Dark Magic

Dumbledore

I stood in the corner of Dumbledore's office, leaning against one of the pillars as I watched the great Sorcerer chastise my brother and Ron. By the time we made it out of the Chamber of Secrets, Dumbledore was waiting for us; his Phoenix having notified him of our whereabouts. He had returned from wherever the Minister of Magic and Lucius Malfoy had escorted him, after hearing the news of our escapade.

And morning had began to dawn during our battle against the Basilisk. The rest of the school would still be sleeping.

"The three of you realise, of course, that in the past few hours you have broken, perhaps, a dozen school rules. You completely disregarded the curfew set by your head of house's, deciding to leave your common rooms after hours; you went into the Chamber, alone and inexperienced," His gaze averted from my brothers, and now onto me.

"And you, my dear, performed a spell well out of your year group on a teacher, who has now had to be taken to St Mungo's hospital." I had heard that Professor Dumbledore was one of the calmest professors Hogwarts had ever seen. But in that moment, I knew he was the closest he could ever grow to shouting at the three of us. 

I averted my gaze from his azure, blue eyes and towards the floor in his office. "I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore." I spoke simply, feeling as though I could burst into tears at any given moment.

"Sorry?" The Professor paused for a moment, as my eyes met his confusedly. A small smile made its way through his lips. He leaned forth in his desk "Miss Potter, you, your brother and Mr Weasley have demonstrated traits far beyond those of any student or Professor I have met in my years teaching at this school; You single-handedly exposed a fraud posing as a famous wizard and, as I said before, demonstrated skills well beyond the first year's curriculum. Not to mention, you and your brother also defeated the Basilisk that has been attacking the Muggleborn students and Ghosts around the school. Therefore, it is only fitting..."

The Professor trailed away, as I fought through the compliments he had given me and hoped for a punishment less than that of expulsion. His eyes twinkled, "That you all receive special rewards for your services to the school." The wise Professor smiled, causing each of us to exchange a look of disbelief. I stood up straight from the pillar, joining my brother and Ron's side at his desk. 

"Thanks sir." Ron sighed, relieved at the outcome. We all let out a small laugh in disbelief, watching him rise from his chair and hand a scroll over to Ron. "And now, Mr Weasley, if you will have an owl deliver these release papers to Azkaban...I believe we want our Gamekeeper back." Ron accepted his instructions, running from the office as quickly as his legs could possibly carry him.

My heart melted a little at the thought of Hagrid returning to the school. I could only hope that Azkaban prison hadn't treated him too unkindly. Only Harry, myself and Professor Dumbledore remained. 

"First, I want to thank you, Harry." Dumbledore's eyes met my brother's. "You must have shown great loyalty to me, in the Chamber, in order for Fawkes to come to you." He motioned towards his Phoenix, petting it lightly on the head. I glanced at my brother, noticing his mind had travelled elsewhere. 

Dumbledore stepped towards us both, but his eyes did not leave Harry's. "Secondly, I sense that something is troubling you. Am I right, Harry?" He questioned further. My brother began to chew the side of his lip, and I found myself now understanding what Snape had meant; we truly were both bad liars, evidently, taking after our mother.

"It's just that...You see Sir, I couldn't help but notice certain things, certain-..-certain similarities between...Tom Riddle and us." He exchanged a short glance with me, before his gaze averted back to the Professor. 

He nodded, "I see...Well, you can both speak Parseltongue, why? Because Lord Voldemort can speak Parseltongue. If I am not mistaken, Harry, he transferred some of his powers over to the two of you, on the very night you were born," He looked at me, and then back to Harry, ",and the night he gave you that scar." He pointed towards the lightening bolt-shaped scar that sat in the centre of my brother's forehead.