Chapter Sixteen: A Letter to the Editor

There are some days when simply getting out of bed in the morning can feel like a task befitting the twelve labours of Hercules. For Harry Potter, the Monday following their first Hogsmeade weekend was one of those days.

It all started early on Sunday, when Angelina put the Quidditch team through their paces for a solid four hours. While the team tried to argue that they still had a month before their first match, their captain was having none of it. Angelina was dead set on winning the Cup that year, and on top of that, it was no secret that she was hoping to parlay a good showing during her final season into a professional contract after Hogwarts.

Once practice was over, he had a quick bite to eat and was off to the Room of Requirement for his scheduled training session with Daphne. Harry had fully expected to be interrogated about the previous day's events, and he was not disappointed.

"So…" began Daphne as soon as Harry entered the Room, her arms folded in front of her standoffishly.

"So," returned Harry, in the same impertinent tone.

"I thought you weren't planning to pursue my sister romantically."

"I wasn't," he replied honestly.

"Then why did she spend an entire hour yesterday telling me every little detail about your date to Hogsmeade?" she responded, directing an inquisitive gaze towards Harry.

"Well to be fair, I didn't know it was going to be a date ahead of time."

"Yes, Astoria told me about her friends' little plan," replied Daphne, a grin threatening to break through her serious demeanour, "but from what I've heard, you didn't seem to have any trouble behaving as if it were a date."

"No, I definitely didn't."

"So…" she said again.

"What do you want me to say?" asked Harry. "Yesterday was brilliant. We get along really well, and I've started to realise there might be something there."

Daphne's expression softened a bit. "Very well. I've already given you my warnings," she said. "I trust I do not need to do so again."

"Are you saying you approve?" he asked, with a touch of disbelief.

"I suppose I'd be angrier if I hadn't already expected this to happen sooner or later," she replied in an offhand manner. "Like I've said before, my sister can be quite stubborn, especially when there's something she wants."

"I've noticed," chuckled Harry. "I don't think I've met anyone quite like her."

"No, I suspect not," replied Daphne with a hint of amusement, before her face fell slightly. She looked as though she had something to say but was struggling to find the words. "Astoria looks at life in a way that most of us wouldn't understand," she settled on after a moment. "She believes in the fundamental goodness of others, and she refuses to waste time on the trivial nonsense that tends to bog down most people."

Finding no fault in Daphne's description of her sister, Harry slowly nodded in agreement. While he'd only known Astoria for a couple of months, there was little doubt that some of her personality had rubbed off on him. For starters, he was a lot more open about himself and wasn't as prone to bottling everything up inside.

"She's a far better person than I am," added Daphne, her expression becoming unreadable.

Harry waited a few beats before speaking. "I take it she told you about our little run-in with your housemates?" he enquired.

"Yes, though I suspect she may have downplayed its seriousness," replied Daphne, her eyes snapping back into focus.

In the spirit of cooperation, Harry told Daphne the unvarnished truth about what happened with the Slytherins in Hogsmeade. Surprisingly, she didn't seem nearly as concerned about it as he'd been expecting.

"Hmm…Astoria was more forthcoming than I gave her credit for," she remarked, once Harry finished his tale.

"Has anyone in Slytherin given you any trouble about it?"

A wicked grin appeared on Daphne's face. "Pansy believed it a good idea to confront me yesterday evening," she said. "I took great pleasure in proving her incorrect."

"What did you do?" asked Harry, his grin now matching hers.

"Plausible deniability, Potter," she said, wagging a finger at him. "Speaking of which, did you hear that Malfoy and Nott wound up in the hospital wing last night? Nott only got out just this morning."

"Oh? What happened?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"You're a terrible liar, Harry," smirked Daphne. "Whatever you did, it seems to have put a dent in the odd little alliance that's been going on between those two. Nott and Malfoy aren't speaking to one other, and they didn't sit together at lunch today either."

"As long as they leave me and my friends alone, I don't give a toss what they get up to together."

Daphne wrinkled her nose in disgust. "That's an unpleasant mental image," she frowned.

"Ugh…that is so not what I meant," grimaced Harry.

Daphne shook her head. "Just get your wand out, Potter, I've been dying to release some tension," she said irritably.

Harry quirked one eyebrow up at her and laughed when her face flushed, just before he had to duck to avoid the Stunner she sent directly at head. What followed was easily their most inspired duel to date. Daphne was still no match for Harry, of course, but she had improved dramatically over the past month, and had even managed to learn a few nonverbal spells.

