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."
"But, Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley. "What's our Ginny got to dowith — with — him?"
"His d-diary!" Ginny sobbed. "I've b-been writing in it, and he'sbeen w-writing back all year —"
"Ginny!" said Mr. Weasley, flabbergasted. "Haven't I taught youanything? What have I always told you? Never trust anything thatcan think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain. Why didn'tyou show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object likethat, it was clearly full of Dark Magic —"
"I d-didn't know," sobbed Ginny. "I found it inside one of thebooks Mum got me. I th-thought someone had just left it in thereand forgotten about it —"
"Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away,"Dumbledore interrupted in a firm voice. "This has been a terribleordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort." Hestrode 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 MadamPomfrey is still awake. She's just giving out Mandrake juice — Idaresay 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.Mrs. Weasley led Ginny out, and Mr. Weasley followed, stilllooking deeply shaken."
You know, Minerva," Professor Dumbledore said thoughtfullyto 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 thedoor. "I'll leave you to deal with Ms Potter, Potter and Weasley, shall I?"
"Certainly," said Dumbledore.She left, and I, Harry and Ron gazed uncertainly at Dumbledore.What exactly had Professor McGonagall meant, deal with us?Surely — surely — we weren't about to be punished?"I seem to remember telling you both that I would have to expelyou if you broke any more school rules," said Dumbledore to Ron and Harry.
Ron opened his mouth in horror.'
"Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat ourwords," Dumbledore went on, smiling. "You will all receive Special Awards for Services to the School and — let me see — yes, Ithink two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor and Slytherin of course."
Ron went as brightly pink as Lockhart's valentine flowers andclosed his mouth again."
But one of us seems to be keeping mightily quiet about his partin this dangerous adventure," Dumbledore added.
"Why so modest, Gilderoy?"
I gave a start. I had completely forgotten about Lockhart. I turned and saw that Lockhart was standing in a corner of theroom, still wearing his vague smile. When Dumbledore addressedhim, Lockhart looked over his shoulder to see who he was talkingto."Professor Dumbledore," Ron said quickly, "there was anaccident down in the Chamber of Secrets. Professor Lockhart —"
"Am I a professor?" said Lockhart in mild surprise. "Goodness. Iexpect I was hopeless, was I?"
"He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired," Ronexplained quietly to Dumbledore.
"Dear me," said Dumbledore, shaking his head, his long silvermustache quivering. "Impaled upon your own sword, Gilderoy!"
"Sword?" said Lockhart dimly. "
Haven't got a sword. That boyhas, 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 wordswith Harry and Emma . . ."
Lockhart ambled out. Ron cast a curious look back at Dumbledore and Harry and Me as he closed the door.
Dumbledore crossed to one of the chairs by the fire."Sit down, Harry," he said, and Harry sat, feeling unaccountablynervous."First of all, Harry and Emma, I want to thank you," said Dumbledore, eyestwinkling again. "You must have shown me real loyalty down inthe Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you."
He stroked the phoenix, which had fluttered down onto hisknee. Harry and I grinned awkwardly as Dumbledore watched him."And so you met Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore thoughtfully."I imagine he was most interested in you both. . . ." Harry said"Professor Dumbledore . . . Riddle said we're like him. Strangelikenesses, that's why Emma is in Slytherin he said. . . ."
"Did he, now?" said Dumbledore, looking thoughtfully at Harry and me from under his thick silver eyebrows.
"And what do you think,Harry?"
"I don't think we're like him!" said Harry, more loudly than he'dintended. "I mean, I'm — I'm in Gryffindor, I'm . . ."
But he fell silent."Professor," he started again after a moment. "The Sorting Hattold me I'd — I'd have done well in Slytherin. Everyone thought Iwas Slytherin's heir for a while . . . because I can speak Parseltongue. . . ." My eye widened.
"You can speak Parseltongue, Harry, and you can communicate with them telepathically" said Dumbledore calmly,"because Lord Voldemort — who is the last remaining descendant of Salazar Slytherin — can speak Parseltongue. Unless I'm muchmistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the nighthe gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I'msure. . . ."
"Voldemort put a bit of himself in us?" I said, thunderstruck.
"It certainly seems so."
"So I should be in Slytherin," Harry said, looking desperatelyinto Dumbledore's face.
"The Sorting Hat could see Slytherin'spower in me, and it —"
"Put you in Gryffindor," said Dumbledore calmly.
"Same for Emma, but it was--"
"Listen tome, Harry. You and Emma happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherinprized in his hand-picked students. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue — resourcefulness — determination — a certain disregardfor rules, " he added, his mustache quivering again. " But they were more pronounced in Emma, loyalty to her friends and family, not the world. Yet the SortingHat 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 makesyou very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, thatshow what we truly are, far more than our abilities." Harry sat motionless in his chair, stunned. "If you want proof, Harry, that youbelong 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. Andthen he saw the name engraved just below the hilt.Godric Gryffindor.
"And Emma" he said looking for me "from what I've heard, Between Slazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor, Slytherin was the one who was cool headed." I smiled slightly "and Gryffindor would have pulled out the sword, A slytherin would have been able to figure out a plan, and with no remorse, killed a part of a person." I smiled at him.
"What you need, Harry and Emma, is some food and sleep. I suggest you godown to the feast, while I write to Azkaban — we need our gamekeeper back. And I must draft an advertisement for the DailyProphet, too," he added thoughtfully.
