***
"WHAT DO I NOT KNOW?" Grace said, trying to keep her anger at bay.
But before he could answer, a loud explosion distracted both of them. The basilisk had broken a pillar from it's tail. Harry appeared to be in front of it.
Harry was on his feet. The basilisk's head was falling, its body coiling around, hitting pillars as it twisted to face him. Grace could see the vast, bloody eye sockets, see the mouth stretching wide, wide enough to swallow Harry whole, lined with fangs long as the sword, thin, glittering, venomous —
It lunged blindly — Harry dodged and it hit the Chamber wall. It lunged again, and its forked tongue lashed Harry's side. He raised the sword in both his hands — The basilisk lunged again, and this time its aim was true — Harry threw his whole weight behind the sword and drove it to the hilt into the roof of the serpent's mouth — the basilisk keeled over sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor.
"Harry!" Grace yelled in desperation, as she thrashed in the bonds that were holding her.
Harry slid down the wall. He was gripping the basilisk's fang, and his hand seemed to be injured. All the colour drained from Grace's face.
"Let me go, please!" She screamed at Riddle as she thrashed in the bonds harder than ever. "Let me go!"
But he didn't seemed to be listening to her, his whole attention was on Harry.
Grace's screams stopped as she saw fawkes land next to Harry.
"Fawkes," said Harry thickly. "You were fantastic, Fawkes. . ."
She saw the bird lay its head on Harry's injured spot.
"You're dead, Harry Potter," said Riddle. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Potter? He's crying. I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I'm in no hurry."
"So ends the famous Harry Potter," said Riddle. "Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You'll be back with your dear mudblood mother soon, Harry... She bought you twelve years of borrowed time... but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must..."
And suddenly Grace saw Harry shake his head and look at fawkes. He didn't look like he was dying.
"Get away, bird," said Riddle's voice suddenly. "Get away from him — I said, get away —"
Harry raised his head. Riddle was pointing Harry's wand at Fawkes; there was a bang like a gun, and Fawkes took flight again in a whirl of gold and scarlet.
"Phoenix tears..." said Riddle quietly, staring at Harry's arm. "Of course... healing powers... I forgot..."
He looked into Harry's face. "But it makes no difference. In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter... you and me..."
Then, in a rush of wings, Fawkes had soared back overhead and something fell into Harry's lap — the diary.
For a split second, Grace, Harry and Riddle, wand still raised, stared at it. Then suddenly Harry seized the basilisk fang on the floor next to him and plunged it straight into the heart of the book.
There was a long, dreadful, piercing scream. Ink spurted out of the diary in torrents, streaming over Harry's hands, flooding the floor. Riddle was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing and then —
He had gone. Harry's wand fell to the floor with a clatter and there was silence. Silence except for the steady drip drip of ink still oozing from the diary. The basilisk venom had burned a sizzling hole right through it.
And suddenly, the invisible bonds holding her vanished. She ran toward Harry and enveloped him in a hug.
Then came a faint moan from the end of the Chamber. Ginny was stirring. As both Grace and Harry hurried toward her, she sat up. Her bemused eyes traveled from the huge form of the dead basilisk, to Grace, over Harry, in his blood-soaked robes, then to the diary in his hand. She drew a great, shuddering gasp and tears began to pour down her face.
Grace wasted no time in taking her sisters in her arms and hugged her as she cried.
"Grace — oh, Grace— I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-couldn't say it in front of Percy — it was me, Grace— but I — I s-swear I d-didn't mean to — R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over — and — how did you kill that — that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary —"
"Shh. . .It's all right," said Grace as she comforted her.
Harry then brought the dairy in front of Ginny. "Riddle's finished. Look! Him and the basilisk. C'mon, Ginny, Grace let's get out of here —"
"I'm going to be expelled!" Ginny wept as Grace helped her to her feet. "I've looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came and n-now I'll have to leave and — w-what'll Mum and Dad say?"
"No one's going to blame you, Ginny." said Grace. "It was no fault of yours."
Fawkes was waiting for them, hovering in the Chamber entrance. Grace urged Ginny forward; they stepped over the motionless coils of the dead basilisk, through the echoing gloom, and back into the tunnel. They heard the stone doors close behind them with a soft hiss.
