For a moment, there was silence as Harry and Ginny stood just within the doorway to McGonagall's office, covered in muck, slime, and blood. Only when Mrs. Weasley screamed did Harry consider that they ought to have cleaned themselves up.
Darting from the edge of her chair by the fire, Ginny's mother flung herself at Ginny, followed closely by Mr. Weasley. As the pair of them spoke over one another rather incoherently, conveying their relief, Dumbledore entered behind them. McGonagall took a great gasp at the sight of him, already clutching her chest at Harry and Ginny's entrance.
"What happened?" McGonagall's seasoned teacher voice cut across the noise of the room.
"He saved her," Dumbledore said.
Harry found himself being swept into Mrs. Weasley's right embrace.
"We can't thank you enough!" she said in his ear.
"I think we'd all like to know how," said Professor McGonagall weakly.
Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry, and he paused for a moment, contemplating how much he should tell them. It was something he had already given some thought into — that what he had learned about Voldemort may be useful if kept secret. He decided now to compromise with himself.
"What I'm going to tell you… I don't think anyone else should know," he said, walking over to the desk and laying upon it the Sorting Hat, the ruby encrusted sword, and what remained of Riddle's diary.
"I am going to reinforce that request," Dumbledore said at once, almost impulsively moving forward. "From what I have heard thus far, this information could be important, as well as dangerous to anyone who hears it."
McGonagall nodded solemnly, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley seemed to understand the seriousness of Dumbledore's words. Mrs. Weasley looked at Ginny rather concernedly, and Harry anticipated what she was thinking.
"Ginny deserves to hear everything more than anyone else," he said. "Besides, I imagine she might be able to fill in a couple of gaps in the story."
After the Weasleys agreed, 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 they had worked out that he was hearing a basilisk in the walls; how Hermione had figured out that it was using the pipes; how 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.
"Myrtle…" Dumbledore said with heavy regret. He looked to McGonagall, his eyes devoid of their usual shimmer. "Of course."
"You couldn't have known," McGonagall said, but her heart was not in it. She turned to Harry when Dumbledore's only response was to close his eyes and bow his head. "But why take Ginny, when she's a Pureblood?"
Harry took a deep breath and went on with the story, recounting what the memory of Tom Riddle had told him. Every now and then, Ginny commented on or corrected a detail, and sometimes she simply shook her head when someone asked if she remembered something.
Although Harry accurately shared the events, and the dialogue between him and Riddle, he could not help but to omit his thoughts and feelings on certain aspects of what had happened, deciding to wait until he and Dumbledore were alone to voice them. When he had spoken the name Tom Riddle, only Professor McGonagall showed a recognition of what it meant, so that when Professor Dumbledore chimed in during Harry's pause, it was something of a shock to the already-dishevelled Weasleys.
"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 Mr. Weasley 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 Harry quickly, picking it up and showing 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, 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… travelled 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 Mrs. Weasley. "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 Mr. Weasley, 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 —"
"It wasn't like that," Harry said, his voice sounding as absent as his current gaze, staring into McGonagall's fireplace.
There had been something different since they had left the Chamber of Secrets. Harry had been attributing the feeling to any number of things, considering he had been poisoned nearly to death by one magical creature, only to be brought back to perfect health by another. But now that they were talking about the diary again, Harry realized that it was something else.
As the conversation went on around Harry, some of which included direct inquiries towards Harry that he only vaguely recognized, Harry crossed the office to the diary on McGonagall's desk. He picked it up, thinking about the distinct feel it gave him, only… that feeling was gone. And, now that it was no longer there, Harry realized that he had been feeling some intensity of it all school year. He stood there, running his fingers along the singed hole in the cover, contemplating the feeling again. The connection between how the diary once felt, and how his Lord Ring once felt, seemed stronger than ever.
Harry moved his hand out of his robe sleeve, looking at the Lord Ring while he thought about what this all meant. After only a second, he felt something else, and jerked his head up to look at Dumbledore.
