IDENTITY

Table of contents

Chapter 1 - Choices made.................................1

Chapter 2 - A bad idea....................................72
Chapter 3 - A chance meeting........................98
Chapter 4 - Old and new...............................127
Chapter 5 - The cup and the cafe.................155
Chapter 6 - The Defence professor...............196
Chapter 7 - Home sweet Hogwarts...............225
Chapter 8 - Of boggarts and brothers..........256
Chapter 9 - Tom’s project..............................284
Chapter 10 - Things that bump in the night..307
Chapter 11 - On Halloween...........................332
Chapter 12 - The Chamber of Secrets..........360
Chapter 13 - Bludger gone rogue..................397
Chapter 14 - A late night visitor...................419
Chapter 15 - Someone to blame....................444
Chapter 16 - Bad company............................467
Chapter 17 - The Gaunt line.........................499
Chapter 18 - A professor’s perspective.........532
Chapter 19 - A disarming day........................556
Chapter 20 - The speaker..............................580
Chapter 21 - The Heir’s heir.........................609
Chapter 22 - Head hunting...........................632
Chapter 23 - A piece named Tom.................662
Chapter 24 - To be a host..............................695
Chapter 25 - McGonagall’s message.............723
Chapter 26 - Losing control...........................751
Chapter 27 - The reflection...........................783
Chapter 28 - Meeting Myrtle........................806
Chapter 29 - Falling into place.....................826
Chapter 30 - Dumbledore’s dismissal...........853
Chapter 31 - Sick and tired...........................872
Chapter 32 - Closure......................................899
Chapter 33 - Out of time...............................927
Chapter 34 - Going down...............................955
Chapter 35 - An Ally......................................973
Chapter 36 - Those few minutes...................995
Chapter 37 - Blood and ink.........................1018
Chapter 38 - Back on the outside................1037
Chapter 39 - In the office.............................1055
Chapter 40 - Doing fine...............................1080
Chapter 41 - Angry and alone.....................1100
Chapter 42 - Misadventures........................1118
Chapter 43 - Hearing things.......................1139
Chapter 44 - The waking world....................1163
Chapter 45 - Things needed........................1187
Chapter 1:
Choices made

He was breaking; he could feel it, the lack

of strength in his arms and legs, the sharp
pain that made him think his head was
going to explode, and over the top of it all,
a cold, high voice laughed at him.

Quirinus sat upright, gasping, and tore

through his own mind, checking, but it
was just him in there.

Just me, he told himself. Not Him, just me-

-1-
He kneaded his eyes and peered out into
the main part of his flat. His flat was tiny
– there was only a kitchen, a bedroom and
a bathroom, and none of it was in awfully
good condition. There were, however, lay-
ers and layers of warding over everything.
If someone even breathed in the hallway,
Quirinus would know about it. And since
there were no alarms going, there was no
one else inside. Just me, he told himself
again.

He picked up the wand – which he’d man-

aged to procure from Ollivander – on his
bedside table, and flicked it. A moment lat-
er, a glass of water drifted into the room,
and Quirinus gulped it down, and then set
both the glass and his wand down on his
bedside table, with shaking hands, and
tried to pull himself together.

He almost wished Dumbledore had handed

-2-
him to the Ministry, so that he’d ended up
in Azkaban. He’d done enough bad things
that he’d have been driven mad quickly,
and would have been too mad to be scared.
But Quirinus wasn’t in Azkaban, he was
in a dingy flat in South London with noth-
ing to do and far too much time to himself.

So Quirinus, being a Ravenclaw, thought.

He’d reached several conclusions; one
was that Azkaban was the perfect pun-
ishment, for anyone except a Ravenclaw;
Hufflepuffs would hate the isolation, Sly-
therins would feel like they were wasting
time, that they could accomplish nothing
and Gryffindors would hate sitting still.
Ravenclaws, though, would hate the de-
terioration of their minds, certainly, and
the lack of stimulation, but after a while,
they wouldn’t have enough of a mind left
to care.

-3-
A Ravenclaw that had done horrible things
though, and was not sent to Azkaban,
would be forced to think about things, and
that, Quirinus thought, was a worse pun-
ishment.

His second conclusion was that Dumb-

ledore knew that. Dumbledore knew he
would think about Christopher, think
about what wasted potential that was,
and what an awful thing it was, to kill a
child. Dumbledore must have known that
Quirinus would think about all of the oth-
er things he could have learned in the year
that he instead repeated his first year at
Hogwarts, thought about the way he’d
failed.

Gryffindors took failure as a challenge,

Slytherins as an opportunity to build
character. Hufflepuffs didn’t mind failing
as long as they’d tried their best, but to

-4-
Quirinus, to a Ravenclaw… Quirinus had
never failed at anything before, not a test
or assignment, not a job application…
And to fail at something he’d invested so
much in… Quirinus rubbed his temples
and sank back into his pillows.

He was just drifting back off to sleep, when

his wand twitched and started to emit a
shrill ringing noise. Quirinus sat upright
and seized it. He wrestled with the cov-
ers for a moment, and then he was free,
and standing in the middle of his small
bedroom, wand held out before him, trem-
bling.

There was a sharp knock on his door. Quir-

inus held his breath.

“Open the door, boy!” a gruff voice called.

When Quirinus didn’t reply, there was a
low murmur and then the voice said, “I

-5-
can see you in your bedroom, you know!”
Quirinus’ stomach dropped. “So I know
you’re there, and I’m not in the mood to go
blasting down any doors today, but I will
if I-”

“Coming,” Quirinus managed. “Sorry, I’m

coming. I was just-” Quirinus didn’t both-
er with an excuse, though; whoever it was
knew he’d just been standing there. Quir-
inus undid the locks – both magical, and
mechanical – on his door, and opened it a
crack.

A rather terrifying, electric blue eye,

stared right back at him. Quirinus swal-
lowed a scream, and opened the door a
tiny bit wider. Alastor Moody’s grimacing
face, and, over his shoulder, Sirius Black’s
grim one, stared back at him.

“H-hello,” Quirinus said, surprised, and

-6-
a little embarrassed at the stutter that
slipped out. He thought he’d grown out of
that years ago, when Professor Flitwick
had put an end to the bullying.

“Evening,” Moody said, with a rather scary

smile. It was obvious they were there to
see him, so Quirinus stepped away from
the door and let them in. “You can put that
down,” Moody said, waving a hand at Quir-
inus’ wand. “You’re not allowed to hurt us,
and even if you tried to, we’re more than a
match for you.” Quirinus tucked it into his
pocket.

“Can I- would you like tea-?”

“No, thank you,” Black said, speaking for

the first time. “We’re just checking in.”

“Making sure I’m still alive?” Quirinus

asked.

-7-
“No,” Black said, looking confused. “Mak-
ing sure you haven’t hurt anyone else.”

“Oh,” Quirinus said. Moody took a swig

from his hip-flask and limped off toward
the bedroom. “Where’s he g-going?” he de-
manded.

“Dumbledore said he’s visited you,” Black

said quietly. “And he said you were- well,
that you were holding up your part of the
Vow. Mad-Eye and I wanted to make sure,
though, as you can probably understand.”

“Certainly,” Quirinus said stiffly. He eyed

Black for a moment, curious despite him-
self. “You don’t trust Dumbledore’s word?”

“I don’t trust you,” Black said simply.

Qurinus was a talented Occlumens – it
was one of the only good things that had

-8-
come out of the past year – but he had no
such talent in Legillimency. He wished he
did, though; he would have been very in-
terested to see what Black was thinking.
“We kept you out of Azkaban, and out of
Voldemort’s-” Quirinus twitched. “-hands,
and the more I think about it, the less I
think you deserve it.” Black’s voice wasn’t
angry, or cruel, just troubled. “I’m going to
make sure you aren’t responsible for hurt-
ing anyone else.”

“I swore the Vow, so-”

“I’m just taking precautions,” Black said,

with a smile that didn’t quite make it to
his eyes. “And I came to give you a warn-
ing; just because I didn’t tell the Ministry
who you are, or that you’re alive, doesn’t
mean I haven’t told them anything. Both
the Ministry and Gringotts have a descrip-
tion of your magic – I told them you were

-9-
the one who gave Croaker to Voldemort-”
Quirinus couldn’t help the twitch that ac-
companied the name. “- and also the one
who killed Krognug the goblin and broke
into Gringotts – so if you go to either of
those places, don’t expect a- well, don’t ex-
pect a warm welcome.”

“Where am I supposed to find work then?

Or get money?”

“Your break-in would have been successful

if the Stone hadn’t already been moved,”
Black said. “You’ve got a knowledge of
the inner workings of Gringotts that only
the goblins have, and they’re not strictly
covered by your Vow. You’re less famil-
iar with the Ministry – at least as far as
I know – but your mind is susceptible to
Voldemort.” This time, Quirinus made the
effort not to flinch, and Black gave him a
thoughtful look. “He won’t try to use you

- 10 -
again, not in the same way as before, but
he’d have no problems getting information
out of you if he ever found you again, and
you’re too smart to stay stuck in a low-lev-
el Ministry job.

“You’d climb,” Black continued. “We al-

ready know you like power, and that you’ll
do anything-” Black’s lip curled. “-to obtain
it. And climbing would give you access to
all sorts of information that no one partic-
ularly wants in Voldemort’s hands.”

“So you’re cutting me out of the wizarding

world?” Quirinus said curtly. “Alienating
me… no Ministry, no Gringotts… Dumb-
ledore would never let me into the school…
What else is there?”

“More than you’d have if you were in Az-

kaban, or dead,” Black replied quietly.
“Mad-Eye?”

- 11 -
“Nothing suspicious,” Moody replied, limp-
ing back into the room. His magical eye
roamed over Quirinus, while the other eye
stayed perfectly still. Quirinus shivered.

“I suppose you don’t need anything else,

then?” Quirinus asked weakly. For all that
he wanted them to leave, he’d much rath-
er their company than the company of his
own thoughts.

“I’ve said everything I needed to,” Black

said.

“Should I expect another check-in?” Quiri-

nus asked him, a little sarcastically.

“Oh, yes,” Moody said, grinning rather

scarily. “See, I’ve retired, boy, and I’ll need
something to do, to keep me busy. We’ll be
getting to know each other well, I should

- 12 -
think.” For the first time since arriving,
Black smiled, or rather, smirked. “Until
next time!”

“Yes, good bye,” Quirinus said, rather

faintly.

­§

“Keep close, Hydrus,” Lucius said, with-

out looking back to see whether Hydrus
had listened or not, because he knew he
would have.

“I thought we were going to look at broom-

sticks,” Hydrus said, the faintest whing-
ing tone slipping into his voice.

“And we shall,” Lucius said, “right after I

finish my business with Mr Grotler.” Hy-
drus said nothing; Lucius glanced back at
him and saw his son’s attention had been

- 13 -
captured by a ragged wizard huddled be-
side a rubbish bin.

“How revolting,” Hydrus said, taking no

care to keep his voice down. “I think I’d
rather die before I lived like that.” The wiz-
ard’s face scrunched up, and he reached
into the pocket of his tattered robes, but
Lucius already had his wand out and had
hit the man with a non-verbal Stunning
spell. Hydrus looked delighted.

“This way,” Lucius said curtly, and Hy-

drus hurried after him.

Grotler’s Apothecary was a dingy lit-

tle shop, squeezed between a shop sell-
ing magical creatures where Lucius had
once purchased an Occcamy, and an even
smaller shop where one could pay to have
curses or enchantments placed on people
or objects. Grotler himself looked right

- 14 -
at home in the dim, cramped space of his
shop; he was a squat man, with one eye, a
hunched back, and rather lopsided smile.

Hydrus looked around at the ingredients

and phials that lined the ceiling-high
shelves.

“Don’t touch anything,” Lucius warned

him.

“Mr Malfoy,” Grotler wheezed, limping

toward him. “To what do I owe the plea-
sure?”

“I wanted to gauge your interest in certain

items that have come into my possession,”
Lucius said, procuring a list from his robes.
Grotler snatched the parchment out of his
hand and examined it.

“Ye’re scared of the raids,” Grotler said

- 15 -
knowingly. “Aren’t ye, Mr Malfoy?”

“That’s none of your business,” Lucius re-

plied, frowning. Scared certainly wasn’t
the right word, in any case. Concerned
was more appropriate, in his opinion. He’d
worked far too hard to get to where he was,
only to lose it because a nosy Auror discov-
ered a few poisons in his home.

His joke of a niece and her Auror partner

thankfully hadn’t found anything, but Lu-
cius had doubted she would be the last
Auror to try to investigate him. He shiv-
ered at the thought of McKinnon being
in charge of such a raid; she, he knew,
wouldn’t leave until she’d found some-
thing. Lucius intended to make sure that
there was nothing to find.

“What is your business,” Lucius contin-

ued, “is whether or not you’re interested

- 16 -
in any of those.”

“And if I’m not?” Grotler wheezed.

“I’m visiting Borgin next week,” Lucius

told him. “He’ll buy what’s left over… I
just thought, given that potions are your
field, that you might appreciate a chance
at some of the more… unique items.”

“Borgin’ll buy anything, without real-

ly appreciating it,” Grotler said, scowl-
ing through his grubby window at Borgin
and Burke’s. “It’d be a waste to see some
of these things end up with him.” Grotler
limped back to the counter to fetch a quill
and started to write on Lucius’ careful-
ly constructed list. Lucius curled his lip.
“There ye are.” Grotler thrust the list at
him. “I’ll take those off ye hands, if ye’d
like.” Lucius folded the list, taking care to
touch it as little as possible, and tucked it

- 17 -
into one of his pockets.

“A pleasure to deal with you as always,”

he said, as Grotler hobbled off to inspect
one of his displays. “I’ll drop by next
week.” Grotler waved over his shoulder.
“Hydrus,” Lucius barked, for Hydrus was
leaning over a fat, bubbling cauldron near
the back of the shop. “Come along.”

The pair of them left the shop and made

their way out of Knockturn Alley, and up
to Quality Quidditch Supplies. Hydrus was
almost bouncing by the time they arrived,
and had a smile on his face that somehow
reminded Lucius of Draco.

The thought of his younger son made Lu-

cius sigh. He’d hoped that the holidays
would be good for Draco, would allow him
to clear his head. Lucius had even asked
Dobby to stop Draco’s post; there wasn’t

- 18 -
much he could do about Draco’s choice of
company at school, but he could certainly
help it in his own home. And, he rather
hoped Draco would find he didn’t miss his
Housemates, and that he would find him-
self enjoying the pureblooded children’s
company, the way Hydrus did.

Draco was yet to say anything about his

letters, which Lucius took to be a good
sign, but other than a few brief exchanges
with the Nott boy, and the younger Green-
grass girls, Draco seemed not to care much
for his Slytherin peers, nor, Lucius had
to admit, did they seem to care for him.
Young Daphne Greengrass, who Hydrus
got on very well with, and Pansy Parkin-
son, who’d once been so close with Draco,
seemed to delight in teasing him. Or so
Narcissa had told Lucius one night, after
dinner.

- 19 -
Other than at meals, or on special occa-
sions, Lucius had hardly seen Draco all
holidays. Lucius had made no more ef-
fort to have contact with Draco, than Dra-
co had made to have contact with him. It
wasn’t that Lucius didn’t care for his son
– though he had been furious when he
learned about Draco’s misadventure down
the trapdoor with Potter – it was simply
that Lucius didn’t know what to do with
him, the way he did with Hydrus.

Hydrus was like a younger Lucius, like

the pureblood children Lucius had grown
up knowing. Draco was like… well, he was
like an odd mixture of Sirius and Regulus
Black, who Lucius had known at school.
Sirius had been far more antagonistic than
Draco ever was though, and Regulus had
been far more… well, far more Slytherin.
Lucius, as a Slytherin himself, from a long
line of Slytherins, had no idea what to do

- 20 -
with his Gryffindor son. Lucius sighed
again, and called Hydrus over to him.

“Do you think Draco would like a broom-

stick?” he asked.

“No,” Hydrus said. “He never comes flying.

Get him a book; all he ever does is read.
He’s almost as bad as that Granger, but at
least Draco’s only a bloodtraitor, and not a
mudblood.” Then he said. “Come and look
at the Nimbus 2001, Father, it’s incredi-
ble. The best broom available, I heard the
manager say. I expect I’ll need it, if I’m to
do my best at Seeker tryouts.”

“I expect you will,” Lucius agreed, though

he thought Hydrus could probably fly one
of those awful school broomsticks and still
make it into the team. Hydrus was a good
flier – better than Lucius had been at the
same age – and they’d spent a lot of time

- 21 -
training over the summer. He ought to get
in with no trouble at all.

Several thousand galleons later, Lucius

found himself in possession of a very smug
son, and a carefully wrapped broomstick.

“Father,” Hydrus said, sounding puzzled.

“The Leaky Cauldron is that way-”

“I’m aware, Hydrus,” Lucius drawled.

“Well, then where are we-”

“Florish and Blott’s,” Lucius replied.

“Why?” Hydrus asked. “We’re not doing

our school shopping until next-”

“You said Draco would prefer a book, did

you not?” Lucius said, and gestured for
Hydrus to keep up.

- 22 -
 §

“Draco,” Mother said, knocking firmly on

the door. “Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” Draco replied, hastily scribbling

his name down at the end of his letter.

“Go,” he whispered, pressing the letter

into his visitor’s hands. Kreacher vanished
with a pop, just as Mother opened the door
and strode in, frowning.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” she

said.

“About what?” Draco asked, making him-

self comfortable in his desk chair.

“The end of last term,” Mother said. Draco’s

jaw set, but he said nothing. “I- it pleases
me you believe your housemates are wor-

- 23 -
thy of such loyalty.” Again, Draco stayed
silent. “They must be remarkable people
to have earned such a response from you.”
Draco waited. “What does not please me,”
Mother said, her voice still light, “is the
way in which you chose to display that
loyalty.”

Again, Draco said nothing. He hadn’t gone

into specifics about what had happened
the night he went down the trapdoor, or
rather why he’d gone down there, but ei-
ther his parents had been told, or they’d
simply reached the right conclusions. Dra-
co didn’t know a huge amount about the
war; only that his father and Aunt Bella
had served the Dark Lord, and enjoyed
it, and then Potter had defeated the Dark
Lord and supposedly ruined everything.

Draco though, despite his upbringing, was

rather fond of Potter, and of Weasley and

- 24 -
Granger. And, he was rather fond of him-
self, and if the Dark Lord had managed
to get the Stone, Draco would have been
killed, along with his friends.

“Well?” Mother said. “Do you have any-

thing to say?”

“Not really,” Draco said. “It’s already hap-

pened. I can’t change anything.” Not that
I would, anyway, but she doesn’t need
to know that. Draco’s stomach wriggled
guiltily, but he dropped his eyes and tried
to look apologetic.

“You can’t change what’s happened,” Moth-

er corrected. “But what if something like
this happens again? Then what, Draco?
Will you put us all in danger, by being so
openly defiant toward the man that did so
much for us, back when he was in power?”
There was a faint tinge of distaste in her

- 25 -
expression, and Draco thought it might
have affected him more, had he not grown
used to it on his brother’s face. Still, this
was Mother.

“I won’t worry you like that again, Moth-

er,” he said. “I promise. I never meant to
endanger the family.” That part was true.
He’d understood his family mightn’t like
his decision, that they wouldn’t support
it, but he hadn’t thought that they’d be in
danger… only that he would be, because
the Dark Lord was trying to come back,
and the Dark Lord, everyone knew, didn’t
tolerate blood traitors. “I was only trying
to help-”

“Your housemates,” Mother said. “I know.”

“Not my housemates,” Draco mumbled.

“Oh?” Mother asked, arching a thin eye-

- 26 -
brow.

“My friends,” Draco said.

“Ah,” Mother said, slowly, giving him a

thoughtful look. “Your friends. I see.” Af-
ter a moment, she let out a sigh. “Might I
tell you something?”

“Of course, Mother,” Draco replied.

“Bellatrix is my sister, and I care for her

very much,” Mother said, almost sternly.

“Yes, Mother,” Draco said. “I know.”

“And it saddens me to see her in Azka-

ban,” Mother said, a shadow falling over
her face. “But the Ministry believes that
is where she belongs, and regardless of my
differences in opinion with the Ministry,
it would be foolish of me to contest that.

- 27 -
Far better that I say nothing, and go along
with them, than contest her imprisonment
and be prohibited from seeing her.” Moth-
er eyed Draco for a moment. “Do you un-
derstand me?”

Draco might not have, had he not been

subjected to that enlightening talk about
red and green with Dumbledore. Mother
meant to tell him he could go along with
people to keep them happy, without nec-
essarily acting to help them, or agreeing
with them.

She certainly had given him something to

think about, something he wouldn’t have
considered before because it seemed too…
sneaky, or something. If Draco disagreed
with people, he had a tendency to tell them
so, and Granger had once suggested that
was why he struggled to make friends.

- 28 -
But now, Draco had friends, and he want-
ed to go along with them, regardless of
what his family thought. He still cared
for his family, but they could be rather
narrow-minded about certain things, and
stubborn about others. His Sorting, for ex-
ample. Draco would have huffed, but Moth-
er was still there, watching him closely.

So maybe it’s my family that I go along

with to keep happy, the way that Moth-
er goes along with the Ministry…? Draco
frowned, thinking. That would mean his
loyalty was to his friends, rather than his
family… Or, it could mean my loyalty is to
me, and what makes me happy, and what
keeps me alive, Draco told himself, and
nodded.

“I understand,” he said slowly, thinking

that Mother probably hadn’t intended for
him to reach this conclusion.

- 29 -
“Very good,” Mother said. “So, no more
reckless adventures?”

“None,” Draco said, and then added silent-

ly, that you’ll know or worry about.

Mother’s expression flickered, and Draco

wondered if she’d guessed what he was
thinking. He hastily cleared his expres-
sion, the way he’d seen Severus do, and
then pasted an earnest smile onto his face.
Mother smiled back, and then hesitantly
reached out to clasp Draco’s hand.

“I’m glad,” she said, her voice shaking ever

so slightly. She glanced at the desk, where
Draco’s quill was steadily dripping ink
onto what had been a blank piece of parch-
ment. Mother’s expression tightened and
she released Draco’s hand and smoothed
her robes. “I see I interrupted you,” she

- 30 -
said quietly. She hesitated and then said,
“Are you writing to your friends?”

“If that’s all right?” he said.

“I can’t see why it wouldn’t be,” Mother re-

plied. Draco watched her face closely.

Not a lie, he thought, as Hydrus bellowed

for Mother from downstairs, and she
slipped out of Draco’s room. Perhaps she
doesn’t know? He discarded that thought
immediately. Father doesn’t keep secrets
from Mother.

“Are you taking it?” Remus asked, through

numb lips. A steaming coffee cup slid onto
the table in front of him. “Thank you,” he
managed, and their waitress, who would
usually have stopped to chat – they were

- 31 -
on friendly terms with her, because they
were at the Ministry coffee shop so often –
glanced between them and slipped away.

“If I’d decided, I would have said so,” Dora

said, apparently exasperated. “I wanted
to see what you thought before I commit-
ted to anything.” Remus said nothing for
a moment, busying himself with adding
sugar to his coffee. Dora made an impa-
tient noise. “Well? What do you think?”
Remus took a sip, then set his cup down.

“I think it sounds like a wonderful oppor-

tunity,” he said quietly. “Do you want to
go?”

“Like you said, it’s a fantastic opportu-

nity,” Dora replied, her hair turning a
sunny yellow, for just a moment. Then
it returned to bubblegum pink. “But I-
well- Mum and Dad are here, and all of

- 32 -
my friends are here, you’re here... And-
well, it’s so abrupt! I have a week to give
them an answer, and if I take it, it’s only
another week until I’d have to start! But
Scrimgeour and Mad-Eye and Charlus
Potter are the legends in our Ministry,
but they’re only that way because of El-
liot Pinard! And after they did this thing,
Potter and Scrimgeour both went on to be
Head Auror!” Dora had a dreamy look on
her face. “I mean, Pinard was an Auror
during Grindelwald’s time… the things he
must have learned- and Anastasiya Orlov,
and Ken Sato are huge names. I grew up
reading their biographies- well, not Sa-
to’s, but he’s only five years older than I
am, so-”

“You haven’t answered the question,”

Remus said quietly, taking another sip of
his coffee.

- 33 -
Dore murmured a thank you to the wait-
ress, who was back with a cup of tea, and
looked up. There was a very small, very
nervous smile on her face.

“I think that this might be something I’d

like to do,” she said, watching him closely.

Should have known, he thought. If it

wasn’t my- problem that ruined every-
thing, something would have. He watched
her fondly, from across the table. She’s
young and smart and talented. The of-
fer, for advanced Auror training was evi-
dence of that; Dora had told him only ten
of them, from all around the world had
made it in, and Dora was one of only three
in Europe that had been offered a place. If
that didn’t prove her talent, Remus didn’t
know what could. And then there’s me…
old – well, old compared to her - and poor
and broken, like I’ve been telling her for

- 34 -
years, now. I’m a school teacher, and only
because Dumbledore doesn’t listen to the
Ministry.

“It’s a wonderful opportunity,” Remus

heard himself say again, and forced a
smile at her from across the table.

“Isn’t it?” she almost squealed. “Strange

that it’s located in France, and not some-
where more central, but I suppose it is or-
ganised by Pinard, and he’s a bit old to be
moving too far these days…”

As Dora babbled on, excitedly, Remus

watched her with that same, forced smile
fixed carefully in place, while his world
crashed down around him.

- 35 -
Chapter 2:
A bad idea

Remus considered Grimmauld Place to be

his home more than he did his cosy but
lonely cottage. He’d spent summer there
last year, after the attack on his cottage,
and had spent the holidays – when he
wasn’t required to be at school – there as
well. And, while Remus wasn’t protected
by the Fidelius charm the way that Siri-
us and Harry were, Grimmauld still had
some of the best warding outside the Min-
istry, Gringotts and Hogwarts.

- 36 -
Dumbledore had requested that he stay
there for the summer as well, in the inter-
est of keeping him intact until the school
year began. Remus hadn’t understood
that, but Dumbledore had said something
about a curse, and then hadn’t elaborated,
because he feared a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Remus had decided to trust that Dumble-
dore had good reasons for requesting such
things and had gone along with it.

As such, Remus no longer rang the door-

bell when he arrived, nor did he send his
owl Strix, requesting permission to Floo
over. In fact, Sirius had given him a key at
the beginning of the summer break, which,
thanks to wands, was more formality than
anything else.

Remus stepped over the creaky floor-

board behind the front door, out of hab-

- 37 -
it, and hung his cloak up on the hooks in
the hallway. He could smell lunch cooking
downstairs, and he could hear thumping
upstairs. While it sounded like it was a
rampaging hippogriff, Remus knew it was
more likely to be Sirius and Harry.

Despite the news Dora had given him the

day before, and the full moon – which was
only a night away and certainly not help-
ing matters - Remus felt a smile tug at his
lips and swung himself up the first few
stairs.

The source of the noise became quickly

apparent; Remus had only made it to the
second floor when a black, furry shape tore
out of the library, with a larger, shaggier
black shape close behind it. Without slow-
ing, Padfoot made a soft barking noise that
sounded like a greeting.

- 38 -
“What did he do?” Remus called after them.

With all the ease of experience, Sirius

changed back into his human form, mid-
step. Harry, once he realised he was no lon-
ger being chased, trotted over to Remus,
tail wagging, and changed back, though
with less grace than Sirius had demon-
strated.

“Nothing,” Harry said, grinning. “Just

stretching our legs before tomorrow
night.” Sirius, who’d been grinning as well,
glanced at Remus, and his smile faded.

“Not this one,” Remus said tiredly. “I think

it might be- A difficult one, even with the
potion.” Sirius shot him a sharp look and
Remus pretended not to see it.