As usual, they finished their session together by working through some of the curses in either Sirius's book, or some of the more interesting tomes provided by the Room of Requirement. Just the week before, Daphne had wisely suggested they start learning how to perform all the appropriate counter-curses, so they made sure to spend some time on those as well.

After Daphne left, Harry stayed behind in the Room and ran though some of his own exercises with the training dummies, and then he worked on his homework until it was time for dinner. Once they had finished eating, he managed a short, but pleasant conversation with Astoria, and then it was back to the Room for another session with his Gryffindor friends.

Honestly, it was no wonder his body was sore all over and he felt like he could sleep until Tuesday, given the opportunity. With a groan of discomfort, Harry rolled out of bed and started getting dressed, just as a bleary-eyed Ron shuffled in from the bathroom and began doing the same.

Neville and Dean had apparently already gone down, but Seamus was still asleep in bed. Under normal circumstances, Harry would have done the boy a favour and woken him up so he wouldn't be late for class. However, things had been frosty between them ever since Harry had learned that Seamus and his mum were among the many who believed the Daily Prophet's lies, so he decided to leave him be. As Harry and Ron came down the stairs from their dorm, they noticed a small crowd gathered near the entrance to the common room and went to investigate.

A large sign had been affixed to the Gryffindor notice board, so large that it covered everything else on there — the lists of second-hand spellbooks for sale, the dates of Hogsmeade weekends, lost-and-found notices, and so forth. The new sign was printed in large black letters and had an official-looking seal at the bottom.

-BY ORDER OF-

THE MINISTER FOR MAGIC

The High Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions, and removal of privileges pertaining to students of Hogwarts, and the power to alter such punishments, sanctions, and removals of privileges as may have been ordered by other staff members.

There was some additional jargon at the end, and the notice was signed by Cornelius Fudge himself.

"What d'you reckon that's all about?" Ron asked loudly.

"No idea, but I'm staying as far away from Umbridge as I can, just in case," said Dean Thomas, shaking his head and making his way towards the portrait hole.

"Oh dear…"

Harry turned to see that Hermione had joined them.

"Do you think this is about you?" she asked him quietly. "You know, how Dumbledore wouldn't let her give you detention for no reason?"

"Probably," he agreed.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," sighed Harry. "Maybe Dumbledore will have an idea, but I doubt I'll get to speak to him between now and our next Defence class."

The new decree and its potential ramifications were the main topic of discussion amongst the Gryffindors, as they made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. While it was difficult to predict exactly what would happen next, a nervous feeling had settled in the pit of Harry's stomach. Someone like Umbridge wielding that kind of power couldn't be good for anyone, least of all himself.

From there, breakfast proceeded as it normally did — that is, until the Daily Prophet arrived.

Harry looked up briefly as the dozens of post owls swooped into the Great Hall, delivering letters and packages from home. One of the many large brown owls deposited a newspaper in front of Hermione, who was sitting right next to him. She casually unfolded the paper while nibbling at her toast, and then audibly gasped as her eyes skimmed the headline.

"What is it?" asked Harry, turning his head to look at her, but Hermione immediately slammed the paper face-down on the table. She hurriedly looked around the Great Hall and turned towards Harry with a panicked expression.

"Let's go; we need to leave," she said, standing up and pulling at Harry's arm. "Come on, Ron!"

"Why? What's happened?" demanded Harry, the weight in his stomach growing heavier, even as he allowed Hermione to lead him away from the table. Not even bothering to slow down once they exited the Great Hall, she dragged him down the corridor and into an empty classroom, Ron trailing behind them.

"What's going on?" asked Ron, shutting the door behind him.

Hermione took a deep breath and wordlessly handed Harry her copy of the Daily Prophet. He opened the paper up to the front page, and the heavy stone that had been living in Harry's stomach all morning sank all the way down to his feet.

"Bloody hell…" said Ron, as he glimpsed the headline over Harry's shoulder.

DIGGORY DEMANDS INVESTIGATION!

Father of Slain Triwizard Champion Seeks Answers, Implicates Boy Who Lived!

We at the Daily Prophet were shocked to receive the following open letter from Amos Diggory, the father of deceased Hogwarts student and Triwizard Champion, Cedric Diggory. Mr. Diggory has requested we publish his letter, which we were more than willing to do, out of respect for the grieving father and dedicated Ministry employee.

