby for the year then."
"I am sorry, Mr. Potter," said his head of house, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "I bought you that Nimbus with my own money, not only because I so dearly hate seeing that cup in Professor Snape's office, but... In the air, much like on the ground, you are so very reminiscent of your father."
"Professor?" said Harry.
"I remembered what he said the last time I saw him..." Professor McGonagall said, her eyes distant. "You had gotten a toy broomstick for your birthday, and you hadn't parted with it since. Even when they made you sit and eat you would hold it in your lap, and no matter what you broke they couldn't bear to part you from it either."
Harry breathed deeply, and she seemed to break out of her reverie.
"I would not do this if I did not have to, Potter," she said. "But I see no other way forward."
"I understand, professor," said Harry. "I will not let you down."
"Good," said Professor McGonagall. "I will speak to the professors, but apart from Professor Snape I doubt there will be any difficulties."
"Couldn't you teach me Potions, professor?" said Harry.
"Professor Snape's skill eclipses my own to a degree I cannot fathom, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall.
"Even if he could make Elixir of Life from a bezoar, you would be a better teacher," Harry said vehemently.
Professor McGonagall smiled. It was only for a moment, but Harry felt like Christmas had come early. She glanced down to his waist. "The sword has become quite comfortable on your belt."
Harry felt the silver sing beneath his fingertips. "Yes, but I should return it."
Professor McGonagall nodded. "It is not a common thing, Potter, for the sword to come to a student. Know that you have done your house proud."
"Thank you, professor," said Harry humbly. The sword was cool rather than cold to the touch. Its warm heart beat in time with his own.
Harry's fingers rested lightly upon that silver hilt all the way to Professor Dumbledore's office, not with the caution of his Head of House fingering her wand, but in a state of complete serenity. The blade hummed with the voices of a hundred men, and in their chorus the noise of his problems could scarcely be heard. But this thing was fleeting. A thought at a touch and nothing more. Merely an echo of champions past...
Glowering at the headmaster's door, Harry imagined plunging the blade deep into the old man's chest. He regretted it immediately, but his rage only burned hotter. The machinations of the man, his base transgressions... Harry should have been glad to see him suffer. But as he looked now into those clear blue eyes, Harry realised that as much as he hated Professor Dumbledore, he could not be brought to murder him. It was not a matter of mercy. Harry could never cross that line.
"I am glad to see that you returned safely," said Professor Dumbledore. "The proper arrangements have been made, I trust, to bring you back in line with your peers?"
"Of course, Professor Dumbledore," said Professor McGonagall.
"I wanted to return this, professor," said Harry. The honorific caught in his throat, like a bone.
"The sword of Godric Gryffindor," Professor Dumbledore smiled, taking the offered scabbard. "Alas, I do not know where it might be kept. When you drew it from the Sorting Hat, it might have been summoned from anywhere. The scabbard was resting under the hat when I returned here all those weeks ago."
"Are you telling me to keep it, sir?" said Harry.
Professor McGonagall inhaled sharply.
"Harry..." Professor Dumbledore began.
"Mr. Potter, please, sir," said Harry, gritting his teeth.
Professor Dumbledore seemed to age in front of him, but Harry maintained his composure. There was no going back.
"Mr. Potter," said Professor Dumbledore. "What I am saying is that there may be no choice to the matter."
"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said with a rush of urgency. "Try calling to the sword."
Harry frowned suspiciously at the two professors, but did as Professor McGonagall asked, raising a hand idly. That hand soon spasmed around the solid silver hilt that had slammed firmly into his palm.
"May I speak with the Sorting Hat, sir?" said Harry.
"Of course," said Professor Dumbledore.
Harry kept staring at the weapon in his hand. To his knowledge, he had not used the Force. He had called to the sword exactly as he would to his broomstick.
'Is this to become a routine visit, Harry Potter?' said the Hat. 'For if it is, I'd like to ask that next time I not be left to float in sewage.'
Harry sighed. 'I'm sorry, I was a little preoccupied.'
'Understandable,' /ithe Hat said amicably. 'But please do take it into consideration. I was not built for sailing the low seas.'
Harry snorted. 'I needed to ask...'
'Why the sword of Godric Gryffindor has taken a liking to you?' the old hat said, laughing almost ominously. 'It is no simple sword, Harry. This was one of the finest masterpieces of the first millennium, goblin or not. When it chooses a wizard, it is not the simple affinity of a wand. For better or worse, your fate is bound to that blade, Harry Potter.'