"We'll be needing a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. . . . Dear me, we do seem torun through them, don't we?"
Harry and I got up and crossed to the door. We had just reached forthe handle, however, when the door burst open so violently that itbounced back off the wall.Lucius Malfoy stood there, fury in his face. And cowering behind his legs, heavily wrapped in bandages, was Dobby.
"Good evening, Lucius," said Dumbledore pleasantly.Mr. Malfoy almost knocked Harry over as he swept into theroom. Dobby went scurrying in after him, crouching at the hem ofhis cloak, a look of abject terror on his face.The elf was carrying a stained rag with which he was attemptingto finish cleaning Mr. Malfoy's shoes.
Apparently Mr. Malfoy hadset out in a great hurry, for not only were his shoes half-polished,but his usually sleek hair was disheveled. Ignoring the elf bobbingapologetically around his ankles, he fixed his cold eyes upon Dumbledore.
"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, "theother eleven governors contacted me today. It was something likebeing caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They'd heardthat Arthur Weasley's daughter had been killed and wanted meback here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for thejob after all. Very strange tales they told me, too. . . . Several ofthem 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 stillslits of fury.
"So — have you stopped the attacks yet?" he sneered. "Have youcaught 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. "Butthis time, Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else. Bymeans of this diary."
He held up the small black book with the large hole through thecenter, watching Mr. Malfoy closely. I, however, was watchingDobby.
The elf was doing something very odd. His great eyes fixedmeaningfully on Harry, he kept pointing at the diary, then at Mr.Malfoy, and then hitting himself hard on the head with his fist."I see . . ." said Mr. Malfoy slowly to Dumbledore."A clever plan," said Dumbledore in a level voice, still staringMr. Malfoy straight in the eye. "Because if Harry and Emma here" — Mr.Malfoy shot Harry and me a swift, sharp look — "and their friend Ron hadn'tdiscovered this book, why — Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn'tacted 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 prominentpure-blood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and hisMuggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing Muggle-borns. . . . Very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Riddle's memories wiped from it. Who knows whatthe consequences might have been otherwise. . . ."
Mr. Malfoy forced himself to speak."Very fortunate," he said stiffly.And still, behind his back, Dobby was pointing, first to the diary, then to Lucius Malfoy, then punching himself in the head.And I suddenly understood.
I nodded at Dobby, andDobby backed into a corner, now twisting his ears in punishment."Don't you want to know how Ginny got hold of that diary, Mr.Malfoy?" I asked, flashing a winning smile.Lucius Malfoy rounded on him.
"How should I know how the stupid little girl got hold of it?" hesaid.
"Because you gave it to her," said Harry. "In Flourish and Blotts.You picked up her old Transfiguration book and slipped the diaryinside it, didn't you?"
I saw Mr. Malfoy's white hands clench and unclench."Prove it," he hissed."Oh, no one will be able to do that," said Dumbledore, smilingat Harry. "Not now that Riddle has vanished from the book. On the other hand, I would advise you, Lucius, not to go giving outany more of Lord Voldemort's old school things. If any more ofthem 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 I distinctly saw hisright 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 tohim, he kicked him right through it. We could hear Dobbysquealing with pain all the way along the corridor. Harry stood fora moment, thinking hard. Then it came to him —"Professor Dumbledore," I said hurriedly. "Can I give that diary back to Mr. Malfoy, please?"
"Certainly, Emma," said Dumbledore calmly. "But hurry. Thefeast, remember. . . ."
I grabbed the diary and dashed out of the office.I couldhear Dobby's squeals of pain receding around the corner. Quickly,wondering if this plan could possibly work, I took off one ofhis shoes, pulled off my slimy, filthy sock, and stuffed the diary intoit. Then I ran down the dark corridor.He caught up with them at the top of the stairs."Mr. Malfoy," I gasped, skidding to a halt, "I've got somethingfor you —"And he forced the smelly sock into Lucius Malfoy's hand.
"What the — ?"
Mr. Malfoy ripped the sock off the diary, threw it aside, thenlooked furiously from the ruined book to me
"You'll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of thesedays, Emma Potter," he said softly. "They were meddlesome fools,too."He turned to go.
"Come, Dobby. I said, come."
But Dobby didn't move. He was holding up my disgusting,slimy sock, and looking at it as though it were a priceless treasure.
"Master has given a sock," said the elf in wonderment. "Mastergave it to Dobby."
"What's that?" spat Mr. Malfoy. "What did you say?"
"Got a sock," said Dobby in disbelief. "Master threw it, andDobby caught it, and Dobby — Dobby is free."
Lucius Malfoy stood frozen, staring at the elf. Then he lunged at me."You've lost me my servant, girl!"But Dobby shouted, "You shall not harm Emma Potter!"There was a loud bang, and Mr. Malfoy was thrown backward.He crashed down the stairs, three at a time, landing in a crumpledheap on the landing below.
He got up, his face livid, and pulled outhis wand, but Dobby raised a long, threatening finger."You shall go now," he said fiercely, pointing down at Mr. Malfoy. "You shall not touch Emma Potter. You shall go now."Lucius Malfoy had no choice. With a last, incensed stare at thepair of them, he swung his cloak around him and hurried out ofsight."Emma Potter freed Dobby!" said the elf shrilly, gazing up atHarry, moonlight from the nearest window reflected in his orb-likeeyes. "Emma Potter set Dobby free!"