FOR A MOMENT, THERE WAS SILENCE AS HARPER, HARRY, RON, GINNY AND LOCKHART STOOD IN THE DOORWAY, covered in much and slime and 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.

Harper, however, still leaning on Harry, looked past them. Professor Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece, beaming, next to Professor McGonagell, who was taking great, steadying gasps, clothing her chest.

Fawkes went whooshing past them and settled on Dumbledore's shoulder, just as Harper found herself, Harry and Ron being swept into Molly's tight embrace. Harper let out a yelp of pain and ducked under her arms.

"You saved her! You saved her! How did you do it?" Molly squealed, not noticing Harper scurrying away.

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

Harper stumbled to the desk and laid the Sorting Hat and the sword upon it. she then took the diary from her robes and let it fall on top of it.

"Harry can do the explaining, I just need to sit down for a moment," she murmured, falling down on a chair and clutching her ribs, as if it would help against the pain.

Harry 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, Ron and Harper had followed the spiders into the Forest, that Aragog had told them where the last victim of the Basilisk had died; how Harper 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 McGonagell prompted him, as he paused, "so you found out where them 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?"

Harry told her of Fawkes' timely arrival and about Harper pulling the sword out of the Sorting Hat. But then he faltered and Harper knew that he had so far avoided Riddle's diary—or Ginny.

She was standing with her head against Molly's shoulder, and tears were still coursing silently down her cheeks.

"What interest me most," Dumbledore said 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?" Arthur said in a stunned voice. "You-Know-Who? En-enchanted Ginny? But Ginny's not . . . Ginny hasn't been . . . has she?"

"It was his diary," Harper spoke up from her chair. She picked it up and showed it to Dumbledore. "Riddle wrote it when he was sixteen."

Dumbledore took the diary from her 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 to the Weasleys, 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 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," Molly said, "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 writing back all year . . ."

"Ginny!" Arthur said, 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," Ginny sobbed and Harper started to feel sorry for her. This wasn't her fault. "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 the Hospital Wing straight 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 dare say the Basilisk's victims will be waking up any moment."

"So Hermione's okay?" Ron said brightly.

"There has been no lasting harm done," Dumbledore said.

Molly led Ginny out and Arthur followed, looking deeply shaken.

"You know, Minerva," Professor Dumbledore said thoughtfully to Professor McGonagell, "I think all this merits a good feast. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens?"

"Right," Professor McGonagell said crisply, also moving to the door. "I'll leave you to deal with the Potter's and Weasley, shall I?"

"Certainly," Dumbledore replied.

She left, and Harry, Ron and Harper gazed uncertainty at Dumbledore. What exactly had Professor McGonagell meant, deal with them? Surely—surely—they weren't about to be punished?

"I seem to remember telling the three of you that I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules," Dumbledore began.

Ron opened his mouth in horror.

"Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words," Dumbledore went on, smiling. "The three of you 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. Suddenly Harper's ribs didn't hurt that much anymore as a rush of happiness flew through her.

"But one of us seems to be keeping mightily quiet about his part in this dangerous adventure," Dumbledore added. "Why so modest, Gilderoy?"

Harper gave a start. She had completely forgotten about Lockhart. Turning into her chair, she 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 began quickly, "there was an accident down in the Chamber of Secrets. Professor Lockhart . . ."

"Am I a Professor?" Lockhart said in mild surprise. "Goodness. I expect I was hopeless, was I?"

"He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired," Ron quietly explained to Dumbledore.

"Dear me," Dumbledore said, shaking his head, his long silver mustache quivering. "Impaled upon your own sword, Gilderoy!"

"Sword?" Lockhart repeated dimly. "Haven't got a sword. That girl has, though." He pointed at Harper. "She'll lend you one."

"Would you mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the Hospital Wing, too?" Dumbledore said at Ron. "I'd like a few more words with Harry and Harper . . ."

Lockhart ambled out. Ron cast a curious look back at Dumbledore, Harry and Harper as he closed the door.

"Sit down, Harry," he said. "And well, you're already sitting," he added looking at Harper.

"First of all, Harry, Harper, I want to thank you," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling again. "The two of you must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you."

He stroke the phoenix, which had fluttered down onto Harry's knee.

"And so you met Tom Riddle," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "I imagine he was most interested in you . . ."

"Professor Dumbledore . . . Riddle said I'm like him. Strange likenesses, he said . . ." Harry spoke up suddenly.

"Did he, now?" Dumbledore said, looking thoughtfully under his thick silver eyebrows at Harry. "And what do you think, Harry?"

"I don't think I'm like him!" Harry exclaimed. "I mean—I'm in Gryffindor, I'm . . ."

He fell silent so Harper continued.

"Harry isn't like him because my brother has people who care about him, love him. Tom Riddle didn't have people like that. Voldemort doesn't know what love is. I think love is one of the most powerful spells."

Dumbledore nodded. "Right as always, Harper."

"Professor," Harry started again, "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 . . ."

"You can speak Parseltongue, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly, "because Lord Voldemort—who is the last remaining descendant 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, thunder-struck.

Harper frowned as she looked from Harry to Dumbledore and back.

"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," Dumbledore said 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," Harry began in a defeated voice, "because I asked not to go in Slytherin . . ."

"Exactly," Dumbledore said, beaming once more. "Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, Harper, that show us what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

Harry sat motionless in his chair, stunned.

"If you want proof, Harry, that you belong in Gryffindor, I suggest you look more closely at this."

Dumbledore reached across to Professor McGonagell's desk, picked up the blood-stained silver sword and handed it to Harry. Harper shuffled closer to him and read the name that was engraved in it just below the hilt.