An open letter to Magical Britain and the Ministry of Magic:

Four months ago, my son was a boy with a bright future ahead of him. He was an excellent student — well-liked and respected by everyone in our community. Cedric loved Quidditch; he was Captain and Seeker for his Hufflepuff House team, and during the summers he spent hours on his broom just flying around our property.

Cedric was incredibly proud of being named Hogwarts champion, as were his mother and me. I admit to being frustrated that my son's selection was overshadowed by the highly unusual entrance of Harry Potter into the tournament, but Cedric took it all in stride. Being the talented boy that he was, Cedric put on a spectacular performance and was on the verge of victory when our world fell out from beneath us.

My boy was the light of my life, and of his mother's. One moment, our son was set to win the Triwizard Tournament, and in the next he was dead — gone forever. Our own lives will never be the same, and over the past few months I have been plagued by the same question.

Why?

I shall never forget the moment when Harry Potter suddenly appeared clutching my son's lifeless body, claiming that Cedric was murdered by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. We were in too much shock to question much at the time, but as the weeks passed without receiving the full explanation promised to us, I found myself questioning what really happened that night.

Albus Dumbledore has corroborated Harry Potter's story, but the Ministry has claimed that our so-called national heroes are liars, and that Cedric's death was merely an unfortunate accident. Why then, has no one from the Ministry bothered to tell us, his parents, the exact cause of our son's death?

I recently received a most disturbing answer in the form of an anonymous letter from a Ministry official.

This unnamed, high-ranking official claims to be privy to the full truth, yet has been ordered to keep it secret under threat of imprisonment. Even more disturbing, the author of the letter claims that the secret has even been kept from the Minister himself! The official goes on to claim that elements within the Ministry and Wizengamot loyal to Albus Dumbledore have been masking the truth under his orders.

As shocking as it may sound, if this letter is to be believed, my son Cedric was murdered in cold blood by none other than Harry Potter himself!

The Ministry official alleges that Harry Potter killed Cedric solely for the purpose of winning the Triwizard Tournament uncontested, thereby collecting the 1,000 Galleon prize whilst adding to his own legend, and then fabricated the story about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in order to cover up his crimes.

As for Albus Dumbledore's involvement, he apparently has designs on the Ministry itself and is attempting to stir up trouble by supporting Potter's claims of You-Know-Who rising from the dead. Knowing that his plans would crumble once the real story came to light, Dumbledore allegedly used his considerable resources to cover up the truth and keep Harry Potter, who I've been told has always been shown favouritism by Hogwarts staff, from facing justice.

I'll admit that when I first read the letter, my first instinct was to rush to Hogwarts and duel the boy myself! My wife, however, is much more level-headed than I, and asked me what our Cedric would say.

Our boy believed in truth and loyalty, the cornerstones of his Hogwarts House, and I am forced to admit that on more than one occasion, Cedric defended Harry Potter when my own frustrations about the boy overshadowing my son caused me to lash out. Cedric had apparently struck up a tentative friendship with Potter, and having met the boy myself, I admit that I find it difficult believing him capable of murder.

That said, the letter from the anonymous official must have been sent for a purpose, and I will no longer allow the truth to be kept from me. Whether it was simply an accident or cold-blooded murder, we deserve to know how my boy died, be it at the hands of Harry Potter, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or even Merlin himself.

I hereby demand that the Ministry conduct a full investigation into the events surrounding the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, including what happened inside the maze and every detail of the events that led up to the death of my son. From this day forward, I swear that I shall not rest until I receive the answers we have been denied for so long.

Sincerely,

Amos Diggory

Editor's Note: We reached out to the Ministry of Magic for comment, but as of press time, we have yet to receive a response. We at the Daily Prophet support Mr. Diggory in his quest for justice and wish him the best of luck in finding the answers he deserves.

Harry's heart was still racing faster than a snidget when he sat down the paper, although his breathing did ease up a bit by the time he got to the end.

"Okay, the good news is that Mr. Diggory's letter isn't quite as bad as the headline makes it sound," said Hermione, who, like Ron, was reading the article over Harry's shoulder.

"And the bad news is that most people will simply focus on the headline," replied Harry, who then plopped down onto a nearby chair and began massaging his temples.

"Most likely," conceded Hermione. "What I want to know is who this so-called 'anonymous official' is, and why now?"