“Then I can help,” Harry insisted, obliv-

ious to that exchange. “I’ve had loads of

- 39 -
practice,” Harry said, before Sirius could
finish. “And I’m a bit bigger now-” That
at least, was true; Harry had grown a few
inches since school finished, though he
was still small compared to Padfoot and
Moony.

“You can still run straight under me,” Sir-

ius pointed out, echoing Remus’ thoughts.
“And Moony’s even taller.”

“I appreciate that you want to help,”

Remus said, and he did; with Dora leaving
soon, he’d take what company he could.
“But this isn’t the one to start with. Please
trust me on that.”

“The next one’s going to be back at Hog-

warts,” Harry pointed out, scowling.

“And as long as you don’t get caught sneak-

ing down to the forest, I don’t see that be-

- 40 -
ing a problem,” Sirius said.

“And have your homework done,” Remus

added. Harry and Sirius gave him iden-
tical, revolted looks, and then grinned at
each other. All three of them jumped as
Kreacher popped into being beside Harry,
and bowed, passing him a thick envelope
with his name on it.

“Kreacher can go back in the morning,”

Kreacher told him, and Harry nodded ea-
gerly and excused himself. Kreacher van-
ished before either of them could say any-
thing.

“What in Merlin’s name-?” Remus asked,

looking at Sirius, and Harry’s footsteps
thudded on the stairs above them.

“Perhaps Harry’s forgotten we have two

owls in the house.” Sirius didn’t seem over-

- 41 -
ly concerned, however, just a bit confused;
his attention was on Remus. “Everything
all right?”

“I was thinking I might lie down before din-

ner,” Remus said, shrugging. “I’m starting
to feel the moon.” Sirius pursed his lips,
but didn’t say anything else.

Odd, Remus thought, frowning.

“Is Marlene here for dinner tonight?”

Remus asked.

“She’s doing one of those stupid raids,”

Sirius sighed. Following the death of Saul
Croaker in the Department of Mysteries,
Fudge had set the Auror Department to
investigating all Ministry personnel and
Ministry associates for association with
dark magic. Sirius had said – more than
once – over dinners that summer, that he

- 42 -
thought it was a waste of time and mon-
ey. “Said she might stop by later, though.”
Sirius cocked his head. “Are we expecting
Dora?”

“No,” Remus said, and then wondered why

his voice sounded so defensive. He cleared
his throat. “She had other things to do.”

Sirius snorted, and left Remus alone on

the landing.

“Next time,” Padfoot said, putting a hand

on Harry’s shoulder. “I promise.”

“All right,” Harry muttered. He was dis-

appointed, but Padfoot had agreed he
could have Ron over – since Hermione was
staying with her grandfather in Norfolk,
and Draco was confined to Malfoy Manor

- 43 -
– to keep him company while Padfoot and
Moony were gone.

“Hurry up, Sirius!” Moony snarled from

downstairs. Ron, who was lounging in
Harry’s desk chair, didn’t appear to hear
it, but Harry did, and so did Padfoot, who
chuckled. “Stop laughing, you sadistic
git!” Padfoot sniggered – very quietly - and
Harry could hear Moony stomping around
downstairs. A glance out the window at
the moon told Harry that Moony’s trans-
formation wouldn’t be for another hour
and a bit, so they still had plenty of time,
but Moony usually like to be settled at his
cottage by then.

“We’ll be back in the morning,” Padfoot

said, taking a step toward the door.

“Finally!”

- 44 -
“Keep your hair on, Moony,” Padfoot called
out the door.

“Why?” came the scathing reply. “In about

an hour I’ll grow more hair than I know
what to do with! And claws, Padfoot, which
I will tear you apart with if you don’t bloody
hurry up!” Padfoot laughed, and Ron, who
it seemed had been able to hear that last
bit, didn’t seem to know what to make of
the situation. Harry just shrugged at him.
“Padfoot, I swear to- Ow!”

“Master Moony ought to know better,”

Harry heard Kreacher hiss. “What sort of
example is he setting, for Master Harry
and Mister Weasley? Kreacher only hopes
Master Moony doesn’t carry on like this at
school, oh yes, he does hope!”

“I’d better save him, I suppose,” Padfoot

said wryly.

- 45 -
“Who?” Harry asked. “Kreacher or Moo-
ny?”

“Not sure yet,” Padfoot said. “I suppose I’ll

find out when I get downstairs.”

“I got a letter from Draco yesterday,” Har-

ry said to Ron, as Padfoot left.

“What did it say?” Ron asked, looking in-

terested. They’d had three letters from
Draco that summer; the first had been
smuggled out by Tonks, when she and Au-
ror Prewett did one of the Ministry raids
on the Manor, explaining that Dobby had
been ordered to stop any owls going to or
from Draco.

The second letter had come a few days af-

ter Harry’s birthday, and contained letters
for Harry to send on to Ron and Hermione,

- 46 -
as well as a letter and a present for Har-
ry. Draco had given him the biography of
Fulbert the Fearful – a wizard famous for
being too afraid to ever leave his house –
in the hopes that Harry might “at the very
least learn that caution is a real thing”, as
well as a box of chocolate frogs.

The third, like the second, had contained

letters for Harry, as well as letters to send
on to Ron and Hermione, but yesterday’s
had only contained a letter to Harry.

Harry reached for the letter, which was on

his bedside table, and read it aloud to Ron.

“Potter,

Yes, I’m well enough, I suppose. Granger’s

been recommending books for me to read,
and Weasley’s last letter had a funny story
about his brothers and a gnome. I spent a

- 47 -
day with Severus earlier this week, which
was nice.

I’m glad there’s only a week and a bit un-

til we go back, and no, I don’t think it will
be possible for me to come and stay be-
fore term starts. Thank you for the offer
though.

If Dobby knew I was writing this, I’m sure

he’d want to send his greetings, so here
they are.

Enjoy the rest of your summer, and I’ll see

you on the train, Potter.

Draco.

Tell Weasley and Granger I say hello, but

that I can’t write; I think I can hear Moth-
er coming upstairs, and I don’t want her
to catch Kreacher!

- 48 -
“I know he’s his godfather and every-
thing,” Ron said, “but imagine spending
the day with Snape.” Harry, who’d stayed
in Snape’s office one night several years
ago – after Snape decided Padfoot was
an unfit guardian and kidnapped Harry
– could easily imagine such a thing, and
shivered. “What do you think?”

“About Snape?” Harry asked.

“About the letter,” Ron said patiently. “Do

you reckon he’s all right?”

“Hard to tell,” Harry said. “I wish we could

just ask him outright. Then, if he’s happy
he can stay, but if he’s not, he can stay
here for a day or two.”

“Maybe Kreacher could take us over?” Ron

suggested.

- 49 -
“The wards won’t recognise a house elf
coming in,” Harry said, shaking his head,
“but they’d recognise you, and I don’t think
Mr Malfoy would-”

“Right,” Ron said, looking slightly queasy

at the idea of facing Mr Malfoy. “Why not
you?”

“I lived there for a week, before Padfoot’s

trial, and Mr Malfoy had me in the wards,”
Harry said. “He might have undone that,
but he was convinced I was going to live
there, so, yeah, I might be able to get in.”

“You should go, then,” Ron said.

“But you want to see him too,” Harry said.

“We’ll go together, somehow.” Ron grinned,
and Harry grinned back, but then started
to think. “They have wards on their Floo,”

- 50 -
Harry said, sighing, “so that won’t work,
and I don’t know how to make Portkeys.”
Ron shook his head, to say that he didn’t
either. “I could get Padfoot to organise a
raid tomorrow,” Harry said thoughtfully,
“and see if he could take us along.”

“Would he?” Ron asked, hopefully.

“Probably not,” Harry admitted. Padfoot

would take them if it wasn’t a raid, but
Harry knew Mr Malfoy wouldn’t let them
onto the grounds, and that Padfoot couldn’t
be there if they tried to sneak in; Mr Mal-
foy would probably make sure it cost Pad-
foot his job, otherwise. “There’s always his
bike, but I don’t know how to drive it, and
I think he’d probably- Ron?”

“Harry,” Ron said, eyes wide, “I have an

idea.”

- 51 -
 §

“One foot after the other,” Sirius said,

“that’s the way, Moony.” Remus groaned,
but managed to stay upright as Sirius
guided – or rather, dragged – him out of
the fireplace. “Now, stairs, or a hover-”

“Walk,” Moony managed hoarsely. He

mumbled something else, that even Sirius,
with his years of experience interpreting
Remus-post-moon could only understand
“hover” and “be sick”.

Kreacher popped into the kitchen at that

moment, probably intending to start break-
fast. Remus swayed and covered his ears
against the noise of apparition. Kreacher
bowed to both of them, and then hurried
forward to help Sirius get Remus up the
stairs. It was then, that whispers caught
his attention, and then Sirius heard foot-

- 52 -
steps.

“Padfoot,” Harry said, appearing with Ron

at the top of the stairs. “Hi, Moony.” Remus
mumbled something that might have been
a greeting.

“Where are you off to?” Sirius asked, no-

ticing the rucksack on Harry’s shoulder.

“The Burrow,” Harry said, with a sideways

look at Ron, who smelled nervous.

Sirius opened his mouth to ask him what

exactly they were intending to do when they
got to the Burrow – he could smell Harry
hadn’t been lying about that – when the
doorbell chimed through the house. Remus
winced, and sagged. Kreacher struggled
with him for a moment, but Remus had
snatched his arm away to block his ears,
and Kreacher gave up and went to answer

- 53 -
the door.

“Is it all right if Draco stays over tonight?”

Harry asked, helping Sirius drag Remus
back to his feet.

“He’s coming over?” Sirius asked, sur-

prised; last he’d heard, Draco wasn’t even
supposed to write to Harry.

“Maybe,” Harry said, with an odd look on

his face.

“Of course he can, kiddo,” Sirius said, try-

ing to work out what Harry was thinking.
Unfortunately, his expression scrunched
up as Moony sank back to the ground, and
Sirius couldn’t read it any more. Ron hur-
ried forward to help too.

“It’s Professor Snape,” a snide voice said

from the door, “not Mister Snape.”

- 54 -
“Kreacher apologises,” Sirius heard
Kreacher say.

“Indeed. Is Black ab-” Sirius looked up and

saw that Snape had just spotted them;
Remus draped over Sirius, semi-conscious,
and Harry and Ron headed for the kitch-
en to Floo out. “Black,” Snape said flatly,
eyeing Remus with distaste. Thankfully,
though, he didn’t comment.

“I take it you’ve got a reason for being

here?” Sirius asked. “Harry, could you-”
Harry returned to lift Remus’ other side,
and Ron hovered at the top of the stairs,
obviously not sure whether he was meant
to help or not.

“I thought Potter might want a visitor,”

Snape said, and Draco’s blond head peeked
around the front doorframe, taking in the

- 55 -
odd scene before him.

“Malfoy?!” Ron said bemusedly, and Har-

ry made an odd noise from under Remus’
arm. Draco stepped into the hallway, look-
ing nervous, but relaxed when Snape ush-
ered him inside, and Ron hurried over to
him, asking questions.

“I was going to ask if you’d be willing to let

him stay for the night,” Snape said, “but it
appears you have your hands full as it is.”
His dark eyes drifted over Remus.

“Literally,” Draco added, his attention also

on Remus.

“Of course he can stay,” Sirius said. “Har-

ry already said he would be-” Ron choked
on what sounded like a laugh, and Harry
shrank as both Snape and Draco turned to
stare at him.

- 56 -
“How did you know?” Draco demanded. “I
didn’t even know until this morning-”

“I would also like to know,” Snape drawled,

and a guilty smell started to rise off Har-
ry. Ron continued to snigger, at least un-
til Snape turned to him and said, “Well,
Weasley?”

“Kreacher, can you put Moony to bed,

please? I’ll be up in a minute or two.” Siri-
us continued to support Remus, but didn’t
hold him, and when Kreacher and Remus
vanished, Sirius was left rubbing the
shoulder that Remus had been leaning on.

“Tea, Snape? Or breakfast?”

“Tea,” Snape said. He limped into the hall-

way and closed the door. Sirius glanced at
his leg. No longer was it the flesh-toned

- 57 -
one with the clunky foot he’d been given
at St Mungo’s. Whatever he was using
now let him wear a shoe, though he still
walked awkwardly.

“Is Draco going to the Burrow with you?”

Sirius asked Harry.

“No, we’re staying here now,” Harry said,

as he and Ron ushered Draco back up-
stairs. “We’ll be down in a bit for break-
fast!”

Draco didn’t know whether to be touched,

or mortified at the lengths that Potter
and Weasley had intended to go to, to vis-
it him. And, almost an hour after they’d
sat down in Potter’s room and told him
through laughter and – if Draco wasn’t
wrong – slight disappointment, what

- 58 -
they’d planned to do before Draco had
shown up, he still hadn’t decided.

He’d recovered enough, though, from his

bemusement, to form questions.

“Weasley, why do you even have a flying-”

“Shh!” Potter hissed, tilting his head at the

stairs that led down to the kitchen. Draco
wasn’t sure if it was Black, or Severus that
he wanted to keep their now-unnecessary
plan from, but fell silent anyway.

“-condition?”

“He’s alive,” Draco heard Black reply. From

his tone, Draco thought he might have
shrugged. “Beyond that, I dunno. I’ve cut
him off from the Ministry, and Gringotts-”

“Good,” Severus replied.

- 59 -
“But I don’t want to alienate him entirely,”
Black continued. “That seems… cruel.”

“I doubt you’d feel the same if it was you

that he’d maimed,” Severus replied. There
was silence, which Draco, Potter and Wea-
sley filled by coming down the stairs. Lu-
pin was there, staring into a cup of steam-
ing tea, and looking rather the worse for
wear, though better than he had when
Draco had arrived. Black looked up from
his conversation with Severus and then
went back to it.

“I was thinking about trying to find him a

job,” Black said.

“A job?” Severus asked flatly, while Potter

fetched juice, and Kreacher shooed Draco
and Weasley into chairs.

- 60 -
“Who are they talking about?” Weasley
asked.

“I don’t know,” Draco muttered back. Black

glanced in their direction, and Draco knew
he’d heard them, but didn’t seem inclined
to stop talking.

“-keep him locked up, we’re no better than

Voldemort-” Weasley twitched, and Dra-
co sat very still. Potter glanced over his
shoulder, apparently interested, and then
went back to finding glasses. “-was to him.
If we give him a job, that’s something that
he owes us-”

“He already owes us plenty,” Severus said.

“Without our interference-”

“I know,” Black said patiently, “but how

long do you think he’s going to sit and
brood? I think Dumbledore knew what he

- 61 -
was doing, giving him time to think, but
if he’s there too long, he’ll either become
desensitised, or the guilt will drive him
mad.”

“Speaking from experience, Black?” Sever-

us drawled.

“I did spent some time in Azkaban,” he

said, rather coolly. Silence fell between the
adults again, broken only by the chink of
Lupin’s teaspoon on the glass of the sug-
arpot.

“This job?” Severus asked, finally, and

if Draco hadn’t known better, he’d have
thought it was some sort of odd apology.
Severus never apologised though.

“I have a friend that works in Knockturn

Alley,” Black said. “I was going to talk
to her when we go to get Harry’s school

- 62 -
things.”

Potter set a glass of juice down in front of

Draco, and then flopped into the seat be-
side Weasley.

“And you’re asking me?” Severus said.

“I’d rather not make these sorts of deci-

sion alone.”

“Gryffindors,” Severus muttered, sound-

ing… well, not disgusted, but near to it.
Weasley sniggered, as did Potter. Black’s
expression twisted, in an obvious attempt
not to laugh, and even Lupin let out a rat-
tly chuckle. “What?” Severus snapped, and
then his eyes landed on Draco, wedged be-
tween Potter and Weasley.

“What’s wrong with Gryffindors, sir?” Dra-

co asked, taking great care to keep his ex-

- 63 -
pression blank.

“She told you, then?” Andy asked, look-

ing at Remus, who was standing on the
Tonkses doorstep, shielding his face from
the sun with one hand. Her expression
was odd; proud, and she had every reason
to be with Dora’s impending training, re-
lieved, because, despite being less preju-
diced than her family, dating a werewolf
wasn’t exactly what Andy would want for
her only daughter, and wary, as if she ex-
pected Remus to start shouting that Dora
couldn’t go.

“She did,” Remus agreed. “Is she here?”

“Nymphadora!” Andy called over her

shoulder, instead of answering. Remus
heard Dora growl from her bedroom, and

- 64 -
then stomping footsteps. Her face bright-
ened when she saw him standing there,
though, and Remus felt a smile tug at his
mouth.

“Oh, excellent,” she said. “I was about to

head over to Grimmauld… I didn’t think
you’d be up and about today. How are you
feeling?” Dora grabbed his hand and towed
him toward her room.

“I’ve been better,” Remus said tiredly, look-

ing around. Only half of her wardrobe was
strewn on the floor; the rest was sticking
out of her trunk, which was open on the
desk.

“Well, hopefully you’re doing better by

Monday,” she said. “It was a complete
pain, but I’ve organised a portkey for us,
so you can help me move some of my stuff
into the new place, and then I thought we

- 65 -
could have a bit of a wander around, get to
know the area and all- Are you okay?” she
asked.

“I just said I’ve been better,” Remus re-

minded her, arching an eyebrow.

“That’s not what I mean,” she huffed. Ca-

nis, Dora’s rather nasty cat, wandered out
from under her bed, bit Remus on the an-
kle, and then tore out of the room. “Mum
said I have to take him with me,” Dora
said gloomily.

“What do you mean?” Remus said, bring-

ing her attention back to whatever she’d
been trying to say before.

“I mean… and I’m not complaining!” she

added hastily. “But- I thought you’d have
wanted to talk about this more. I thought
you’d- I dunno, want to sort out logistics of

- 66 -
visiting, and what not-”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Remus said,

shrugging.

“Nothing at all?” she asked, her hair turn-

ing orange. Remus didn’t know if it was
confusion, or building anger, or something
else. “You’re completely happy with the
fact that I’m moving to France, and that
we won’t just be able to Apparate or Floo
to see each other?”

“I thought you wanted to go?” he said, puz-

zled.

“I do!” she cried. “I just- I can’t believe that

you haven’t said one thing against it! Even
I’ve had second thoughts!”

“Dora,” Remus said gently, taking her

hands. “Did you really think I would be

- 67 -
anything but supportive? If this is some-
thing you’d like to do, then I won’t hold
you back. It was always going to be like
this.”

“I was always going to go to France to

study under the world’s best Aurors?” she
asked flatly.

“No,” Remus said, chuckling. “Not that ex-

actly. But you were always going to move
onto bigger and better things. You’re
young and extremely talented, and I know
I’m not the only one who thinks that.”

“That’s sweet,” Dora said, smiling at him,

while her hair turned pale pink with em-
barrassment. Remus could feel his hands
growing clammy in hers.

“And it’s for exactly that reason, that I

think this is it,” Remus said. Her hands

- 68 -
twitched, and she looked up at him, frown-
ing.

“It?” she asked, in a very calm voice. Her

hair hadn’t changed colour at all, but
Remus thought that was due to a con-
scious effort on her part.

“Us, Dora,” he sighed. “I’ll only be hold-

ing you back… I can’t afford to buy an in-
ternational portkey every other week, and
once Hogwarts starts again, I won’t have
time, and if you’re coming back here at ev-
ery opportunity, then you won’t be proper-
ly focused on-”

“On my studies,” she said coolly. “Right.”

Her hair still hadn’t changed colour, and
it was starting to unnerve Remus. “Fine.
You can go then.” Her voice caught, ever
so slightly. “I need to pack.” Remus stared
at her. He was pleased that she wasn’t ar-

- 69 -
guing the point, but it was so unlike her
not to. “Are you expecting me to ask you to
change your mind?” she asked.

“It wouldn’t have been unexpected,” he

admitted. “But I’m glad you understand-”

“Oh, I understand,” she said, and her voice

shook, and just like that, her hair shaped
itself into angry red spikes. “I understand,
that for all you say that I’m talented, noth-
ing I say or do, will ever be enough to con-
vince you that you’re actually worth some-
thing.” She wasn’t shouting, but she was
shaking. Her eyes were very dark, and her
lips redder than usual. Remus half-expect-
ed her to grow claws. “Except now, it’s not
just you that you don’t care about, it’s me-”

“I care about you-” Remus said, stricken

that she could think that.

- 70 -
“If you did,” she said, “then you’d either
have begged me to turn the position down,
or you’d be telling me that we can make
this work. Instead you told me goodbye. I
want this- I want- us. But if you’re not pre-
pared treat it like it matters, and to fight
to keep it, then why the hell should I?”

“Dora,” Remus said, feeling his heart

clench.

“Go, Remus,” she said, and her voice was

so flat and cold, that Remus wouldn’t have
believed it was her voice if he hadn’t seen
her speaking. “I’m sick of forcing you to
stick around when you’d clearly rather be
elsewhere.”

Remus closed his eyes briefly, and left.

- 71 -
Chapter 3:
A chance meeting

Snape came to collect Draco early the next

morning, and Ron Flooed home shortly af-
ter they’d left. Remus couldn’t say he was
sad to see them go; much as he liked Har-
ry’s friends, the recent full moon and his
break up with Dora had left him want-
ing to keep to himself, and think things
through, both of which were far easier said
than done when there were three boister-
ous Gryffindors upstairs.

- 72 -
For the first time in a while, it was only
Remus, Sirius and Harry that sat down to
lunch; usually, one of them was absent, or
Matt, or Dora or Marlene were with them,
or one of Harry’s friends. And, for the first
time in a while, conversation didn’t flow
as freely as it usually did.

Remus was quiet, picking his bread to

pieces, and Sirius was sipping at his soup,
not speaking either; he knew what had
happened the day before and had tried to
talk about it, but Remus had asked him to
drop it, and, reluctantly, Sirius had.

“What day does Tonks leave?” Harry asked,

in that utterly oblivious, yet uncannily
spot-on way that he had. Sirius glanced
at his godson, and Remus could smell his
surprise and amusement. “Padfoot said
something about it a few days ago, but I
forgot to ask.”

- 73 -
“Monday,” Remus said.

“Oh,” Harry said. “Are you going on the

same day?”

“Am- going?” Remus asked.

“To France,” Harry said, as if he was daft.

Sirius was watching the entire exchange
with glinting eyes, and if Remus couldn’t
smell him and Harry, he’d have thought
that this was a planned ambush.

“No,” Remus said. “I go back to Hogwarts

on Thursday, though, to help Dumbledore
and the other teachers get ready for the
start of term.” Harry glanced at Sirius,
looking puzzled, then back to Remus.

“I don’t- Get ready? How are you supposed

to teach from France?” Sirius – the useless

- 74 -
git – didn’t say anything to help Remus,
just looked at him, as if he too was inter-
ested in hearing the answer.

“I’m not going to France, Harry,” Remus

said.

“But Tonks-”

“Dora and I have decided to end things,”

Remus said. What had been a thick slice of
bread, now resembled nothing so much as
a heap of crumbs. Remus glanced around
the table for something else to play with,
but nothing presented itself to him. He
clasped his hands instead.

“End things?” Harry asked. “Like- you

mean-?”

“We won’t be seeing much of each other,

any more,” Remus said.

- 75 -
“So you don’t love her anymore?” Harry
asked, and Remus saw his nostrils flare;
he was reading Remus’ scent.

“Of course I do,” Remus said.

“But- then why wouldn’t you keep see-

ing her?” Harry asked, cocking his head.
Remus looked to Sirius for help, but Sirius
had his eyes fixed on Harry, and was look-
ing decidedly proud. Triumphant, even.

“It’s complicated, Harry,” Remus said

tiredly. “You’re- when you’re a bit older-”

Harry scowled, but let the subject drop. He

stirred his soup, and then excused himself
a few minutes later. Sirius watched him
go, and then pushed his own chair back.
Remus waited for an ultimatum, but it
never came.

- 76 -
Instead, all Sirius said was, “All of this is
between you and Dora, and I can’t force
you to talk about it, or listen to me. But
for the record, I think that Harry’s got the
measure of things a lot better than you do
at the moment.”

“How are you holding up?” Dora jumped

and spun around, and Sirius grinned at
her. “Constant vigilance,” he said lightly,
stepping into the cubicle. Prewett wasn’t
at her desk, so Dora had used it to support
the box that held all of her books and po-
tions.

“I didn’t hear you,” she replied, flashing

him a smile. She opened a case file, flicked
through it, frowned, and then put it onto
Prewett’s chair. “And I- I’ve been better,

- 77 -
but I’m managing.” Sirius couldn’t tell if
that was true or not; Dora was a metamor-
phmagus, and so perfectly capable of mak-
ing him see only what she wanted him to,
while he was looking at her. She even had
some control over her scent. “How- How is
he?”

“He’s managing too,” Sirius said. He picked

up the sneakoscope Remus had bought
Dora a few Christmases ago, and bounced
it in his palm. Dora grabbed it and stuffed
it into the box. “Did you- Would you like
me to talk to him-”

“Thanks,” she said firmly, “for the offer,

but no. I think I made my own feelings
pretty clear, and if he wants to try to do
something about what I’ve said, I’d rather
he did it on his own, because he wants to,
not because you told him to.” Sirius could
only nod. “Thank you,” Dora said, and for

- 78 -
a moment, her scent wavered. Then, it was
calm again, and she glanced at him, then
at the book in her hand, which she lobbed
into the box on Prewett’s desk.

“Ow! Bad Dobby!” Draco, who was sitting

in the library, while Dobby dusted, looked
up. Dobby was, as far as Draco could tell,
doing nothing more than standing there.
The dusting had stopped, though; perhaps
that was it. Dobby grabbed a heavy book
off the shelf – Political Prowess And Ways
To Achieve It – and brought it down on his
bald head.

“Dobby!” Draco said at once. “Drop it!”

The book thudded as it landed on the car-
pet, and Dobby gave Draco a fearful look.
“Now pick it up, and put it away.” Dobby
trembled. “Are you all right?” Draco asked,

- 79 -
as Dobby returned the book to its rightful
place.

“Master Draco mustn’t trouble himself,”

Dobby squeaked, hopping down from the
stool he’d been perched on. “Dobby is- Dob-
by will be bringing Master Draco some-”

“No,” Draco said, lowering his own book.

“Stay here.” Dobby hunched over, and gave
the door a nervous glance. “What were you
trying to do before?”

“Draco is- is friends with Harry Potter,”

Dobby whispered, “Dobby knows Dobby
has no right to- that Dobby mustn’t- But
Dobby has to, Master Draco.” Dobby’s
green eyes filled with tears, and Draco
pulled a silken handkerchief out of his
pocket and passed it to him. Dobby let out
a wail. “Kind Master,” he said. “Such a
kind Master, Master is being too good to

- 80 -
Dobby! Poor Master! Poor Harry Potter!”

“What?”

“Harry Potter is in danger,” Dobby whis-

pered, wiping his nose on the handker-
chief. “And Master Draco too!”

“From what?” Draco asked anxiously.

“From- from-” Dobby made a strangled

noise and ran for the shelves again, this
time managing to hit himself with a cook-
book once before Draco ordered him to
stop. “Dobby mustn’t- Dobby is a bad elf!
Bad Dobby!”

“Is it the Dark Lord?” Dobby quivered.

“How do you know, anyway?” Dobby’s eyes
widened. “Dobby, I order you to tell me!”

“Harry Potter must not go back to Hog-

- 81 -
warts,” Dobby whispered. “And Master
Draco must be careful!”

“Dobby-”

But Dobby had vanished, and Draco

couldn’t find him, nor did Dobby come
when Draco called him. Draco returned
to his reading in a bad mood, resigned to
having to wait until Kreacher next visited
to get the news to Potter.

“Is Moony upset with me?” Harry asked

Padfoot, as they walked through the Three
Broomsticks, toward Diagon Alley.