The headmaster was gaping at Harry's hand, his eyes once again alight with energy. It was his feelings that Harry himself was feeling. Dumbledore was… elated… shocked… amazed. Just as he was trying to figure out why, Dumbledore noticed Harry's gaze and worked to collect himself.
"Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away," he said at once 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."
"Oh good!" Harry could not help but to say. "You can see when they wake up!"
"There has been no lasting harm done, Ginny," said Dumbledore.
Mrs. Weasley led Ginny out, and Mr. Weasley 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.
Before she left, she turned back around, surveying the pair of them. Harry felt she knew they were about to discuss things they had not shared with the group. She shook her head.
"Never a dull moment with you," she said, and closed the door behind her.
Dumbledore cocked his head at her exit for a moment before turning to Harry.
"Ah. I think she was talking about you," he said, seeming to find relief in the realization.
"Tomayto tomahto," Harry said, walking with Dumbledore back to the desk. He smiled at the sincere chuckle he got out of the old wizard.
Dumbledore crossed to one of the chairs by the fire.
"Sit down, Harry," he said, and Harry did, feeling unaccountably nervous.
"First of all, Harry, I want to thank you," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling again. "You 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. Harry grinned awkwardly as Dumbledore watched him.
"Fawkes, the Sorting Hat, and a sword — three things I was not expecting, but I was glad to have all of them."
"And you met Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore thoughtfully.
"Yeah — not as glad about that one."
"But I imagine he was most interested in you…"
Harry laughed. "He tried to play it cool. I mean, granted I was at a huge advantage — I knew who he was, even though he thought I didn't — but I didn't find him to be that convincing."
"You will find that you are in the minority in that regard, but I am very glad to hear it," Dumbledore said.
"Professor," Harry said after a moment. "There are some things I haven't told you yet."
Dumbledore nodded, unfazed. Harry looked down at his hands, which were filthy. He picked some gunk out of his fingernails.
"The diary…" Harry started. "Riddle used the word soul three times to describe what was happening. I think the diary was something more than just… enchanted."
Dumbledore did not respond immediately, first looking to Harry, then at the diary, which he picked up again.
"I think you may be right," he eventually said, sounding defeated.
"And I… I can sometimes feel magic — I think I've seen you do the same thing at times during our lessons," Harry said, and Dumbledore nodded. "And what I felt from the diary — I realize now was definitely familiar to what I once felt from this, which appeared in Gringotts the day they confirmed me as my family's heir."
He held up his ring, which he knew Dumbledore had already seen and been strangely interested in. Again now, Dumbledore flashed an eager gaze before composing himself. Still, Dumbledore's breathing seemed forced.
"May I… perhaps you could tell me more about this ring," Dumbledore said, sitting on the edge of the desk and sounding at once very much like a professor. "It appears to have a rather unique stone."
Harry shrugged, looking at his hand. "Erm, that I don't know about — I guess I never really looked into it."
The ring had a black stone, which Harry had never considered to be remarkable. He filled Dumbledore in on what he did know about the ring, which was not much, but when Harry told him how Hedwig had warned him from putting it on the first time, and how Harry had instinctively cast Fiendfyre at it, Dumbledore showed great interest.
"Fiendfyre," the headmaster muttered, pacing across McGonagall's office, holding the diary and clearly thinking, hard.
At one point, he charged back to the desk, drawing his wand and casting several spells on the sword Harry had used to slay the basilisk. There were only a couple that Harry even recognized, and he did not understand why Dumbledore was doing it. When he was done, he slowly put the sword back onto the desk, and began speaking, eventually looking up at Harry as he did so.