After a few minutes' progress up the dark tunnel, a distant sound of slowly shifting rock reached Grace's ears.
"Ron!" Harry yelled, speeding up. "Ginny's okay! We've got her!"
Grace heard Ron give a strangled cheer, and they turned the next bend to see his eager face staring through the sizable gap he had managed to make in the rock fall.
"Ginny!" Ron thrust an arm through the gap in the rock to pull her through first. "You're alive! I don't believe it! What happened? How — what — where did that bird come from?"
Fawkes had swooped through the gap after Ginny and Grace
"He's Dumbledore's," said Harry, squeezing through himself.
"How come you've got a sword?" said Ron, gaping at the glittering weapon in Harry's hand.
"We've explain when we get out of here," said Grace with a sideways glance at Ginny, who was crying harder than ever.
"But —"
"Later," Grace said shortly.
"Where's Lockhart?" Harry asked
"Back there," said Ron, still looking puzzled but jerking his head up the tunnel toward the pipe. "He's in a bad way. Come and see."
Led by Fawkes, whose wide scarlet wings emitted a soft golden glow in the darkness, they walked all the way back to the mouth of the pipe. Gilderoy Lockhart was sitting there, humming placidly to himself.
"His memory's gone," said Ron. "The Memory Charm backfired. Hit him instead of us. Hasn't got a clue who he is, or where he is, or who we are. I told him to come and wait here. He's a danger to himself."
Lockhart peered good-naturedly up at them all.
"Hello," he said. "Odd sort of place, this, isn't it? Do you live here?"
"No," said Ron, raising his eyebrows at Harry and Grace.
Harry bent down and looked up the long, dark pipe.
"Have you thought how we're going to get back up this?" he said to Ron and Grace.
Ron shook his head, but Fawkes the phoenix had swooped past Harry and was now fluttering in front of them, his beady eyes bright in the dark. He was waving his long golden tail feathers.
"He looks like he wants you to grab hold." said Grace, looking perplexed. "He's a phoenix. He can carry heavy loads, Harry."
Harry turned quickly to the others. "We've got to hold on to each other. Ginny, grab Ron's hand. Grace, grab mine. Professor Lockhart—"
"He means you," said Ron sharply to Lockhart.
"You hold Ginny's other hand —"
Harry tucked the sword and the Sorting Hat into his belt, Grace took hold of the Harry's hand, as Ron grabbed Grace's hand, and Harry reached out and took hold of Fawkes's strangely hot tail feathers.
An extraordinary lightness seemed to spread through her whole body and the next second, in a rush of wings, they were flying upward through the pipe. Grace could hear Lockhart dangling below her, saying, "Amazing! Amazing! This is just like magic!" The chill air was whipping through Grace's hair, and before she'd started enjoying the ride, it was over — all five of them were hitting the wet floor of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and as Lockhart straightened his hat, the sink that hid the pipe was sliding back into place.
Myrtle goggled at them.
"You're alive," she said blankly to Harry.
"There's no need to sound so disappointed," he said grimly, wiping flecks of blood and slime off his glasses.
"Oh, well. . .I'd just been thinking. . .if you had died, you'd have been welcome to share my toilet," said Myrtle, blushing silver.
"Urgh!" said Ron as they left the bathroom for the dark, deserted corridor outside. "Harry! I think Myrtle's grown fond of you! You've got competition, Ginny!"
Grace flicked him on the head, as she rubbed Ginny's back as she cried.
"Where now?" said Ron, with an anxious look at Ginny. Harry pointed.
Fawkes was leading the way, glowing gold along the corridor. They strode after him, and moments later, found themselves outside Professor McGonagall's office.
Harry knocked and pushed the door open.
For a moment there was silence as Grace, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Lockhart stood in the doorway, covered in muck and slime and (in Harry's case) blood. Then there was a scream.
"Ginny!"
It was Molly, who had been sitting crying in front of the fire. She leapt to her feet, closely followed by Arthur, and both of them flung themselves on their daughter. And the next second Grace too was swept into her Mother and father's embrace.
Fawkes went whooshing past Harry's ear and settled on Dumbledore's shoulder, just as Harry and Ron too were swept into Molly'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 McGonagall weakly.
Molly 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 had finally realized that he was hearing a basilisk in the pipes; how he, Grace and Ron had followed the spiders into the forest, that Aragog 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 a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add — but how on earth did you all get out of there alive, Potter?"