“No,” Padfoot said firmly. “He’s just got a

lot to think about at the moment.”

“Are he and Tonks really-”

- 82 -
“For the moment, yes,” Padfoot sighed.
“Hopefully, though, Moony can pull his
head out of his- Arthur!” Padfoot lifted a
hand in greeting, and Mr Weasley, who’d
just tumbled out of the Floo in front of
them, beamed and made his way over.

They were soon joined by the rest of the

Weasley family; Mrs Weasley bustled
over, with Ginny hanging off her arm. Gin-
ny tried to detach herself, to come and say
hello, but Mrs Weasley patted her hand
and turned around to scold Ron – who it
seemed had ripped his jeans on the way –
so Ginny grimaced at Harry instead.

Fred and George appeared after Ron,

took one look at Ginny and their mother,
and then George seized Fred’s hand, and
held him in place, while Fred tried loudly,
and dramatically to get to Harry. Padfoot

- 83 -
chuckled at them, but didn’t turn away
from his conversation with Arthur.

“-where you are!” Fred cried, reaching out.

“We’ll come to you, Harrykins!”

“Oh, but look,” George said. “Percy’s just

got here. Hello, Percy!” Percy brushed soot
off his robes, and frowned at the pair of
them.

“George,” Percy said.

“I’m not George,” George said. “I’m Fred.”

“You’re George,” Percy said, in a long-suf-

fering voice, and then spotted Harry and
Padfoot and came to greet them. Fred and
George imitated his pompous voice behind
his back, and so Harry had a hard time
greeting him with a straight face. Pad-
foot, though, to Fred and George’s delight,

- 84 -
returned Percy’s hello in a grave voice,
and then winked at them when Percy had
turned away.

Eventually, Mrs Weasley got them all mov-

ing, and soon, they were in Diagon Alley,
wandering among the shops. Gringotts
was their first stop, but they had to sep-
arate for a bit because there wasn’t room
for them all in a single cart.

They regrouped again, on the steps out-

side, and were joined – quite by chance
– by Hermione and her family. Harry
knew that she’d been intending come to-
day, but had assumed the Grangers would
have wanted to come early, and miss the
crowds. A second glance revealed they’d
done just that; Hermione and her parents
were already carrying bags full of robes
and books and potion ingredients.

- 85 -
Hermione was excited to see them all, but
as soon as Mr Weasley had claimed her
parents’ attention, she asked Harry and
Ron about Draco, and how he was going.
So, while they shopped, Harry and Ron
told her the story about their almost-ad-
venture to fetch him, before he’d shown
up, and Hermione’s reaction was exactly
as Harry would have predicted it to be.

“You what?!” she asked, mouth falling

open.

“It was a good idea,” Ron said, a little

sheepishly. Hermione arched an eyebrow.
“Well, maybe not good, but it was the best
thing we could come up with- What’s go-
ing on there?”

Ahead of them, Mrs Weasley stopped and

pressed a hand to her heart, and Ginny
turned around and made a face at Fred

- 86 -
and George.

“Fancy that,” Mrs Weasley said, turn-

ing around to face them all. She sounded
rather breathless, and her cheeks were
pink. “Gilderoy Lockhart has a signing
today-” The Weasley children – even Per-
cy – groaned, and Mr Weasley grimaced
at Padfoot, who was mouthing Lockhart’s
name, looking thoughtful.

“Who’s Gilderoy Lockhart?” Harry asked,

and Hermione gave him an incredulous
look.

“Gilderoy Lockhart,” Hermione said, as if

Harry should already know, “is-”

But Harry quickly found out, before she

could say any more; as their group neared
the bookshop, a hand reached out and
seized Harry’s arm. All he saw was a

- 87 -
flash of lilac fabric, a glint of white teeth,
and got a scent of a rather overpowering,
vaguely floral cologne, before he was being
pulled toward the shop. He reached for his
wand, panicking, but before he could do
even that, Padfoot was there, prising the
other man off him.

“I’ll thank you not to manhandle my god-

son,” he said coldly, and glared at the pho-
tographer who’d descended on them.

“I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstand-

ing,” the man who’d grabbed Harry said,
with a charming smile. The photographer
lingered a few steps away, camera poised.
Harry moved behind Padfoot. “I’m Gilde-
roy Lockhart-”

“And?” Padfoot asked. Ron cheered, and

was quickly told off by Mrs Weasley. Lock-
hart’s face had turned a funny pink co-

- 88 -
lour. “Even if you were the Minister you
wouldn’t have the right to go about seizing
people’s children.”

“But he’s not your child, is he?” Lockhart

said, beaming. “He’s Harry Potter! You,
my dear sir, can’t hope to claim him. He be-
longs to us all; fame’s funny that way.” And
with that, Lockhart seized Harry again
and this time, the camera clicked, and
several people applauded. Harry blinked,
blinded by the flash, but could make out
Padfoot talking the twins. “Come to buy
my books, haven’t you, Harry? Well, I’m
flatt- Oh!”

The strangest expression crawled over

Lockhart’s face, and he rubbed at the front
of his robes. Then, he sent an angry look at
Padfoot, who was steering Harry back to
the safety of their group. Appearing puz-
zled, Lockhart glanced to Harry’s left, and

- 89 -
Harry followed his gaze to see Fred and
George grinning at each other, while they
tucked their wands away.

“Did they just-” Harry asked Padfoot, who

grinned and replied in a low voice.

“I’m an Auror,” Padfoot said. “I can’t very

well go around hexing gits, much as I’d
like to.” Harry grinned. “If I say a spell out
loud, though, and someone else happens
to cast it… well, I’m hardly responsible,
am I?” Ron and Hermione were trying to
get to Harry, but Mrs Weasley seemed to
be talking to them both about Lockhart,
who Harry’d decided, he didn’t like much
at all.

“Are you all right?” Ginny asked, as they

slipped past Lockhart and into Flourish
and Blotts. She’d finally detached herself
from her mother and was watching him

- 90 -
closely. “You look-”

“I’m all right,” he said. “Blinded by the

flash from that stupid camera, but-”

“Really, your eyesight’s no great loss,” a

familiar voice drawled. A wry smile crept
onto Harry’s face. “Potter. She-Weasel.”

“Malfoy,” Ginny said, glancing at Harry.

When she saw he’d smiled at Draco, she
offered him a smile as well.

“What was that?” Hydrus, Harry didn’t

have a smile for. He strutted up behind
Draco, and sneered at them both. “You
just can’t help yourself, can you, Potter?
Every day you don’t make the front page
is a failure for you, isn’t it?”

“Hydrus-” Draco began, looking annoyed,

but Ginny beat him to it.

- 91 -
“He didn’t ask for that,” she snapped.
Hydrus glanced at Ginny, who held her
ground, scowling.

“Got yourself a girlfriend, have you, Pot-

ter?” he asked snidely. Harry smelled em-
barrassment on Ginny, as well as anger,
and wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“It’s more than you’ll ever get,” Ron said,

as he and Hermione came to join them,
“if you don’t stop being such a git.” Draco
looked delighted when Hydrus’ face turned
a nasty, blotchy pink colour.

“Now, now.” Harry’s heart sank as Mr

Malfoy strode up behind his sons. “Just
because you like mudbloods, doesn’t mean
you need to act like them.” Mr Malfoy’s
eyes flicked to Hermione, whose face had
turned white. Ginny and Ron were turn-

- 92 -
ing steadily red.

“Father!” Draco said, looking angry, but

Hydrus put a hand on his arm, and shook
his head.

“The same goes for you, Potter,” Lucius

said. “You could have had a far better life
than the one you ended up with.” This
time, his eyes flicked to Padfoot, who was
at the counter with Mr Weasley, buying
school books. Harry’s hands clenched into
fists. “A pity things turned out the way
they did.”

“Pity’s not the word I’d use,” Harry replied.

Lucius’ lip curled.

“Malfoy.” Then, Mr Weasley was there, his

arms laden with Ron and Ginny’s school
books. Ginny took some from him and put
them into her cauldron, where they’d be

- 93 -
easier to carry, and Ron tucked one into
the bag with his new robes. “Shall we
go and wait outside?” Mr Weasley asked
them, ignoring the Malfoys.

“Yes,” Hermione started, but was cut off.

“Not used to a roof over your head, Wea-

sley?” Mr Malfoy asked. Mr Weasley’s
ears turned red, the same way Ron’s did
when he was angry. And Ron was angry
too; his knuckles were white, and next to
him, Ginny’s eyes were slits. “Can’t say
I’m surprised. You always were an embar-
rassment to wizard-kind.”

“Fath-”

“Draco, I said be quiet!” Mr Malfoy

snapped. Mr Weasley gave Draco a sad
look. “What?” Mr Malfoy asked coolly. “Do
you feel sorry for my son?”

- 94 -
“Yes, actually,” Mr Weasley said. “It’s a
sad day when a boy’s the one reminding
an adult how to behave in public.” Draco
flushed, and Mr Weasley gave him anoth-
er sad, but kind smile.

“And sadder still when a man with so many

children has so little clue about parenting
that he thinks it’s a child’s place to do the
teaching,” Mr Malfoy replied, after a long
pause. He picked up one of Ginny’s school
books and turned it over with a look of dis-
gust. “Second hand. Is that really the best
you can do, Weasley-”

“-in tonight. Thank you. Yes, bye.” Padfoot

stepped up behind them, flanked – funnily
enough – by the Weasley twins. He had
Harry’s books balanced in one arm, and
his wand in that same hand. His other
hand was wrapped around his Sidekick,

- 95 -
which he snapped shut. Mr Malfoy’s eyes
lingered on it. “Is there a problem here?”

“None at all,” Mr Malfoy said smoothly. He

dropped Ginny’s book back into her caul-
dron and made a show of wiping his hand
on his robes. Then, he put the other hand
on Hydrus’ shoulder, and led him to where
Mrs Malfoy was looking at books.

“I need to talk to you,” Draco said in a low

voice. “Dobby-”

“Draco!” It was not Mr Malfoy calling for

him, but Mrs Malfoy.

“Send Kreacher!” Draco whispered, his

shoulders slumping. He looked at Ron,
Ginny and Mr Weasley. “I’m- sorry about
my-”

“You’re not responsible for them,” Mr

- 96 -
Weasley said kindly. Mrs Malfoy was ap-
proaching now, and Draco glanced at her,
nervous.

“See you at school,” Draco said miserably,

and went to join his mother before she
could join them.

- 97 -
Chapter 4:
Old and new

“What’s this?” Percy asked, rummaging

through Ginny’s cauldron of school sup-
plies. Ginny, who’d been lying on her bed
and doing her best to ignore him, glanced
over.

“What’s what?” she asked, scowling at him.

Percy had lost one of the books he bought
at Diagon Alley, and decided it must have
been mixed up with hers. Ginny knew for
a fact that Fred and George had it, and

- 98 -
were changing the title from N.E.W.T.s
For Newcomers to N.E.W.T.s For Nitwits,
but Percy wasn’t allowed to know that she
knew that, so she was keeping her mouth
shut.

“A diary?” Percy said. Ginny glanced over

her shoulder at him and saw he was frown-
ing. “Did Father really buy you a diary?”

“Apparently,” Ginny said, “if it’s in my

cauldron.” He had her attention now,
though; she hadn’t asked for a diary, nor
had Dad said anything about it, and she
thought she would have remembered if
a diary was on the booklist. It was plain
looking; small, and bound in black leath-
er, and looked as if someone had owned
it beforehand, but that wasn’t surprising.
Ginny thought she liked it. And, as she
reached that conclusion, Percy made an
odd noise and waved it at her.

- 99 -
“Can I have this?” he asked.

“What?” she asked. “No, it’s mine.”

“Ginny, do you know who this used to be-

long to?” Percy asked seriously. His eyes
were awed behind his horn-rimmed glass-
es.

“No,” she said, and then sighed, because

Percy was obviously dying to reveal the
diary’s previous owner. “Who?” she asked.

“Tom Riddle,” Percy said, with the same

reverence that Ron would save for a Chud-
ley Cannons player.

“Who?” she said again.

“He was a Prefect, Ginny,” Percy said,

clutching the diary to his chest. “Years

- 100 -
and years ago, but still. He won an award;
I’ve seen his trophy!” His eyes narrowed.
“This was obviously meant to be mine. Fa-
ther must have given it to you by accident.
I wonder what he’s written in it.” And just
like that, Percy’s eyes were bright again.

“It’s mine,” Ginny said slowly, watching

her brother’s face.

“I just said,” Percy said, rather crossly,

“that there’s obviously been a mistake-”

“You’ve already got a diary, anyway.”

“But-”

Ginny stood up and marched over to Per-

cy. She plucked the diary out of his hands;
for all that Percy was older than her, and
bigger, he knew if he tried to fight her over
it (which Percy was too proper to even try)

- 101 -
that it wouldn’t end well. If she didn’t win
outright, then she’d have Fred and George
help her steal it back later.

“Now,” she said, tossing the diary down

onto her cluttered desk, “out.”

“But-” Percy obviously wanted to keep

looking for his other book, the one about
N.E.W.T.s, but Ginny had had enough of
him for the afternoon.

“Mu-” Ginny started. Percy baulked and

scurried out, but not without one last look
at the diary.

Odd, Ginny thought, closing her door be-

hind him. She and Percy usually got on
well, or at least, as well as Percy got on
with anyone.

She went back to the list she’d been mak-

- 102 -
ing - at Mum’s insistence - of things to
wash and pack ready for Hogwarts next
week, but only managed to write anoth-
er two things before her gaze flicked to
the diary. Warily - for no good reason -
she picked it up. It was warm, which she
hadn’t noticed before, but she shook her
head and put that down to Percy holding
it before. A flick through its pages told her
it was empty, which she thought was odd;
surely Riddle ought to have left a tally of
house points, or a list of homework to do,
or his girlfriend’s name, or something.

Still, she thought, I won’t complain. Noth-

ing of Riddle’s in there meant that there
was more room for her to write... though
Ginny wasn’t entirely sure what to write.
She’d never had a diary before.

Ginny dipped her quill in ink, and hovered

over the first page. Dear diary seemed like

- 103 -
a stupid, girly way to start, and Fred and
George would tease her if they ever found
out.

Hello, she wrote instead, and then sucked

on the end of her quill while she tried to
work out what to write next. Next thing
she knew, though, her ink had dried and
vanished into the page. Ginny’s eye nar-
rowed, and she tried again with her Hello.
Before she could finish writing that, how-
ever, another hello had appeared on the
page, in handwriting that wasn’t Ginny’s.

Out of habit, she glanced at her door, then

at her window, half expecting to see Fred
and or George watching her and laughing.
She couldn’t see them, though, or hear
them stifling laughter, and she turned
back to the diary, frowning and the page
which was blank once more.

- 104 -
Then, as if written by an invisible hand,
more words appeared: Who are you?

Ginny’s eyebrows shot up, and she scowled

at the words, which were fading into the
page again.

Who are you? she wrote back, and under-

lined it with a huff. It seemed like a stupid
thing to ask a diary, but then, she’d never
imagined herself asking a diary anything,
so she nodded to herself, and waited.

I asked you first, came the reply.

I don’t care, Ginny wrote back. The next

reply didn’t come as swiftly. Ginny wait-
ed, half wanting a response, half hoping
that this was all a strange dream.

My name is Tom Riddle.

- 105 -
The Prefect?

Ah, Tom Riddle’s handwriting said. You

must be a Hogwarts student, then?

No, Ginny wrote.

The page remained blank well after her

answer had sunk into it. Ginny guessed
the diary - or Tom Riddle - was trying to
work out how she knew him.

My brother is a student, though, Ginny

scrawled, relenting. He knew your name.

You’ve still not told me yours.

Ginny Weasley, she wrote, somewhat re-

luctantly.

It’s a pleasure to meet you, came the swift

reply. Ginny found herself reassured by

- 106 -
that. Not everyone was like Mr Malfoy
and sneered at the name Weasley. I don’t
think I’ve ever met a female Weasley be-
fore.

I’m the first one, she replied. For a long

time, anyway. It was in the paper. There
was another long pause.

May I ask, Ginny, what year it is?

1992.

Ah. There was a pause, and Ginny didn’t

know what to say. So long...

What do you mean? Ginny couldn’t help

but ask.

I’m afraid I have to go now, Ginny, Tom

Riddle’s diary said at last. Will you talk to
me sometimes, though? Perhaps again in

- 107 -
a day or two?

Ginny didn’t answer, but she didn’t think

the diary needed her to. It didn’t seem
to be dangerous, and it had been polite
enough. Besides, she wanted to know how
Tom Riddle had made his diary talk, and
what it needed time to think about. Did
diaries even know how to think?

“If it’s too hard, Sirius, I-”

“I’m all right,” he said, and he was; he

spent a moment reliving the memory of
Lucius Malfoy’s face when he’d seen Sir-
ius approaching in the bookshop, and
then Sirius’ mental Patronus was glowing
and he couldn’t feel the cold anymore. Or
the Dementors’ cold, anyway; it was still
windy, and water still crashed against the

- 108 -
rocks and splattered their faces and robes.

Marlene didn’t look to be coping quite as

well; despite the fact that they were only
on the shore of Azkaban, stepping off the
boat, she was pale, and her eyes dim.

Dawlish, who was behind Marlene, also

had a haunted look about him, as did Dale,
while Brown looked grim, but composed.

Since Fudge had ordered the Aurors to in-

vestigate all Ministry staff and associates,
Azkaban had been under the guard of De-
mentors, and cleared Aurors; the usual
Azkaban guards had been removed from
their positions until it could be proven
they had no questionable connections, and
no particular association with dark magic.

Sirius looked up at the prison with criti-

cal eyes, tossed another happy memory to

- 109 -
his patronus Padfoot, and led the way up
the rocky path. He heard Brown and Dale
muttering behind him, and could smell
their doubt; he thought they were expect-
ing him to start sobbing, or run back to the
boat at any moment. With a wry smile, Sir-
ius brushed his fingers against the back of
Marlene’s hand, and kept walking.

“Afternoon,” Blackburn called out to them

when they reached him and Wellington,
who were stationed under the archway
that was the entrance to Azkaban.

“Afternoon,” Brown said back. Wellington

nodded to Sirius, and smiled at Marlene.
“How does this all work?”

“First shift for all of you?” Blackburn’s eyes

flicked over their faces and then he nod-
ded and waved a hand at the damp steps
behind him. “Finch, Yaxley and Prewett

- 110 -
are outside the guardroom, waiting. Pair
off once you’re there, and split off into the
blocks of the prison, and one pair in the
main building to oversee visitors. You re-
member your way around from training?”
Marlene, Dale and Brown all nodded.
“John, you’ve been here enough times to
know your way around, and-” Blackburn
seemed to notice Sirius for the first time.
“-Black.”

“I remember bits,” Sirius offered. And he

did; his mind, where his patronus prowled,
glowing, looked like the prison they were
walking in now.

Blackburn didn’t seem to want to make a

fuss - either about Sirius being too famil-
iar, or doubting his ability to find his way
around - so he nodded.

“You’re here to make sure the prisoners ar-

- 111 -
en’t causing any trouble. If they are, settle
it youselves, or call for Dementors.” Out of
the corner of his eye, Sirius saw Marlene
glance at him, but he ignored her. “We’ve
got Proudfoot and Ackerly on meals and
medications, so expect to see one or both
of them between five and eight. Next shift
starts at eleven, and then we’re free to
go home.” Blackburn looked delighted by
that prospect.

About half an hour later, Sirius and Mar-

lene were wandering up a dim stone cor-
ridor, in one of the higher security parts
of the prison. Sirius - for all that everyone
gave him skeptical looks when he men-
tioned it - was very capable when it came
to handling Dementors, and he’d handle
this part of the prison better than, say,
Dale; she, along with Brown, had jumped
upon the opportunity to stay in the visit-
ing and questioning building.

- 112 -
“Sirius, look,” Marlene said, catching his
sleeve. Sirius did look. The cell was emp-
ty, which wasn’t unusual - he’d noticed
only one in about three cells were occu-
pied - but what made it stand out was its
colour; every brick, every bar, every bolt,
and even the toilet within the cell were
gleaming silver in the dim light.

“Greyback’s cell,” Sirius murmured.

“And they say Dung did this?” Marlene

asked, doubt clear in her voice.

“So they say.” Sirius wasn’t sure what he

thought; on the one hand, Dung was too
self-interested to go to Azkaban for any-
one else... on the other hand, he wasn’t
sure Dung had the talent or the desire to
go after Greyback. And there was the fact
that Dora always frowned when the topic
arose, but remained tight-lipped whenev-

- 113 -
er Sirius or Remus tried to talk about it.

Sirius shook his head and then kept walk-

ing. Marlene’s foosteps echoed behind him
for a moment, until they were level again.

She was sticking closer to him than Siri-

us thought she would have, had they been
patrolling a normal prison, but she was
still the one to ask, “Are you all right?”

“Will you believe me if I say yes?” he asked,

with what he thought must have been an
odd smile.

“No,” she replied, and her mouth twitched.

Sirius would have kissed her, or taken her
hand or something, but there were eyes
watching them from cells further up the
corridor.

“And how about you?” he asked.

- 114 -
“I’ve- I can think of things I’d rather be do-
ing,” she said, after a pause, and then of-
fered him a weak smile. “But really, Sirius,
it can’t be easy for-” Sirius only just heard
her, and when she realised he wasn’t pay-
ing attention, she cut off. Then, her hand
was - very lightly - on his arm, and she
was looking past him into the cell they’d
arrived at.

It was just as he remembered, save for the

lock, which had probably been replaced af-
ter his escape.

Small - and Sirius remembered he’d once

known the exact number of paces it was
from one wall to the other - with flakes of
rust on the bars, and what seemed to be
the same tattered blanket he’d had when
he was its occupant. And the walls were
as he’d left them too; covered with small,

- 115 -
etched tally marks. He heard Marlene
swallow beside him.

Sirius was surprised how little he felt.

Not sad, not angry, not even numb. It was
like looking at something from a dream. A
dream he’d used to protect himself, from
the Dementor’s Draught, and from the
Dementors themselves, that awful night
before Sirius’ trial.

“This was mine,” Sirius said, gesturing

to it. He didn’t know what else there was
to say, or if he should have spoken at all.
Marlene’s eyes were tracing the marks
on the walls, and then something let out
a squeak from behind them. Sirius spun
around, lifting his wand. There, huddled
under a blanket, in the cell opposite the
one that had once been Sirius’, was Peter,
or at least, what was left of him.
His collarbone protruded sharply above

- 116 -
his grey, prison shirt, and his eyes - still
that same, watery blue - sat above sunken
cheeks. His fingers were more claw-like
than ever, with his spindly fingers, and
long, ragged nails. His hair was greasy
and hung around his shoulders in colour-
less lumps. Sirius was sure his prison at-
tire had fit when he arrived, but now, his
clothes seemed to have swallowed him.
There was nothing left of Peter that re-
sembled the chubby, loyal boy he’d been
in fifth year.

The only thing about him that didn’t look

like it could be blown away by a strong
wind, was his Dark Mark, which rest-
ed dark and clear on his skinny forearm.
As Sirius watched, Peter scratched at it,
whimpered, and then tried to cover it with
his sleeve.

“Sirius,” Marlene said, and her hand was

- 117 -
in his and she was tugging gently, but Sir-
ius shook her off and took a step forward.

Peter seemed to see them for the first time,

and started to rock.

“You’re not real,” Peter whispered, shak-

ing his head, and staring at the floor,
then at Sirius again. “You’re not real.” He
rubbed at his eyes, blinked, and, when
Sirius didn’t move, burst into noisy tears.
Sirius couldn’t feel anything but shock,
and, amazingly, pity. He should hate the
man, or at least be disgusted - next to him,
Marlene had curled her lip, and her hand
was hovering near her pocket, where she
kept her wand - but he just couldn’t. This
was the man that was the reason Lily and
James were dead, the man who had framed
Sirius and would have killed Remus and
Harry that Halloween, if things had gone
to plan. Sirius had wanted him dead. Yet

- 118 -
Sirius looked at him in his tiny cell, watch-
ing him pull at his hair, and shiver under
the thin blanket and thought it was pun-
ishment enough; everything Peter had
done was to make sure he survived, and
he had, but while he was alive, he wasn’t
living. “You aren’t!” Peter cried. “You-”

“Oh, shut up, Wormtail!” a petulant voice

called, from further down the row.

“So Tonks moves to France today, right?”

Harry asked. Next to him, was the begin-
ning of a letter to Draco.

“Right,” Remus said tersely, sipping his

tea. Sirius was off at Azkaban, doing Au-
ror things, and so there was no one to dis-
tract Harry. An idea occurred to Remus.
“Did you want to invite Ron or Hermione

- 119 -
around?”

“No,” Harry said, pouring milk into his ce-

real. “Ron’s gone to work with Mr Weas-
ley today, and Hermione’s parents like to
know at least a day in advance.”

“What did you want to do today, then?”

Remus asked.

“Dunno,” Harry said. Kreacher set a plate

of eggs down in front of Remus, and, deem-
ing them both provided for, announced he
was off to do some shopping. Harry called a
cheery goodbye after him, and then turned
to Remus. “Are you still going to Hogwarts
on Thursday?”

“I am,” Remus said, sprinkling salt over

his breakfast. Harry frowned, and Remus
found himself wishing he could swap morn-
ings with Sirius, even if it meant time in

- 120 -
Azkaban.

“And you and Tonks still aren’t talking?”

Harry continued.

“Harry,” Remus sighed, “can we not talk

about this, please?”

“Why?” Harry asked. He sniffed the air for

a moment. “You don’t smell upset.”

“I’m not upset,” Remus conceded. “I just-

would rather not talk about her.”

“Don’t you miss her, though?” Harry asked.

Remus stabbed his eggs, not prepared to
admit how much. “I do,” Harry continued.

“Why don’t you date her then,” Remus

grumbled. “Obviously she doesn’t mind
age gaps.”

- 121 -
“Ew,” Harry said, wrinkling his nose. That
drew a reluctant chuckle out of Remus.

“That was a joke,” he added. “If you tried,

I’d drag you outside on a full moon and eat
you.” Harry grinned.

“What if someone else tried to date her?”

Harry asked. Remus’ stomach curled un-
pleasantly. “They could, you know, if
you’re not around.” Remus sat very still,
and when he thought he was calm enough
to breathe again, and move, he saw that
he’d bent his fork. He hoped Harry hadn’t
noticed. “Would you eat them too?”

“No,” Remus managed to say. Harry’s

smile widened in a way that reminded
Remus of Sirius.

“Liar.”

- 122 -
“I’m not lying.”

“Are too,” Harry said, and Remus saw his

nostrils flare. Remus gave him his best
withering look, one that he’d used on James
and Sirius when he’d had to be Remus-the-
Prefect, but it didn’t work any better on
Harry than it had on them. Remus won-
dered why he’d thought it would.

Not for the first time, Remus cursed Sir-

ius for even telling Harry that Dora was
leaving; Harry, being Harry, might not
have even noticed, otherwise, and Remus
wouldn’t be forced to endure this sort of
inquisition at nine on a Monday morning.

Remus was aware of Harry’s eyes watch-

ing him as he stabbed his eggs again.

You picked this, he told himself. You

chose this, and now you have to live with

- 123 -
it. Remus swallowed and pushed his eggs
away, suddenly feeling far less hungry
than he had before.

You chose this, Tonks told herself, as she

looked around at her empty flat. The only
things in it were her trunk and rucksack -
which contained just about everything she
owned - her broomstick, the clothespeg
that had been her portkey, and her cat,
who’d just been released from his wicker
carry-basket by Dad.

“It’s nice,” Dad said, dodging Canis’ swipe.