"You seem to be quite skilled with creatures, Harry, but I believe that you can speak Parseltongue because Lord Voldemort — who isthe closest remaining descendant of Salazar Slytherin — can speak Parseltongue. While descended distantly, I do not think your bloodline close enough to Slytherin to make you a natural Parseltongue. Unless I'm much mistaken, Lord Voldemort transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I'm sure…"
"Transferred some of his powers…" Harry thought aloud, his mind flicking amongst what he felt his strengths were, now wondering if he possessed them only because of Voldemort's attack on him as a baby. The notion that there was any part of Voldemort inside of him was repulsive, no matter what advantages it offered him. He said as much out loud, wanting it to be said and heard by someone other than himself.
Dumbledore nodded understandably.
"If you want proof, Harry, that you are your own person, I suggest you look more closely at this."
He again picked up the blood-stained silver sword, and handed it to Harry.
Dully, Harry turned it over, the rubies blazing in the firelight. And then he 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.
"This is the Sword of Gryffindor" Harry said, knowing as he did so how obvious the statement was, but wanting to say it aloud nonetheless.
"Yet another in a lengthening list of remarkable achievements on your part," Dumbledore said, pulling open one of the drawers in Professor McGonagall's desk to take out a quill and a bottle of ink. "The Sword of Gryffindor does not present itself to just anyone, and in fact will only manifest itself to those who have placed themselves in need under circumstances of the purest valor."
Harry thought back to when he had first felt the weight of the sword in the hat. It had been right after he had decided to use himself as bait to lure the basilisk away from Ginny.
"We should talk again, Harry, but for now I ask that you get yourself cleaned up and check in with Madam Pomfrey. Once she gives you a clean bill of health, I suggest you go down to the feast. I shall join you shortly, as soon as I have written to Azkaban — we need our gamekeeper back."
Harry got up and crossed to the door, glad for a reason to check on Ginny, and even more eager to perhaps be there when Hermione was revived. He had just reached for the handle 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 Dobby.
"Good evening, Lucius," said Dumbledore pleasantly.
Mr. Malfoy almost knocked Harry 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. Any weariness Harry had been feeling was washed away at once, replaced with a fiery determination. He did not exit the office.
The elf was carrying a stained rag with which he was attempting to finish cleaning Mr. Malfoy's shoes. Apparently Mr. Malfoy had set out in a great hurry, for not only were his shoes half-polished, but his usually sleek hair was disheveled. Ignoring the elf bobbing apologetically 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, "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 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. Harry, however, was watching Dobby.
The elf was doing something very odd. His great eyes fixed meaningfully 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 staring Mr. Malfoy straight in the eye. "Because if Harry here" — Mr. Malfoy shot Harry a swift, sharp look — "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.
"Oh, I could have proved it," Harry chimed in. Both men turned their heads to him, surprised. "I remember everything I see," Harry went on, pointing at his temple. "So even if I don't notice something while it's happening, I can review the memories later in exactly these kinds of circumstances, when someone has tried to do something sinister, and cowardly, and hidden. I can see —" Again, Harry tapped his temple. "— that day at Flourish and Blotts, when you and Mr. Weasley fought. In the scuffle, you tried to toss this diary into Ginny Weasley's cauldron. You missed, but then watched carefully and I daresay with satisfaction as she and Hermione scooped it up anyway to collect with the rest of Ginny's books."
Mr. Malfoy's face twisted between emotions at Harry's accusation before settling back to stone. The man had practice in controlling his reactions, which Harry decided to test. He walked to the desk and picked up the diary.
"Perhaps this was part of the collection you have hidden under the drawing-room floor," he mused absently, avoiding eye contact with Lucius, but still satisfied with the reaction he detected in his peripheral vision.
"Imagine," Dumbledore cut in, "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…"
Harry glanced at Dumbledore, getting the impression that the headmaster had taken the conversation over from Harry purposefully, making Harry wonder if he had said something he should not have.
Mr. Malfoy forced himself to speak. "Very fortunate," he said stiffly.