Harry's eyes widened in alarm, and he raised the sword before his obscured eyes, not needing them to see. He could best describe the sword's reaction as a shrug. But he could feel the bond that had formed, see it even. It was stronger than the bond to his wand. In terms of its character, it was rather reminiscent of his bond to Ginny...
'Do you speak, sword of Gryffindor?'
A long pause.
'I don't remember it ever communicating directly, I'm afraid,' said the Sorting Hat. 'But I'm sure it understands you.'
Warmth suffused Harry's fingers. "I'm sure I'm not worthy of this. But thank you for the honour."
A low kind of anger simmered in him. Harry took the sword's meaning.
"Then I will not disappoint you," said Harry.
Warmth again.
'Thank you, Hat,' Harry thought.
'Oh believe me,' said the Sorting Hat. 'The pleasure was all mine.'
A knock at the door came just as Harry placed the Sorting Hat back on its pedestal.
"Ah," said the smooth voice of Lucius Malfoy. "It has been devilishly hard to get a hold of you, Professor Dumbledore, but I can return later if you are busy."
Harry felt his mind fade back to that fateful day on Diagon Alley. The circumstances were too extraordinary to be mere coincidence. Malfoy had needed to be rid of Dark artifacts. He was trying to antagonise Mr. Weasley's Muggle Rights Bill. And he had picked out from Ginny's cauldron the very book that had contained the diary later on.
"By all means, speak your peace," said Professor Dumbledore warmly.
"The other governors have brought it to my attention that they have reinstated you without my input," said Mr. Malfoy. "I would like an explanation."
Harry clamped down on the urge to remove the villain's head from his body. This was the man who had had him and Ginny possessed by Lord Voldemort, and had smuggled the murderous wraith into Hogwarts. The last man to do that, Harry had torn into two pieces and left to disintegrate beneath the castle floors. Gryffindor's sword thrummed.
"As to why the other governors are being less than communicative, many of them seem to be under the impression that you had threatened to curse their families if they did not oust me," said Professor Dumbledore serenely. Lucius Malfoy's eyes narrowed, but he showed no other sign of a response. "When they heard that Arthur Weasley's daughter had been killed, and that Harry Potter had gone missing, all eleven sent letters asking me to return. Apparently, they decided I was the best man for the job after all."
"I see," said Mr. Malfoy. "The attacks certainly seemed to have stopped, so congratulations are in order. But did you find the culprit?"
"We did," said Dumbledore, with a smile.
"And?" said Mr. Malfoy. "Who is it?"
"The same person as last time, Lucius," said Dumbledore. "But this time, Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else. By means of this diary."
He held up the small black book, watching Mr. Malfoy closely. Harry, however, was watching Dobby. The elf was doing something very odd. His great eyes fixed meaningfully on Harry, he kept pointing at the diary, then at Mr. Malfoy, and then hitting himself hard on the head with his fist. Harry nodded slightly, turning his attention back to the two men and the gored little book that had caused so much pain. Dobby began twisting his own ears as punishment.
"I see..." said Mr. Malfoy slowly to Dumbledore.
"A clever plan," said Dumbledore in a level voice, still staring Mr. Malfoy straight in the eye. "Because if Harry here hadn't discovered this book, why – Ginny Weasley might have taken all of the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn't acted of her own free will..."
Mr. Malfoy said nothing. He looked curiously at Harry, briefly, before turning his attention back to Professor Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall's nostrils were white.
"And imagine," Dumbledore went on, "what might have happened then... The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pure-blood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing Muggle-borns. Very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Riddle's memories wiped from it. Who knows what the consequences might have been otherwise..."
Mr. Malfoy made something approximating a sympathetic grimace. "Dire, I'm sure."
"Don't you want to know how Ginny got hold of that diary, Mr. Malfoy?" said Harry.
Lucius Malfoy rounded on him. "How should I know how the stupid little girl got hold of it?"
"Because you gave it to her," said Harry. "In Flourish and Blotts. You picked up her old Transfiguration book and slipped the diary inside it."
Lucius Malfoy's entire face tensed. "Do you intend to pit your family name against mine and prove it, Potter? Or do you simply wish to shed some of your fortune on charges of slander?"
"Who needs proof?" said Harry, stroking the sword hilt at his hip. "I'm not taking you to court, Mr. Malfoy. But the next time that you or your family cross me or mine, I will remember."
"Is that a threat?" Malfoy smiled, regarding him coolly.
"It is a promise," said Harry.
Lucius Malfoy seemed more amused than upset, but he was unsettled to say the least. Harry still was unused to perceiving the emotions of others in this pale echo of his connection with Ginny, but the stress on Malfoy's mind was so great that Harry half-expected to see his forehead crack.