Canis went straight to the windowsill and
glared down at the people on the street
outside. “Better once you get some fur-
niture, but still.” He glanced over at her,
and she smiled weakly at him, grateful
that he’d taken the day off so that he could

- 124 -
come with her, since Remus wouldn’t.
“Dora,” Dad said, lifting a strand of her
hair, which had gone a deep blue-purple.
He pulled her into a hug, and rubbed her
back, and then stepped away and pulled
something out of his pocket. It was a photo
of her, Mum and Dad, taken at the Dad’s
work’s Christmas party, last year. He set
it on the mantel, and Tonks swallowed the
lump in her throat.

“Thanks, Dad,” she said. He smiled at her,

and looked around.

“Did you need help settling in, or-”

“I’ll be all right,” she said.

“We’re only an owl away,” he said, hug-

ging her again. “And once you’re all set-
tled, we’ll talk about Christmas, and see if
you want to come home, or if you want us

- 125 -
here.”

“I’ll write,” she promised.

“You’d better,” Dad said, chuckling. “Oth-

erwise you’ll have your mother on your
doorstep.” Tonks’ shudder wasn’t just the-
atrical. “Good luck on your first day, not
that you’ll need it.” He winked at her, and
Tonks found herself smiling. “Love you,
Dora.”

“Love you too, Dad.” Then he was slipping

out the door of her flat, careful not to let
Canis, who was lingering, escape. Tonks
clicked her fingers at him, but he hissed
at her and went to hide in the bathroom.
“Stupid thing,” she muttered, and then set
to work; she’d brought all sorts of things to
transfigure into furniture, and the sooner
she finished, the sooner she could have a
shower and go to bed.

- 126 -
Chapter 5:
The cup and the cafe

“Greentooth’s a little monster, like al-

ways,” Matt said, following Remus into
his cottage, “but Silverear… I think Hog-
warts is changing him.”

That was enough to pull Remus’ attention

away from his mantra of You chose this,
now get on with things.

“How so?” he asked.

- 127 -
“He’s… quieter. Spends an awful lot of
time doing his holiday homework in his
room, while Greentooth sits on Greyback’s
throne and shows everyone how she can
make a teacup dance.” He rolled his eyes.
“Debbie’s eyes just about fall out every
time Greentooth lifts her wan-”

“How is Debbie?” Remus asked. He propped

his briefcase up against the couch, and
then went to open the kitchen window. He
hadn’t been past his cottage in months,
and the whole place smelled musty.

“Very much at home,” Matt said, shrug-

ging. He flicked his wand at the dusty
armchair and then flopped down into it.
“She talks to me, sometimes. Still thinks
I’m in your pocket, but that’s her prob-
lem, not mine.” Remus pursed his lips, but
he’d long ago stopped caring what Debbie
thought of him.

- 128 -
“How long are you home for?”

“Probably just a week or two,” Matt said,

grimacing. “Once Greentooth goes back to
school, I’ll try to get rid of some of the stu-
pider ideas she’s managed to put into the
others’ heads.”

“Are you still working at the pub?” Remus

asked.

“Apparating to and from the camp is a

pain, but yeah, most nights.” He’d man-
aged to get himself a job at the Leaky
Cauldron, with Tom, like Remus had done
when he was about the same age. The
Leaky Cauldron got all sorts of patronage,
and so werewolves didn’t stand out there
quite as much as they would in the Min-
istry, and knowing that a werewolf – even
one as cheery as Matt – was in the vicin-

- 129 -
ity, would certainly discourage fights and
make people think twice about refusing to
pay. A sly grin slid onto Matt’s face. “Tom
says I’m better than you, too.”

“Of course he does,” Remus said indul-

gently. Matt scrunched up his nose.

“He does. Says I actually talk to people,

and I’ve taken to wearing gloves for when
people pay with sickles, so...” Remus let
Matt prattle on, while he cleaned the ket-
tle with a charm, and then set it to boil.
He opened the cupboards to look for tea-
cups, and paused. Sitting innocently on
the shelf, was a navy blue cup with the
words D.M.L.E. Auror Division on it.

After being attacked in his bedroom al-

most this time last year, Remus had tak-
en most of his things – and Dora’s things,
which had accumulated from the number

- 130 -
of times she’d stayed – and moved them to
Grimmauld. Clothes, books, and Remus’
photographs had all been moved. Mugs
hadn’t been on either of their lists of pri-
orities, so there Dora’s mug sat. Remus
couldn’t look away from it, couldn’t help
thinking of the small hand that had once
clasped it, think of the lips that had once
sipped from it-

“-listening to me?” There was a thump,

which was Matt rapping his knuckles on
the coffee table.

“Tea?” Remus asked him. Matt watched

him for a moment, then shook his head
and made his way into Remus’ tiny kitch-
en. In the same way as one might look for a
nasty spider, he peered into the cupboard,
spied the mug, then shook his head again.

“You poor sod,” he said, patting Remus on

- 131 -
the shoulder. Remus quickly grabbed two
teacups – one that had been his father’s,
and another that had come in a ghastly
floral set that his Aunt Catherine sent him
for his twenty-fifth birthday – and then
slammed the cupboard shut.

He didn’t think about Aunt Catherine,

who lived in France now. He didn’t think
about who else lived in France now, and he
definitely didn’t think about the owner of
the mug’s lips quirking up into a smile, or
moving around her usual friendly ‘wotch-
er’ or pressing against his own.

“-make me say it, aren’t you?” Matt sighed.

Remus blinked and looked at him again.
Matt groaned. “I’m sure this is absolute-
ly pointless, because I reckon Sirius must
have said something, but you’re still here-
”

- 132 -
“Sirius hasn’t said anything about it,”
Remus said stiffly. “Harry’s been the one
on my back, oddly.” Matt grinned. “And
I’d appreciate it if you didn’t finish that
sentence. I’m not in the mood to hear it.”

“Fine,” Matt said, putting his hands up.

“Fine. Sorry I even brought it up.” The pair
of them drank their tea in silence. Remus
– unable to help himself – spent it staring
at the cupboard that held his mugs, and
suspected Matt knew that, and kept quiet
accordingly.

“Shall we?” Remus asked, when he’d ban-

ished their empty cups to the sink.

“Sure,” Matt said, drawing his wand.

“Bathroom cabinet?”

“I was thinking the wardrobe might be

better,” Remus said. “Boggarts prefer dry

- 133 -
places.”

Diary?

Please, Ginny, call me Tom, came the in-

stant reply. Ginny wondered if it had been
waiting for a response. The thought un-
nerved her a little, at least until she real-
ised that it was a diary, and really, what
else did it have to do but sit around and
wait for her. How have you been?

That, she supposed, was a normal enough

question for a diary to ask - if she discount-
ed the oddity of a diary being able to talk
- and she dipped her quill in ink and scrib-
bled a response.

I’m good, she wrote. Thanks. After a mo-

ment of consideration, she added, What

- 134 -
did you have to think about?

I was wondering how you came to have

possession of my diary.

I’m not sure, she admitted. It came with

my school things.

But you aren’t a student. Ginny had the

strangest sensation that the diary was
amused.

No, I’m not. The diary was silent, and Gin-

ny felt, abruptly, sorry for it, and decided
to end her little game. I start next week.

Ah, came the response. Tom’s response,

Ginny reminded herself. Do you hope for
Gryffindor, Miss Weasley?

I think so, she replied. All of my family

have been there, and Harry, and Malfoy,

- 135 -
and Hermione.

A Malfoy in Gryffindor?

I’m a girl Weasley, Ginny reminded him.

Indeed. The diary – no, Tom, Ginny thought

– was blank for a few moments.

Tom Riddle lounged in his black leather

armchair, staring at the writing on the
pages of the diary in his lap. He wasn’t
sure if young Ginny was stupid, or care-
ful, or maybe it was something else alto-
gether driving her simple answers. Still, if
she wouldn’t open up easily about herself,
at least she’d offered her friends’ names.
Tom could work with that.

- 136 -
“Hogwarts is safe, right?” Draco asked. Be-
fore him, rested a pensieve, which Severus
was having him add his memories to. Un-
like Occlumency and Legillimency, pen-
sieve magic was simple, and also safe for
children to use. Draco would be thirteen
in a year, and Severus had moved on to
teaching him how to separate individual
memories.

“Measures have been taken after last

year,” Severus said, looking at his godson
over the top of his lesson plans. “I assure
you, you will not even be able to blow your
nose without a staff member being aware
of it.”

“Even Potter?” Draco asked.

“Even Potter,” Severus assured him. “Lu-

pin, will, no doubt, be on the case.” Dra-
co looked troubled. “Has something hap-

- 137 -
pened, Draco?” Draco was silent, staring
down at the pensieve. Then, he put his
wand to his temple, and drew it away,
murmuring the charm to extract a mem-
ory. He lowered it into the basin in front
of him, and then out rose Dobby, the Mal-
foy’s house elf.

Severus listened to the elf’s warning, and

the questions that echoed around him in
Draco’s voice, and then steepled his fingers
and leaned back in his chair. The memory
sank back into the pensieve.

“A bit fuzzy,” Severus said, waving a hand

at the memory. Draco ignored that.

“I wondered if Father had asked him to

say that, that thinking Potter’s in dan-
ger might make me stay away from him.”
Draco spoke lightly, almost earnestly, but
Severus thought he was irritated. “But if

- 138 -
that was the case, Dobby would have found
a way to let me know, like he always does.
So then I thought maybe Father didn’t ask
Dobby to say that, but that would mean
that Potter really is-”

“It’s a worrying prospect,” Severus agreed.

“Have you contact Potter?”

“I saw him at Diagon Alley-” Severus rolled

his eyes; Draco had told him about Lucius
and the Weasleys. “-but with everything
happening, I didn’t have a chance. I told
Potter to send Kreacher, but he hasn’t yet,
or maybe I’ve been out-”

“I will contact Black,” Severus said. Draco

looked relieved. “And I shall speak to the
Headmaster not,” he added, when he saw
Draco looking wary, “about details, but
simply about security.” Draco nodded. “I
will also suggest you corner your odd lit-

- 139 -
tle elf, and get any answers you can from
him.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco said. He stared at the

pensieve for a moment. “We wouldn’t be
able to stop by Potter’s later, would we,
sir?”

“That would depend,” Severus said, “on

whether or not you make suitable prog-
ress.” He scratched out the second prac-
tical lesson in the first week of his plan
for the fourth years; he would ease his
way back into lessons with the Weasley
twins, he decided. It was decidedly harder
– though not impossible – for them to blow
things up in a theory lesson. “Does that
sound reasonable?”

Draco didn’t answer; he was, it seemed,

thoroughly engrossed in the pensieve, with
the aim of making ‘suitable progress’.

- 140 -
 §

Tonks was entirely sure it wasn’t healthy

for her to be sitting at a small café in
France, looking like Remus. At least,
though, she wasn’t deluding herself into
thinking it was normal. She sighed and
glanced at the small note hidden behind
her newspaper.

On it, was the address of the rundown

café opposite the one she was sitting at,
today’s date, and the time (about two min-
utes from now, according to Tonks’ watch);
she’d had to hand her Sidekick in when
she left Britain, and hadn’t realised how
much she’d miss it, both for using it to
communicate with her colleagues, and for
other everyday things.

She thought the note was probably from

her new program, but she didn’t actually

- 141 -
know and Mad Eye would organise a port-
key to France to strangle her if he found
out she’d just gone to coordinates that had
been pushed under the door of her flat one
night.

During her training, she’d got notes like

her current one from Mad-Eye, and shown
up, only to be ambushed by his rubbish
bins, or stunned and told ‘constant vigi-
lance’. It was paranoid, perhaps, but she’d
thought it best to arrive without fanfare,
and even observe for a while.

Remus was a particularly good disguise;

for one, his was a familiar shape, both
because she knew him so well, but also
because she’d been him, when they all
thought Sirius was evil and she’d worked
for Malfoy. For another, his face didn’t
stand out, and anyone that looked too
closely would be dissuaded by the tired,

- 142 -
grumpy expression she was wearing. And,
last but most importantly, it was one of
the only disguises she could do, since her
hair refused to turn any other colour than
the one it currently was.

She sipped her tea again, and pretended to

read the paper. It was all in French, and
she hadn’t learned any translation spells
– or better yet, learned French – and so
she was really only looking at the photo-
graphs.

A fat pigeon landed on the table next to

hers, and hopped to adjust its balance;
clenched in its little claws, was a piece of
bread crust. Tonks sighed and stirred her
tea, trying not to think about whose hands
she was using to do so. Instead, she looked
at the other café again.

Tonks was still waiting five minutes later,

- 143 -
when a small, olive-skinned man slipped
out of the breakfast crowd and made his
way over to the café. Tonks watched, in-
terested, as he glanced at a piece of paper
that Tonks was willing to bet was identical
to her own, and then disappeared inside.

She waited, but he didn’t re-emerge.

A hand landed on her shoulder. Tonks

jumped and spilled her tea all over the
newspaper, but her wand was in her hand,
which was what mattered.

“Easy,” said a warm voice, “we wouldn’t

want to frighten the muggles.” Tonks swal-
lowed and glanced up at a young, Asian
man, that – given his strong resemblance
to the photographs in the books and arti-
cles he’d appeared in – could only be Ken
Sato.

- 144 -
“Sorry,” she muttered, dabbing her news-
paper in her tea before it could drip onto
her clothes.

“Hardy or Tonks?” he asked.

“Erm, Tonks,” she said, offering him her

hand. “It’s great to meet you, really, sir,
I-”

“Have you seen the others?” he asked.

“A man-”

“Ah, so you saw Sayed,” Sato said, pleased.

“You might as well come in now; Anasta-
siya’s bringing Vengerov, and if she’s got
him, they can track the rest down.” He
moved so that she could stand. The pigeon
took off, almost clipping Tonks’ head with
its wing.

- 145 -
“Filthy things,” Sato said, wrinkling his
nose.

“Do you mind me asking… how did you

find me?” Sato didn’t seem to mind.

“Tracking spell,” he said. “On the note

with the details.”

Tonks wanted to kick herself; she’d checked

it for poisons, and dangerous spells, and
for portkey properties, but not for tracking
spells. She just followed him to the café
in silence. Inside, there were a few dusty
booths and a small counter, attended by a
bored looking teenager.

“Colbert,” Sato said, and the boy nod-

ded, waving them through to the next
room. This one was nicer. The seats were
clean and looked cosy, and light streamed
through a window that Tonks suspected

- 146 -
was like the enchanted ones at the British
Ministry.

“Sit, please,” Sato said, putting a hand on

her shoulder for just a moment, and then
he was over with a man with a silver beard,
who Tonks knew was Elliot Pinard.

Four seats were occupied; one by Pinard,

one by the man Tonks had seen earlier,
one by a pretty, dark haired woman, and
one by a curvy blonde girl, who blinked a
few times, then offered her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Tonks,” she said, in

what was clearly an American accent. She
smirked. “I won’t call you Nymphadora; I
know you don’t like that.”

“Nymphadora sounds like a woman’s

name,” the other woman said disdainfully.
Her English was very good, but she had a

- 147 -
slight accent that made Tonks think she
was Italian.

“Call her Tonks,” the American said help-

fully, before Tonks could.

“Tonks,” the dark haired woman said. She

offered her hand, and Tonks leaned over
to take it. “Carla Marino.”

“Tarek Sayed,” the olive-skinned man

said, and smiled a little nervously.

“I’m Joanna,” the American said.

“Wotcher,” Tonks said, a little nervous-

ly, and looked at the other man to let him
know he was included in her greeting. The
others all looked confused, but before they
could say anything, the pigeon from the
café hopped in, still clutching its bread
crust. Sato’s lip curled, but before he could

- 148 -
do anything, the pigeon had pecked said
bread crust, and bloomed into a scrawny
young woman.

“Hey,” she said, and then grinned at Sato.

“I’m the filthy thing-” Sato had the grace to
look abashed. “-but you can call me Beth.
I’m from Australia,” she added unneces-
sarily.

“I’m Joanna, that’s Tarek, and Carla, and

Tonks.”

“Hey,” Beth said again, and flopped into

the nearest chair. Tonks, who was still
standing awkwardly, went and sat oppo-
site Tarek. Joanna babbled on excitedly,
and Beth chewed her fingernails while
they waited for the rest to arrive. Tonks de-
cided she should stop looking like Remus,
and assumed her normal features, though
she couldn’t do much about the sandy hair.

- 149 -
Tarek gaped at her.

“Polyjuice?” Carla guessed.

“I’m a metamorphmagus,” Tonks said. She

gave herself a pig’s nose, and then a duck’s
bill, and then remembered that Sato and
Pinard were in the room and stopped at
once, embarrassed.

“We’re going to get on well, I think- Tonks,

was it?” Beth said, grinning. Tonks gave
her a tiny smile back.

Anastasiya Orlov – the third program co-

ordinator – arrived about ten minutes af-
ter Tonks and Sato had. With her, seemed
to be the rest of the group.

Everyone stared around awkwardly for a

few moments, and then Joanna spoke up,
introducing all of those already there, to

- 150 -
the newcomers.

“Eldar,” she said, pointing to a tall man

with white blond hair, “Luc,” a red haired
man with a thick beard, “Asha,” a stern
looking woman with dark skin, “and Wan.”
The last was an Asian man with an eye-
brow piercing.

“Oh,” the woman named Asha said, star-

ing concentratedly at the side of Joanna’s
head. “A seer. How nice.” Tonks watched
the exchange with interest. Asha’s expres-
sion twitched for just a moment, and then
Joanna frowned. Seeming satisfied, Asha
swept over to a chair and sat down. “Of
course,” she said in response to nothing,
and the red haired man – Luc – smiled at
her and sat as well.

“Well,” Orlov said loudly from the front of

the room, “if you lot would settle, we can

- 151 -
move on, I think?”

Remus locked the door to his office at Hog-

warts and then flicked his wand to open
the battered briefcase in the corner. It
opened, and out stepped the Boggart he
and Matt had spent an hour trying to find
in his semi-abandoned cottage yesterday.

Remus had expected it to look like the

moon, or to be Harry or Sirius hurt or
dead, or Dora dead, or- well, something
else awful. The last thing he’d expected it
to be, was the mug.

Dora’s navy and white D.M.L.E. mug,

which, Remus thought, was about as tame
as a boggart could get. He could only imag-
ine how much Sirius would tease him if he
knew Remus’ greatest fear was a piece of

- 152 -
cylindrical porcelain.

Remus decided not to think about that for

the time being. A quick Riddikulus and
some wrestling later, the Boggart was back
in the briefcase, and Remus was perched
on the edge of his desk, thinking.

Maybe the Boggart’s broken. He snorted.

Why a mug? Does it think I really can’t
stand to look at something she’s left be-
hind? In fact, aside from me, it’s the only
thing she left behind; the rest was all
packed up to go with her.

Remus went to bed still thinking on that,

and when he final drifted into uneasy
sleep, it was only for an hour; then, he was
awake again.

“You picked this, now live with it,” he said

aloud, into his empty room.

- 153 -
Then why, a little voice in the back of his
head murmured, sounding – which, at this
stage, didn’t surprise Remus at all – like
Harry asked, is your greatest fear that
that mug is the only thing you’ll ever have
left of her?

- 154 -
Chapter 6:
The Defence professor

“Thanks, Molly,” Padfoot said, putting a

hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I sent Remus a
letter, but I never heard back, and I can’t”-

“Not to worry, Sirius, dear,” Molly said in

a kind, but distracted way; Ron was call-
ing down the stairs, asking if she’d seen
his tie. “Harry’s always welcome.”

“Mum?” This time, it was one of the twins,

not Ron.

- 155 -
“Excuse me,” Mrs Weasley said, sighing.
She headed for the stairs, then called over
her shoulder, “Arthur’s outside getting
the car ready, Harry, if you’d like to put
your things in before the rush.” Padfoot
checked his Sidekick.

“I’ve got to head off,” he said grimly. “I’m

sorry, Harry, I really am; I asked not to
work today-”

“It’s all right, Padfoot,” Harry assured

him. Padfoot sighed.

“Try to get me on the mirror tonight? I

want to hear about the feast, and about
the first years.”

“Sure,” Harry said.

“And tell Moony we’ve respected his space

- 156 -
for long enough-” They really had, Harry
thought; it had been four days and they’d
heard nothing. “-and that if he doesn’t
send me a letter – even if it’s just a signed
bit of parchment – that I’ll be popping out
of his fireplace for a chat.”

“All right,” Harry said, grinning.

“And be careful; hopefully Dobby’s just

paranoid, but after last year-”

“I know,” Harry said, seriously. He took a

deep breath and mustered a smile. Padfoot
gave him a hug, and then vanished into
the fireplace. “I’ll be back for you,” Harry
told Hedwig, who clicked her beak at him,
but was probably pleased her cage would
be carried properly, instead of balanced on
his trunk.

Harry did take Mrs Weasley’s advice; he

- 157 -
towed his heavy trunk out into the Bur-
row’s garden and Mr Weasley helped him
lift it into the car. A few, gently probing
questions from Harry revealed that it was
indeed the same car Ron had proposed
they use to visit Draco, and Harry was still
smiling to himself by the time the Weasley
children started to bring their trunks out.

Ron appeared with Scabbers’ swinging

cage in one hand, his trunk in the other,
and what appeared to be both Fred and
George’s brooms draped over his shoul-
ders. “What are you grinning at?” he asked.

“The car,” Harry said, relieving him of the

rat.

“Harry, your owl’s still in the kitchen,”

Ginny said, out of breath, and struggling
with her trunk.

- 158 -
“I’ll swap you?” Harry offered, and she
smiled gratefully and passed the trunk
over. “Do you want me to take that, as
well?” he asked pointing at the slim book
in her hands.

“No,” she said, dancing out of reach, with

the book clasped firmly in her hand.
“Thanks.” And then she turned and ran
inside to get Hedwig.

“Did I say something?” Harry asked.

“Nah,” Ron assured him. “It’s her diary;

she doesn’t let anyone near it.”

“Right,” Harry said, thinking of the like-

lihood of keeping a secret diary while liv-
ing in the same house as Fred and George.
Ron seemed to read his mind, though.

“George tried,” Ron said. “Then Ginny

- 159 -
stole something from their room and the
three of them were in there negotiating
for about an hour.”

“What’d she take?” Harry asked, amused.

“Looked like blueprints for a shop,” Ron

said, shrugging. “They’re probably try-
ing to work out a secret way into the joke
shop in Hogsmeade, or something.” Harry
snorted.

“Right,” Mrs Weasley said, stepping out

into the garden with her handbag. “Ron,
Harry, Percy-” He was already in the car.
“-Fred- no, sorry, George-”

“Ginny,” Ginny announced, carrying Hed-

wig out of the house. Harry noticed Hed-
wig was – very happily – crunching on an
owl treat. “And Fred’s just looking for his
broom-”

- 160 -
“I had his broom; lazy git made me carry it
for him!” Ron said.

“Quiet, Ron,” Mrs Weasley said, ushering

Ginny into the front seat. “George, go and
get him, please. Boys, in you go, that’s it.
Do you have enough pebbol, Arthur, dear?”

“Petrol, Molly,” Mr Weasley replied pa-

tiently. “And yes, plenty.”

A few minutes later, the twins came back

out and clambered into the back seat be-
side Percy, who sighed but didn’t look up
from his book.

Despite the fact that they’d left with plen-

ty of time, the traffic in London was aw-
ful and Mrs Weasley wouldn’t let them
– to the displeasure of everyone else – fly
to speed things up. They made it to the

- 161 -
King’s Cross with only a few minutes to
spare once they’d parked and unloaded,
and then George dropped his wand in the
middle of the station and changed the co-
lour of a sign.

None of the muggles noticed, thankful-

ly, but Mrs Weasley, stressed that they
were late, and apparently convinced that
George had done it on purpose, marched
both twins through the barrier herself.
Percy strode through after her.

“Quickly,” Arthur said, gesturing to Harry

and Ron, and then, with a hand on Ginny’s
trolley to help her steer it, went through
the barrier.

“Together, I reckon,” Ron said, giving the

station clock a grim look; they only had a
minute.

- 162 -
“I bet,” Harry said, as they started toward
the barrier, “that we’ll get the worst seats-”

And then that was all he could say because

the front of his trolley had hit wall, in-
stead of passing through, and then Harry
toppled forward, knocking Hedwig’s cage
over. Next to him, Ron was sprawled on
the ground, clutching his head. All around
them, people were staring.

“What the-”

“Bloody hell!” Ron had his hand pressed

against the stone barrier, and was staring
at it in horror. Harry didn’t bother touch-
ing it; it had felt solid when his trolley hit
it. He picked up Hedwig, who was screech-
ing and flapping her wings in her cage.
Ron was righting Scabbers, who’d already
gone back to sleep.

- 163 -
“Sorry, shh,” Harry said, trying to pat her
with a finger. She bit him. Scowling, he
set the cage atop his trunk, and followed
Ron away from the barrier in the hopes
that people would stop pointing. “What do
we do?”

“Dunno,” Ron said, looking worried. “But

we’ve missed the train.” Harry tried to
think; Padfoot was on duty in Azkaban,
and even if he had his mirror, probably
couldn’t help them anyway. Moony wasn’t
answering his post, Tonks was in France,
Marlene was working too, or she’d have
taken Harry to the station…

“Harry,” Ron said, “if we can’t get through,

do you think Mum and Dad can get back?”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Harry said. “Why

don’t we go and wait by the car?” In a min-
ute or so, hundreds of parents and rela-

- 164 -
tives would be coming back through, and
Harry didn’t like their chances of finding
Mr and Mrs Weasley amongst them all.

“The car,” Ron breathed. “Harry, we can

take the car to school!”

“Then what?” Harry asked. “They’d have

to come and get it, wouldn’t they?” Ron’s
face went blank, and then slightly green.
No doubt he was imagining his parents at
the school, and trying to explain it.

“What, then?” Ron asked. “Unless you’ve

got a car-”

“Kreacher would take us,” Harry said,

“only I can’t call him to the middle of a
busy train station.” He almost offered to
Apparate them himself, but he hadn’t ap-
parated in a while, and didn’t trust him-
self not to splinch himself or Ron. And that

- 165 -
didn’t solve the problem of their pets and
luggage. Same went for Harry’s broom,
which could carry him and his trunk, but
not Ron, and not through London where
muggles might see.

“How far to yours?” Ron asked.

“Twenty minutes, but we’ve got trunks,

and I’ve got Hedwig-”

“Maybe we could take the car there,” Ron

said.

“Or a bus,” Harry said. “Only I don’t have

any muggle- Ron, the bus!”

“Sitting with all your friends, She-Wea-

sel?” Draco asked, poking his head into
the compartment.

- 166 -
“You’re alone too,” she pointed out.

“Not anymore,” he said. “As long as you

don’t mind?”

“No, sit,” she said at once. Draco dragged

his trunk and Caesar’s cage into the com-
partment. “Your owl’s lovely.”

“My owl hates me,” Draco said flatly, and

he did; Draco rarely used him, because he
so rarely wrote home, and so Caesar spent
most of the school term sulking in the owl-
ery. “Where are the others?”

“I assumed they were off somewhere,”

She-Weasley said. Her expression was
one Draco knew well; that of a person
who cared but was trying not to. “I expect
they’ll come by. Maybe.” She bit her lip
and glanced past him into the corridor.

- 167 -
She was right in some ways; Granger ap-
peared with her trunk only a few minutes
after Draco, chatted with them both for a
bit, and then asked after Potter and Wea-
sley. She-Weasley shrugged, but looked
worried instead of offended. Draco was
feeling very uneasy; he’d had Dobby hov-
ering over his shoulder all morning, tell-
ing him to be careful, and that he must
remember Harry Potter wasn’t safe. Know-
ing Potter’s luck, it was entirely possible
that something had gone wrong, before he
could even get on the train.

