The Other Potter Book Two

Chapter Thirty One: Freedom

Actually, I don’t care what it meant. I was beaming from ear to ear. I didn't know what she meant by 'deal with us' but you know, who cares, I didn't break most rules, I was a ghost. 

"I seem to remember telling you both," Dumbledore said to the boys. "That I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules,"

Ron opened his mouth in horror. 

"Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words," Dumbledore went on, smiling. "All three of you receive Special Awards for Services to the School and -- let me see - yes, I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor."

Ron went bright pink and closed his mouth again. 

"But one of us seems to be keeping mightily quiet about his part in this dangerous adventure," Dumbledore added. "Why so modest, Gilderoy?"

I snorted slightly thinking of Lockhart. I turned and saw that Lockhart was standing in a corner of the room, still wearing his vague smile.

When Dumbledore addressed him, Lockhart looked over his shoulder to see who he was talking to. 

"Professor Dumbledore," Ron said quickly, "there was an accident down in the Chamber of Secrets. Professor Lockhart --"

"Am I a Professor," said Lockhart in mild surprise. "Goodness. I expect I was hopeless, was I?"

I was nodding, when Ron said: "He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired,"  

"Dear me," said Dumbledore, shaking his head, his long silver moustache quivering. "Impaled upon your own sword, Gilderoy!"

"Sword." said Lockhart dimly. "Haven't got a sword. That boy has, though." He pointed at Harry. "He'll lend you one."

"Would you mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the infirmary, too?" Dumbledore said to Ron. "I'd like a few more words with these two..." 

Lockhart ambled out. Ron cast a curious look back at us as he closed the door. 

Dumbledore crossed to one of the chairs by the fire. 

"Sit down, Harry," he said, and he sat. I felt more nervous than I did in the chamber.

“You do have a priority issue, don’t you?”

"First of all, I want to thank you," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling again. "You two 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. 

We grinned awkwardly as Dumbledore watched us. 

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

"Professor Dumbledore ... Riddle said I'm like him. Strange likenesses, he said ..." Harry blurted out. 

"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 ..." he paused for a moment. "Professor, the Sorting Hat told me I'd - I'd have done well in Slytherin. Everyone thought I was Slytherin's heir for a while ... because I can speak Parseltongue ..." 

"You can speak Parseltongue, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly, "because Lord Voldemort -- who is the last remaining ancestor of Salazar Slytherin -- can speak Parseltongue. Unless I'm much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I'm sure ..."