"Whoever has been giving out Lord Voldemort's old school things should likely rethink their strategy," said Professor Dumbledore. "If any more of them find their way into innocent hands, there would be rather a number of people with a personal stake in seeing justice served..."
"Indeed," said Malfoy. "Well, I see that the situation is well in hand here. I shall take my leave of you. Professor Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall."
The blonde man was turning to leave when he caught Harry's eye. Malfoy faltered slightly. There was no fear in his eyes, but his concern bled through to his face. Harry, who had been idly watching the villain, did not realise until after Malfoy had left that his hand had remained comfortably upon the hilt of his sword. A slow smirk spread across his face.
Hearing Dobby squeal, Harry's smirk set into a grimace. "Professor, do you mind if I give Mr. Malfoy his diary back?"
"It is yours by right of combat, Mr. Potter," said Professor Dumbledore. "Do with it what you will."
Harry nodded, tugging off a sock and hiding it among the diary's limp, lifeless pages. The corkscrew staircase outside was at the bottom of its shaft, Malfoy just having descended. Rather than wait, Harry listened to the wordless whisperings in his mind and jumped.
Harry was not certain about the sword. Ginny had been in his head for the longest time, but in Mr. Weasley's words, he could see where she kept her brain. Besides, it had not been a one way street. If he was to learn the ways of the Force, however... he was going to have to believe that he was capable. Harry imagined himself slowing down, a barrier between him and the ground, and focused. With a thud, he hit the ground, lightning crackling at his fingertips.
Malfoy and Dobby both turned, surprised.
"Mr. Potter?" said Malfoy.
Harry noticed the way that Dobby was favouring one leg, and his eyes narrowed. Currents began to spread in rivulets from his fingers up to his wrists. Clenching his teeth, Harry put them out. "You should have this, sir."
Harry forced the book upon Malfoy, who sneered at him. "My, my, Mr. Potter. Resorted to planting evidence now, have you?"
"I just thought you might want it back," said Harry. "I doubt they're easy to come by. Who knows? Someone might come looking for it."
Harry knew from the way his adversary's demeanour changed that he had hit the jackpot. Malfoy passed the diary to Dobby, gripping his cane so tightly that his knuckles went white. One long finger poked him in the sternum.
"You're going to meet the same sticky end as your parents, Potter," he hissed. "Perhaps nobody ever told you, but the reason you are the last of your line is that heroes don't live long."
"I suppose Draco's so lonely because of all the inbreeding then," said Harry, staring right back at Malfoy's furious grey eyes. "Or perhaps Mrs Malfoy thought once was quite enough?"
"Come, Dobby," said Malfoy, sneering. "Let us leave before the boy can regret our meeting."
He turned to go.
"Open it," Harry hissed, staring intently at the diary.
Flicking the book open, Dobby stared at the sock within.
"Come, Dobby," said Malfoy, drawing his wand, which was hidden such that it formed the silver head of his cane. "I said, come."
But Dobby didn't move. He was holding up Harry's disgusting, slimy sock, and looking at it as though it were a priceless treasure. Harry did not even try to hide a satisfied smirk.
"Master has given a sock," said the elf in wonderment. "Master gave it to Dobby."
"What's that?" spat Mr. Malfoy. "What did you say?"
"Got a sock," said Dobby in disbelief. "Master has presented Dobby with clothes, and Dobby – Dobby is free."
Lucius Malfoy stood frozen, staring at the elf. Then he turned his wand on Harry. "You've lost me my servant, boy!"
Acting on instinct, Harry drew the gleaming blade, holding it in front of him to point, unwavering, at Lucius Malfoy's heart. But before the duel could even begin, Dobby shouted, "You shall not harm Harry Potter!"
There was a loud bang, and Mr. Malfoy was thrown backward. He crashed down the stairs, three at a time, landing in a crumpled heap on the landing below.
"I don't like bullies, Mr. Malfoy," said Harry. "And I suppose Draco takes after you because I don't think I like you much either."
Malfoy rose slowly, blasted his robes clean, and turned a gaze on Harry that still held a great deal of anger, but was also somewhat amused.
"That was well enough played, I suppose," Malfoy said. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you again."
"I suppose I'll look forward to it," said Harry.
Malfoy swept away without another word. Harry felt the sword's mirth as he restored it to its scabbard with a sigh.
"And we didn't even lose the diary's corpse," said Harry. "I'd call today a win."
