The Chamber Of Secrets//Draco X Reader

19 - Award

(Everyday outfit pictured above)
"You all realize, of course, that in the past few hours you have broken perhaps a dozen school rules?" Dumbledore says, sitting behind his desk with Fawkes at his side. Ron, Harry, and yourself all stand on the other side of his desk, your bloody uniforms washed and your bodies cleaned and stitched.

"I think its more than that....." You mumble, earning a painful elbow to the side from Ron.

"And there is sufficient evidence to have you both expelled."

"Yes, sir." The three of you reply, heads down. Albus smiles at you, speaking once more.

"Therefore, it is only fitting, that you each receive Special Awards for services to the School." You all smile, and Ron cheerfully thanks him.

"And now, Mr. Weasley, if you would, have an owl deliver these release papers to Azkaban? I believe we- we want our gamekeeper back." You grin, likely the happiest you'd been that year as Hagrid is coming back! Ron leaves the room as you glance at Tom Riddles diary sitting on Dumbledores desk. Albus looks up at you and your brother, Fawkes doing the same.

"Harry....(Y/N)… first, I want to thank you both. You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you. And, um… second, I sense that something is troubling you. Am I right, Harry?"

You perk up at the sudden shift to your brother, when the conversation was previously about both of you. Harry looks at the nearby sorting hat, and you frown. It was a constant worry of his that he belonged in Slytherins house.

"It’s just… You see, sir I- I couldn’t help but notice certain things, certain- certain similarities, between Tom Riddle and the two of us." Harry says, looking over at you. You glance to the headmaster, having noticed the same thing.

"I see." Albus says, his half moon glasses shimmering. "Well, you can both speak Parseltongue. Why? Because Lord Voldemort can speak Parseltongue. If I’m not mistaken, he transferred some of his powers to you the night he gave you those scars." You glance at Harrys scar, him glancing at yours.

"Voldemort transferred some of his powers…to us?" You ask, looking back to Dumbledore sadly.

"Not intentionally, but yes."

"So the Sorting Hat was right! I should be in Slytherin." Harry grumbles, and you sigh. If you weren't related to Meredith, would you be a Slytherin too?

"It’s true, Harry. You possess many of the qualities that Voldemort himself prizes. Determination, resourcefulness, and if I may say so, a certain disregard for the rules. But not as little of a regard as your sister." You giggle nervously, knowing he is right. "Why then did the Sorting Hat place you in Gryffindor?"

"Because he asked it too." You say, forcing yourself into the conversation.

"Exactly! Which makes you different from Voldemort, Harry. It is not our abilities that show what we truly are. It is our choices. If you want proof why you belong in Gryffindor, then I suggest that you look more closely at this. Be careful." Albus holds out the silver and red sword, the amythest one you had on a stand behind him.

"Godric Gryffindor." Harry says, looking at the rubies and opals in the hilt. Dumbledore nods, smiling at you each.

"It would have taken a true Gryffindor to pull that from the hat. And a true Dratheum to pull the sword of Meredith from it as well." You beam, looking to your brother happily. As you go to leave, you hear a whimpering sound and you turn.

Dobby shoves himself from the ground, scampering ahead of a cane that had pushed him. He clambers up the stairs to Albus' desk, his master following close behind him in a long black cloak and red velvet vest. His long platinum hair cascades down his back as he aproaches you and your brother.

"Dobby!" You say, looking at the frail elf in a sack dress. "This is your master?" You ask, glaring up in disgust as Lucius Malfoy. "The family you serve is the Malfoys?"

"Uh-hmm....." Dobby says, his pointy ears directed at the ground. Lucius hits him with his cane, and your hand flies to your wand as it finds its way to Mister Malfoys face.

"Dont hurt Dobby." You spit, your eyes already turned to slits of yellow. Lucius growls at you, turning away to look at Dumbledore.

"So its true-" His deep voice rolls off his silver tongue "--you are back."

"When the governors learned that Arthur Weasley’s daughter was taken into the Chamber, they saw fit to summon me back."

"Ridiculous!" You smirk, putting your corkscrew wand back into the pocket of your pants.

"Curiously, Lucius, several of them were under the impression that you would curse their families, if they did not agree to suspend me in the first place." Dumbledore deadpans.

"How dare you?!" Malfoy cries, his fist tightening around his black cane.

"I beg your pardon?"

"My sole concern has always been, and will always be, the welfare of this school and, of course, its students. The culprit has been identified, I presume?" You laugh at his lies, shaking your head.

"Of course it has." Albus says, his face still unusually calm like his voice.

"And?"

"Voldemort."

"Ah." The surprise in Lucius' voice is false, and it worries you.

"Only, this time, he chose to act through somebody else, by means of this." Albus points to the journal on his desk, the one that once belonged to Tom Riddle.

"I see."

"Fortunately, our young Mr. Potter and Miss (L/N) discovered it. One hopes that no more of Lord Voldemort’s old school things should find their way into innocent hands. The consequences for the one responsible would be.....severe."

The lights seem to dim as Lucius looks to your brother and yourself, sneering.

"Well, let us hope that Mr. Potter and Miss (L/N) will always be around to save the day." You give him no expression, speaking blandly.

"Dont worry, we will be."

"Come, Dobby. We're leaving." Lucius kicks Dobby down the stairs, rushing away with the house elf. You rack your brain, looking to the desk with Toms diary.

"Sir, may I have that?" You ask, reaching down and taking off your shoe. You then take off your black sock, putting on your boot once again. Dumbledore says nothing as you stick the sock into the journal, running out after Malfoy.