"Amazing!" Professor Lockhart yelled. "This is just like magic!"
Fawkes was flying all five of us back up through the pipe and into the bathroom in chain-link fashion. She had a claw around the front of Professor Lockhart's shirt, Weasley was holding onto his foot, and then Potter was next.
I was gripping Potter's hand with the strength of every last cell in my body, and Ginny was hugging me around my middle.
When we landed back in front of the sinks, Moaning Myrtle was waiting for us.
"Harry!" She said in surprise. "You're still alive?"
"Don't sound so disappointed," he mumbled.
As Fawkes led us to Dumbledore's office, I nudged Potter in the arm.
"You were really brave in there," I whispered.
"Really? You think I'm brave?" He asked with pride in his voice.
"Just a little bit," I smiled. "But don't repeat that," I added hurriedly.
"Why not?" He teased.
"We can't have my reputation ruined, now can we?" I said, and turned to Ginny. But not before I saw his smug smile that I disgustingly adored so much.
"You three realize, of course, that in the past few hours you have broken perhaps a dozen school rules?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
Potter, Weasley, and I were standing in front of his desk, looking down at our shoes. Ginny had been taken long ago by her crying mother and thoroughly thankful father. Maybe Mr. Weasley liked me a bit better than my father now.
"Yes, sir," we all said quietly.
"And there is sufficient evidence to get you all expelled," he added.
"Yes, sir," we repeated. I couldn't imagine the punishments father would give me if that happened.
"Therefore..." Professor Dumbledore began, and I braced myself, "it is only fitting... that you three will all receive... special awards for services to the school," he finished. The three of us shared incredulous glances.
"Thanks, sir," Weasley breathed.
"And now, Mr. Weasley, if you would have an owl deliver these release papers to Azkaban. I believe we want our gamekeeper back," he said, handing Weasley a thick letter stamped with the official Hogwarts seal.
"Harry. Alexandra," Professor Dumbledore said, turning around. "First, I want to thank you both. You must have shown some real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you."
He gestured to the phoenix, who I could have sworn smiled.
"And second, I sense that something is troubling you, Harry. Am I right?"
"It's just-" Potter tried. "You see, sir, I- I couldn't help but notice certain things... certain similarities between Tom Riddle and me."
"I see," Professor Dumbledore responded. "Well, you can speak Parseltounge, Harry. Why?"
When Potter didn't answer, I cut in. "I think I know, professor," I squeaked.
"You do, Alexandra?" He asked, smiling down at me.
"Yes, well, the Dark Lord can speak Parseltounge. A- and the Killing Curse is a very powerful spell. He could have transferred some of his powers to Potter the night that he tried to murder him," I said quietly.
I knew a bit about the Unforgivable Curses because of my father's old Death Eater role, and that was the only good explantation I had come up with.
"Very good," Professor Dumbledore praised. "It took me a very long time to come to that conclusion. You are intelligent, Miss. Malfoy." I flushed with pride.
"Voldemort transferred some of his powers... to me?" Potter asked, looking at me in disbelief.
"Not intentionally," Professor Dumbledore said. "But yes." He sat back down behind his desk.
"So the Sorting Hat was right," Potter concluded grimly. "I should be in Slytherin." I widened my eyes at him. The Sorting Hat almost placed him in Slytherin?
"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," Professor Dumbledore smiled. "Why, then, did the Sorting Hat place you in Gryffindor?"
"Because I asked it to," Potter replied glumly.
"Exactly, Harry. Exactly. Which makes you different from Voldemort. It is not our abilities that show what we truly are. It is our choices."
Potter nodded, like he was reassuring himself. I figured this was something that had been nagging on him for a while, now.
"If either of you want proof why you belong in Gryffindor, I suggest you look more closely at this," Professor Dumbledore advised, holding the sword out to both of us. On the blade the words 'Godric Gryffindor' were carved. I took a sharp intake of breath.
Potter had killed a Basilisk with Godric Gryffindor's real, original sword.
Then, the door banged open behind us. My father walked in with such a look, it took everything in me not to cower back from him. Dobby poked his head around from behind him and grimaced at me. I raised my eyebrows at him in question. Dobby was my father's personal elf, but he was always kind to me.