"Harry Potter freed Dobby!" said the elf shrilly, gazing up at Harry, moonlight from the nearest window reflected in his orb-like eyes. "Harry Potter set Dobby free!"
"There was no way in the world I would just leave you to his mercy, Dobby," said Harry, grinning. "Just promise never to try and save my life again."
The elf's ugly brown face split suddenly into a wide, toothy smile.
"I've just got one question, Dobby," said Harry as Dobby pulled on Harry's sock with shaking hands. "You told me all this had nothing to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, remember? Well –"
"It was a clue, sir," said Dobby, his eyes widening, as though this was obvious. "Was giving you a clue. The Dark Lord, before he changed his name, could be freely named, you see?"
"Right," said Harry, shaking his head. At this point, he was really just glad the threat of the Chamber had been lifted. "Well, I'd better go. The professors are waiting for me, and I'm sure they'll want me to start my tuition."
Dobby threw his arms around Harry's middle and hugged him.
"Harry Potter is greater by far than Dobby knew!" he sobbed. "Farewell, Harry Potter!"
And with a final loud crack, Dobby disappeared.
"Farewell, Dobby," Harry grinned. "The free elf."
When Harry returned to Professor Dumbledore's office, he found his parents already standing there with Master Jinn, hotly debating Harry's calendar with Professor McGonagall.
"He's only a boy!" said Mrs Weasley. "What do you mean by not letting him have a holiday?"
"I hope they're giving me a chance of growing into a man," said Harry. "I've been living a charmed life, Mum, but at this rate I won't survive my schooling."
"And whose fault is that?" Mrs Weasley said furiously.
"Everyone's?" Harry suggested. "No one's?"
"Mr. Potter is right," said Professor McGonagall. "While the incident with Professor Quirrell should have been dealt with by staff far earlier, the Chamber was rather beyond us. Being that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is clearly never going to stop being a factor in Harry's life, it would be utterly damning to him not to train him as best we are able."
"Molly," said Mr. Weasley. "You can fight this tooth and nail, but Harry will never know true peace. There is nothing you can do to change that."
Mrs Weasley sobbed quietly, and Harry hurried over to comfort her.
"The boy has a great deal of natural talent," said Master Jinn softly. "But power the like of this is not something to be trifled with. I need to train him not to be corrupted into misusing it."
"Harry would never!" Mrs Weasley insisted.
"Nobody is perfect, Mum," said Harry. "I'd rather be the good guy at the end of this story."
"You will always be the good guy," said Mrs Weasley earnestly, pulling back to look him in the eye. "Do you understand, Harry?"
That his mother would always take his side... Harry did understand. It made him ache to know that someone cared for him so deeply. And it saddened him to know that it was wrong. But Harry would train for her. For his family and for his friends. So that whenever they were called upon to choose sides, he would not be unworthy of their support.
Gryffindor's sword was singing.
Harry's mood was soaring as he strode back towards the Gryffindor common room. He felt almost as though he were walking upon clouds. All it took to burst his bubble was one look. Ginny had a power over him that knew no limit.
"Hey," Harry tried.
Ginny said nothing, but fell into step beside him. The ten inches between them stretched for miles.
"I saw Master Jinn talking to Mum and Dad," said Ginny.
"Yeah, they're in..."
"You're going to leave," Ginny said abruptly.
Harry turned to look at her stony face. "Ginny..."
"You're leaving us to go and train," she said. "Aren't you?"
Harry reached out for her hand, but she shrugged him off angrily.
"Ginny what do you want me to do?" said Harry. "How close do I have to come to dying? I saw what happened to my body. I turned myself into fucking sausages trying to break Riddle's hold on you. After everything we've been through..."
"Together!" Ginny yelled. "We did everything together! But I can't come with you, can I?"
"That's not the Ginny I know," said Harry. "She'd say to hell with everything. Sneak past Mum and come anyway."
"The Ginny you knew died in the Chamber of Secrets," said Ginny.
Harry gaped, taking a step back. "So what you said..."
"Fuck you, Harry," said Ginny. "This isn't a one way street."
"You think I want to be away from you?" Harry cried. "From any of you? That this is some great adventure for me and just me? I want to live, Ginny! You gave me something to fight for! You fucking gave me hope!"
For a moment, Ginny wavered. Then she shook her head and glared at him. "That's you, isn't it? Getting inside of my head?"
"Ginny?" Harry said, alarmed.
"I won't do it, Harry," Ginny said. "Not like this."
Harry only heard a dull roar. But he didn't need to hear the words to know. The sword, the Jedi... All had turned to ash.