"It's Umbridge — it has to be," spat Harry, before recapping the details of their interaction during class on Thursday for Ron and Hermione. "I knew she was an evil toad, but I never expected her to bring the Diggorys into it," he said in conclusion.

"If so, I'm sure she expected Mr. Diggory to flat out accuse you," Hermione pointed out. "She's probably not happy with the result."

"Yeah, maybe."

"So…what now?" asked Ron, but none of them had any answers.

The three Gryffindors sat together in silence contemplating next steps, until they heard someone repeatedly calling Harry's name from out in the corridor. Ron got up to open the door and peeked his head out before waving the owner of the voice inside.

Harry stood up as Astoria rushed into the room and grabbed both of his hands.

"Are you all right?" she asked him urgently.

"I think so," he replied. "It was just really unexpected. What's it like out there?"

"It's all anybody's talking about," explained Astoria, wearing her concern clearly on her face. "People are angry, too. The professors calmed everybody down eventually, but before that, some of the Hufflepuffs were practically calling for your head."

"What?" Ron burst out. "Are they mental? Even Cedric's dad said he doesn't really believe it!"

"I'm honestly not that surprised," said Hermione, which earned her an incredulous look from Ron. "Oh honestly, haven't you noticed how easily people latch onto whatever they read around here? Remember last year, how everyone believed everything Rita Skeeter wrote, no matter how ridiculous it sounded?"

As soon as she finished her rant, Hermione sat down in a chair, her face showing the odd expression she was prone to wearing whenever she was working through a problem.

"What can we really do about it, though?" sighed Harry. "Maybe the investigation will be a good thing."

"No, Harry, you need to fight back," Astoria insisted. "Mr. Diggory's letter puts a lot of pressure on the Ministry, who've already been coming after you for months. What's to stop them from simply coming right out and declaring that you killed Cedric?"

Harry's eyes bulged slightly at the realisation. "Bugger…" he mumbled, one hand moving to the top of his head to grasp his hair.

"You need to tell your side of the story," she continued. "Let people know what really happened that night." Seeing his pained expression, she stepped closer to Harry. "I know it will be hard," she said quietly, "but you can't let them control the narrative. I promise to help you in whatever way I can."

Harry shook his head. "Even if I did want to," he said, "how would I even get the message out? The Ministry definitely wouldn't let the Prophet print it."

"Well…I actually did have an idea about that," Astoria revealed tentatively, her eyes darting momentarily to the side.

"Luna," she said in response to Harry's expectant look.

"Luna?"

"Yes…Luna Lovegood," she nodded. "She's in my House, in the year above me. Her father is the editor of The Quibbler. I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure we could convince her to have him print your story."

"Hang on, we know Luna," Ron chimed in. "The Quibbler is the one with all the mad stories about made-up creatures and all kinds of mental conspiracies. Nobody will believe anything Harry says if it's printed in there."

"That's not necessarily true," said Hermione, finally speaking up and causing the other three to turn towards her. "We could always ask Rita."

"Skeeter?" asked Astoria, obviously confused.

"Yes," nodded Hermione. "This goes no further, but last year we discovered she's an unregistered Animagus. She can turn into a beetle, which is how she gets a lot of her scoops."

"That's…that's unbelievable."

"Yes, well let's just say we came to an understanding after we discovered her secret, which is why we haven't told anyone," Hermione explained. "I suspect she might agree to writing Harry's story in exchange for being released from our deal early."

"That's brilliant!" exclaimed Ron. "People believe anything that bint writes, and even better, this time it'll actually be the truth!"

"The sooner the better, I think. I'll speak with Luna today if you can get in touch with Rita," said Astoria.

"I'll write her as soon as I can. How are you going to meet with her, though?" Hermione asked Harry. "I doubt she'll be allowed to come inside the castle, and the next Hogsmeade weekend isn't for a while."

"That won't be a problem," Harry said unconcernedly. "If you can arrange it for this weekend, I can get down to Hogsmeade on my own."

"Right, of course," replied Hermione, nodding in understanding. "Usually, I'd say it's too risky, but I think Astoria's right — you need to get your story out there as soon as possible."

"I think you should write to Mr. Cartwright, too," added Astoria. "If there's going to be an official investigation, it's probably a good idea to engage a solicitor."