"I would advise you, Lucius, not to go giving out any more of Lord Voldemort's old school things," Dumbledore said, dropping any pretense. 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 Harry distinctly saw his right hand twitch as though he was longing to reach for his wand. Harry was so on edge, he wished the man would. 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. Harry stood, his blood boiling. Somehow a more reasonable option for action came to him amidst the violent possibilities flashing through his mind, one that he hoped would hurt Mr. Malfoy even more…
Harry grabbed the diary and looked at it, hard. He drew his wand and performed a Doubling Charm, creating a visually-accurate copy of the diary, which he picked up, dashing out of the office as Dumbledore watched with perplexed amusement. Harry could hear Dobby's squeals of pain receding around the corner. Quickly, wondering if his plan would work, Harry took off one of his shoes, pulled off his slimy, filthy sock, and stuffed the fake diary into it. Then he ran down the dark corridor, catching up with them at the top of the stairs.
"Mr. Malfoy," he gasped, skidding to a halt, "I've got something for you —" 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.
"You'll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry 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 a sock," said the elf in wonderment. "Master gave it to Dobby."
"What's that?" spat Mr. Malfoy. "What did you say?"
"Got a sock," said Dobby 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.
"You've lost me my servant, boy!"
But Dobby shouted, "You shall not harm Harry Potter!"
There was a loud bang, and Mr. Malfoy was thrown backward.
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 Potter. You shall go now."
Lucius Malfoy had no choice. With a last, incensed stare at the pair of them, he swung his cloak around him and hurried out of sight.
"Harry Potter freed Dobby!" said the elf shrilly, gazing up at Harry, moonlight from the nearest window reflected in his orb-like eyes. "Harry Potter set Dobby free!"
"Well, I helped," Harry said, grinning. "The point is, you're free now, so you never have any reason to ever hurt yourself again, all right?"
Dobby nodded emphatically, the tips of his ears bouncing.
"And… maybe also never to try and save my life again," Harry told him.
Dobby's little face split suddenly into a wide, toothy smile.
"I've just got one question, Dobby," said Harry as Dobby pulled on Harry's sock with shaking hands. "You told me all this had nothing to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, remember? Well —"
"It was a clue, sir," said Dobby, his eyes widening, as though this was obvious. "Was giving you a clue. The Dark Lord, before he changed his name, could be freely named, you see?"
"Right," said Harry weakly. "Well, I'd better go. My friend Hermione might be awake by now… But wait — are you… do you know where you're going to go now?"
"Dobby is free!" the little elf said again, still smiling. Harry got a strong feeling that Dobby might not have the first clue of how to actually live a free life.
"Yes, I know, but… well if you need a place to stay, which I think you might, then you're more than welcome at Potter Manor. In fact, I am officially inviting you to stay with me while you explore your freedom. Think of it as a home base. You can come and go as you please."
Dobby threw his arms around Harry's middle and hugged him.
"Harry Potter is greater by far than Dobby knew!" he sobbed. "Dobby is not worthy!"
"Yes he is," Harry said, patting Dobby on the back. "Now hang on — I only have time to take you there and introduce you to Toory and Zeely, and I'll let them show you around. I think you're going to like it there."
Dobby looked up at Harry, tears brimming in his huge eyes. Harry flexed his fingers, and the Lord Ring transported him and Dobby home.
In the end, Madam Pomfrey shooed Harry out of the hospital wing just seconds after casting diagnostic spells on him, finding at once that he required no care, and sending him away. She wanted as few people as possible mulling about while she administered the Mandrake juice. Aside from Madam Pomfrey and the basilisk victims, it was now only Ginny and her parents who remained in the hospital wing.
Meanwhile, Harry lingered in the hallway, blissfully unperturbed by teachers regarding mulling about in the castle, now that the threat had been eliminated. Madam Pomfrey had told him to go down to the impromptu feast before closing herself away behind the large oak doors of the hospital wing, but Harry had not listened, instead taking the time to clean the many layers of muck from his robes and skin, which had turned out to be more challenging than anticipated.
He had just finally gotten himself back to normal when he heard the telltale sound of Professor McGonagall's shoes on the floor. Sure enough, she came around the corner, showing only the briefest of reactions upon seeing Harry standing outside the doors.
