Emma Potter

48: Dobby is Free

For a moment there was silence as Me, Harry, Ron, Ginny, andLockhart stood in the doorway, covered in muck and slimeand (in mine and Harry's case) blood. Then there was a scream. 

"Ginny!"

 It was Mrs. Weasley, who had been sitting crying in front of thefire. She leapt to her feet, closely followed by Mr. Weasley, and bothof them flung themselves on their daughter. I, however, was looking past them. Professor Dumbledorewas standing by the mantelpiece, beaming, next to Professor McGonagall, who was taking great, steadying gasps, clutching herchest. Fawkes went whooshing past my ear and settled onDumbledore's shoulder, just as Harry and I found ourselves and Ron beingswept into Mrs. Weasley's tight embrace. 

"You saved her! You saved her! How did you do it?" 

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

Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry and me, Harry hesitated for a moment, thenwalked over to the desk and laid upon it the Sorting Hat, the ruby encrusted sword, and I kept what remained of Riddle's diary beside it. 

Then we started telling them everything. For nearly a quarter ofan hour we spoke into the rapt silence: He told them about hearingthe disembodied voice, me hearing it in my head, how I had made the connections,  how Hermione  had finally realized that hewas hearing a basilisk in the pipes; how Harry and Ron had followedthe spiders into the forest, that Aragog had told them where the lastvictim of the basilisk had died; how we had guessed that MoaningMyrtle had been the victim, and that the entrance to the Chamberof Secrets might be in her bathroom. . . . 

"Very well," Professor McGonagall prompted him as he paused,"so you found out where the entrance was — breaking a hundredschool rules into pieces along the way, I might add — but how onearth did you all get out of there alive, Potters?"

 So Harry and I, our voices now growing hoarse from all this talking,told them about Fawkes's timely arrival and about the Sorting Hatgiving him the sword. But then we faltered. We had so far avoidedmentioning Riddle's diary — or Ginny. She was standing with herhead against Mrs. Weasley's shoulder, and tears were still coursingsilently down her cheeks. What if they expelled her? I thoughtin panic. Riddle's diary didn't work anymore. . . . How could theyprove it had been he who'd made her do it all?

 Instinctively, I looked at Dumbledore, who smiled faintly,the firelight glancing off his half-moon spectacles."What interests me most," said Dumbledore gently, "is howLord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tellme he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania." 

Relief — warm, sweeping, glorious relief — swept over Me. 

"W-what's that?" said Mr. Weasley in a stunned voice. "You-Know-Who? En-enchant Ginny? But Ginny's not . . . Ginny hasn'tbeen . . . has she?"

 "It was this diary," I said quickly, picking it up and showing it to Dumbledore. "Riddle wrote it when he was sixteen. . . ."Dumbledore took the diary from Me and peered keenly downhis long, crooked nose at its burnt and soggy pages."Brilliant," he said softly. "Of course, he was probably the mostbrilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen." He turned around to theWeasleys, who were looking utterly bewildered. 

"Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once calledTom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. Hedisappeared after leaving the school . . . travelled far and wide . . .sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst ofour 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."