"Right, I hadn't thought of that," replied Harry, once again running a hand through his hair. "I think I'll go write him now. You all should get to class — I'm going to skive off and see if I can track down Dumbledore, after I visit the owlery."

Hermione looked like she wanted to argue with Harry about his skipping class, but Ron led her away before she had the chance.

"I'll let you know as soon as I've spoken with Luna," said Astoria, and then gave Harry a quick hug before following Ron and Hermione out the door.

After taking a few moments to centre himself, Harry threw on his Invisibility Cloak and marched out of the classroom. It seemed as though he was going to have another busy day.

oOoOoOo

"Enter," called a voice from the other side of the door.

Harry opened the door and stepped through to see Professor Dumbledore, standing next to Fawkes's perch and holding a scrap of parchment in his left hand. Something about the scene gave Harry the somewhat comical, though likely accurate, impression that he had walked into the middle of a conversation between the headmaster and his phoenix.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore greeted him. "Your timing is impeccable; I was just preparing Fawkes to go and find you."

"Find me, sir?"

"Indeed," replied Dumbledore, stroking the top of Fawkes's head. "I stopped by the History of Magic classroom to ask Professor Binns to dismiss you, only to find you already absent."

"Yeah, well I have History with the Hufflepuffs, so…"

Dumbledore nodded his understanding and began moving towards the fireplace. "While I generally do not approve of students skipping class without permission, I find it difficult to fault you, considering present circumstances," he replied humourlessly. "However, I am afraid that is an arrangement which cannot continue past today."

"So, I don't have to go to Umbridge's class today?" Harry asked hopefully. He had been expecting Dumbledore to at least make him attend his afternoon classes.

"That is correct," replied the headmaster. "I have excused you from classes for today, in part due to an appointment which will have you away from the castle for several hours."

Harry frowned in confusion. "An appointment? Where?" he asked.

"The Ministry of Magic," answered Dumbledore, tossing a handful of floo powder into the fire. "After you, Harry," he said, gesturing towards the emerald-green flames.

After a moment's hesitation, Harry stepped through the floo and soon found himself in the main Atrium of the Ministry, just as he had the morning of his hearing. He was joined by Dumbledore a few moments later, who led them in the direction of the main security desk.

"What sort of appointment do I have?" Harry asked nervously. "Have they already opened an investigation into what happened that night?"

"Not as of yet, though I expect it will happen before long. Amos's letter seems to have caused quite a stir — one which the Minister may find difficult to simply ignore," explained Dumbledore. "No, I have arranged for you to sit your O.W.L. examination in Defence Against the Dark Arts today."

Dumbledore continued on for a few paces, only to turn back once he realised that Harry had frozen in his tracks.

"Harry?"

"My O.W.L.?" he repeated, wearing a somewhat dazed expression. "Why now? Am I really ready for that?"

"To answer your second question first," said Dumbledore, "I can assure you that you are well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level in the subject. As for why, Hogwarts rules stipulate that no student can be required to attend classes for a subject in which they have already received their O.W.L. In light of today's article and our latest Educational Decree, I thought it best to keep you as far as way from Professor Umbridge as possible."

"I have to agree," replied Harry, as they resumed walking. "Why not just do this from the start, instead of making me sit through her classes for over a month?"

"I did briefly consider it, but I decided it would be better to avoid taking such drastic action unless absolutely necessary," he explained. "I am afraid that moment has arrived much earlier than I expected." Turning to look at Harry, Dumbledore continued, "May I assume we have similar hypotheses on the identity of the anonymous Ministry official referenced in Amos Diggory's letter?"

"It was her, all right," Harry stated confidently. "Will this work, though? Couldn't she just make another decree making Defence mandatory for everyone?"

"A logical concern," said Dumbledore approvingly. "I would not put it past Professor Umbridge to attempt to do so, however, it is not currently within the High Inquisitor's power to alter the school's fundamental educational requirements. That authority rests solely with the Board of Governors. The Minister could, perhaps, apply pressure to change the rules, but I believe Cornelius has higher priorities at the moment."

"Right," nodded Harry, and then followed Professor Dumbledore to the security desk, where, as a visitor, Harry was required to register his wand with the wizard on duty.