"Dobby!" Potter exclaimed. "So this is your master."
"How do you know Dobby?" I asked. Potter just shook his head.
"I'll deal with you later," my father snarled down at the poor elf. "Out of my way, Potter," he said, pushing him out of the way with his walking stick.
"So. It is true. You've returned," he said cooly to Professor Dumbledore. But I couldn't miss the way his eyes flashed with anger that I didn't want to see the aftermath of.
"When the governors learned that Arthur Weasley's daughter was taken into the Chamber, they saw fit to summon me back."
"Ridiculous," my father cursed.
"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," Professor Dumbledore continued. I looked up at my father in horror.
"How dare you?" My father asked.
"I beg your pardon?"
"My sole concern has always been and will always be the welfare of this school, and of course, its students," my father countered, turning to Potter and I. "The culprit has been identified, I presume?"
"Oh yes," Professor Dumbledore answered with a knowing look. "Voldemort."
"Ah."
"Only this time, he chose to act through someone else. By means of this," Professor Dumbledore held up the diary.
My father swallowed and looked around the room quickly before answering. "I see."
Dobby had inched in between Potter and I, and was beginning to tug Potter's sleeve.
"Fortunately, our young Mr. Potter discovered it. One hopes that no more of Lord Voldemort's old school things should find their way into innocent hands," Professor Dumbledore said calmly. "The consequences for the one responsible would be... severe."
My father's upper lip twitched. "Well, let us hope that Mr. Potter and my dearest daughter will always be around to save the day." I flinched.
"Don't worry. I will be," Potter answered.
My father nodded one last time. "Dumbledore."
Professor Dumbledore returned it.
"Come, Dobby. We're leaving." Then he turned to me. "We can talk about this little adventure when you get home." I was looking forward to it. Dobby was kicked down the steps and landed with cry in front of the door.
I looked after my father with hatred and hurt. He didn't care that I almost died. He just cared that I almost lost him his place as a school governor.
"Sir?" Potter asked, putting sword down. "I wonder if I could have that?" He said, pointing to the ruined diary.
"By all means," Professor Dumbledore responded. Potter took it immediately and left.
"You better run after him. I think you're the only one that will scold him like his mother would," he said, turning to me.
"Yes, sir." I gave him a private smile before leaving the office.
"Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy!" Potter yelled from down the hallway. Oh goodness. "I have something of yours," he said to my father, just as I followed around the corner.
Potter handed him the diary.
"Mine?" My father asked in fake astonishment. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, I think you do, sir," Potter argued. I tried to step on his foot under my robes, but he ignored my warning. "I think you slipped the diary into Ginny Weasley's cauldron that day at Diagon Alley."
"You do, do you?" He responded, glancing at me like he expected me to support his case. I did nothing of the sort. He threw the diary at Dobby. "Why don't you prove it?" He asked, leaning into Potter's face.
I flinched at the closeness.
"Come, Dobby," my father commanded again. But Dobby hesitated.
"Open it," Potter whispered to him. Dobby opened the pages, and a dirty, bloody sock fell out into Dobby's hands.
"Dobby?"
"Master has given Dobby a sock..." Dobby's voice wavered.
"What? I didn't give you a-" my father turned around, his tone of voice preposterous until he saw the article.
"Master has presented Dobby with clothes. Dobby is free!" Dobby squealed.
When my father looked at Potter and I for answers, Potter lifted up the side of his robe. One of his ankles had no sock on under the shoe. I smiled at the ground.
"You lost me my servant!" Father yelled. He took his wand out of the tip of his walking stick sharply and advanced on Potter.
"No, don't," I begged, backing away from him and pulling Potter with me.
"You shall not harm Harry Potter!" Dobby said, standing in front of the two of us.
"Vera..." my father hissed, raising his wand arm high over his head. But with a simple flick of his fingers, Dobby sent him flying backwards. He landed with a crunch several feet away, but immediately rose again.
"Your parents were meddlesome fools too. Mark my words, Potter," he pointed. "One day soon, you are going to meet the same, sticky end." And with that he whisked away, no elf trailing behind him.
"Harry Potter freed Dobby!" Dobby squeaked, turning back. "How can Dobby ever repay him?"
"Just promise me something," Potter asked.
"Anything," Dobby agreed.