"I thought you would perhaps be inside," she stated, and Harry understood that she meant he should be treated.
Harry held his hands up in surrender.
"I did go in, and she chucked me back out, so I figured I could just wait…"
McGonagall shook her head and pushed the door open, sparing Harry a small gesture to indicate that he come with her.
The first thing Harry saw when he entered was Hermione, sitting up in bed, cross-legged and looking perfectly healthy and characteristically inquisitive, watching with rapt interest as Madam Pomfrey administered Mandrake juice to a still-petrified Colin Creevey several beds away. Harry walked around to the opposite side of her bed, undetected, also watching as Colin was fed a spout of Mandrake juice from what he recognized as a No-Spill Medi-Cup.
After only a few seconds of tipping it against Colin's lips, Madam Pomfrey put it down and was now performing the same diagnostic spells she had used on Harry, her body visibly relaxing when the results were reassuring.
"But what about Nick?" Hermione asked quietly, and though Harry knew it was a rhetorical question, he answered it anyway.
"You can —" he began, but was cut off by Hermione's piercing shriek. Her body seized up, and she covered her head with her arms. When she jerked her head around and saw that it was just Harry, the screaming subsided, but she still looked terrified. Harry just stared at her, open-mouthed.
"Are you insane?" Madam Pomfrey always had always come across to Harry as a no-nonsense witch, but as she charged towards Harry now, she looked downright threatening. "She justwoke up and needs at least another twenty minutes for the juice to take full effect. You must leave!"
Feeling incredibly sorry and stupid, Harry nodded, throwing a quick, sheepish wave to everyone who was now staring at him. He walked briskly back to the door, and was almost through it when Colin's weak, groggy voice cut through the uncomfortable silence.
"Hiya, Harry…"
Knowing that everyone was okay — physically, at least — made it much easier for Harry to finally follow orders and go to the feast. Once he got there, he was glad he did, as this was a feast unlike any other he had been to at Hogwarts. Nearly everyone was in their pajamas, and the noise level was about twice as loud as normal, yet the teachers seemed entirely unperturbed. Harry noted the absence of Lockhart at the High Table, and wondered if he was pouting in his office, or if he had done a run after being called out by his fellow teachers.
The celebration lasted all night, with some of the highlights including: Hermione and the others coming in looking happy and healthy, to thunderous cheers; Gryffindor winning the House Cup, bolstered by the five hundred points Harry was awarded for stopping the basilisk but ahead even without them; Professor McGonagall standing up to tell them all that the exams had been cancelled as a school treat; and Dumbledore announcing that Lockhart had tendered his resignation and left the castle, which Harry laughed out loud at, picturing the man running away with his arms full of his hair supplies.
Despite the positive impact these events had on Harry, none of them affected him as much as when Hagrid turned up at three in the morning, cleared of all charges and looking well, despite his stay in Azkaban.
"Were there a lot of them, Hagrid?" Ron asked as he, Harry, and Hermione chatted with Hagrid later as they were leaving the Great Hall.
"Ron!" Hermione scoffed. She looked very much as if she would have liked to smack Ron on the shoulder.
"What?"
"No, it's all right, Hermione. It's a fair question," Hagrid said, shrugging his massive shoulders. He did not respond immediately, though, and when he did his tone sounded deflated. "I don' even know how many there were… it's not the sight of 'em that does it to you—it's the feeling they give you. Shouldn't be a creature alive that's capable of doing that to someone. You best be sure to stay on this side of the law—that's my advice. Don't ever give 'em a reason to put you in there…"
He shook his head, seeming lost in thought. Harry was just about to rage against the prison system and the government in general, when Hagrid shifted the moment.
"Erm… actually, if the two of you wouldn't mind, I'd like to have a word with Harry about somethin'," Hagrid said a little nervously.