For the next several minutes, Harry paid little attention to his surroundings as his mind was preoccupied with trying to recall everything he had ever learned in Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Having Dumbledore believe he was ready for his O.W.L. was good and all, but having to sit for such an important examination with no time to mentally prepare, let alone do any proper revision, was enough to cause a fair bit of anxiety. All he really knew of the exams was that they were comprised of two separate components: the theoretical portion, which involved written questions and answers, and the practical portion, where he would be asked to demonstrate all the spells he was expected to know by the end of his fifth year.

After stepping off the lift, they took a short walk down the corridor until they reached a large wooden door with a brass plaque affixed to the front, reading 'Wizarding Examinations Authority'. Harry followed Professor Dumbledore through the door into what could only be described as an overly large office.

One wall was comprised of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, while another was filled with row upon row of filing cabinets — records of past examinations, if Harry were to venture a guess. There was a reception desk just inside the door, behind which sat a middle-aged witch with large, square glasses and her hair in a bun. Just beyond her, Harry could see a few more desks and a large conference table.

"Good morning, welcome — oh, Professor Dumbledore, how may I help you?" said the receptionist, who was caught slightly off-guard by their appearance.

"Don't worry, Mabel, they have an appointment," came a voice from the far side of the room. A short, ancient-looking witch wearing old-fashioned robes had just emerged from what appeared to be a smaller office connected to the main working area.

"Ah, Madam Marchbanks, it is lovely to see you, as always," Dumbledore greeted the witch jovially.

"Right on time, Albus," the witch replied. "I take it this is the Potter boy?"

"Indeed," responded Dumbledore, with a short bow. "Harry, may I introduce you to Madam Griselda Marchbanks, who has been the head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority for many a year now. Madam Marchbanks, this — as you have already spotted — is Harry Potter."

"Yes, well, let's get on with it," said Madam Marchbanks. "I'm only doing this to spite Fudge and the crony he installed in your school. Nasty woman, that one — as I recall, she barely even passed her O.W.L. in Defence. I'll be very disappointed if Mr. Potter here doesn't make it worth my while."

"I have no doubt that Harry will perform admirably," replied Dumbledore, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Good luck, Harry; I shall return to collect you once you are finished with your examination," he added, before taking his leave.

Madam Marchbanks led Harry into a smaller room, where he was provided with a quill, ink, and ninety minutes to complete the written examination. After taking a deep breath, he picked up the parchment and skimmed through the questions. A wide grin spread across his face, and it was with renewed confidence that he inked his quill and began to write.

Less than an hour later, Harry had finished checking over his answers and pushed his chair back from the table. Madam Marchbanks collected his parchment, and after briefly scanning his responses, the noticeably more intrigued witch led him into a much larger room, which was equipped with a training dummy not unlike the ones provided by the Room of Requirement.

For the next thirty minutes, Harry dazzled the aged professor by performing every spell with speed, precision, and without having to verbalise a single incantation. The lone exception was his grand finale, where he summoned his Patronus to gallop around the examination room, leading to a short burst of applause from both Madam Marchbanks and her colleague Professor Tofty, who had joined them partway through Harry's examination, simply out of curiosity.

Once he was done, the examiners escorted Harry back out to the front room of the department, where Professor Dumbledore was already there waiting for him.

"All done, I take it?"

"Yes, we're all done, and I'm happy to report that it wasn't a complete waste of time," said Madam Marchbanks. "We'll send an owl with Potter's grade in a few days, but if his theoretical work is anything like his practical, he has nothing to worry about."

"And by the time he receives your owl, his grade will have been officially recorded with the Ministry?" queried Dumbledore.

"It will have, as you well know," confirmed Madam Marchbanks, who then turned to address Harry. "Listen here, young man. I'll be at Hogwarts in June to give you the rest of your O.W.L.s, and I'll be very disappointed if your performance in your other subjects is anything less than exemplary."

"Thank you, Professor, I'll try my best," he replied awkwardly.

"See that you do," she nodded before turning and walking back towards her office, effectively dismissing them.

"Madam Marchbanks is rarely that complimentary; you must have impressed her," said Professor Dumbledore, as they left the Wizarding Examinations Authority office.

"Really?"

"Oh yes," Dumbledore nodded serenely. "Griselda has been at this for a very long time, so that is no easy feat — she even conducted some of my own N.E.W.T. examinations when I was a student," he added, chuckling at Harry's stunned expression.

A short while later, they were back in the headmaster's office. It was too late for lunch in the Great Hall, so Professor Dumbledore asked one of the Hogwarts house-elves to bring up some food for them from the kitchens. Harry had expected to be dismissed once they finished eating, but it turned out that Dumbledore had more to discuss.