Draco sat with his back to the window, fac-

ing the compartment door, watching ev-
eryone that came past. At various points
of the trip, their compartment had more
occupants than just the three of them;
Longbottom came by and stopped for a
chat, as did the twins and Jordan – none

- 168 -
of whom had seen either Potter or Weas-
ley - and then, they were joined by one of
She-Weasel’s friends.

“Hello, Ginny.” Large, blue eyes then fixed

themselves on Draco. “I’m Luna,” she said
dreamily, and stepped into their compart-
ment. Granger looked up from her book,
arched her eyebrows, and then went back
to reading.

“Hi,” Draco said.

“You shouldn’t sit like that,” she said, sit-

ting lightly on the seat next to Ginny’s.

“Why not?” Draco asked.

“Sometimes, your reflection can come to life

and hurt you,” she said seriously. Granger
made a quiet sound that might have been
a snort, and Draco was trying to work out

- 169 -
whether she was being serious or not. He
moved a little anyway; just enough that
he could see the green of the trees blur-
ring past outside. “It’s more likely to try if
you’re not looking at it.”

“Luna, this is Draco Malfoy,” She-Weasley

said, her eyes bright, and rather amused
from behind Luna. “And Hermione Grang-
er.”

“What House do you think you’ll be in,

Luna?” Granger asked.

“Ravenclaw, I think,” Luna said thought-

fully. “Other than Ginny, I’ve never had
any friends, so I don’t know if I’m loyal
enough for Hufflepuff, and Daddy says
I’m brave, but I think I’m too sensible for
Gryffindor-” There was no condemnation
behind the words, just her odd, matter-
of-fact sort of tone, but Granger flushed,

- 170 -
“-and I think I’m too honest for Slytherin.”

The compartment was silent for a few mo-

ments, and Luna started to hum to herself.
Draco looked at Granger, who shrugged
in a helpless sort of way, and then at the
compartment door.

“Have any of you got a spare bit of parch-

ment and a quill?” he asked. Granger, pre-
dictably, did, and passed them over.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“We’ve been on the train for nearly two

hours,” he said, “and the others still hav-
en’t shown up… with Potter’s luck…”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Granger mumbled.

Severus, Draco wrote.

- 171 -
 §

“Hogsmeade as well?” the conductor asked.

“Well, if that’s the case, you can have the
beds next to His Royal Highness.” The
last was accompanied by a roll of his eyes
and a grimace, as he waved a hand at the
back of the bus. “Should take us about four
hours, so settle in, and I’ll be around with
sandwiches in an hour or so.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, dragging his trunk

toward the bed that the conductor had
waved at. Once his trunk was tucked away,
and Hedwig was secured – or as secure as
anything could be on the Knight Bus – he
flopped down.

“Should be interesting,” Ron said. “This is

my first time on here, you know.”

“Interesting’s the right word for it,” Harry

- 172 -
said grimly. He’d been on it several times,
and much preferred flying or Apparating,
or even using the Floo.

“Oh no,” Ron said.

“What?” Harry asked.

“You’ve got to be joking,” Ron said, sound-

ing abruptly disgusted. He pointed to the
bed two away from his. Lying on it, was
a man in lilac robes, with a matching li-
lac eye-mask, and curly golden hair. He
looked vaguely familiar, but it took Har-
ry a few moments to realise that the man
was Gilderoy Lockhart.

“Reckon we can move?” Harry whispered,

unwilling to wake Lockhart and be rec-
ognised. He seriously considered trans-
forming into his wolf form and having Ron
claim him as a pet, but Ron didn’t know

- 173 -
about that, and there was still the matter
of Harry’s things.

“The bloke said he’s getting off at Hogsme-

ade,” Ron replied, in an equally low voice.
“What do you reckon he’s going there for?”

“Probably got a book signing,” Harry said,

rolling his eyes. Ron sniggered, and Har-
ry shushed him. “If you wake him up, I’m
telling him that you’ve read all his books
and want his autograph,” Harry threat-
ened.

“Who do you think I am; Hermione?” Ron

asked, wrinkling his nose. “But if you tell
him that, I’m going to tell him you want ad-
vice on manageable hair.” Harry scowled.

“Then I’ll say that…”

When the conductor brought them their

- 174 -
sandwiches an hour later, he found them
laughing so hard they were crying, in com-
plete and utter silence.

“We’re not even that late,” Harry said,

looking relieved; he was pointing at little
lights on the lake – which would be Gin-
ny and the first years, with Hagrid – and
more lights in the forest ahead of them,
which Ron guessed was the rest of the
school, travelling by the carriages Percy
always talked about.

Harry bent to let Hedwig out of her cage,

and she immediately took to the air and
headed toward the castle.

“Oi,” Ron said, turning to look at Lock-

hart, who was dragging his many suitcas-
es off the bus, with the help of the irritat-

- 175 -
ed conductor. “Do you have a way to tell
the teachers we’re here?”

“I’m afraid not, boys,” he said.

Useless, Ron thought.

“A little exercise won’t kill us, though.”

Lockhart had, to Ron’s – and probably
Harry’s – horror, revealed that he was a
teacher at Hogwarts this year, though Ron
couldn’t imagine what subject he was tak-
ing. What Ron did know, was that they’d
be subjected to Lockhart’s company until
they reached the school. “Did you know, I
won Witch Weekly’s Most Athletic-”

“Here, Ron,” Harry said. He’d taken his

Nimbus out and had put it through the
handle of his trunk. He did the same with
Hedwig’s empty cage, and then managed
to slide Ron’s trunk on as well. Harry kept

- 176 -
his hand on the broom – no doubt to keep
it afloat – and started along the path to the
school. Ron, pleased to only have to carry
Scabbers’ cage, trotted after him.

“Very clever, Harry,” Lockhart said. Ron

was pleased to see he was struggling un-
der the weight of his luggage. “In fact, it
reminds me of something I did, while I was
hiking in the Rocky Mountains…”

They’d only been with Lockhart for ten

minutes, when a carriage – apparently
pulled on its own - pulled up. Ron didn’t
think he’d ever been happier to see Snape.
Lockhart, who’d been lagging for a fair
while, looked ready to hug Snape. Ron
almost wished he would, knowing Snape
would kill the other man if he tried.

“A hand, if you don’t mind, Professor,”

Lockhart called, panting. Snape, as Ron

- 177 -
had expected, ignored him.

“So,” Snape said, stepping out of the car-

riage, “the train isn’t good enough for Pot-
ter and his sidekick?”

“The barrier sealed itself,” Ron said, scowl-

ing. He had the bruises to prove it, but he
doubted Snape would care. Snape arched
an eyebrow. “So we missed the train.”

“I’m aware,” Snape said. “And once it be-

came clear you had missed it, you-”

“Caught the Knight Bus,” Harry said. His

voice was hard, but not unfriendly; Harry,
Merlin knew why, had always had more
tolerance for Snape than Ron.

“Surprised though I am that you avoided

them, there were certainly worse alterna-
tives to the one you chose.” Ron tried to

- 178 -
work out whether that was a compliment
or not. “You did not, however, think to send
anyone a letter with details of what had
happened, or your whereabouts.” Snape’s
mouth was a very thin line. “I had thought,
Potter, that you’d been told to have a care
for your safety, this year.” Harry stared
at his shoes, and Ron decided to ask him
about that later.

“Safety!” Lockhart had finally reached

them. “Really, they couldn’t be any safer
than they were in my company.” Snape
smiled a very unpleasant smile. “You must
have got my message and came to get us.”

“You said you didn’t know how to send a

message,” Ron pointed out.

“It’s been a long day,” Lockhart, with a pity-

ing look at Ron. Then he looked at Snape.
“The boy’s hearing things. Obviously, I

- 179 -
sent a message, because otherwise-”

“I saw Potter’s owl coming in from this di-

rection,” Snape said silkily. Ron saw Har-
ry try to hide a smile, but Ron didn’t both-
er. “Your message must not have arrived
yet.” Ron sniggered as Lockhart’s smile
fell. Snape eyed Harry’s laden broomstick,
and flicked his wand. The broom, two
trunks and Hedwig’s cage vanished, and
so did Scabbers’ cage in Ron’s hand.

“Mine can go to my room, Professor,” Lock-

hart said, in what he obviously thought
was a helpful way.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous

it would be to be able to send any ob-
ject through the school’s wards?” Snape
sneered. He repeated the spell for Lock-
hart’s things, and then said, “The house
elves will collect them from outside the

- 180 -
gate, and deal with them as they see fit.”
Ron hoped they dumped Lockhart’s in the
lake.

“Thanks,” Harry and Ron said together,

and Snape, surprisingly, nodded.

“Get in,” he said, gesturing to the carriage.

“I intend to see my House’s new students
be Sorted.” Ron was abruptly grateful
that his last name was so far back in the
alphabet that he would almost certainly
see Ginny’s Sorting. Lockhart climbed in
after them, and then Snape got in, stum-
bling slightly over the step. Snape cast an
annoyed look at his leg, and Ron looked
away before Snape could see him watch-
ing.

The carriage lurched and took off toward

the school at a brisk pace. Harry had his
nose pressed against the window and was

- 181 -
watching the trees. Ron wondered what
he was thinking.

“Are we-” Ron hoped he wasn’t making

trouble here, but he had to ask. “-we’re not
in trouble, are we?”

“Your handling of the situation was better

than anyone that knows you could have
expected, Weasley,” Snape drawled, mak-
ing it clear that that wasn’t a compliment.
“However, your communication was very
poor, and could have been easily reme-
died.”

“You’re giving us detention for not writ-

ing?” Harry asked, scowling.

“Not at all,” Snape said in a smooth voice

that made something in Ron wither and
die. “I think it might be appropriate to
remedy your lack of communication, by

- 182 -
having you write letters.”

“Home?” Ron asked.

“Your families were informed you were

missing as soon as the school learned of
it,” Snape said dismissively. “They will be
informed that you have been found when
we arrive.” He glanced at Lockhart and
his lip curled. “No, I think it fitting that
you write a letter of thanks to Professor
Lockhart, for being kind enough to escort
you back to school.”

“A wonderful idea!” Lockhart said, beam-

ing at them. Ron didn’t know how, but
somehow he’d missed the mockery drip-
ping off of every single word Snape had
spoken.

“I will, of course,” Snape added, “draft

them for you before you pass them on, to

- 183 -
make sure that they are adequately grate-
ful.”

Ron managed not to groan. Just.

“Coming!” Tonks called, almost tripping

over Canis, who was wound around her
ankles wanting dinner. She nudged him
out of the way with her foot, and then un-
did the locks – both muggle and magical
– on her door. “Wotcher,” she said faintly.

Remus smiled at her. He looked tired, but

she knew the moon wasn’t for another
week, and he also had several days’ worth
of beard on his face.

“Hello,” he said quietly. Tonks licked her

lips and saw his eyes dart down to her
mouth.

- 184 -
“Would- do you want to come in?” she
asked.

“Yes, please,” he said, looking past her into

the flat, seeming curious.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” she said, stepping

back so he could come in, “but shouldn’t
you be at work?” School had gone back yes-
terday, after all, and Remus was a teach-
er. Surely he was needed there, not- well,
surely he had other things to do than show
up at her flat at eight-thirty at night, in
France.

“I don’t start until next week,” he replied.

He reached down to pat Canis, and almost
got himself bitten for his trouble.

“Tea?” Tonks heard herself ask.

- 185 -
“Please,” Remus replied. She busied her-
self in the kitchen, still too shocked to be
angry or upset, or flattered that he was
here. She burned herself twice on the ket-
tle, and dropped one of the teacups on the
way to Remus, and had to start again. “Are
you all right?” he asked, as she summoned
the sugar from the kitchen; she knew how
he liked his tea.

“Surprised, actually,” she said. Remus

nodded, as if that was to be expected, and
for the first time, looked nervous. “I hadn’t
expected to see you anytime soon.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” he said. They sipped

their tea in silence, and then Tonks, un-
able to help herself, spoke up.

“So what are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you,” Remus said.

- 186 -
“I’d worked that much out,” she said, an-
noyed. She could see her reflection in the
window, though, and her hair had gone an
odd, red-orange. She was just pleased to
see it a colour other than- well, other than
the colour of Remus’ hair. “How are Harry
and Sirius? I’ve been meaning to write to
them, but-”

“Sirius is busy with work,” Remus said.

“And Harry’s too smart for his own good.”
He said that last bit a little darkly, but
she didn’t think he was angry, just an-
noyed. “I’m sort of dreading having to see
him again, for the inevitable ‘I told you so,
Moony’.” He made a face.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,”

Tonks told him. Remus’ mouth twitched.

“How are things here?” he asked. “You

- 187 -
would have started, surely?”

“Thursday,” she said, watching his face.

She almost expected him to look bitter, but
he didn’t and she felt guilty for thinking
that way. “The people are…” She searched
for a word before coming up with, “inter-
esting, to say the least. One girl’s a seer – a
real one – and one man can do the most in-
credible things with wards…” She watched
him closely, wanting to see his face when
she said this next one, “And one of them,
Remus, is a werewolf.” She’d never been
able to tell him about Florence – having
him know about her could be dangerous
for him, or for Florence if the information
ever got out.

“Truly?” he asked, looked as surprised as

she’d expected.

“He’s from Russia, and it’s- well, clearly

- 188 -
it’s not a very big deal over there. It just
means he’s faster and has better senses
than the rest of us.”

“I’d be interested to meet him, I think,”

Remus said, with a thoughtful smile.

“I- I almost wrote to you when I found out,

actually,” she admitted, after a few mo-
ments. Remus made a non-committal ges-
ture, but didn’t ask why she’d never sent
the letter. She was grateful for that.

“I’d like to ask for a second chance,” Remus

said, almost too quickly for her to make
sense of it. Almost.

“Ah,” she said. Her heart was racing; on

the one hand, she’d missed him horribly,
and spent nights lying awake in bed, cry-
ing and hoping for a chance like this. On
the other hand, there were reasons she’d

- 189 -
ended it with him – fixable though they
were – and Remus being here didn’t au-
tomatically fix any of them. “You know I
won’t go back with you,” she said. “I have-
I’m going to stay with the course, here.”

“I know,” Remus said.

“And you have your job-”

“Yes,” Remus said.

“And-”

“Dora,” he said, “I’m asking – details like

jobs, and money, and- and all the rest aside
– whether you’ll take me back.”

“The details were the problem in the first

place!” she said, scowling at him. Remus
just sat quietly, nursing his tea. “Is this
what you want?” she asked. “Sirius didn’t

- 190 -
bully you into coming, or-”

“Sirius doesn’t know I’m here,” Remus

said, with a slightly sad smile. “No one
does, for that matter, except for Dumble-
dore.”

“You haven’t answered the question,” she

pointed out.

“I don’t just want a mug,” Remus said.

“What-”

“There was a Boggart, and- that’s not the

point. The point is, that I’ve had some of
the loneliest days of my life these past few
weeks, and,” he added mildly, “that’s say-
ing something when you consider my par-
ents didn’t let me socialise with other chil-
dren when I was young, and that a good
quarter of my life so far was spent with

- 191 -
my friends dead – or pretending to be, in
Peter’s case – and in Azkaban.” From his
tone, he could have been discussing the
weather, but his eyes were warm, and very
focused on her. Tonks didn’t know what
to say. “I’ve missed you,” he said, though
that much was obvious.

“I- I’ve missed you too,” Tonks said, with

a shaky smile. “And- it means a lot to me
that you’re here, but- I mean, you weren’t
wrong when you said you can’t afford to
arrange international portkeys, and that
you’ll have commitments to Hogwarts,
and I’ll have commitments here-”

“Will you take me back anyway?” he asked

softly.

“I- yes, of course I will! I just- I don’t want

to force-”

- 192 -
“I want this,” Remus said, and warmth
rose in Tonks’ chest. “More than my job.”

“Remus, you don’t- you can’t quit, you love

teaching-”

“I already have,” he said, shrugging. “I’m

here to stay, if you’ll have me-” He gave
her a sly grin. “-old and stupid and dan-
gerous as I am…”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, then frowned. “If

you’re here to stay, then where are your
things?” she asked.

“Dora,” Remus said scoffing, “I was hope-

ful that we’d reach this point, but I think
showing up with bags might have been a
bit presumptuous.” Tonks couldn’t help
but smile at that. She reached over and
took his hand. It was sweaty, and she re-
alised he’d been a lot more nervous about

- 193 -
this than he’d let on. “For all I knew, you
might have set your menace of a cat on
me, and not let me in.” Tonks waited im-
patiently. “They’re in my office,” he said
finally.

“Office?” she asked.

“Did you know Dumbledore has connec-

tions all over the world?” She arched an
eyebrow. “Did you also know, that Madam
Olympe Maxime has a soft spot for half-
breeds like myself?”

“Who?” Tonks asked.

“And,” Remus said, ignoring her, “did you

know that Beauxbatons Academy was
looking for a Defence Assistant, to help
with demonstrations, and to take some
first year classes?”

- 194 -
Tonks didn’t know what to say. Her heart
was in her throat, and she was so happy to
have him back that she thought she was
about half a second from bursting into
tears and embarrassing herself.

“You- really-”

“I want this,” Remus whispered again,

and then pressed a kiss to her cheek. Af-
ter that, he watched her, eyes warm, but
wary. Tonks scowled and leaned over to
give him a proper kiss.

- 195 -
Chapter 7:
Home sweet Hogwarts

“How did you do it?” Bella’s voice was pet-

ulant, and Sirius, who’d done his best to
ignore her on his other shifts in Azkaban,
found himself looking at her. Marlene hov-
ered behind him, eyes narrowed, and fixed
on his cousin. She’d been pretty once, in
a dark sort of way, but Azkaban had long
since taken her beauty and warped it. If
Sirius had to find a word to describe his
cousin now, it’d probably be thin, or haunt-
ed.

- 196 -
That said, Bella had been in prison for
nearly eleven years, and seemed more like
her old self than Peter, who’d only done a
few years so far. Sirius couldn’t help but
wonder what her coping mechanism was;
after the things she’d done, she shouldn’t
have been able to last this long, and still
hold a coherent conversation.

“Well?” She tapped her grubby, bare foot

on the floor of her cell.

“Do what?” Sirius asked.

“Ruin my nephew,” she said, and pouted

at him. “Cissy says Draco’s a Gryffindor.”
Sirius didn’t think she could have said
mudblood with any more disdain than
she’d just used.

“We can’t all be Death Eaters,” Sirius told

- 197 -
her. “There’ve got to be a few decent mem-
bers of every family.” Bella curled her lip.

“Decent, Sirius?” she cackled. “Auntie Wal

would be rolling in her grave if she could
see you now; a filthy, blood traitor Auror,
raising that abomination you call a god-
son.” After looking at the utter loathing on
her face, Sirius promised himself he would
do everything he could to make sure Harry
never had to meet Bella. “I suppose you’re
back with this slag, too?” Marlene folded
her arms. There was nothing on her face
but scorn, and Bella, who seemed to have
wanted a response, looked disappointed.
“Or perhaps that beast of yours? You know
the one I mean; Greyback’s little friend.
Either way, it’s disgusting.”

“Think what you want,” Sirius said, shrug-

ging. “It’s been a long time since we last
spoke, so I’ll forgive you for forgetting that

- 198 -
I genuinely don’t care for your opinion at
all.” Again, Bella looked disappointed; no
doubt she’d been wanting news, even if it
was just from Sirius. News was hard to
come by in Azkaban, and fuel for hours
and hours of thought. Sirius didn’t feel any
desire to offer her that, if he could help it.
She’d have to wait for Narcissa’s next vis-
it.

Bella was silent after that, and Sirius

took the chance to walk away. A pair of
dementors were lingering at the end of the
corridor, but Sirius gave Padfoot a happy
memory (or rather, a happy expectation;
that he’d get to talk to Harry and Remus
when this was all over) and walked on,
with Marlene at his side.

Each year they climb upon my stool,

- 199 -
Nervous and young and only eleven,

Welcome, young first years, to Hogwarts

school!

Introductions first, yes, we’ll start with

that,

I am the original and the only;

I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat!

The Founders, in their wisdom, left me to

serve;

My job’s to sing, then sit and listen,

And then to put you in the House you de-

serve!

For example, if you’re bold and born of fire,

- 200 -
Then to Gryffindor you’ll go,

To have adventures and lend a wand,

when times are dark and dire.

If that’s not right, perhaps you’re of earth,

And belong in kind Hufflepuff,

Where you value dedication, teamwork,

and people’s true worth.

Or if you’re full of dreams and water’s

friend,

Then off to Slytherin with you,

And on your cunning and practicality, we

always can depend.

And if still none of those quite seem to fit,

- 201 -
Then you’re with air in Ravenclaw,

Clever and calm, and ready to learn all the

teachers permit

So think a thought and through I’ll comb,

I’ll check your heart and mind,

And together, we’ll decide: will Hufflepuff,

Gryffindor, Ravenclaw or Slytherin be
your new home?

“Go,” Harry whispered, nudging Ron into

the Great Hall. Under the cover of applause
for the Sorting Hat’s song, they were able
to reach Gryffindor table without drawing
too much attention to themselves; Draco
and Hermione had saved a small amount
of bench-space that they were able to
squeeze into. Fred whispered something,

- 202 -
but Ron shook his head at him.

Hermione seemed to be trying to ask a

thousand questions all at once with her
eyes – the result was a very, very odd fa-
cial expression – and Draco was staring
at Snape, who, along with Lockhart, had
just reached the staff table with much less
fanfare than Lockhart had probably hoped
for.

Snape had deposited him in a chair at the

very end of the table, beside the teacher
with big hair and glasses that Harry didn’t
know, and Snape had claimed his seat be-
side McGonagall. Harry scanned the table
and was disturbed to find two things; one,
that Moony wasn’t there, and two, that
now that Snape and Lockhart had arrived,
that all of the staff chairs had been filled.

McGonagall caught Harry’s eye for the

- 203 -
briefest moment – probably just to un-
nerve him and let him know that she’d no-
ticed them sneaking in – and then read
the first name on her list of first years.

“Well?” Hermione hissed. Draco was

watching the first years, but Harry could
tell he was listening too.

“Long story,” Ron muttered back. “We’ll

tell you over dinner.”

“You’re just lucky you made it in time,”

Draco said, out of the side of his mouth,
as a tiny boy in too-big robes bounced up
to the Hat and jammed it onto his head.
“She-Weasley would’ve killed you if you’d
missed her Sorting.” He nodded at the mob
of first years, where Harry could see Gin-
ny’s bright hair. She turned, spotted him
and Ron and looked a tiny bit calmer.

- 204 -
“Good luck,” Harry mouthed, and she
smiled nervously at him, then turned to
listen to something a blond girl was say-
ing.

Hermione nudged him, and gave him a

pointed look; Harry started to clap as the
tiny boy hopped off the stool and made
his way over to the Gryffindor table. He
sat next to Neville, who patted him on
the back, and grinned around at them all.
Then, his eyes grew very round.

“You-”

“Quiet until the Sorting is over, please,”

Harry heard Percy whisper, from Neville’s
other side. The boy bobbed his head, and
fell silent, but his eyes were fixed, rather
unnervingly, on Harry.

Jack Entwhistle and Madeline Gnol-

- 205 -
ler both went to Hufflepuff, and Astoria
Greengrass went to Slytherin, while her
sister – or twin, Harry wasn’t sure – went
to Ravenclaw. Draco looked thoughtful,
but clapped more genuinely for those two
than he had for the other first years. Harry
wondered if he knew them. Then, Gryffin-
dor gained a few new members; Andrew
Higgs and Andrew Kirke went to sit down
by Lavender.

Harry glanced over at Higgs – who was on

the Slytherin Quidditch team - and looked
resigned, but not angry at his younger
brother’s Sorting. Draco had already scoot-
ed over to talk to the new, unsure looking
Gryffindor Higgs, and Harry and Ron ex-
changed grins and went back to watching
the Sorting.

Luna Lovegood – who Harry had heard

Ron and Ginny both talk about – went to

- 206 -
Ravenclaw, Alice Noshi went to Slyther-
in, Gryffindor gained Demelza Robins and
Georgina Trace, and then, finally, it was
Ginny’s turn.

Amidst whispers of “Another Weasley?!”

and “Did they say Ginevra? As in, a girl?”
she shuffled up to the stool and sat down.

Harry was nervous for her – he knew how

much she wanted Gryffindor – and could
only imagine how Ron was feeling. Draco
had stopped his whispered conversation
with Higgs, and was watching as well, and
Fred and George looked unusually intent.

They needn’t have worried, though; after

only a few seconds, the Hat called “Gryffin-
dor!” and Ginny hopped up, looking de-
lighted, and came to sit opposite them,
next to the tiny boy who’d been told off by
Percy.

- 207 -
“Welcome,” Dumbledore said, getting
to his feet. “I hope you all had safe and
pleasant journeys here.” His eyes landed
on Harry, who grinned. Ron had a very
sheepish expression on his face. Seem-
ing amused, Dumbledore lifted a hand. “I
won’t keep you from your meals much lon-
ger,” he assured them. Fred and George
cheered. “But I must inform you – those of
you returning, at least – that at very short
notice, Professor Lupin has accepted a po-
sition at Beauxbatons Academy!”

The announcement was met mostly with

stunned silence, but Harry could smell
disappointment rippling through the Hall.
Harry didn’t know whether to be pleased
(if he remembered right, Beauxbatons
was in France, and there was only one
real reason for Moony to have gone there)
or to feel sick; there was only one member

- 208 -
of the staff table whose job Harry didn’t
know.

“As a result,” Dumbledore continued, “I

would like to introduce your new Defence
Against the Dark Arts teacher; Professor
Gilderoy Lockhart!”

Next to Harry, Hermione broke out into a

fit of applause. She wasn’t the only one, ei-
ther, though Harry did notice it was most-
ly girls. Harry rolled his eyes and clapped
twice, politely, before letting his hands
drop into his lap. McGonagall and Snape,
up at the staff table, had done the same
thing, and so had Ginny, Percy and the
twins (who looked absolutely devastated
that Moony’d been replaced).

Lockhart had stood and tossed his hair

back. He was giving the Hall a toothy smile
and waving around at them all. Hermione

- 209 -
sighed happily.

“Brilliant,” Ron muttered, glaring at the

front of the Hall. “There goes my appetite.”

Dumbledore managed to talk Lockhart

into sitting down again – with some diffi-
culty – and then announced dinner, which
popped into existence the moment he’d
finished talking.

“I’m Colin Creevey,” the tiny boy next to

Ginny said breathlessly. “And you’re Har-
ry Potter!”

“Nice to meet you, Colin,” Harry said, a

little awkwardly.

“Do you-”

“Hi, Colin, I’m Ron,” Ron said, coming to

the rescue. “That’s Hermione-” She looked

- 210 -
up from loading her plate, and smiled.
“-and that’s Ginny.”

“Are you related?” Colin asked, pointing

between Ron and Ginny. “You look alike,
but I suppose that might not mean much;
I don’t think I look very much like my
brother Dennis, and-”

“Fred,” Fred said, appearing behind Har-

ry with a plate in his hand. George, who
was behind him, introduced himself as
well, and then promptly shoved Ron aside
and the pair of them slid into place beside
Harry.

“Evening,” Harry said, arching an eye-

brow at them.

“Did you know about this?” George waved

a chicken wing in Lockhart’s direction,
with a rather menacing look on his face.

- 211 -
“I had no idea,” Harry said honestly. “And
Dumbledore’s not joking when he said
short notice; Moony was here, getting
ready on Thursday.”

“But Beauxbatons?” Fred asked, pulling a

face. “I mean, there are Veela in France,
but he’s with Tonks-”

“Who’s gone to France for an Auror pro-

gram,” Harry said. Fred and George ex-
changed looks. “What’s a Veela?”