"Never try to save my life again," he smiled. Dobby laughed, and hugged Potter's calf.
"I'm lost," I cut in. "Dobby, how do you know Potter?"
"Miss. Malfoy was always nice to Dobby. Dobby knows that if he tells Miss. Malfoy, she will not be mad," Dobby said cautiously.
"Of course, Dobby."
"Dobby tried to stop Harry Potter from going to school this year. Dobby knew bad things were happening, and he wanted Harry Potter to be safe. Dobby stopped his letters from coming in over the summer, and even cursed the Bludger at the Quidditch game. Dobby was most regretful, but it had to be done," Dobby explained.
"So that's why you never replied to any of my letters I sent," I realized, turning to Potter and putting my hands on my hips. "I thought that the Muggles were keeping you in a prison cell."
"A prison cell is pretty close to my situation there," Potter sighed.
"Dobby is going to start looking for paying work right away, Harry Potter. Thank you Miss. Malfoy for never closing Dobby's fingers in the oven door," Dobby smiled up at us.
"Don't mention it," I said.
And he disappeared with a crack. Potter and I stood in silence for a moment in the corridor, shuffling our feet and avoiding each other's gazes.
"Sorry about my father trying to turn you into a tapeworm or something," I mumbled.
"It's fine. I actually wanted to say sorry to you. You didn't have to come down to the Chamber with me, but I don't think I could have done it without you-" he began, but I cut him off by wrapping my arms around his neck fiercely, surprising myself.
He was softening me up. I despised him.
He stuttered to a halt, and I squeezed him tightly once before releasing him. "Your welcome," I replied, and ran off to go clean up before the feast. I looked back only once to see him staring at the wall in shock, bright red in the face.
Maybe being friends with Harry Potter wasn't so bad after all.
Throughout the Gryffindor table, calls of "Good evening Sir Nicholas!" and "Welcome back Sir Nicholas!" could be heard. All the once-Petrified students, and ghosts, had been saved by the Mandrake draught, just finished last night.
I was talking to Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, whom I shared a dorm with, when Potter shook my arm.
"Alexandra! It's Hermione!"
I craned my neck to look at the entrance to the Great Hall, and there she was, standing at the door way. I jumped out of my seat with Potter and Weasley and she ran to us, nearly tackling me with a hug.
She hugged Potter as well. When she reached Weasley, he tried to go in for an awkward hug, then stopped himself.
"Uh- erm... welcome back Hermione," he stammered, holding out his hand for a handshake.
"It's good to be back," she smiled. "Congratulations, I can't believe you solved it!"
"Well, we had loads of help from you," Potter replied. "We couldn't have done it without you."
Then, the sound of a spoon clicking against a cup chimed.
"Could I have your attention, please?" Professor McGonagall asked. The four of us sat back down on the bench as Professor Dumbledore stood up.
"Before we begin the feast," he said, voice reaching every corner of the room effortlessly, "let us have a round of applause for Professor Sprout, Madame Pomfrey, whose Mandrake juice has been so successfully administered to all who had been Petrified."
Applause rang out. The two woman flushed with pride.
"Also, in light of recent events," Professor Dumbledore continued, "as a school treat, all exams have been canceled."
There was an even louder bout of clapping, and I heard Hermione say "Oh, no!" next to me.
Then the doors to the Great Hall banged open again, and Hagrid stomped in. "Sorry I'm late," he announced. "The owl that delivered my release papers got all lost and confused. Some ruddy bird called Errol."
Weasley shrank down into his seat, and I laughed. Hagrid paused in front of us.
"I'd just like to say that if it hadn't been for you Harry, and Ron, and Alexandra, and Hermione o' course, I would... I would still be you-know-where. So I... I'd just like to say thanks.
"There's no Hogwarts without you, Hagrid," Potter said.
Professor Dumbledore stood up again, and this time started clapping himself. Professor McGonagall followed his lead, then Potter, then me, and soon we had the entire hall clapping for Hagrid, laughing and cheering. Only the Slytherins remained seated.
I swore I saw him wipe a tear from his eye as he looked around at all the students crowding around to hug him and shake his hand.
I was the happiest I'd been in a long time, standing here, surrounded by nothing but friends. If only it stayed that way.