Once their dishes had been cleared away, Dumbledore sat back and addressed Harry. "I was wondering if you would help me with a brief experiment," he requested.

"Er — yeah, of course," replied Harry.

"Excellent," said the professor, who proceeded to take out his wand to summon a small grass snake. "Please attempt to converse with this snake, if you would be so kind."

Harry was somewhat taken aback by the request, but instead of questioning it, he simply shrugged and leaned forward to address the tiny serpent.

"Hello there."

"English, I am afraid," said Dumbledore, almost as if he had expected that outcome.

"Really?" Harry replied confusedly, and then leaned forward and tried again. He looked up expectantly at the headmaster, who just shook his head.

It wasn't a skill he used often, but Harry had never had trouble speaking with a snake before. What bothered him the most was the distinct feeling that he could speak to it, but for some reason, the right sounds just wouldn't come out. It felt almost like a tickle in the back of his mind, or a magical itch that he couldn't quite reach.

Frustrated, Harry focused all his concentration on the snake. He focused on the pattern of the scales, the flicking of its forked tongue, and the way it moved smoothly around the contained area Dumbledore set up for it on his desk. Keeping his eyes locked on the serpent's, Harry reached deep within his own magic and attempted to latch onto the odd sensation he felt earlier, before trying it one last time.

"Hello there."

Professor Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up in surprise as the familiar hissing escaped Harry's lips, causing the grass snake to lift its head up.

"Yessss…please help me, I want to leave this place," the snake replied in a sibilant voice.

"He wants to leave," Harry informed the headmaster, who nodded and flicked his wand to send the snake back to whence it came.

"I must admit my surprise," said Dumbledore. "After our last conversation, I found myself wondering if you still retained the ability to speak Parseltongue. I had suspected that without that piece of Voldemort's soul, you would no longer be capable."

Harry started to nod, but then his eyes widened as a thought occurred to him.

"Does — does that mean there's still — you know — part of him…inside me?" he asked, stumbling over his words as he gave voice to one of his recurring fears.

After a moment's consideration, the headmaster shook his head. "I do not think so," he replied serenely. "If I may?" he asked, taking out his wand. Having secured Harry's permission, Dumbledore passed the tip of his wand back and forth in front of Harry's face while muttering to himself, mainly focusing on what remained of the famous lightning-shaped scar.

"I can detect no trace of Tom Riddle or his magic," the professor said finally, causing Harry to exhale the breath he hadn't even realised he was holding.

"Then why do you think I'm still a Parselmouth?"

"It is difficult to say," mused Dumbledore, while absentmindedly stroking his beard. "It could be for any number of reasons. The fact that it took you several tries to achieve what once came naturally to you — speaking to snakes, specifically — tells me that you were not born a Parselmouth, and that you indeed inherited the skill from Lord Voldemort."

Harry felt a shiver down his spine — he really was tainted.

"However, retaining the ability to speak Parseltongue even after Voldemort's taint was removed indicates that you have somehow managed to make his talent your own," he continued, Harry taking note of Dumbledore's choice of words — did the professor somehow know what was bothering him?

"What do you mean, sir?"

"For one, it is possible that your own magic remembers, for lack of a better word, how Parseltongue works, so to speak. It is, after all, a magical language, and not one that can simply be learned through practice."

"That makes sense," replied Harry. "When I was trying to figure out how to speak it again, I felt this weird sensation in the back of my mind and reached out to it with my magic."

"How utterly fascinating," smiled Dumbledore. "I must say, what you just described does lend credence to that particular theory, in my mind."

"Sir…" Harry hesitated. "Are you sure — I mean, could it be possible that when his soul was ripped out, a small piece of it was left behind and somehow became part of me?"

Dumbledore slowly removed his spectacles and polished the lenses with his robes. "I cannot claim to be an expert on magic of the soul, but I will admit to that being a possibility, however unlikely," he said carefully, causing the knot in Harry's stomach to reform.

"It is my belief that the magic of your mother's sacrifice never stopped working to protect you, shielding you from the worst of the foreign soul's influence," continued Dumbledore. "Considering the rather violent way the soul fragment was expelled, I cannot discount the possibility that it was not a 'clean break', in a manner of speaking. If your mother's protection was weakened at all by the incident, and if there were faint traces of Tom's soul left over, then there is an exceptionally small possibility that those traces could have been assimilated by your own soul."