After sharing a look with Harry, Ron and Hermione agreed, heading to Gryffindor Tower while Hagrid and Harry stepped into a side corridor and then into an abandoned classroom. Harry shut the door behind them as Hagrid paced into the room, wringing his hands.
"Hagrid, what's wrong?" Harry asked.
Hagrid shot him a sideways glance, but continued charging back and forth through the classroom, eventually losing momentum until he was standing in front of Harry again.
"I still picture you as a baby sometimes," Hagrid told him, still having trouble maintaining eye contact. "I'll think, 'wonder what Harry's up to,' and then picture you out with yer dragons, only you're just the little bundle I left on your family's doorstep all those years ago."
Harry briefly wondered if the dragons would eat him in that situation, but did not say this to Hagrid, who seemed to be struggling with whatever he was trying to say. Besides, Harry's musings were distracted by the sound of Hagrid destroying the stool he had just attempted to plop down on. Barely seeming to notice the decimated wood around him, Hagrid remained on the floor, leaning against the wall. Harry sat near him and decided to just give Hagrid time to build the courage up to say whatever he had wanted to say. It wasn't long before he began again.
"One night, I woke up to find someone standin' in my cell," Hagrid said in a much more subdued tone than Harry was used to hearing from him. "Not supposed to happen — doesn't happen! The prisoners… we can't get outta our cells…"
"You're not a prisoner anymore," Harry said, only because he wanted to say something to try to ease the anxiety on Hagrid's face.
It did not seem to work, and Harry was not sure that Hagrid had even heard him, but he went on, nonetheless.
"I was ready to defend myself — this wasn't my first jail cell, so another prisoner tryin' to challenge me didn't seem too far-fetched, despite how mad it seemed for it to be happenin' there… but the man just stood there, lookin' at me. I wasn't in the greatest state of mind, and was just about to clock 'im and be done with it, when he started talkin'."
Hagrid looked to Harry now, his face screwed up under his unruly hair. He was searching Harry's eyes, looking as though what he wanted to say was causing him pain. Harry flickered his Legilimency on, but immediately back off, finding the emotional turmoil Hagrid was feeling overwhelming.
"Hagrid," Harry said, now quite concerned. "What happened?"
Hagrid took a breath to compose himself, then shook his head and looked away, taking several more steadying breaths before continuing.
"Right… well, I dunno how much you know about what happened to yer parents, but it was a bad thing," Hagrid said, seeming to realize at the end how pointless his words were. "I mean, obviously… obviously…" He tried to compose himself. "So, yer parents were in hiding, using the, erm, Fidelius Charm, which should'a kept the lot of yeh safe, only the person they used to keep their location secret gave 'em away."
Harry knew this already, having studied the circumstances of his parents' death in great detail. His parents' friend, Sirius Black, had been entrusted to be their Secret Keeper, entrusted to maintain his family's location in a magical seal of secrecy, only to have betrayed his parents' trust and given their location away to Voldemort, leading to the death of Lily and James Potter. Having gone through the Fidelius Charm, only Sirius could have revealed their location, as it would have been impossible for anyone else to do.
"Except…" Hagrid continued, "it was Sirius Black himself who was in my cell that night, and he said some odd things ter me…"
Harry's eyes widened at this.
"He wasn't even wound up about it," Hagrid said. "He was almost… composed… which doesn't make any sense!" Hagrid's tone grew frustrated, and he took a moment, shaking his head and looking into a vague distance. "You can't even think straight in that place, and yet Sirius was — it was like he wasn't even bothered by it! He said… he said he had heard my name from one of the witches running the commissary, and it took him a while, but he eventually figured out that you would be of Hogwarts age by now, which meant that I would have met you. He said he was damn angry about not realizing so much time had gone by… and then he figured out a way to get outta his cell fer long enough to come and see me… Next thing he did was try an' ask me about you, but I'll be damned if I was gonna tell him one word about yeh, the dirty traitor…"
Again, Hagrid stopped, with what he was saying seeming to be too difficult to get out. Harry was surprised at all of this. Of everyone he knew, he thought Hagrid would be the last person who would fall for a ruse from a convicted criminal — especially one responsible for such agony in Harry's life. Confused by this, Harry pressed again into Hagrid's mind, trying to focus his Legilimency tightly so as to filter out Hagrid's state of mind and focus instead only on his encounter with Sirius Black. Doing so had an unintended consequence.