But Fred and George weren’t listening to

him anymore; Ron had started to explain
to Hermione, Ginny, Draco – who’d re-
turned at some point and wedged himself
into the seat beside Colin – and Colin what
had happened that day.

“-sealed itself, and Harry and I ran straight

- 212 -
into the stupid thing,” he said.

“Sealed itself?” Fred asked. “Ron, that-”

“It can happen,” Ron said, obviously sens-

ing where the conversation was headed.
The twins – and even Hermione for that
matter – looked skeptical. “It’s true,” Ron
said. “Isn’t that right, Harry?”

“You should see the bruises,” Harry said,

pulling a face.

“But that’s tricky magic,” Hermione said.

“That barrier’s been there and functioning
for years, and the Ministry do checks and
repairs and things. Surely-”

“Hermione,” Harry pointed out, “half of

magical Britain was there today. I’m sure
someone among them was capable-”

- 213 -
“Why?” Draco asked, frowning.

“What?” Ron asked.

“I mean, why bother?” Draco asked. “If

it was a plan to get you alone, they could
have.”

“Easily,” Harry agreed, making a face.

“So why didn’t they?” Draco asked.

“Maybe it was Lockhart,” Ron suggested.

“Ron!” Hermione said crossly, “Professor

Lockhart is a very well respected-”

“Git,” Ginny said to herself. Harry didn’t

think he was meant to have heard, but he
grinned at her anyway, and got a sheepish
smile back.

- 214 -
“-a joke, Hermione,” George was saying.

“You’re entitled to think that,” Hermi-

one said stiffly, making it clear she didn’t
agree. “Besides, what’s he got to do with
you two missing the train?”

Ron told the rest of the story – about al-

most trying to fly the car, before deciding
on the Knight Bus, and Lockhart’s eye
mask, and meeting Snape on the way up
to the school – with Harry adding bits and
pieces that he’d missed. By the end of it,
Draco and Ginny was sniggering, Fred
and George were eyeing Lockhart, Her-
mione was frowning in Snape’s direction,
and Colin was wide-eyed with awe.

“Do you always do such exciting things?”

Colin asked, looking from Harry to Ron.

“Unfortunately,” Draco drawled, butter-

- 215 -
ing his baked potato. “Granger and I are
trying to correct that habit, but with rath-
er limited success, I’m afraid.”

“I just can’t believe Snape’s punishing

you,” Hermione said, “even if it is only
with a letter.” Ron mumbled something
sarcastic about just a letter.

“If you’re feeling upset about it,” George

said consolingly, “just imagine how many
detentions you’d have if you had taken
Dad’s car-”

“None,” Harry said. Everyone looked at

him like he was mad. “We’d have been ex-
pelled for sure.” No one tried to argue with
that; even Draco, who was usually Snape’s
defender just nodded and reached for the
gravy.

“So what happens after dinner?” Ginny

- 216 -
asked.

“Usually the fifth year Prefects take you

firsties up to the tower, so you should end
up with the Lloyd twins.” Fred nodded at
a blond girl and boy sitting with Percy,
Oliver and Angelina. Harry vaguely rec-
ognised them, but couldn’t have named
them.

“But,” George said, “Percy the perfect

Prefect will probably usurp them both,
so make sure you listen to him, and stay
close.”

“You absolutely mustn’t wander off and

get lost,” Fred said. “And you definitely
shouldn’t get lost on purpose, or try to get
lost in a group.” He winked. Ginny scowled.

“You two are mean,” she said, looking

down the table at Percy, who was eating

- 217 -
his Yorkshire pudding, oblivious.

“You’re meant to be the fun one,” George

said, reaching over the table to nudge her.

“Well, I agree with Ginny,” Hermione said.

“Percy would be so upset if he thought he’d
lost someone, particularly if it was Ginny
that went missing.”

“Imagine that,” Ron – who’d looked dis-

gruntled that he wasn’t the ‘fun’ one – said.
“Dear Mum and Dad, I don’t know how to
tell you this, but I seem to have misplaced
young Ginevra-”

“Shut up, Ronald,” Ginny said, scowling

again. Ron opened his mouth to say some-
thing in response, but at that moment,
desserts started to appear and distracted
everyone.

- 218 -
 §

Ginny, Tom wrote, so relieved that she’d

remembered him. It’s been a while.

Sorry, Tom, she scribbled back. I’ve just

been very busy. Hogwarts is incredible! It’s
so nice to have my brothers around again,
but I’m missing Mum and Dad lots. Percy
showed me where the Owlery is, though,
and he said I can borrow Hermes whenev-
er I need to.

How kind of him.

And Draco said I can use Caesar too; his

poor owl doesn’t get to carry very many
letters.

The Malfoy boy? Last time she’d written –

admittedly, on the night she’d been Sort-
ed into Gryffindor, a week ago – she’d still

- 219 -
been calling him Malfoy.

That’s him, she wrote. Tom watched the

words fade back into the page, and thought
what to ask next. She’d told him all sorts
of things about her friends – or rather, her
brother’s friends – and he’d questioned her
at length (as subtly as he could manage)
on the Potter boy, though he’d thrown in
questions about Malfoy and Granger and
Ginny’s brothers to keep her from growing
suspicious.

He’d had to reveal his own, parentless past

to get her to open up about Potter, but it
had been worth it. As a child from a large,
apparently loving family, Tom imagined
he must have broken poor Ginny’s heart
when he’d told her about the orphanage.
But, it had made her open up about Potter
(who she’d mentioned had a godfather),
and Tom had slowly pieced together the

- 220 -
last fifty years.

His older self – for when Ginny had very

reluctantly written the words Lord Volde-
mort in the diary, late one night he had
recognised the name at once – had messed
up, and badly. He was dead – or, would
have been, had Tom not had the foresight
to make his old diary a horcrux. There’d
been a very messy war, that Ginny didn’t
know much about, and then Tom’s older
self had managed to get himself killed by
an infant. Frankly, it was embarrassing,
and he was hoping to rectify the situation
as soon as possible.

Tom stabbed his quill into his inkwell.

Are you enjoying your classes?

Some of them, Ginny replied. History of

Magic is boring; our teacher’s a ghost,

- 221 -
which I thought would be fun, until I ac-
tually met him. He calls me Woolsy, when
he talks to me at all. You’d think after
six brothers, he’d know our name by now!
Tom waited. Transfiguration is great, but
I’m not very good at it. I might have to ask
Hermione or Percy for some help, but I
love Charms and Potions is easy, once you
get past the fact that Snape is a git.

I hope he hasn’t been too rude to you, Tom

said, and could almost imagine Ginny’s
smile. She’d be so flattered that he cared…
or so he hoped.

No, but he doesn’t like Colin very much.

The boy from the feast?

He’s one of my friends, now, she told him.

He and Demelza are in all of my classes.
And I have Charms and Transfiguration

- 222 -
with Luna, and Luna introduced me to
Vivienne, who’s in Ravenclaw, and Vivi-
enne’s sister is in my Defence and Potions
classes, but I don’t know if I like Astoria
yet.

I see, Tom replied, bored.

Oh, and speaking of Defence, Lockhart is…

well, I really don’t know why Mum likes
him so much. I’ve only had one lesson with
him so far, but he seems pretty thick. He
talked about himself for ages and then he
gave us a quiz about himself!

How revolting, Tom said, and wasn’t lying

this time.

I know! Apparently Professor Lupin left

him a lesson plan, but Harry said that Pro-
fessor Lupin would never have put that on
there. Apparently the second years got the

- 223 -
quiz too, and Fred and George don’t have
Defence until tomorrow, so I don’t know
if they’ll get it too. I guess I’ll just have to
wait and see. Tom tried to think of some-
thing to say, but nothing came to mind.
Ginny beat him to it. Demelza’s just come
to get me for dinner. I’ll talk to you soon,
and I promise I won’t leave you for a whole
week again!

Tom wondered, with no small amount of

irritation, if Ginny was beginning to think
of him as some sort of pet. He waited for
her to write something more, but noth-
ing came, and Tom lowered his quill, and
started to think hard about how exactly
he was going to handle Ginny Weasley.

- 224 -
Chapter 8:
Of boggarts and brothers

Dear Sirius,

First off, thank you for being so under-

standing in your last letter; Remus ex-
pected you to send a Howler demanding
him to come back to Engl-

Then, there was a smudge of ink and the

handwriting changed.

I did not. Things are good here, in any case.

- 225 -
Beauxbatons is very different to Hogwarts
in a lot of ways; for one, quite a few of the
students are only here during the day, and
Portkey or fly home at night. For another,
they don’t have Houses. Students that live
in the dorms are sorted by age and gender,
and that’s really it. I thought that was odd,
but Madam Maxime thinks Houses incite
petty competition, and you know, I think
she might be right to some degree. How
many times did we hex someone when we
were younger, just because of the colour
of their robes? On the downside, though,
if students don’t like each other here, it’s
often much harder to sort out, because it’s
not just a House thing.

They’re all scarily well behaved, though;

there hasn’t been one prank, or anyone
using anything old Filch would consider
contraband. And no Peeves, either! I don’t
know whether that’s depressing or a re-

- 226 -
lief.

Classes are going well. Most of the stu-

dents speak enough English for me to be
able to get my point across, but they’ve
all got Dicta-Quills, that translate every-
thing, just in case, and they don’t make
too many mistakes.

We’ve written a letter to Harry as well, but

when you next speak to him, could you do
me a favour and emphasise that I really
am sorry he’s wound up with Lockhart? I
half expected Dumbledore would ask you,
or- well, or anyone but that silly git. On a
much more entertaining note, I left Lock-
hart with my lesson plans, and the Bog-
gart I’d intended to show my third years
in their first lesson. Hopefully he’s opened
it up alone, and it’s terrorising him in his
quarters as we speak.

- 227 -
The handwriting changed again, to Dora’s.

The Auror stuff is brilliant, too! I told you

in my last letter about some of the people,
but they really are incredible! I hate duel-
ling them, though! In our course, I consid-
ered myself to be pretty good, but Tarek
just puts wards around himself so I can’t
hit him, or puts wards around me that
reflect my spells back at me, and Joanna
knows what spell I’m going to use before
I do (and so does Asha, for that matter;
I think I might have to learn Occlumen-
cy), and Carla makes up all these odd new
spells that I can’t counter, and Wan’s mag-
ic is wandless, so it comes from all around,
instead of just from his wand. He cast a
spell with his nose, when he was duelling
Eldar! Who does that?!

Beth, at least, I can keep up with; her po-

tions aren’t much good in duels, and Luc’s

- 228 -
magic is all non-verbal, but there are ways
around that too, because he can’t speak
verbal counter-charms. Eldar’s quite weak
with his range of spells, but he’s bloody
good at dodging and he tackled me to win
yesterday. I’m still not sure how I feel about
that, but Sato made a good point when
he said that duels aren’t always magical,
or fair. I’m trying to work out how I can
make my metamorphmagus stuff work for
me beyond resisting spells and dodging in
a duel, but no luck yet. Any ideas?

Anyway, I hope everything’s going well

there, and please come and visit if you can
get a weekend off! We’d love to see you!

Love from,

Tonks and Remus.

- 229 -
“Good of Flitwick to let us off early, isn’t
it?” Ron said happily, as the four of them
trooped downstairs to lunch.

“I don’t think he had a choice in the mat-

ter,” Draco said, adjusting his bag on his
shoulder. He’d said his summer wasn’t too
bad, but his smell and his behaviour said
he was very happy to be back, as far as
Harry could tell. “If he’d kept us much lon-
ger, my brain would’ve been dripping out
my ears.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Hermione said, roll-

ing her eyes. “It wasn’t that bad. Boring,
maybe, but-”

“Boring?! We were dong cleaning charms,

Granger. They’re not interesting, even in
the slightest; here I was, hoping we’d be
learning to Disarm-”

- 230 -
“You’re just grumpy because you were
awful at them,” Ron pointed out. Harry
thought he had a fair point; Draco, who’d
grown up with Dobby, had likely never
had to dust or mop or wash a dish in his
life, while Ron, who’d grown up watching
his parents use and pronounce cleaning
charms, had mastered it on his first try,
before even Hermione.

“I think we’re doing that in a few weeks,”

Harry said. “Moony said his lesson plans
on Disarming were meant to line up with
Flitwick’s-”

“Yeah, but Lockhart’s probably just going

to teach us how to Disarm the heart of the
Witch Weekly publisher and get your face
on the front.” Ron rolled his eyes. “Next
time I see her, I’m going to have a serious
word with Mum about the people she fan-
cies.”

- 231 -
“Start with your father,” Draco said,
smirking.

“Malfoy,” Hermione said, pursing her lips.

“You’re a git,” Ron grumbled. “Besides,

your Mum probably fancies Lockhart too,
you just don’t know it.” Draco actually
stopped, looking horrified by the sugges-
tion.

“You could write to her and find out,” Har-

ry added, grinning at him.

“Well,” Draco said loftily, catching up with

them again, “if you want to talk about
writing and letters and all, how’s your
gratitude letter to Lockhart going- Ow,
Weasley!” Ron, who’d just swung his bag
at Draco’s leg, gave him an innocent look.

- 232 -
They were some of the first into the Great
Hall; other than Lavender and Parvati,
who were at the Ravenclaw table with
Padma and Cormac McLaggen and Katie
Bell, who were arguing about something
to do with Quidditch, and some of the old-
er students, it was just the four of them.
They picked a spot as far away from Ka-
tie and McLaggen as possible, and Harry
checked his watch, hoping lunch would
appear soon.

“-see Hagrid tomorrow morning,” Hermi-

one was saying, about twenty minutes lat-
er. “We’ve haven’t got anything until after
lunch, thanks to Astronomy tonight-”

“Brilliant,” Ron said. “And we have lunch

straight after, so he can’t even try to give
us his rock cakes-”

“They’re not that bad,” Hermione said

- 233 -
weakly, but Harry just arched an eye-
brow at her and she smiled. “Oh, all right,
they’re awful, but don’t tell him-”

“What happened to you?” Draco’s comment

drew everyone’s attention to Ginny, who’d
just slouched in with Colin, Kirke, Higgs,
and a small Slytherin girl, who looked at
them all, uncertain, and then mumbled
something about the Ravenclaw table and
left.

“Lockhart happened,” Ginny said, flopping

into the chair next to Draco. Kirke, Higgs
and Colin sat down nearby, but their at-
tention was stolen by the twins, who were
telling a story involving Filch, a butterfly,
and four breadsticks.

“You smell burnt,” Harry said, wrinkling

his nose.

- 234 -
“Dragon.” Ginny scowled and snatched an
apple out of the bowl in the middle of the
table.

“Dragons?” Hermione said, aghast. “What

did Professor Lockhart do?”

“Well,” Ginny said, putting a finger up,

“first, he was ten minutes late-”

“Who says that’s a bad thing?” Harry

asked, grinning. Ron and Draco grinned
as well.

“-because Professor Lupin left some books

and papers and a briefcase behind, and
they were taking up space in Lockhart’s
office,” Ginny continued, ignoring Harry.
She put up another finger. “So he decided
to move them to the classroom, but tripped
coming inside and dropped everything, in-
cluding the briefcase, which happened to

- 235 -
have a Boggart in it.”

“A boggart?” Harry asked. “As in the-”

“Shapeshifters that change to resemble

the thing you fear the most,” Hermione
said.

“Yeah, yeah, ten points to Gryffindor,

Granger,” Draco said. Hermione didn’t
seem to know whether to be pleased or in-
sulted.

“Then,” Ginny continued, in a way that

Harry thought was reminiscent of Mrs
Weasley when she was dealing with the
twins, “it turned into a banshee, and she
looked so angry… That part was funny,
actually; I thought he was going to faint.
It’s a shame she didn’t scream at him, but
that might not have ended so well for all
of us.”

- 236 -
“Lockhart’s boggart is a banshee?” Ron
asked, looking surprised. “I’d have thought
it would be a giant pimple, or tooth decay,
or a grey hair-”

“Or a broken nail.” Everyone turned to

look at Hermione, stunned. She blushed.
“What? He’s still very talented, just- well,
he does like his comforts.” Ron snorted.

“Did it eat him?” Draco asked. Harry

thought he looked hopeful.

“No,” Ginny said sadly. “He ran off, though,

saying he wanted to give us all some hands
on experience without him interfering.
Then that thing turned into a werewolf-”
She gave Harry an apologetic look. “-and a
dragon, and then it was a vampire, which
bit Georgina Trace, and then it was some
bloke with green hair and a horrible red,

- 237 -
scarred mouth, and- well.” She shivered
and took another bite of her apple. “Even-
tually we managed to distract it long
enough for Colin to get out of the class-
room and find McGonagall, and she came
and saved us.”

“Professor Lockhart didn’t come back?”

Hermione asked, frowning.

“He’s probably having a bubble bath to

soothe his nerves,” Draco said, patting her
arm. “I’m sure he’s fine.” Hermione gave
him a withering look, but Draco grinned
at Harry when she turned away.

“What was yours?” Ron asked. Ginny shift-

ed, looking embarrassed.

“It’s silly,” she warned, not looking at any

of them, “but it was losing my diary.”

- 238 -
“That isn’t silly,” Hermione said at once.
Ginny smiled at her, and stole half of Ron’s
sandwich from his plate. Ron, who’d just
taken a bite of the other half, made a full-
mouthed, muffled protest, but Ginny just
pulled a face at him.

After lunch, they had Herbology, which

they spent developing a fertiliser for the
mandrake seedlings they’d repotted in
their first week of school, and after that,
was History of Magic, which was as dull
as ever; Hermione and Draco, like usual,
were the only ones that paid any attention.
Ron, Seamus and Susan all slept right
through it, and Harry, Neville and Dean
played hangman on a scrap of parchment.

Dean, who was fairly talented with a

quill, drew the hanged men with good de-
tail, making all three boys laugh when he
deliberately made an arm too small, or

- 239 -
a beard to thick, or gave the hangman a
happy, smiling mouth instead of a sad or
screaming one.

“Bagpipes?” Dean asked Neville, groaning,

as he drew the last feature on his hanged
man.

“My uncle Algie plays them,” Neville re-

plied, shrugging.

“What was that, Lungtotten?” Binns asked,

peering at Neville, who’d spoken aloud.

“Nothing, sir,” Neville replied. “Sorry.”

“Hmph, well… As I was saying, the Medi-

eval Assembly of European Wizards con-
tained Johnathon Fluteworthy, who, in
1270, singlehandedly ended a siren attack
on what we today, know as the English
Channel, and was, after doing so, awarded

- 240 -
the first Bravery Against Fantastic Beasts
Award, which is, to my knowledge, still
presented to witches and wizards worthy
of its honour due to feats of magic or nego-
tiation where magical creatures are con-
cerned…”

Harry didn’t know how a siren attack

could be made boring, but somehow, Binns
had managed it. In an attempt to remem-
ber something from the lesson, he quick-
ly wrote Medieval Assembly of European
Wizards, Sirens, Award onto his blank
parchment, and then pulled the hangman
sheet toward him.

Harry struggled to think of a tricky word.

He looked down at his notes for inspira-
tion, and then when that yielded noth-
ing, glanced at his school bag. The letter
he’d received from Moony and Tonks that
morning at breakfast was poking out the

- 241 -
top, and Harry grinned to himself.

I wonder if they can guess metamorphma-

gus…?

Hello, Ginny, I hope you’ve had a nice day.

Hi Tom. Ginny yawned. She was so tired,

and wasn’t really in a talking mood, but
poor Tom was trapped in there, and if
she didn’t talk to him, who would? I have,
thanks. I went to watch the Gryffindor
Quidditch trials with Demelza and Ron
and Draco. Fred and George are back on
the team, and so is Harry. She sighed. I
was hoping to try out next year, but af-
ter watching Gryffindor’s Chasers, I don’t
think I’d have a chance.

I’ve never seen you on a broom, so I’m

- 242 -
afraid I can’t comment, Tom said, and Gin-
ny sighed again. But if your skills match
your enthusiasm for Quidditch, then I
wouldn’t let yourself be dissuaded. Ginny
smiled; over the summer, she’d smuggled
the wizarding wireless away to her bed-
room, and dictated the Harpies-Magpies
match for him.

Thanks, Tom. You’re always so nice.

It’s hard not to be, when I’m talking to

you. Ginny blushed. Can you tell me more
about your day, Ginny? I’ve been awfully
bored lately.

I thought you said you were working on a

project?

I am, but it’s taking a long time, and

leaves me very tired. Ginny wondered if it
was even possible for a diary to get tired.

- 243 -
Please, Ginny. I love hearing your stories.

Well, I had breakfast with Ron and Her-

mione this morning because everyone else
slept in. I really like Hermione; she’s so
smart and nice, but I really don’t know
how to have friends that are girls. Luna’s
great, but she’s very different to other peo-
ple, and I don’t know Vivienne very well
yet, and Astoria’s sort of starting to be
nice, but she’s still not around much. And
Demelza’s nice too, but she’s good friends
with Georgina, who I don’t really get along
with, so they go off together a lot.

Georgina’s the one who saw a mouse and

screamed in your first week? Tom asked.

Yeah, Ginny said. I mean, it wasn’t even

hurting her, it just ran across the dormito-
ry. If that had happened at home, I’d have
found it in my bed two days later, or had

- 244 -
it thrown at me.

Your brothers can be very cruel, Tom said.

I don’t know that I could deal with them
half as well as you do.

That’s why they’re my brothers, Ginny

told him. Because I know how to get along
with them. And what do you mean cruel?
They’re just having a bit of fun.

At the expense of others, though, Tom said.

I remember you telling me about what
they did to that Zabini boy after breakfast
a few days ago.

It was just a stink pellet, Ginny said, de-

fensively. And he just sort of huffed and
walked away, he wasn’t actually upset.
And I heard Harry talking to them about
it, and they said they’re going to leave
him alone from now on. Zabini’s a friend

- 245 -
of Harry’s, I think.

Ah, so your older brothers have to be told

how to behave by a second year…? And
what about when you told me they put
magical lettering on Filch’s cat that said
‘Kick me’-

No one did, though! Ginny said.

But she’s a cat. Not a student that can hex

them back, or a teacher that can give them
detention, just a helpless, non magical-

Mrs Norris is awful, though, Ginny said.

She didn’t usually cry, but she could feel
angry tears prickling her eyes. Her writ-
ing was starting to suffer for it too, and
she thought that might have been what
tipped Tom off.

I didn’t mean to upset you, Ginny, he said.

- 246 -
Ginny wiped her eyes impatiently, and
glared at the diary. I just don’t think your
brothers are as brilliant as you do, and I
worry that they’ll hurt you-

Ginny slammed the diary shut and threw

it at her trunk.

“Fluctus Fieri, Mr Weasley; try to draw out

that last syllable, else you’ll end up with-
well, some sort of mutation.” Weasley
grunted and repeated his spell until she’d
nodded her approval. Then, she turned to
Draco. “Mr Malfoy, do try to watch your
bat. I’d hate to see you miss and instead hit
one of your classmates.” Her lips thinned
and Draco nodded and mumbled an apol-
ogy. He’d been up with Severus until cur-
few, playing with the pensieve again, and
was too exhausted to function very well at

- 247 -
all.

“Mr Finnegan, unless you want to blow

up the classroom, unbend your wrist!” Mc-
Gonagall swept away, to where the Fin-
negan was sitting next to Thomas, Smith
and Entwhistle. Smith was – like usual
– running his mouth and lost five points
for Hufflepuff when McGonagall reached
them. Draco – who’d never liked Smith
very much – smirked.

“It’s all in your pronunciation, Ron,”

Granger was saying nearby.

“You haven’t got it right yet either,” Wea-

sley pointed out. Granger scowled at him.

“Sorry for trying to help,” she sniffed, and

turned back to her own work; all that was
left of her bat were two wooden, fanlike
wings. She was close, but not – as Weasley

- 248 -
had pointed out – finished. Potter, on the
other hand, had a simple fan sitting on his
desk and was lounging back in his chair.
During his stays at Grimmauld Place,
Draco had seen Mr Black sitting the same
way.

Granger gave Potter a frustrated look and

tried her spell again, this time, managing
to fix her transfiguration; on her desk, lay
a simple blue and white fan and her hand
flew into the air to call McGonagall over.

“Fluctus fieri,” Draco said, poking his bat

with his wand. It opened one eye, glanced
at him, and then tucked its head under its
wing and went back to sleep. Draco huffed
at it.

There was a loud crash, as Potter tipped

his chair back too far and landed on the
classroom floor. Several of the bats flapped

- 249 -
their wings, and Moon’s bat actually flew
up to the ceiling to hang from one of the
support beams instead.

“Here,” McGonagall said, nostrils flaring,

“lies the reason I suggest my students
keep all four of their chair legs firmly on
the ground.” Smith sniggered, and – un-
able to help himself – so did Draco, as Pot-
ter flushed bright red, righted his chair,
and sat down gingerly.

Draco rather thought the only reason Mc-

Gonagall hadn’t taken points was that
Harry had already done his transfigura-
tion successfully.

By the end of the class, Draco, Hopkins

and Price had all been assigned extra
homework, and McGonagall had looked at
Brown’s wing-like fan and suggested she
could benefit from some further reading as

- 250 -
well. Draco yawned and tossed his things
into his bag, wondering if he could sleep
through Charms without Flitwick notic-
ing.

Weasley was up ahead, chatting anima-

tedly with Potter and Longbottom, but
Granger was waiting patiently for Draco
in the corridor.

Granger opened her mouth to say some-

thing, but before she could, there was a
shriek and the corridor ahead of them filled
with large, billowing clouds of some sort
of powder. Peeves’ cackling started from
a side corridor, as the students caught in
the cloud started to burp loudly, and be-
hind them, McGonagall stepped out of her
classroom, looking furious.

Draco caught Granger’s eye and the pair

of them turned around to find another way

- 251 -
to Charms.

Tom, are you there? Ginny wiped a tear

off the diary.

Ginny?! Is everything all right? Are you

crying?

Tom, I’m so sorry I got so angry yester-

day! Ginny dipped her quill in ink again,
and pressed it to the worn paper. And you
were right! Fred and George were cruel
today. Ginny’s stomach churned horribly.
Today, they’d saved Harry from a photo-
graph with Lockhart by turning Colin’s
camera into a large fish. Ginny’d thought
it was all very funny (Harry had somehow
disappeared into thin air once Lockhart
was distracted) until she realised how up-
set Colin had been.

- 252 -
They’d changed his camera back, or course,
but damaged the film in the process and
Colin hadn’t been at dinner, nor had he
wanted to speak to Ginny when she went
up to talk to him. Fred and George had
just laughed and told her he’d come around
when she suggested they apologise.

Ginny told Tom all of that, and when she

was finished, he was quiet for a moment.

It’s not fair of Colin to blame you for what

your brothers did, either, he said. That’s
unkind of him.

He’s upset, Ginny wrote, defensively.

But now he’s upset you.

I just- I’m not sure how to fix it. I mean,

Fred and George didn’t mean to upset

- 253 -
him, but they still did! But the only people
who’ve ever been angry with me are my
family, and either we sort it out, or Mum
does, so no one’s ever upset for long, except
sometimes Percy. But Colin’s different to
my brothers and I don’t know what to do-

Let me think about it, Tom said. I don’t

know that I’ve ever had to deal with a sit-
uation quite like this one. Ginny stared
at the page, disappointed. I’d just like to-
The writing appeared and then vanished
before Tom finished writing. It means a lot
to me that you trust me enough to tell me
things like this, Tom wrote. Most people
wouldn’t even think I was worth talking
to.

I love talking to you, Ginny wrote at once.

You’re so clever, and nice, and you’re very
good at listening. She wiped away the last
of her tears. I don’t know how people get

- 254 -
by with normal diaries.

I’m so glad it was you that found my diary,

Tom said. So glad, in fact, that I’d like to
tell you about my project.

Really? Ginny wrote excitedly. What is it?

Do you trust me?