Grace saw Harry hesitate, then look at Dumbledore.
"What interests me most," said Dumbledore gently, "is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania."
"W-what's that?" said Arthur in a stunned voice. "You-Know-Who? En-enchant Ginny? But Ginny's not... Ginny hasn't been... has she?"
"It was this diary," said Grace quickly, as Harry picked it up and showed it to Dumbledore. "Riddle wrote it when he was sixteen..."
Dumbledore took the diary from Harry and peered keenly down his long, crooked nose at its burnt and soggy pages.
"Brilliant," he said softly. "Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen." He turned around to the Weasleys, except Grace, 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 Molly. "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 Arthur, 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!"
"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. "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."
"So Hermione's okay!" said Ron brightly.
"There has been no lasting harm done, Ginny," said Dumbledore. Molly led Ginny out, and Arthur followed, still looking deeply shaken.
"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 and Weasleys, shall I?"
"Certainly," said Dumbledore.
She left, and Harry, Grace and Ron gazed uncertainly at Dumbledore.
"I seem to remember telling you three that I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules," said Dumbledore.
Ron opened his mouth in horror.
"Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words," Dumbledore went on, smiling. "You three will receive Special Awards for Services to the School and — let me see — yes, I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor."
Ron went as brightly pink as Lockhart's valentine flowers 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?"
Grace 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?"
"He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired," Ron explained quietly to Dumbledore.
"Dear me," said Dumbledore, shaking his head, his long silver mustache 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 Harry and Grace..."
Lockhart ambled out. Ron cast a curious look back at Dumbledore, Grace and Harry as he closed the door.
Dumbledore crossed to one of the chairs by the fire.
"Sit down, Harry, Grace" he said, and they sat, feeling unaccountably nervous.
"First of all, Grace and Harry, I want to thank you," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling again. "You both 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. Grace just stared at him as Dumbledore watched him.
"And so you met Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "I imagine he was most interested in you both. . ."
Before Grace could day what was nagging her, Harry spoke.
"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. . ."
Grace was surprised.
"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. . ."
"Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?" Harry said, thunderstruck.
"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. 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. Grace leaned toward him and 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 minute, none of them spoke.
"Professor," Grace started, doubts lurking in her mind. "In the chamber — Riddle said he was also eager to meet me. He said that you. . .you have kept me ignorant of something. I don't understand."
For a moment, Dumbledore just stared at her.
"There are many truths in this world that are better off being hidden," said Dumbledore choosing his words very carefully. "Until the right time comes."
She just stared at him.
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 both need is some food and sleep. I suggest you go down to the feast, while I write to Azkaban —we need our gamekeeper back. And I must 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?"
Grace and Harry got up and crossed to the door. They had just reached 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 an elf.
"Good evening, Lucius," said Dumbledore pleasantly.
Mr. Malfoy almost knocked Harry over as he swept into the room. The elf went scurrying in after him, crouching at the hem of his cloak, a look of abject terror on his face.
"It's Dobby." Harry whispered in her ear.
Grace looked at Harry before looking at Dobby and then toward Mr. Malfoy.
"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.
"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 and Grace here —" Mr. Malfoy shot Harry and Grace a swift, sharp look "and their friend Ron 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 Muggleborns... 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.
"Don't you want to know how Ginny got hold of that diary, Mr. Malfoy?" said Harry suddenly.
Lucius Malfoy rounded on him.
"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?"
Grace saw Mr. Malfoy's white hands clench and unclench.
"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 Grace 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.
"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said hurriedly, much to Grace's surprise. "Can I give that diary back to Mr. Malfoy, please?"
"Certainly, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly. "But hurry. The feast, remember..." Harry grabbed the diary and dashed out of the office.
Grace stared at the retreating figure of Harry, before turning toward Dumbledore.
"Professor," said Grace as she moved toward him. "You are not telling me the truth. You're hiding something, aren't you?"
"Sometimes, the truth can be a very terrible thing, Grace." said Dumbledore.
"But I don't understand." she said. "What did Riddle mean? Why was he interested in me?"
"Someday, when you're ready for it, you'll understand." said Dumbledore smiling slightly at her.
And Grace could have sworn she saw sadness pass though his eyes.