(replaces parts of chapter 18 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

For a moment there was silence as Harry, Ginny, Moody, Shacklebolt, and Tonks stood in the doorway, covered in muck and slime and (in Harry's case) blood. Then there was a scream.

"Ginny!"

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 daughter.

Harry, however, was looking past them. Professor Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece, beaming, next to Professor McGonagall, who was taking great, steadying breaths, wiping her eyes. Fawkes went whooshing past Harry's ear and settled on Dumbledore's shoulder, just as Harry found himself being swept into Sirius's tight embrace.

"Thank goodness, pup," Sirius said, voice wobbling. "Don't scare us like that."

At that moment, Mrs. Weasley swept Harry into a tight hug, unmindful of Sirius's inclusion. "You saved her! You saved her! How did you do it?"

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

Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry, who hesitated for a moment, then walked over to the desk and laid upon it the Sorting Hat, the ruby-encrusted sword, and what remained of Riddle's diary.

Then he started telling them everything. For nearly a quarter of an hour he spoke into the rapt silence: He told them about hearing the disembodied voice, how Hermione and Ben had finally realized that he was hearing a basilisk in the pipes; how he and Ron had a discussion with their friends, that Luna had told them where the last victim of the basilisk had died; how he had guessed that Moaning Myrtle had been the victim, and that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets might be in her bathroom…

"Very well," Professor McGonagall prompted him as he paused, "so you found out where the entrance was - breaking many a school rule into pieces along the way, I might add - but how on earth did you all get out of there alive, Potter?"

This is where the Aurors jumped in. They talked about Harry leading them into the Chamber, how Tom Riddle was behind all of this, stressing that he was a spirit possessing Ginny, told them about Fawkes's timely arrival and about the Sorting Hat giving Harry the sword as the Basilisk was ordered to target him. Harry felt Sirius's hand gripping tightly upon his shoulder when he heard that tidbit. Harry saw Ginny tearing up as the Aurors described how Harry was bit before Fawkes healed him. The Aurors finished with the description of how Harry stabbed the diary, Dumbledore picking it up to examine more closely.

"Brilliant," he said softly. "Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen." He turned around to the 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… traveled 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."

"But, Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley. "What's our Ginny got to do with - with - him?"

"His d-diary" Ginny sobbed. "I've b-been writing in it, and he's been w-writing back all year -"

"Ginny!" said Mr. Weasley, flabbergasted. "Haven't I taught you anything? What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain? Why didn't you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was clearly full of Dark Magic - "

"Not really," Sirius interjected. "It's not clearly dark magic but it is suspicious. Particularly if you don't know where it's been."

"I d-didn't know," sobbed Ginny. "I found it inside one of the books Mum got me. I th-thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it -"

"Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away," Dumbledore interrupted in a firm voice, preventing Harry from saying a similar thing. "This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort." He 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 her. "You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She's just giving out Mandrake juice - I daresay the basilisk's victims will be waking up any moment."

"They're all okay, then," Harry stated in relief.

"There has been no lasting harm done, Ginny," said Dumbledore.

Mrs. Weasley led Ginny out, and Mr. Weasley followed, still looking deeply shaken.

"Right," Moody said. "We need to report this to Madame Bones and the Minister. We'll get your gamekeeper back and out of jail, Albus. If we can, we'll even scrub his expulsion from the record."

"Thank you, Alastor," Dumbledore replied.

The Aurors left through the fireplace, with Sirius giving a message to Tonks to give to her mother.

"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?"

"Certainly," said Dumbledore.

She left, and Harry gazed uncertainly at Dumbledore, until he spotted the relaxed look on Sirius's face. That didn't seem to indicate that he was going to get punished for his actions.

"You know, I remember remarking to Sirius that you got into significantly less trouble that he and his friends did at your age," Dumbledore stated, Sirius snorting in amusement. "Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words. You and your friends will receive Special Awards for Services to the School and - let me see - yes, I think one hundred points apiece for your friends and two hundred points for yourself, Harry.

"Sirius, you are invited to the feast, as well as Molly and Arthur," Dumbledore continued, smiling. "I'll have to inform them later. For now, I'd like to discuss something with Harry."

"I'm staying to listen," Sirius said firmly.

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with amusement. "I wasn't suggesting otherwise."

Dumbledore raised his wand and conjured another chair while he crossed to one of the chairs by the fire.

"Sit down, Harry," he said, and Harry sat, feeling unaccountably nervous.

"First of all, Harry, 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. Harry grinned awkwardly as Dumbledore watched him.

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

Suddenly, something that was nagging at Harry came tumbling out of his mouth.

"Professor Dumbledore… Riddle said I'm like him. Strange likenesses, he said… "

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

"I don't think I'm like him!" said Harry, more loudly than he'd intended. "I mean, I'm - I'm in Gryffindor, I'm… "

But he fell silent, a lurking doubt resurfacing in his mind.