GODRIC GRYFFINDOR

"Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the Hat," Dumbledore said.

"But Harper pulled it out of the Hat," Harry pointed out.

"But I couldn't do it without you, Harry," Harper breathed, looking him in the eye and taking his hand. "We're one, you and I. We're two of the same."

Harry smiled and squeezed in her hand, silently thanking her for the comfort.

"What the two of you need, is some food and sleep, and perhaps Madam Pomfrey for your ribs, Harper. 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 Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don't we?"

Harry moved towards the door but Harper stayed where she was. "Professor, would it be possible to ask Uncle Moony—I mean, Remus? He's been looking for a job since, you know, his little problem." She was whispering now and Dumbledore nodded in approval.

"I will talk to him. Thank you, Harper."

Feeling proud of herself to have found her uncle a job, Harper stood up and followed her brother to the door. He had just reached for 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 under his arm, heavily wrapped in bandages, was Dobby.

"Good evening, Lucius," Dumbledore said pleasantly.

Mr Malfoy almost knocked Harry and Harper over as he swept into the room. Dobby went scurrying in after him, crouching at the hem of his cloak, a look of abject terror on his face.

"So!" Lucius Malfoy said, his cold eyes fixed on Dumbledore. "You've come back. The governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts."

"Well, you see, Lucius," Dumbledore said, 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 Weasley's daughter had been killed and wanted me back 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," Dumbledore said, with a smile.

"Well?" Mr Malfoy said sharply. "Who is it?"

"The same person as last time, Lucius," Dumbledore said. "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. Harry and Harper, however, were watching Dobby.

The elf was doing something very odd. His great eyes fixed meaningfully on Harry and I, he kept pointing at the diary, then at Mr Malfoy, and then hitting himself hard on the head with his fist.

"I see . . ." Mr Malfoy said slowly to Dumbledore.

"A clever plan," Dumbledore said in a level voice, still staring Mr Malfoy straight in the eye. "Because if Harry and Harper here . . ." Mr Malfoy shot the two of them 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 mask-like.

"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 Muggle-borns. 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.

And still, behind his back, Dobby was pointing to the diary, then to Lucius Malfoy, then punching himself in the head.

And Harper suddenly understood. And so did Harry. They nodded at Dobby, and Dobby 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?" Harry asked.

Lucius Malfoy rounded him.

"How should I know how the stupid little girl got hold of it?" he said.

"Because you gave it to her," Harper replied. "In Flourish and Blotts. You picked up her old Transfiguration book, and slipped the diary inside it, didn't you?"

Harper saw Mr Malfoy's white hands clench and unclench.

"Prove it," he hissed.

"Oh, no one will be able to do that," Dumbledore said, smiling at the siblings. "Not now 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 Harper saw 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. They could hear Dobby squealing with pain all the way along the corridor.

"That's it," Harper muttered storming through the door, towards a leaving Mr Malfoy.

"Wait! Harper!" Harry grabbed her wrist.

"No Harry, I won't let Dobby get threatened like that."

"I've got an idea," he said, showing her the diary. "I've put my sock in it."

He dashed past her to Mr Malfoy and Dobby and they caught up with them at the top of the stairs.

"Mr Malfoy," he gasped, skidding to a halt, "I've got something for 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, then looked furiously from the ruined book to Harry and Harper.

"You'll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry and Harper 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 Harry's disgusting, slimy sock, and looking at it as though it were a priceless treasure.

"Master has given Dobby a sock," the elf said in wonderment. "Master gave it to Dobby."

"What's that?" Mr Malfoy spat. "What did you say?"

"Dobby has got a sock," Dobby said in disbelief. "Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby—Dobby is free."

Lucius Malfoy stood frozen, staring at the elf. Then he lunged at Harry and Harper.

"You've lost me my servant!"

"You shall not harm Harry and Harper Potter!" Dobby shouted.

There was a loud bang, and Mr Malfoy was thrown backwards. He crashed down the stairs, three at a time, landing in a crumpled heap on the landing below. He got up, his face livid, and pulled out his wand, but Dobby raised a long threatening finger.

"You shall go now," he said fiercely, pointing down at Mr Malfoy. "You shall not touch Harry and Harper Potter. You shall go now."

Lucius Malfoy had no choice. With a last, incensed stare at the three of them, he swung his cloak around him and hurried out of sight.

"Harry and Harper Potter free Dobby!" The elf said shrilly, gazing up at the two of them, moonlight from the nearest window reflected in his orb-like eyes. "Harry and Harper Potter set Dobby free!"

"Least we could do, Dobby," Harry said, grinning. "Just promise never to try and save our lives again."

The elf's face split suddenly into a wide, toothy smile.

"I've just got one question, Dobby," Harper said, as Dobby pulled on Harry's sock with shaking hands. "You told us all this had nothing to do with He Who Must Not Be Named, remember? Well . . ."

"It was a clue, miss," Dobby said, his eyes widening, as though this was obvious. "Dobby was giving you a clue. The Dark Lord, before he changed his name, could be freely named, you see?"

"Right," Harper said weakly. "We'll we'd better go, got to fix my ribs, you know."

Dobby's eyes widened. "I can do that for you, miss!"

"Well—maybe—I'd rather— ah!"

With a click of his fingers, her ribs didn't hurt anymore.

"Wow, thank you, Dobby."

Dobby threw his arms around their middles and hugged them.

"Harry and Harper Potter are greater by far then Dobby knew!" He sobbed. "Farewell, Harry and Harper Potter!"

And with a final loud crack, Dobby disappeared.

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April 21st 2023
I hope you enjoy it & tell me what you think of it! :)