Seeing Harry's dejected look, he added, "I only tell you this because I promised to be truthful with you. I believe my first theory to be the far more likely scenario, not to mention that it is much better supported by what little evidence we have at our disposal. I must ask, however," continued Dumbledore, now leaning forward slightly in his chair, "is there any specific reason why you have asked me about this particular scenario?"

Harry wasn't sure whether he should answer. On one hand, he didn't want to give Professor Dumbledore any reason to be suspicious of him, but on the other, he was still struggling with the idea of being corrupted by Voldemort's soul. Astoria's assurances had helped a great deal, but even that wasn't enough to fully eliminate his doubts. Ultimately, Harry decided to place is faith in the headmaster's insight and his unshakeable faith in the goodness of others.

"I've felt…different…this year," Harry began to explain. "I've been a lot angrier, for one. It got better after the thing with the locket, but it's definitely not gone. That, and…" Harry hesitated, "I feel more…aggressive, if that makes sense. Like, I used to always be afraid of hurting other people, even if they really deserved it. Now though, I'm not as bothered…especially if they deserved it."

"Such as the incident with Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Nott?"

Harry's heart skipped a beat, but he managed to keep his face impassive.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Professor."

"Come now, Harry," replied Dumbledore, with a hint of disappointment. "There is no evidence linking you to their 'accident', as you well know, or else Professor Snape would still be lobbying for your expulsion — undoubtedly with the support of the High Inquisitor," he added, while peering at Harry over the tops of his spectacles. "But let us not pretend that you had nothing to do with it," he continued. "I am aware of the altercation that occurred on the streets of Hogsmeade earlier that day, as well as the threats levelled against yourself and Miss Greengrass."

That bit of information reaching Dumbledore's ears took Harry by surprise, though he knew it really shouldn't have. Sooner or later, the man always seemed to find out what was going on.

"I also understand why you would feel the need to respond to certain threats, but I urge you not to get carried away," cautioned Professor Dumbledore. "Aggressive actions are rarely worth their inevitable consequences."

While he still refused to admit anything, Harry acknowledged the professor's request with a stiff nod.

"That being said," Dumbledore began again, "there are several likely factors contributing to your feelings, not least of which being the extraordinary amount of pressure you have been under. It would be practically impossible to suffer through such a prolonged period of extreme stress and remain unaffected — but that does not mean you will become another Lord Voldemort."

"It's been hard…" Harry replied quietly.

"Of course, it has!" responded Dumbledore. "That is why it is only natural for both your magic and your emotions to seek an outlet; I simply urge you to find ways to channel them into activities which are constructive, rather than destructive."

"I understand, sir."

"I certainly hope that you do. Just know that you continue to have my full confidence, and that you may come to me anytime you have concerns."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry, and a heavy silence passed between them until Professor Dumbledore finally took out his pocket watch and nodded to himself.

"While I had not expected to still have the opportunity, I believe this may be an ideal time for the two of us to visit the Chamber of Secrets," he remarked. "Are you still willing to accompany me?"

"Of course," said Harry, standing up. "Do you think we'll find a Horcrux?"

"I do not expect we shall," replied Dumbledore, coming around from behind his desk. "As I said before, while it may be a logical hiding spot, I do not believe Tom ever had the opportunity to revisit the Chamber after his school days."

"If we do find one, can I be the one to destroy it?"

To Harry's surprise, the headmaster didn't immediately reject the idea.

"We shall see," Dumbledore replied thoughtfully. "As I recall, the entrance to the Chamber is in the second-floor girls' toilet?"

"Yeah, but hardly anyone ever uses it because of Myrtle."

"Quite understandable," chuckled the professor. "However, I would still suggest we travel there as inconspicuously as possible."

"I have my Cloak right here, sir."

"Excellent! Please make your way to the second floor on your own, and I shall meet you there," declared Dumbledore, who then tapped himself on the top of his head with his wand and completely disappeared from sight.

"Nice one, sir."

"Much appreciated, of course. After you, Harry," called the professor's disembodied voice.

With a grin, Harry slipped on his Invisibility Cloak and exited the headmaster's office. He never thought he would be going back to the Chamber of Secrets, but he found himself looking forward to exploring it with Dumbledore. If nothing else, it would be a lot safer than his first trip to Slytherin's underground lair.