At once, Harry experienced a cascade of visions, all of them cantered on Sirius Black. It was as if he were popping into existence within himself in future scenarios, witnessing and feeling his own interactions with Sirius Black, whom Harry would apparently encounter in the near future according to what he was seeing in the visions, only they seemed to go years beyond the present and… and all of them were overwhelmingly positive. The visions came and went like a deck of shuffling cards, their faces fading from even Harry's memory as they passed, and yet at the end of it, Harry felt certain about one thing…
"Hagrid," he said, "tell me everything you know about how Sirius Black ended up in Azkaban."
The rest of the final term passed with weather as sunny and cheerful as the new atmosphere inside the castle. Hogwarts was back to normal, and in some ways better than ever. With Professor Lockhart gone, Professor Dumbledore agreed to once again fill in for the vacant Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He was at first simply going to cancel classes, but Harry telling him how much everyone enjoyed him teaching them last year convinced the headmaster to step into the classroom once again. In addition to that, Lucius Malfoy had been sacked as a school governor, which had Draco skulking around the castle, uncharacteristically shying away from attention. Ginny, on the other hand, was like a new person, throwing herself into the Hogwarts experience as much as possible during the final days.
Harry made a point to encourage and support Ginny as much as he could in her drive to act like a normal student for the remainder of her first year here. The trouble was, he had become more popular than ever once the photograph of him standing triumphantly in front of the slain basilisk was published on the front cover of The Daily Prophet.
The morning the paper had been delivered during breakfast in the Great Hall, Harry had felt a momentary flash of concern. Percy's copy had been dropped between him and Ginny, next to whom Percy could almost always be found these days. Harry had shared with Percy his disappointment in himself and everyone else in not realizing what had been going on with Ginny, and it seemed to have put Percy's big brother instincts into overdrive. When the moving photo of Harry and the basilisk landed in front of Ginny, Percy gave Ginny the same worried look that Harry did.
Upon seeing it, Ginny's shoulders slumped. She stared at the page for a few seconds before slamming her fist into the page, giving the paper a two-fingered salute. Again, Percy's reaction mirrored Harry's, their eyes widening. Ginny caught Harry's face as she disengaged her gesture, flipping the paper over and going right back to eating her breakfast. When she saw that Harry had seen her, she herself looked worried.
"That wasn't for you," she said to him, the corners of her mouth seeming to fight a smile. "Just… fuck that thing," she added, flicking a finger towards the paper.
"Ginevra!" Percy scolded. Harry and Ginny looked at him. "Language!"
Ginny turned her head back to Harry and they shared an amused smile. Harry went back to his toast, only to find Ginny sliding into the seat next to him moments later. He looked up at her.
"Hey," she said in a near-whisper. "Listen… I don't think I ever said thank you, so — obviously… thank you."
Harry shrugged, but smiled. "No worries. It's very… satisfying to see you alive and okay every day, even with the offensive language."
Ginny grinned appreciatively. "But I am sorry about the photograph, and all the attention you're getting."
Harry tried to school his features, but he saw the recognition on Ginny's face at his reaction to this statement. She did not say anything, but he knew he had confused her, and decided he could not handle leaving her to wonder.
"Okay, so listen," he started in his own whisper, glancing around to make sure they would not be overheard, "I have a secret, and I haven't told anyone else about this, but I'd like to tell you."
It was only just now, after her apologizing to him about anything related to the Chamber that Harry decided to do this. It pained him to have her think any of this was his fault. Ginny searched his eyes for a few moments, until he was worried that perhaps having another secret to hide was not what she needed right now, but then she nodded, seeming sure of herself. Harry leaned in closer.