Of course, Tom! Ginny double-checked her

bed hangings were closed and gave the di-
ary an impatient look.

Then let me show you.

- 255 -
Chapter 9:
Tom’s project

It was like the beginning to a very fun-

ny joke; an Auror, a dead man, a banshee,
and an old witch are all in a bookshop, and
the Auror says… Sirius chuckled.

“Keira, Madam Wolple, this is Quirrell.”

Sirius waved at the gaunt man standing
in the doorway, who was staring at the
hairs on Madam Wolple’s chin until he no-
ticed Kiera.

- 256 -
“You’re a- she’s a banshee,” Quirrell said,
turning to Sirius.

“And you’re a manipulative, murdering,

ex-servant of Voldemort’s,” Sirius said.
“I might not be a Ravenclaw, but I don’t
need to be, to work out who the real mon-
ster is.” Quirrell, surprisingly, lowered his
gaze and fell silent.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” he said

quietly.

“He wears a second face,” Keira said, cock-

ing her head to one side. “Are you aware?”

“Yeah, he’d be recognisable, otherwise,

and the story is that he’s dead, so-”

“I have never worked with a dead man be-

fore.” Keira smiled her odd smile at Sirius,
and then her eyes landed on Quirrell. “Do

- 257 -
I make you uncomfortable?” Keira asked,
gliding forward.

“Yes,” Quirrell said, flinching.

“Hmm.” Keira glanced quickly at Sirius

and then back at Quirrell. “We will work
on that.”

“Keira, leave the poor boy alone,” Mad-

am Wolple said, clicking her tongue. Kei-
ra tossed her long hair over her shoulder,
seeming disappointed, but retreated back
to where Sirius was standing.

“How is young Harry?” Keira asked. “I

worry for him.”

“Don’t we all?” Sirius asked, rubbing his

chin.

“That awful man is at the school with him.

- 258 -
I saw the paper.”

“Who?” Sirius asked sharply.

“Gilderoy,” Keira said scornfully, putting

her nose in the air. Madam Wolple – who
was talking to Quirrell about his new job
– glanced over and shook her head. Keira
sighed.

“Oh, Lockhart,” Sirius said. “Yeah, he’s a

bit of a git.”

“There are so many tales I could tell about

horrible Gilderoy.” Keira’s green hands
clenched. “Maybe I could send him away
from his home-”

“Keira, why don’t you go and show Quir-

inus where we keep our stock,” Madam
Wolple said, shuffling over. Kiera gave
Quirrell a look, and swept away, leaving

- 259 -
him no choice but to shuffle after her. Any
worries that Sirius had had about Kiera
and Madam Wolple being able to handle
Quirrell vanished at once. “And I think
we’ve kept you long enough, Auror Black.
Surely you’ve got more important things
to do than help old women staff their
businesses.” She smiled at him, revealing
missing teeth. Those that were there were
yellow and cracked.

“Let me know if he’s any trouble at all,” Sir-

ius said, tilting his head at the back door.
Madam Wolple waved a hand at him, and
went to talk to a warlock that was lurking
between two bookshelves. Sirius left the
shop, and checked his Sidekick.

Excellent, he thought; he still had fifteen

minutes until he’d arranged to meet Mar-
lene for lunch, so he had time to get them
a nice table in the sun, and pay for it all

- 260 -
ahead of time, before she could make a
fuss about wanting to pay her part.

Ginny drew her wand and pressed her

back against the nearest wall. It was cold
stone, and did nothing to calm her down.
One minute, she’d been sitting on her bed
in her first year, Gryffindor dormitory,
talking to Tom, and now she was... well,
somewhere vastly different.

The entire room had a strange, eerie green

glow about it, and the couches were sleek
black leather, rather than the comfy red
chintz or worn fabric she’d been used to
all her life. A Slytherin banner dangled on
the wall opposite her, and she wondered
if she was somehow, in the Slytherin com-
mon room. Ginny fancied herself a fairly
independent girl, and not someone that

- 261 -
needed taking care of, but right now, she’d
give her wand for any of her brothers, or
even Harry or Draco or Hermione to come
and help her.

“Hello?” she squeaked, and the wall she

was leaning against rumbled. She hurried
out of the way, wand raised in the direc-
tion of the wall, which slid open to reveal
three boys. Two didn’t even glance her
way; they headed straight for the couch-
es talking about some sort of curse. The
third, though, paused when he saw her,
the small, scared Gryffindor. She watched
him warily; he was about Percy’s age, with
a Prefect pin on his robes, so she though
he might be trustworthy, and he didn’t
look mean. He was quite handsome, in a
dark, mysterious sort of way.

“Excuse me,” she said, when he just stood

there, watching her wand with what might

- 262 -
have been amusement. “Where am I?” The
boy smiled rather charmingly, and took a
step toward her. Ginny did her best not to
flinch.

“You must be Ginny,” he said. “It’s a plea-

sure to finally meet you in person.” Ginny
just stared at him, and after a while, the
boy smiled again. “Silly of me,” he said,
“forgetting to introduce myself. My name
is Tom Riddle.” He held his hand out to
her, but Ginny didn’t take it. She stuffed
her wand back into her robes, and folded
her arms, the way Mum did when she was
angry.

“Fred,” she said loudly, “George, this isn’t

funny!” Tom just watched her with his
dark eyes. “Ron?” she asked, when no tell-
tale snigger gave her brothers away. “If
you don’t stop this right now, I’ll hex you
both, and I’ll tell Percy and he’ll write to

- 263 -
Mum-”

“I assure you, Ginny, I’m quite real,” Tom

said. He crouched down to her eyelevel,
and while it would ordinarily have an-
noyed Ginny, she appreciated it. His hand
still hung in the air between them, and
Ginny, figuring she had nothing to lose,
shook it. Tom kissed her knuckles and
then stood and put a friendly arm around
her shoulders.

“Where am I?” she asked again.

“In the Slytherin common room,” Tom

said, gesturing around. A few other stu-
dents had returned from classes and start-
ed to fill the room, but they either couldn’t
see Ginny, or were ignoring her. With Sly-
therins, it was hard to be sure.

“But- how- I was in my-”

- 264 -
“Dormitory,” Tom supplied. “Writing to
me.” He smiled charmingly again, and
Ginny felt some of her worry fade; Tom
was her friend, and he’d certainly look
after her until she got back to her dorm.
“This is my project, Ginny. Do you like it?”

“This is where you live?” she asked. Next

to one of the armchairs, she could see a
very familiar diary, and ducked out from
under Tom’s arm to go and see it.

“Don’t touch it,” Tom said sharply. Ginny

yanked her hand back at once. Never, in
all their writings, had she thought Tom
could sound like that.

“Sorry,” she said in a small voice.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Tom said,

sweeping over to put a hand on her shoul-

- 265 -
der. “I’m just very protective of my diary.
It’s my only link to the outside, to you. I’d
be upset if something were to happen to
it.”

“I always thought the diary was just a

book with a hidden brain,” Ginny said.
“But you’re actually real, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” Tom said. He curled a lock of her

hair around his finger. “I’m quite real.”

“So how did you get in here?”

“It’s not a happy story,” Tom said. He re-

leased her and stepped away.

“I want to know.”

“My sweet, brave Ginny,” Tom said. Gin-

ny didn’t look at him, because then he’d
see her blushing. Tom seated himself in

- 266 -
one of the armchairs. “Very well. When I
was sixteen, there were- bad things were
happening here at the school. There was
a monster on the loose, you see, and a girl
died, and they were going to close Hog-
warts.” Ginny looked at the other, obliv-
ious people in the common room, and at
how quiet and scared they all seemed.

“That’s horrible! What happened?”

“I caught the person responsible.” Tom

looked away. “He never meant to hurt any-
one, but I couldn’t just stand by. I was a
Prefect, and I was responsible for keeping
the students safe. I couldn’t do nothing.”
Tom turned back at her, his dark eyes very
bright. “He was expelled, and I was given
an award, by the school.”

“If someone died, though… I think you did

the right thing,” Ginny said slowly, sitting

- 267 -
down on a leather footrest.

“Thank you,” Tom said. “After that, how-

ever, I was too smart. I, after all, had dis-
covered the monster and its owner before
even the teachers. And I was a good stu-
dent.” Tom glanced at his diary. “Top of
all my classes, and, particularly after the
monster event, trusted. One of my class-
mates, and heir to the Slytherin line, used
very dark magic to trap me in this diary
one night. He’d killed his father-” Tom’s
handsome face was disgusted for a mo-
ment. “-and feared that I’d be the one to
uncover it.”

“How awful,” Ginny whispered. She looked

around the common room, frightened. “Is
he here now?”

“They’re just memories,” Tom said, wav-

ing a hand at the people scattered around

- 268 -
the room. “And no, as I have no desire to
remember him, he’s not here.”

“You can do that?”

“I managed to bring you here, didn’t I?”

Tom asked, smiling at her.

“I can get out, though, right?”

“Of course, Ginny. I was desperate to meet

you, but not so selfish that I’d trap you
here with me, just for your company.” He
smiled again. “I won’t say I wasn’t tempt-
ed, though. You’re very intriguing.”

Blushing again, Ginny asked, “But there

isn’t a way out for you? I could take you to
Dumbledore-”

“You said he was the Headmaster, now?”

Tom asked. Ginny nodded.

- 269 -
“And he’s brilliant. The greatest wizard
ever, or that’s what everyone says.”

“Is that so?” Tom’s expression was perfect-

ly smooth. “The greatest ever? Dumbledore
has talent, don’t get me wrong, but when
I was here, he taught me Transfiguration,
and always seemed… well, a bit odd.”

“He defeated Grindelwald,” Ginny said.

Tom looked impressed despite himself.
“And Mum said he was involved in the
war against You-Know-Who-”

“Of course,” Tom said, frowning. “But what

about the Potter boy you’re always talking
about? Surely, if he defeated this Lord V-”

“Don’t say it!” Ginny said, shaking her

head at him.

- 270 -
“My apologies; this Wizard-We-Won’t-
Name… then shouldn’t he be the great-
est-”

“Harry’s only a year older than me,” Gin-

ny said, laughing. “He’s brilliant, so good
and brave, but- well, he’s just Harry. He
doesn’t know how he defeated You-Know-
Who when he was a baby, and last year he
had the others to help him for some of it-”

“I beg your pardon?” Tom had gone per-

fectly still. “Last year?”

“You-Know-Who was after the Philoso-

pher’s Stone,” Ginny said, scowling. “A
man named Quirrell was disguised as a
first year, and You-Know-Who was pos-
sessing him. But Harry and Ron and
Hermione and Draco worked it out, and
stopped him.”

- 271 -
“This You-Know-Who sounds like a joke,”
Tom said. “Defeated by four first years?”
He scoffed, and then glanced at Ginny.
“You seem to talk about Harry Potter a
lot, though.” This time, his smile was sly,
and Ginny found herself blushing again.
“Do you fancy him, Ginny?”

“No!” Ginny protested. “Well, maybe, I

don’t know.” She held her hands to her
cheeks so he wouldn’t be able to see how
red they were. “How do you even know if
you fancy someone, Tom?”

Now Tom was blushing – and his skin

was so pale that it was very obvious - and
looked uncomfortable, but he said in a stiff
voice, “Well, why- uh- How about you tell
me about him, and I’ll tell you if it sounds
like you do.”

“You won’t laugh at me?” Ginny asked

- 272 -
warily. Bill had once offered to talk to her
about boys, after Ron told him that Ginny
fancied David, a muggle boy in the village
near home. She’d been four and he’d given
her a strawberry, and by the time Mum
had come back, she and David had decid-
ed they’d get married one day. When she
told Bill about it, Bill had laughed so hard
that Ginny was too embarrassed to ever
go back to the markets to see him.

“I would never laugh at you, Ginny,” Tom

said. He’d regained his composure, and
looked very serious.

“Well, I think I used to fancy him,” Ginny

said. “Because Mum always told stories
about him. And maybe if I’d never met him
until Ron brought him home one day, then
I might have just listened to the stories,
but we did meet him, and he was so nor-
mal. Even though he’s famous, he shared

- 273 -
his biscuits and played cards with us, and
he’s so nice that I think I might still like
him sometimes.” Ginny frowned thought-
fully. “He never ignores me like my broth-
ers sometimes do, and never seems to care
that I’m the youngest or that I’m a girl…
but then other times he talks with his
mouth full, like Ron, or I hear him laugh-
ing about Percy with the twins and he’s
just another silly boy.”

“Interesting.” Tom spoke with such a

straight face that Ginny wasn’t sure if he
was teasing her or not. “I asked,” he as-
sured her. Ginny, afraid that she’d made
him uncomfortable, tried to think of some-
thing else to talk about.

“Did you ever fancy someone, Tom?” she

asked.

“No,” Tom said.

- 274 -
“Not ever?” she asked.

“Never,” Tom said, rather curtly. Ginny

felt her face fall. “They were all very gig-
gly, and not very clever,” he said. “And
those that were clever didn’t like me very
much.” Ginny cocked her head, frowning.
“They were jealous,” Tom said.

“How sad,” Ginny said, stifling a yawn.

“Are you tired?” Tom asked at once. “I’m

so sorry, I’ve kept you here too long.”

“No, it’s-”

“I don’t want you to be tired and get in

trouble with your teachers, Ginny,” Tom
said. “Then you’ll be in detention, instead
of able to come and visit me again.” Ginny
nodded slowly, and as soon as she did, the

- 275 -
Slytherin common room started to waver,
and she found herself lying back on her
bed, with the diary open by her hand. She
blinked and rubbed her eyes. She didn’t
feel like she’d been visiting Tom, she felt
like she’d been sleeping. Her eyes fluttered
shut, but she forced one open so she could
see where the diary was, and move it, and
find her way under her covers.

Good night, Ginny, Tom wrote. Ginny

smiled into her pillow, already fast asleep.

“I don’t suppose you knew?” Harry asked,

flopping down to lunch on Saturday, after
a four hour Quidditch practice. Hermione
sniffed and edged away from Harry, who
hadn’t had time to shower yet. “Sorry,” he
told her.

- 276 -
“Knew what?” Draco asked.

“Your brother’s the new Slytherin Seek-

er,” Harry said.

“You’re joking!” Ron said. “How’d that

git- sorry, Malfoy, but he is – get onto the
team?”

“He’s got a Nimbus 2001,” Harry said. Ron

whistled. “He must have outflown Higgs
at tryouts.” Harry was a little sad about
that. He’d played Higgs twice (admittedly,
one of those times, he’d been Confunded)
and Higgs was a decent player, and not as
prone to fouling as the rest of the Slyther-
in team.

“He and Father were practicing all sum-

mer.” Draco’s eyes flicked to the Slytherin
table, despite the fact that Hydrus and the
rest of the team were still out on the pitch.

- 277 -
“And you didn’t say anything?” Ron looked
at Draco like he was mad.

“I didn’t think you’d particularly care what

my brother did over the holidays,” Draco
said.

“But- this is Quidditch-” Hermione snort-

ed.

“I really didn’t think it was important,”

Draco said, shrugging. “Potter can prob-
ably still fly circles around him anyway.”

“But we don’t know that,” Ron pressed.

Harry sighed and poured himself a gob-
let of pumpkin juice, as Draco bristled and
began, very sarcastically, to apologise.
Ron’s ears were growing steadily redder,
and Harry knew the pair of them would be
bickering for a while.

- 278 -
“Honestly,” Hermione muttered, and then
smiled. “Have you just got out of bed?”

“Morning, Mum,” Ginny said, scowling.

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you until Christ-
mas. Have you done something different
with your hair?” Colin, who was bouncing
alongside Ginny, laughed and sat down
next to Harry, while Hermione pursed her
lips and moved over for Ginny.

“Are those your Quidditch robes, Harry?”

Colin asked. “Are they very different from
what the other Houses have? Would you
mind if I got a photo of them later?” Har-
ry, who still felt bad about how upset Col-
in had been after the whole camera-fish
incident, nodded. “Brilliant, thank you!”

“No problem,” Harry muttered. “Sand-

wich?”

- 279 -
“Thanks, Harry!”

“-library this afternoon, if anyone would

like to come with me,” Hermione was say-
ing. It seemed the word library had recap-
tured Ron’s attention, as well.

“Again?” he asked, turning away from

Draco. “You’ve spent the whole morning
there!”

“And I’ve nearly finished that essay Pro-

fessor Snape gave us,” Hermione said. “I
don’t suppose you’ve even started.”

“No,” Ron agreed. “Harry and I are going

to do that tonight.”

“I thought we were going to re-write the

letters to Lockhart tonight,” Harry said.
Snape had drafted them that week, and

- 280 -
sent them back to Gryffindor with Draco
one night.

“Oh, yeah,” Ron said. He shrugged. “Well,

Potions tomorrow, then.” Hermione snort-
ed and left for the library a few minutes
later, with both Draco and Ginny in tow,
while Harry and Ron joined Neville, Sea-
mus and Dean, who were heading up to
the common room to play Exploding Snap,
and even managed to coax Colin into put-
ting his camera down and actually play-
ing a few rounds.

Eventually, Harry and Ron did settle into

working on their letters. Fred and George
hovered over their shoulders for half the
time, reading bits and pieces and laugh-
ing and teasing them, until Percy marched
over, thrust a piece of parchment and a
quill at them and told them Mrs Weasley
wanted to hear from them.

- 281 -
Hermione and Draco returned just as Har-
ry and Ron were finishing, and Draco and
Ron immediately set up the chessboard,
while Hermione read ahead for Transfig-
uration, and Harry infuriated her by al-
ready being able to answer some of the
questions she muttered to herself.

Really, he felt guilty. He’d been an Anima-

gus for over half a year, and still hadn’t
said anything to his friends. He’d meant
to, but then had never had the chance,
and was now so used to keeping it to him-
self that he wasn’t sure how to broach the
topic with everyone.

That train of thought, of course, led to him

thinking of all sorts of funny ways that
he could reveal his secret, and after he’d
chuckled to himself and startled Kirke
and Higgs (who were in the armchairs

- 282 -
behind his) for the third time, Harry got
up to fetch his mirror, so he could have a
laugh with Padfoot.

- 283 -
Chapter 10:
Things that bump in the night

“Luna.” Luna tucked her wand behind her

ear, and the feather she’d been levitated
floated back down to the desk. Luna looked
at Ginny, who was sitting next to her. “Do
you know anything about sleepwalking?”

“Not really, I’m afraid,” Luna replied,

thoughtfully. “Mummy never did it, and
Daddy doesn’t either. I never have, or at
least, I don’t think I have. Still, that’s the
point, isn’t it? I’d be asleep, and wouldn’t

- 284 -
know.” Luna spent a moment think-
ing that through, and resolved to write
to Daddy when she had a free moment.
It would make for an interesting discus-
sion, if nothing else, and perhaps Daddy
could even write an article about it. Gin-
ny looked wretched, though, and Luna re-
turned her attention to the other girl. “Is
there a reason you asked?” Ginny bit her
lip and looked over at the other two girls
from Gryffindor, who were whispering,
and looking back at them. They could both
be very unkind, Luna had noticed.

“Ginny was sleepwalking last night,” Colin

whispered, from Ginny’s other side. “Gave
them a right scare, apparently, crawling
and falling over and trying to walk. Geor-
gina said she looked like her baby brother,
who’s one and a half and learning to wal-”

“Colin!”

- 285 -
“What?” Colin asked, shrinking back into
his chair. “Luna asked-”

“I’d think Georgina was making it up,” Gin-

ny said, still looking annoyed, “but look.”
She rolled up the sleeves of her jumper
and inched her skirt back past her knee.
Bruises were blooming there, in all sorts
of colours. “And I feel so tired.” She poked
her feather with her wand, not even both-
ering with the spell. “But I never sleep-
walk!”

“Maybe it’s nargles,” Luna suggested.

Ginny groaned and buried her face in
her hands. “Just an idea.” Luna tapped
her chin thoughtfully. “If you’d like, I can
bring you something that might make it
go away.”

“Like what?” Ginny asked, squinting at

- 286 -
her.

“Perhaps a necklace of butterbeer corks,”

Luna said. “Or of feathers. Necklaces
guard your head, you know.”

“Really?” Colin asked. “How?” Luna smiled

and swapped chairs with Ginny, so that
she could tell Colin – who’d grown up as a
muggle and had an interest in all sorts of
magics – about the power of certain bits of
jewellery. Colin was always so polite, and
always asked such good questions. Luna
liked talking to him very much, and had
promised to take him out onto the grounds
that weekend to find a humdinger for him
to photograph.

Next to her, Ginny blew on her feather so

it looked like she was managing her spell,
and somehow managed to earn herself five
points for Gryffindor.

- 287 -
 §

“Are your dorm-mates still not talking to

you?” Tom asked, tucking a strand of Gin-
ny’s hair behind her ear. Ginny, who was
curled up in an armchair in the Slytherin
common room, shook her head.

“They think I’m a freak,” she said miser-

ably. “Apparently I was up and about last
night as well, but I was actually walk-
ing this time. I just don’t think I’m very
good at having friends that are girls.” She
laughed, but it wasn’t an amused sound.

“Poor, dear, Ginny,” Tom said softly. He

was glad he was sitting off to the side, so
that she couldn’t see the slight smile on
his face. “But what about Luna and Colin?
And your brothers and their friends?”

“Luna’s in Ravenclaw. Colin can’t get up

- 288 -
to my dormitory, and Percy yelled at me
for trying to go up to his. Said it wasn’t
appropriate.” One of Ginny’s small feet
kicked the common room table, and Tom
gently stroked her shoulder. “And Fred
and George and Harry and Ron are off do-
ing something, but Draco was late to meet
Snape and didn’t tell me what, and I think
Hermione must have gone to the library,
because I can’t find her. I just- I always
imagined that everyone would be around
again, once I got to Hogwarts, but they’re
always doing their own things.”

“I know it’s not the same,” Tom said in a

voice he hoped sounded nervous, “but I’ll
always be here for you.”

“Not the same?” Ginny asked, snorting.

She turned to look at him, and Tom kept
his expression blank. “You’re just as good
as any of them, Tom.” Ginny hesitated

- 289 -
and then wrapped her arms around Tom,
who was perched on the arm of the chair.
He froze, but Ginny didn’t seem to notice.
“And you’re right; you’re always here for
me.” Her voice was muffled and he just
hoped she wasn’t getting snot on his robes.

“Of course I am,” Tom said, patting her

hair. When she looked up, he was sur-
prised to see her beaming at him, rather
than looking upset.

“I think you’re my best friend,” she said.

Tom just patted her head, and Ginny
squeezed him again. Tom didn’t struggle,
though he wanted to. Hugs weren’t some-
thing he’d ever been very comfortable with.

“I’m flattered,” he said, and wasn’t lying;

he didn’t care for her feelings, obvious-
ly, but Tom needed her to trust him, and
she’d just told him she valued him above

- 290 -
everyone else.

“And I’m sorry if I annoy you sometimes,

because I’m younger than you.” Her age
was one of a whole list of things about her,
but Tom, still pleased she’d called him her
best friend, smiled.

“Ginny, you could never annoy me.” She

looked pleased, but not as if she believed
him. “I’m a Slytherin,” he said lightly, but
he was always wary about bringing that
up, “I would tell you, I assure you.”

“Unless you had to keep me happy to car-

ry out some cunning plan of yours,” Ginny
said. Tom couldn’t read her face at all, and
started to panic. How she’d worked it out,
he had no idea, but this could be it if he
wasn’t careful. He braced himself to pos-
sess her, and hoped he was strong enough;
so far, he’d managed it twice, but only

- 291 -
while she’d been asleep. An awake Ginny
would be much harder to handle, he knew,
particularly if she was as wary of him as
she’d just professed. “Tom?”

“Where did I slip up?” he asked.

“Slip- Oh.” Ginny laughed. “You’re so fun-

ny, Tom.” She smiled up at him again, and
Tom stared at her. She gave him an odd
look, and then started to talk about her
visit to Hagrid’s and how nice he was, and
how much his dog dribbled, and how the
dog had howled every time Hagrid’s roost-
er crowed from its coop outside.

Like some sort of competition, she’d said.

Tom was unsure what had happened, but
could only assume Ginny had been making
a very odd joke when she’d accused him of
having a cunning plan. As soon as he reg-
istered what she’d just said, however, all

- 292 -
thoughts of her maybe-joke had fled.

“Hagrid has roosters?”

Much, much later that night, Tom slipped

back into the first year girls’ dormitory. He
cleaned Ginny’s shoes, which were mud-
dy, and set them at the end of her bed,
then walked Ginny to the bathroom so he
could use the mirror to get rid of the roost-
er feather he could feel in her hair, and
make sure none had stuck to her robes. It
was a good thing he’d checked.

He flushed the feathers down the toilet,

and stepped back out into the main room.
In the bed closest to the door he’d just come
out of, Demelza sat upright, looking fright-
ened. Tom withdrew into the small pocket
he’d made in the back of Ginny’s head, and

- 293 -
felt the real Ginny stir. Her body dropped
to the ground before she quite had control
of it again.

“Ginny?” Demelza whispered.

“Ow,” Ginny said. Then, “Why am I all

wet?” He felt her skim through her last
thoughts (the important ones were tucked
safely away with him), trying to remem-
ber. Ginny made a small, distressed sound
when she realised she didn’t remember
and satisfaction ran through Tom. He
withdrew further, still there, but entirely
dormant, and left her to her own devices.

“It could be worse,” Harry said, rubbing a

tarnished Quidditch award.

“How?” Ron asked.

- 294 -
“Lockhart could have caught us instead of
Filch-” While the weather wasn’t overly
cold yet, it had been raining for days and
Harry (and Ron, who’d come to watch and
fly the Nimbus afterward) had tracked
mud up three floors of the castle, and then
bumped straight into the caretaker and
his awful cat. “-and we’d both probably be
making him hair potions and addressing
his fan mail.” Ron pretended to vomit on a
Special Award for Services to the School.
Harry laughed.

“Filch could have let us use magic, at

least,” Ron sighed.

“Yeah, but then he wouldn’t be Filch, would

he?” Harry winced and massaged his hand.
Life with the Dursleys had prepared him
for this sort of thing, but, thanks to Pad-
foot, he was well out of practice. “Besides-”

- 295 -
“Finally…” The voice seemed to come from
the very castle, but Harry would never
have imagined Hogwarts could sound so
cold or dangerous. Harry twitched and
dropped the trophy he’d been working on.

“Watch it!” Ron said, shoving him. Har-

ry was listening too hard to do anything
more than shove him back half-heartedly.

“So long… so hungry…”

“Harry?”

“Can you hear that?” Harry asked, his

head snapping in Ron’s direction.

“Hear what?” Ron asked. It wasn’t an un-

common situation; with Harry’s canine
hearing he often heard things that his
friends didn’t. This time, however, Harry

- 296 -
hadn’t just heard Peeves causing trouble,
or a student or teacher saying something
under their breath.

“There was- it was a voice,” Harry said,

looking around wildly. They were very
much alone in the trophy room, and Har-
ry wasn’t sure that he felt safe. “It was-
it was like Hogwarts was talking, but it
was- Weird. I don’t-”

“Hogwarts was talking?” Ron asked, arch-

ing his eyebrows. “If that-”

“I know it sounds mental,” Harry said

hotly, sure that Ron was about to say just
that.

“Keep your hair on,” Ron said, kicking

him. “I was going to say, if that’s the case,
should we, you know, tell someone?”

- 297 -
“I expect Madam Pomfrey would like to
know that I’m hearing voices,” Harry said
dully. His eyes swept around the room
again. Everything was silent now.

“I meant Dumbledore, you prat,” Ron said,

rolling his eyes, “or you could tell Sirius.”
Harry just nodded.