"Professor," he started again after a moment. "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, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly, "because Lord Voldemort - who is the last remaining descendent 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?" Harry said, thunderstruck, as Sirius seemed to be thinking at a very fast pace.

"It certainly seems so."

"So I should be in Slytherin," Harry said, looking desperately into Dumbledore's face. "The Sorting Hat could see Slytherin's power in me, and it -"

"Put you in Gryffindor," said Dumbledore calmly. "Listen to me, Harry. You happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his hand-picked students. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue - resourcefulness - determination - a certain disregard for rules," he added, his mustache quivering again. "Yet the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor. You know why that was. Think."

"It only put me in Gryffindor," said Harry in a defeated voice, "because I asked not to go in Slytherin… "

"Exactly, "said Dumbledore, beaming once more. "Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." Harry sat motionless in his chair, stunned. "If you want proof, Harry, that you belong in Gryffindor, I suggest you look more closely at this."

Dumbledore reached across to Professor McGonagall's desk, picked up the blood-stained silver sword, and handed it to Harry. Dully, Harry turned it over, the rubies blazing in the firelight. And then, as Sirius leaned over his shoulder to look, Harry saw the name engraved just below the hilt.

Godric Gryffindor

"Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat, Harry," said Dumbledore simply.

For a while, nobody 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, Harry, is some food and sleep. I suggest you go down to the feast with Sirius, while I draft an advertisement for the Daily Prophet, too," he added thoughtfully. "We'll be needing a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher… Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don't we?"

Harry got up and crossed to the door. He 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 in his face. And cowering behind his legs, heavily wrapped in bandages, was Dobby.

"Good evening, Lucius," said Dumbledore pleasantly.

Mr. Malfoy almost knocked Harry over as he swept into the room. Sirius growled near silently after he did that. 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 Mr. Malfoys shoes. Apparently Mr. Malfoy had set out in a great hurry, for not only were his shoes half-polished, but his usually sleek hair was disheveled. Ignoring the elf bobbing apologetically around his ankles, he fixed his cold eyes upon Dumbledore.

"So!" he said "You've come back. The governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts."

"Well, you see, Lucius," said Dumbledore, smiling serenely, "the other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They'd heard that Arthur Weasleys daughter had been killed and wanted me back here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all. Very strange tales they told me, too...Several of them seemed to think that you had threatened to curse their families if they didn't agree to suspend me in the first place."

Mr. Malfoy went even paler than usual, but his eyes were still slits of fury.

"So - have you stopped the attacks yet?" he sneered. "Have you caught the culprit?"

"We have," said Dumbledore, with a smile.

"Well?" said Mr. Malfoy sharply. "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 with the large hole through the center, 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.

"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 -" Mr. Malfoy shot Harry a swift, sharp look " hadn't discovered this book, why - Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn't acted of her own free will… "

Mr. Malfoy said nothing. His face was suddenly masklike.

"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 forced himself to speak.

"Very fortunate," he said stiffly.

And still, behind his back, Dobby was pointing, first to the diary, then to Lucius Malfoy, then punching himself in the head.

And Harry suddenly understood. He nodded at Dobby, and Dobby backed into a corner, now twisting his ears in punishment.

"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?" he said.

"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, didn't you?"

He saw Mr. Malfoy's white hands clench and unclench.

"Prove it," he hissed.

"Oh, no one will be able to do that," said Dumbledore, smiling at Harry. "Not now that Riddle has vanished from the book. On the other hand, I would advise you, Lucius, not to go giving out any more of Lord Voldemort's old school things. 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… "

Lucius Malfoy stood for a moment, and Harry 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. Harry stood for a moment, thinking hard. Then it came to him -

"Professor Dumbledore," he said hurriedly. "Can I give that diary back to Mr. Malfoy, please?"

"Certainly, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly as Sirius started grinning widely in the background. "But hurry. The feast, remember… " Harry grabbed the diary and dashed out of the office. He could hear Dobby's squeals of pain receding around the corner. Quickly, wondering if this plan could possibly work, Harry took off one of his shoes, pulled off his slimy, filthy sock, and stuffed the diary into it. Then he ran down the dark corridor.

He caught up with them at the top of the stairs.

"Mr. Malfoy," he gasped, skidding to a halt, "I've got something for you -"

And he forced the smelly sock into Lucius Malfoy's hand.

"What the -?"

Mr. Malfoy ripped the sock off the diary, threw it aside, then looked furiously from the ruined book to Harry. "You'll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry Potter," he said softly. "They were meddlesome fools, too."

He turned to go.

"Come, Dobby. 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.

"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 threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby - Dobby is free."

Lucius Malfoy stood frozen, staring at the elf then he lunged at Harry.

"You've lost me my servant, boy!"

But 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. He got up, his face livid, and pulled out his wand, but Dobby raised a long, threatening finger.

"You shall go now," he said fiercely, pointing down at Mr. Malfoy. "You shall not touch Harry Potter. You shall go now."