"I…" he let a breathy laugh escape him. "I actually own The Daily Prophet." He gave a half-smile, half-grimace at her open-mouthed surprise before continuing. "And… I hope you won't think I was exploiting what happened, but before I went to try and find you… if Dumbledore was here, I would have gone to him instead, but I was worried that if I didn't manage to get us both out, no one would know what happened, and all they'd have was Ron telling them I decided to go down there and find you… So, I sent a note to Toory with instructions for contacting the Prophet, telling them what I was going to try to do. Maybe they would have sent someone out even if I wasn't a controlling owner, but either way, shedding light on what happened here is a positive thing for society, in my opinion. The last time Riddle opened the Chamber, the whole thing was swept under the rug. If it had been more widely known then, we may very well have avoided the rise of Voldemort. I wanted to make sure that doesn't happen again."
Although Ginny's brow was furrowed in thought, she nodded, and Harry released a breath, relieved that she understood.
When the time came to board the Hogwarts Express to London, Harry could not settle on one compartment, instead moving up and down the train amongst pockets of friends. He spent the most time with Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny, but found himself only able to stay in their compartment for short periods of time before he had to take a break. While they seemed to take note of this, Harry was glad that no one asked him about it, as it would have been impossible to explain why Harry could not bring himself to spend an extended period of time cooped up in close proximity to… well, they would find out soon enough, but Harry was determined to have everything lined up perfectly before revealing what he had come to find out. In the meantime, in the dead of night he had cast spell on Scabbers the rat so that he would not be able to move beyond 50 yards of Ron at any time.
Knowing it was all he could do for now, Harry tried to just enjoy the rest of the train ride. They made the most of the last few hours in which the rest of them were allowed to do magic before the holidays, playing Exploding Snap, setting off the very last of Fred and George's Filibuster fireworks, and practicing disarming each other by magic. Harry offered some tips, and was delighted to see that everyone was better at disarming by the time they were done, and that even Ginny, who had never before done the spell, managed to disarm Fred, although Harry suspected he had gone easy on her, the big-brother guilt still going strong amongst the Weasley boys.
Finally, the Hogwarts Expressed stopped in King's Cross, and everyone disembarked. Again, Harry flitted amongst his friends, giving them vague promises for a get-together this summer, even if he was not sure when. They knew as well as he did that the fate of Harry's summer would be tied to the schedule for the Underage World Cup, as he had recently been selected as starting Seeker for the English National Under-17 team.
"Listen, I didn't want to press you on this, because it's been a little hectic, but I'm going to now: Do you get tickets for World Cup games, and will you take me?" Ron asked as he, Harry, and Hermione stood alone on the platform while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley chatted with the Grangers.
Harry grinned. "I do, but I only get ten tickets per match, so I'm going to have to spread them out."
Ron looked like he was trying to make an understanding face, but he was not very successful, in Harry's opinion.
"Of course!" Hermione said, clearly catching Ron's failure. "You worry about playing, and whatever games you can get everyone into, I'm sure they'll be over the moon about."
Ron continued looking worried for a second, but then seemed to realize what Hermione had said. "No — yeah, of course. Harry, you just play and win! Besides, we can watch on the Wireless Wall anytime we want to — I keep forgetting about that!"
They continued chatting, Harry's mind split between their conversation and the concept of Wireless Walls. He felt strongly that the magic used to create them was key to creating a method of communication more personal between wizardkind, but he still had not been able to figure it out. It would have made saying goodbye much easier if he knew he could still talk to his friends whenever he liked.
Regardless, saying goodbye is just what they did, Ron and Hermione leaving the platform with their families to return to the Muggle side of the station. Harry did not linger, giving some quick goodbyes to other friends and their parents before gathering his belongings. Just before he Disapparated, he smiled, embracing the warm feeling it gave him to realize that he was going home.