Lucius Malfoy had no choice. With a last, incensed stare at the pair of them, he swung his cloak around him and hurried out of sight.

"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!"

"Least I could do, 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 weakly. "Well, I'd better go. There's a feast, and my friend Hermione should be awake by now… "

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.

"That was a good thing you did, Harry."

Harry whirled around to see Sirius standing next to the corner.

"What're you talking about?" Harry asked innocently.

Sirius let out a short bark of laughter. "Don't try that with me, Harry. I was with your father when he tried to use that to get out of trouble. I also saw a similar look come over your face as when your father had an idea for pranking someone."

"Dobby tried to help me," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. "It seemed only right to try to help him."

Sirius put an arm around his shoulder as he led him towards the great hall. "That's a sentiment both your parents would approve of, although your execution was more along your mother's way."

-Break-

Harry had been to several Hogwarts feasts, but never one quite like this. Everybody was in their pajamas, and the celebration lasted all night. Harry didn't know whether the best bit was Hermione running toward him, screaming "You solved it! You solved it!", or Ben coming in slightly after, nearly falling when both Luna and Daphne ran over to hug him before sitting next to Sirius and the Weasley twins, who were looking at Sirius in awe, or Justin hurrying over from the Hufflepuff table to wring his hand and apologize endlessly for suspecting him, or Hagrid turning up at half past three, cuffing Harry so hard on the shoulders that he was knocked into his plates of trifle, or the combined four hundred points for Gryffindor securing the House Cup for the second year running, or Professor McGonagall standing up to tell them all that the exams had been canceled as a school treat ("Oh, no!" said Hermione), or Dumbledore announcing that, unfortunately, Professor Lockhart would be unable to return next year, owing to the fact that he needed to go away and get his memory back. Quite a few of the teachers joined in the cheering that greeted this news.

When Harry passed by the Blacks and Weasley twins later on, he heard something about a replica and an heirloom.

-Break-

A few days later, Harry was wandering the halls. Ron and Hermione had gotten into another argument and Harry needed some time away from them. As such, he wandered the halls, thinking about how the other victims of the basilisk were handling it. Most seemed to have reverted to their normal selves, however Harry was worried about Ginny, and how she was doing; being forced to open the Chamber for Voldemort couldn't have been a pleasant experience. As Harry passed an abandoned classroom, he heard Ginny's voice.

" - got some of his knowledge." Harry heard as he leaned into the gap of the door.

"Well," Ben's voice spoke from beyond the door. "That's one positive to this whole, horrid affair."

"But it's evil."

"The knowledge itself isn't evil," Ben replied authoritatively. "It's how it's used. What's one piece of knowledge that you have … acquired that you think is evil."

Ginny was silent for a moment. "There's a ritual that allows a spirit to re-acquire a body. It requires the blood of an enemy, forcibly taken, a bone from a forefather, unknowingly given, and the flesh of a servant, willingly given. It's foul and wrong and - "

"Evil," Ben interrupted. "You're right that the ritual is evil. The knowledge about the ritual however; that can be used to counter or subvert it."

Ginny was silent for another moment. "I didn't think of it that way."

Harry didn't hear anything for a moment, until Ben spoke. "On the topic of the Chamber, I'm thankful that only your family, Harry, Hermione, and myself know that you were possessed and forced to open the Chamber."

"It's my fault," Ginny said in a depressed tone. "Harry probably hates me now."

"That's a load of hogwash," Ben stated. "You trusted someone who abused that trust. You were tricked; it's not your fault. Harry would agree with me. He doesn't hate you; you fascinate him too much."

Harry was confused by that statement. Apparently, so was Ginny. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Harry's watching you constantly. You know, I asked Harry what class the first years of Gryffindor had during our class with Lockhart and he replied with … oh, shoot, I can't remember precisely what class but he said 'Ginny's in such and such'. Afterwards, I started paying more attention to him to see if he was taking more notice of you. I saw him focus on you for just a moment whenever you entered his field of vision. I don't think he's conscious of it."

Harry didn't hear Ginny's reply as he backed up. Why do I focus on her? Harry asked himself. Better yet, do I? Reviewing his memories, he found that Ben was correct. He seemed to always know where Ginny was at any given moment. He also vividly remembered what she was doing, even if it was as mundane as buttering her bread at dinner, like she did last night. It wasn't because she looked like anyone; she looked a bit like her mother but Harry knew that wasn't the reason.

Was it because she's like a sibling? Harry thought. No, he decided this was something different. He felt that she was more special than that. If anything, Ron and Hermione felt more like siblings to him than nearly anyone did.

As he walked off, Harry decided to talk to Sirius about this. He didn't know what this was or how to take it.

AN: Well, I think I'm getting back in the swing of things. Work started up again and I managed to get this done before today. Next chapter will be entirely my own writing.

Uploaded Aug. 21st, 2020, Edited Jan 10th, 2025