They finished their detention in silence –

though not an awkward one – and made
their way back up to the common room.
Harry kept his hand on his wand, and lis-
tened carefully, but the voice didn’t speak
again. Somehow, though, that didn’t calm
Harry at all, and he was very glad to be
back within the safety of Gryffindor tow-
er. Other than Percy and Ginny, who were
sitting together on one of the couches by
the fire, the common room was empty. Har-
ry smiled at Ginny, but she wasn’t paying
attention. He noticed her robes and hair

- 298 -
were damp.

“And where have you been?” Percy asked,

bristling. “It’s past curfew-”

“We had detention,” Ron told him. Percy

looked even less impressed to learn that,
and his eyes flicked to Harry. His lips
thinned, and Harry wondered whether
Percy thought he was a bad influence on
Ron.

“And what a fine example you’re setting,”

Percy snapped, putting a hand on Ginny’s
shoulder. She twitched, and then looked
at the hand, as if surprised to see it there.
“With you, and Fred and George to watch,
it’s no wonder she thinks it’s all right to be
wandering the corridors at all hours.”

“I told you,” Ginny said to Percy in a small

voice, “I wasn’t wandering, I was sleep-

- 299 -
walking.”

“Since when do you sleepwalk?” Ron asked,

looking baffled. Ginny’s face crumpled, but
she didn’t cry. She just seemed confused
and upset.

“I don’t know,” she said. “One minute, I

was asleep in bed, and then next thing I’m
being attacked by some silly ghost-”

“Moaning Myrtle,” Percy said.

“Who?” they asked together.

“She’s haunts a bathroom,” Percy said.

“Obviously, Fred and George have ha-
rassed her in the past, and so she thought
being mean to Ginny would be a good way
to get back at them. It’s really quite lucky
Penny was on patrols, or things could have
got out of hand.” He patted Ginny’s arm,

- 300 -
but Harry didn’t think she looked comfort-
ed.

“Who’s Penny?” Ron asked slyly. Percy

pretended not to hear him.

“I told you not to-” Harry started weakly,

but couldn’t finish before Padfoot swept
him into a hug.

“And since when are you the one that gets

to tell people what to do?” Padfoot held
Harry at an arm’s length, looked at him
for a moment, and then grinned. “I’m your
godfather, remember? I get to be the bossy
one.” Despite telling him it wasn’t worth a
trip out, Harry was glad to see him. “Are
the others around?”

“Ron’s with Ginny, writing a letter home,

- 301 -
but then he and Draco are going flying, and
Hermione was with Neville and Parvati,”
Harry said, as they flopped down onto the
grass by the lake. “Have you heard much
from Moony?”

“Bits and pieces,” Padfoot said. “He got

himself into a bit of trouble with one of the
parents after a Dicta-Quill mistranslated
something, and he said Matt was heading
over to visit them this weekend, and that
he’ll be back next weekend.”

“For Quidditch?” Harry asked.

“And Halloween,” Padfoot said. Harry

nodded at once.

“Are you going to Godric’s Hollow, or just-”

“Yeah,” Padfoot said. “Yeah, we’ll go, but

then I think we’ll come home via Hogsme-

- 302 -
ade.” He gave Harry a significant look.

“You might bump into Fred and George,”

Harry said, grinning. “I think the older
years get to go that weekend.”

“I know,” Padfoot said. “But I was sort of

hoping one of the younger students might
come out too… We’d come and get you, of
course, and drop you back at the school af-
terward…”

“We as in you and Moony?” Harry asked.

Padfoot nodded.

“I think butterbeer, and stories about what

horrendous little gits we all were at school
is called for on Halloween,” Padfoot said.
“If you’re interested, that is?”

“Yes, please,” Harry said, smiling. Padfoot

grinned back.

- 303 -
“So tell me more about this voice. Is it still
around?”

“I haven’t heard it again,” Harry said. “It

was- I mean, maybe I imagined it, but-”

“I know you don’t think that,” Padfoot said.

“But Hogwarts can’t talk,” Harry said.

“That’s mental, right?”

“Stranger things have happened,” Padfoot

said, shrugging. “And you said Ron didn’t
hear it?”

“No, and I talked to Draco and Hermione

about it, and they said they didn’t hear
anything where they were. But it was- I
know it wasn’t in the trophy room, it was-
I dunno, under, or around, or something.”
Harry shifted. “I’m going to Dumbledore

- 304 -
if it happens again, but I haven’t- I don’t
want to bother him when it’s probably
nothing.” Padfoot watched him for a mo-
ment, and Harry wondered if he thought
Harry should have told. He didn’t say any-
thing about it, though.

“What about your scar?”

“My- what about it?”

“It hasn’t been hurting?” Padfoot asked.

“No odd dreams, or strange headaches?”

“Not that I’ve noticed,” Harry said, shak-

ing his head. “Besides, didn’t you say that
Dumbledore told you he was abroad? How
could he be in two places at once?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Padfoot

said. “And I agree with you; it’s unlikely to
be him. But, the fact that it was only you

- 305 -
that could hear it, and that we had that
warning from Dobby… I don’t think this
will be the last of the voice, and I don’t
think we can discount Voldemort from the
list of people to blame.”

- 306 -
Chapter 11:
On Halloween

“… fifth year, or sixth?” Padfoot asked,

looking at Moony. The three of them were
sitting on one of the benches on the out-
skirts of Hogsmeade, that looked up at the
path to the school, and out over the forest.
Moony had been recognised and greeted
by a few of the older students (and Harry
had quickly hidden under the invisibility
cloak), but no one had passed by for a few
hours now.

- 307 -
“Sixth.” Moony took a sip of his butterbeer
and smiled at Harry. “Bellatrix was giv-
ing Lily grief for something or other; could
have been to do with Snape-” Padfoot’s ex-
pression flickered. “- or because Slughorn
had given her points-”

“Or just her general existence,” Padfoot

said. “Bella’s a complete cow, Harry.”

“No arguments there,” Moony said, grin-

ning. “Anyway, Lily’d come up with some
sort of retort-”

“Probably that she was off to tell one of the

teachers,” Padfoot said, rolling his eyes.
His smile was fond, though.

“Anyway,” Moony said, with a look that

Harry took to mean that Padfoot should
stop interrupting, “Lily’d turned to walk
away, when Bellatrix pulled out her wand.”

- 308 -
He paused. “None of us were there, Lily
only told me about it later, so I don’t know
what spell it would have been-”

“Something nasty,” Padfoot said darkly.

“Probably,” Moony agreed. “And Lily had

her back turned, and no way of dealing
with it, when Peeves apparently comes
barrelling out of nowhere with toad hearts
he’d stolen from the dungeons and starts
throwing them at Bellatrix-”

“We know that part’s right,” Padfoot said,

“because I was in the hospital wing be-
cause James dropped a phial of dragon’s
blood on me and burnt my feet, when Bel-
la turns up with a black eye and covered
in toad blood…”

“I’m sure it made your day,” Moony replied,

rolling his eyes, but Harry didn’t miss the

- 309 -
way his mouth twitched.

“Our understanding of it all, was that

Peeves had heard James’ pining enough
to understand that Lily was somehow spe-
cial, or at the very least, associated with
us-”

“His best and greatest allies,” Padfoot said.

“He never really attacked Lily; called her
names, and blew raspberries at her, but
mostly he left her alone.”

“I think he feared James would come after

him,” Moony admitted.

“He’d have been right,” Padfoot said. “As

it was, after the whole toad-heart incident
with Bella, James got worried that Peeves
might have had a soft spot for your mum,
and sat down with Peeves to tell him she
was off limits.”

- 310 -
“How’d that go?” Harry asked, wincing.

“They talked. Briefly. Then Peeves got

James with a dungbomb,” Moony said,
“but James stole Peeves’ hat.”

“Which we made float and used to terror-

ise Filch, or otherwise lure him away from
places we intended to cause trouble in.”
Padfoot barked his laugh.

“To gits,” Moony said, mouth still twitch-

ing as he lifted his bottle. Padfoot and Har-
ry lifted theirs as well, and chinked them
together.

Padfoot and Moony walked Harry back

to school – well, Moony walked them,
while Harry and Padfoot transformed and
chased each other around, and raced each
other up the road.

- 311 -
“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Moony said, as
Harry reared up into his normal self.

“Is Tonks coming?” Harry asked.

“She’s looking forward to seeing you,” Moo-

ny said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t let Wood wind you up too much in

the meantime,” Padfoot said, grinning. “If
he’s anywhere near as mental as James-”

“It wasn’t James that used to bounce on

my bed and throw socks at me until I woke
up on game mornings,” Moony said point-
edly.

“Of course it was,” Padfoot said, flapping

a hand.

“No,” Moony said, “I distinctly remember-”

- 312 -
“Wrong,” Padfoot said. He grinned at Har-
ry. “He’s definitely wrong.” Harry just
sniggered and hugged them both before
slipping through the gates.

“… mean it ‘doesn’t sound like you’?” Moo-

ny was saying as he offered Padfoot his
arm. “It sounds exactly like you-” Padfoot’s
response was swallowed by the pop of the
pair of them Apparating away. Harry lit
his wand because it was getting dark, and
started up toward the castle.

He met Fred and George along the way;

they were working at the very edge of the
forest, collecting some sort of plant for
Professor Sprout as a detention, and he
paused to chat with them, as well as con-
fide that he’d sneaked into Hogsmeade for
the afternoon. That was the sort of thing
he thought they’d appreciate.

- 313 -
He was right; Fred beamed and patted
him on the back.

“Harrykins,” George said, pretending to

dab his eyes with his sleeve. “We’re so
proud of you-”

“And of Moony and Padfoot,” Fred said,

sniffing. “Bless them. They’re well out of
school, but they’re still involved in cor-
rupting the youth of today.” He shared a
look with George. “Speaking of corruption,
though, Harry, is there any chance-”

“None,” Harry said, dancing out of reach;

he wouldn’t put it past one of them to make
a grab for him. “I’ll see you at the feast.”
Laughing, Fred threw a clump of dirt at
his retreating back, but Harry ducked out
of the way.

- 314 -
He wasn’t overly hungry, since Padfoot
had bought him dinner, but he was al-
ready late, so he’d intended to go straight
to the Halloween feast anyway, at least
until Peeves appeared in the Entrance
Hall, with a jar of some sort of potions in-
gredient in hand. The bell on his hat rang
in a soft, menacing way.

“Hi, Peeves,” he said weakly. “Moony and

Padfoot send their regards.”

“Tell them old Peevesy sends his regards

too,” Peeves said. “In fact, I even have a
message for them.” He cackled and flicked
what appeared to be an eyeball at Har-
ry, who didn’t quite dodge it in time; it
bounced off his knee and landed with a
squelch, and then, another two came at
him in quick succession. One missed, but
the other hit his glasses, and then rolled,
wet and sticky, down the side of his face.

- 315 -
Harry pulled his invisibility cloak on at
once, and moved quickly, but silently out
of the way. “Ooh, he’s tricky, isn’t he? Not
to worry, though-” Peeves fished another
eyeball out of his jar and held it up. “-Eye
can see you!”

Harry snorted despite himself, and moved

just in time to avoid the next flying eye. He
headed for the stairs, with Peeves zoom-
ing after him. Harry had to resort to using
almost solely secret passages to get to the
common room; he’d decided to delay the
feast, in favour of cleaning his glasses and
washing his face.

Then he heard it again. It was seeming-

ly coming up through the floor, and Harry
froze to the spot, and clutched the invisi-
bility cloak more tightly around him.

“So hungry…” It said, and ice raced down

- 316 -
Harry’s neck and back. “Rip… tear… kill…
oh, yes… it’s been so long…”

“Peeves?” Harry called. An eye dropped

to his head, from above him, and Harry’s
stomach flopped; that ruled out Peeves.
“Did you hear that?”

“Eye didn’t hear anything,” Peeves said

cheerily, lobbing another eyeball at Harry,
who managed to get himself out of the way
again. “Where’d you go, Potty; you could
probably use a new set of eyes!” While his
mission had been to lose Peeves some-
where along the way, Harry took care to
make sure he didn’t, until he’d made it to
the seventh floor; after all, Peeves for com-
pany was better than no company, even if
he was throwing body parts.

Harry blurted the password at the Fat

Lady, who clucked at him, and told him

- 317 -
he should be downstairs with everyone
else, but let him in anyway. Harry went
straight to his mirror, but Padfoot wasn’t
answering, so Harry took a deep breath
and had a shower. After trying, and fail-
ing to get Padfoot again, Harry left a note
on his bed, explaining what had happened
just in case the voice came after him – and
resolved to head downstairs. He’d have a
word with Dumbledore after the feast. He
nodded to himself.

Harry was just heading back through the

common room after a quick shower when
a soft noise caught his attention. It was
Ginny, sitting in an armchair by the win-
dow, looking very pale. She had a book in
her lap.

“Harry,” she said.

“Are you all right?” They both asked the

- 318 -
question at the same time, and then fell
silent.

“Well?” Ginny asked.

“I’m hearing voices,” Harry said, trying to

make light of the situation. “Nothing un-
usual.” Ginny laughed, but it was strained,
and her eyes were on the wand in his hand.
“What about you?”

“I think- I fell asleep- You’re all wet too.”

Ginny bit her lip, and glanced at the ends
of her damp hair.

“Peeves got me, so I had a shower.”

“I think I must have too,” she said. “But I

don’t remember.” She glanced at the book
in her lap, which Harry now recognised
as her diary. She closed it when she saw
him looking, despite the fact that the page

- 319 -
was blank. “Are you heading down to the
feast?”

“Yeah, I reckon,” Harry said. “You?”

“I don’t know.” She glanced at the diary

again. “Percy keeps telling me to rest.”

“Come on.” Harry offered her a hand up.

“You can’t miss the Halloween feast.” Gin-
ny hesitated. “Hagrid’s going to want to
know what you think of his pumpkins.”
Ginny didn’t take his hand, but she stood.

“For Hagrid, then, I s’pose,” she said, but

she was grinning. It occurred to Harry he
hadn’t seen her smile this past week.

“Exactly,” Harry said, grinning. She

ducked upstairs to put her diary away,
and then came to rejoin him. The two of
them set off downstairs, chatting about

- 320 -
tomorrow’s match, and whether Hydrus’
broom could even carry his ego, Nimbus
2001 or not. The voice didn’t speak again,
but Harry was glad for company to take
his mind off it.

“Harry,” she said, when they were some-

where on the second floor. “I- thanks for-”
She shifted slightly, and then yelped and
slipped, almost taking Harry down with
her when she grabbed him for support.
“Stop laughing!” she said, but she was ob-
viously trying not to herself. “It’s not my
fault; the floor’s wet!”

“All right,” he said, putting his hands up

in mock-surrender. A glance at the floor
revealed that she was right. “Huh. I won-
der why-”

“Oh, no, that’s Myrtle’s bathroom,” Ginny

said, looking suddenly nervous.

- 321 -
“The ghost that attacked you?” Harry
asked. She nodded. “I’ll protect you,” he
teased.

“My hero,” Ginny said, scowling at him.

She jabbed him in the side with a finger.

“Ow-”

“Well, that’s what you get for teasing me,”

she said, tossing her long hair back. Har-
ry chuckled, at least until the smell of her
shampoo assaulted his nose and made him
sneeze. “Ask Ron.”

“I believe you,” he assured her, rubbing

his nose. Another scent caught his atten-
tion and he stilled.

“What?” she asked. She looked ahead. “Is

it Myrt-”

- 322 -
“Mrs Norris,” he said, looking around.
Ginny scowled.

“Where?”

“Dunno, usually she makes herself known-”

The pair of them were silent; while they
weren’t doing anything wrong, the fact
that Mrs Norris was around meant that
Filch was nearby, and if Filch was nearby,
detention was probably inevitable.

“Harry,” Ginny said slowly. “That’s not- it

isn’t-” Harry moved in the direction Ginny
was pointing, where a small, dark shape
dangled from one of the torches. Harry’s
stomach froze over, and he pulled his wand
out, gesturing for Ginny to stay close. He
couldn’t see or hear anyone around, or
smell any recent scents; all he could smell
was the cat, the water, and Ginny… and

- 323 -
blood. Harry could smell blood. He looked
up and felt his heart jump into his throat.

Written – not very high - in large, drib-

bling letters, were the words, The Cham-
ber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies
of the Heir, beware.

“Is that blood?” Ginny asked. She was

very pale, but leaned closer to have a look.
Harry’s mind was racing. He had no idea
what the Chamber of Secrets was, or who
the Heir might be, but he suspected it was
all related to the voice, somehow. “Harry
that’s blood-”

“Ginny, we need to go, now,” he said, grab-

bing her wrist. But it was too late.

“Caught in the act!” a triumphant voice

said from behind them.

- 324 -
Anyone but him, Harry thought, closing
his eyes for a moment. Filch shuffled up,
rubbing his hands together, his pale eyes
drifting over the pair of them.

“Vandalism, for one,” he said, without re-

ally looking at the writing, “damage to
school property-” He waved a hand at the
floor.

“It wasn’t us,” Ginny said, shaking her

head.

“And the floor’s stone,” Harry said. “And

that’s just water, so it’s not really dam-
aged-”

“Shut up,” Filch said. “And, you’re not at

the feast… duck out for private time, did
we?” He looked vaguely ill, and Harry and
Ginny looked at each other with wrinkled
noses. “Oh, it’s trouble for you, all right.

- 325 -
The Headmaster might let me bring out
my thumb screws again-” Filch’s eyes,
which had been drinking in their terrified
faces, alighted on Mrs Norris. “Is that-
that’s not- Mrs Norris? What have you
done to her?!”

“We didn’t-”

“You’ve killed my cat!” Filch howled. He

took a step forward, and Harry moved
back, pushing Ginny behind him. “You lit-
tle beasts have killed my cat!” Harry could
see tears in his eyes, and for the first time
ever, felt bad for the man.

“I promise we didn’t, we just found-”

“Liar! You’ve killed-” Voices rumbled at

the end of the corridor, and shadows of stu-
dents, cast by the torches, appeared on the
walls. Filch made a jerky motion toward

- 326 -
them, and then turned around, shouting
for a Professor. Harry and Ginny moved
away from the wall as much as possible,
but people were already talking amongst
themselves, and pointing.

Then, a voice spoke out from amongst the

gathered students.

“’Enemies of the Heir, beware’?” It was Hy-

drus, flanked by Daphne and Blaise. Blaise
didn’t look anywhere near as excited as
the other two. Harry wondered why they
were even there, and then supposed they
could be heading to the library. “Creevey-
where’s Creevey?” There was a quiet noise
from somewhere in the mob of students.
“Ah, there; you’d better start taking pho-
tographs of yourself and the other mud-
bloods. We’ll need something to remember
you all by.” Daphne laughed loudly.

- 327 -
“That is enough, Mr Malfoy.” Filch had
found Snape, who was making his way to-
ward them. In his wake, Harry could see
his friends, looking worried and confused.

“They kill-”

“Yes, Filch,” Snape drawled. “We’ll get

to that.” He cleared his throat. “Twenty
points will be taken from each and every
person that is still within my sight in ten
seconds.” His eyes met Harry’s, and Har-
ry knew they were supposed to stay. “Yes,
Draco, that includes you. I’m sure you can
bear to be separated from precious Pot-
ter for a few minutes.” Harry didn’t meet
any of his friends’ eyes, but he did see Ron
make a rude hand gesture at Snape’s back,
as Hermione led him away.

“We didn’t do it, I swear!” Ginny said, as

soon as they were alone with Snape and

- 328 -
Filch.

“Obviously, idiot girl,” Snape said. “This-”

He gestured at Mrs Norris. “-is dark mag-
ic that is well outside the capabilities of
a first or even second year.” His eyes met
Harry’s again. “What is not obvious, is
why the pair of you were here, and not at
dinner.”

“It’s Halloween,” Harry said quietly, “sir.”

“I am well aware of what day it is, Potter,”

Snape said, and something Harry couldn’t
quite name flickered in his expression for
just a moment.

“Then you’ll believe me when I say I was

with Padfoot and Moony.” After a moment,
Snape jerked his head.

“That’s easy to check,” he said, almost

- 329 -
warningly.

“Yep,” Harry said. Snape’s jaw worked for

a moment, and then he flicked his wand.
A Patonus, moving too quickly for Harry
to make out its shape, charged down the
corridor.

“Then what?” Snape asked. “Then I came

back, and Peeves attacked me so I went
upstairs, and found Ginny and we decided
to come down together.” Ginny nodded at
his side.

“We just found all of this,” she said. “I

promise, sir.”

“They killed my cat!” Filch said.

“She’s not dead,” Snape said. “I don’t have

experience with her current state, but she
is alive, I assure you.”

- 330 -
“I want to see them hanging in the dun-
geons-”

“We didn’t do it!” Ginny snapped at him.

“Regardless of whether he is incorrect or

not, Weasley, it is inappropriate to ad-
dress a member of the staff in such a man-
ner. Five points from Gryffindor.” Snape
detached Mrs Norris from the torch and
passed her to Filch, then gestured to them.
“Come along; the Headmaster will doubt-
less have questions of his own.”

- 331 -
Chapter 12:
The Chamber of Secrets

By the time Harry, Snape and Ginny ar-

rived in Dumbledore’s office, Sirius had
already Flooed through with Remus, and
the pair of them, were waiting impatient-
ly with Dumbledore and McGonagall.

Harry’s expression, which had been grim

and nervous when he walked in, eased
slightly when he saw Sirius, but he didn’t
run forward to stand with him, as Sirius
had expected. Instead, he stayed by Ginny,

- 332 -
who looked so scared that Sirius thought
she might be sick.

“Verification by letter would have done it,”

Snape drawled.

“The fact that you even needed it means

something’s up,” Sirius replied, folding his
arms. He tried to catch Harry’s eye, but
Harry was looking at the floor. “I thought
it was best to play it safe.” Next to him,
Remus nodded. Dumbledore cleared his
throat gently, but Sirius could smell his
worry, and his impatience.

Before Snape could explain anything,

though, there was a sniff, and a shuffling
sound, and Filch appeared in the doorway
to the office, cradling his cat.

“They attacked her, Headmaster,” he

croaked. Sirius almost chuckled – Filch’s

- 333 -
cats had never been popular with the
students – but the way Harry shrank
back changed Sirius’ mind at once. Gin-
ny, looked like she might cry. This time,
Sirius was able to catch Harry’s eye, and
was surprised when Harry’s expression
changed from scared to pleading. “They-”

“I’m not familiar with her condition,”

Snape said curtly. “But she isn’t dead.”
Dumbledore was on his feet, and over by
Filch and the cat in moments. He ran his
hand over her, murmuring into his beard,
and then stepped away.

“Petrified,” he murmured, and shared a

look with McGonagall, who also looked
grim.

Petrified? Sirius wondered, frowning at

Remus, who shrugged.

- 334 -
“She was found by a message,” Snape con-
tinued, with a fleeting look at Harry and
Ginny. “’The Chamber of Secrets has been
opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware. I’ve-
” Snape hesitated. “To my knowledge,
such things were rumours.” Confused, Sir-
ius glanced at Remus who shrugged and
shook his head. Dumbledore’s eyes closed
for just a moment. Then they opened.

“And Harry and Miss Weasley?” Snape

looked annoyed that Dumbledore hadn’t
said more about the mysterious chamber.

“They did it!” Filch said.

“We didn’t,” Ginny said, speaking for the

first time. “I promise, we only found her
that way-”

“Neither were at the feast,” Snape said,

after a moment.

- 335 -
“Miss Weasley?” McGonagall said.

“I was asleep,” Ginny said. “And then I

woke up and Harry and I were going to
go down to the feast, only…” She cast a
nervous glance in Filch’s direction, and he
bared his teeth at her, and hugged his cat
more tightly. Dumbledore nodded at Gin-
ny, and glanced at Harry.

“I was with Padfoot and Moony,” Harry

said. “It’s- well, it’s Halloween, so-”

“I wasn’t notified of your presence on the

grounds,” Dumbledore said, giving bot Sir-
ius and Remus a piercing look.

“We weren’t on the grounds,” Sirius said.

“Hogsmeade,” Remus added, looking a bit

sheepish.

- 336 -
“With Mr Potter?” McGonagall’s nostrils
flared. “We weren’t notified-”

“I’m an Auror and Remus is a teacher,”

Sirius said. “And I’m his guardian on top
of all of that.”

“The fact remains, Mr Black, that we have

a duty of care,” she said curtly. “And, were
he not already present, Mr Potter is among
the first students I would be checking on,
given his-” She glanced at Harry and her
mouth thinned. “-well, given who he is and
his tendency to get himself and – my apol-
ogies, Potter – others, into dangerous sit-
uations.” Harry was looking at the ground
again, but Sirius still saw his face redden.

Sirius couldn’t quite fault her logic, much

as he wanted to.

- 337 -
“Harry was with us,” Remus said quietly,
“notice - or lack of it - aside.”

“And when you returned, why did you go

to Gryffindor tower?”

“Peeves,” was all Harry said, and Sirius

wasn’t the only one that grimaced.

“I do not,” Snape said into the silence that

followed, “believe that either of them are
responsible.”

“Obviously,” McGonagall said. “The ques-

tion is, who is responsible?”

“I know what you’re thinking, Minerva,

but I do not believe that the person-” His
eyes flicked around the room. “-that was
blamed last time-”

“I don’t believe that any more than you do,

- 338 -
Albus,” McGonagall dismissively. “Aside
from anything else, I sat next to him to-
night, and comforted him about his dead
roosters.”

“Roosters?” Ginny asked. McGonagall

waved a hand at her.

“Did either of you happen to see or hear

anything?” Dumbledore asked.

“Nothing,” Ginny said at once, shaking

her head.

Sirius wasn’t surprised – but his heart

sank anyway – when he looked at Harry
and saw him biting his lip.

“I- erm- I might have.” He looked at Sirius

and muttered, “I heard the voice again.”

- 339 -
“So you’ve heard this voice twice now?”
Dumbledore asked. The intensity of his
stare made Harry feel like he was the only
one in the room. He nodded. “And neither
Mr Weasley or Peeves, who were with you
on these occasions, gave any indication
that they could also hear it?”

“No,” Harry said. Dumbledore steepled his

hands.

“Forgive me for asking, Harry, but has

your scar been troubling you of late?”

“No,” Harry said again. Ginny shifted next

to him, and Harry thought she was hold-
ing herself together remarkably well.

“Severus-”

“Nothing,” he said, and Harry didn’t miss

the way his hand moved, as if to touch his

- 340 -
arm. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair.

“Well,” he said after a moment. “It seems

there’s little more we can accomplish to-
day. Argus, if you will leave Mrs Norris in
my care, I’ll have her kept safe until she
can be given the mandrake restorative.
Minerva, you will go to Filius and tell him
what has happened here, Severus, you
will go to Pomona.” The three of them left
the office, Filch far less briskly than the
teachers.

“Sir,” Harry said, “what’s the Chamber of

Secrets?” For a moment, Harry thought
Dumbledore might not answer. Then, with
a glance at Padfoot and Moony, he sighed.

“It is considered to be a legend only, ex-

cept by those who know better.” There was
no twinkle in Dumbledore’s eye, and he
sighed before continuing. “As I’m sure you

- 341 -
all know, Hogwarts was founded by those
that our Houses are named after: Gryffin-
dor-” Dumbledore nodded at the four of
them. “-Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and, of
course, Slytherin.”

“Perhaps it will not come as a surprise,

that Salazar Slytherin disliked muggle-
borns. Over this matter of opinion, he and
the other Founders quarrelled, and Sly-
therin was driven from the school. And
this is where the Chamber of Secrets
comes in; it is rumoured that, before he
left, Slytherin created a secret chamber,
within which dwelled a monster that he
intended to have purge the school of those
with anything less than the purest of her-
itage.”

“But it’s not a rumour?” Padfoot asked,

frowning.

- 342 -
“The Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty
years ago, when I was the Transfiguration
teacher here at Hogwarts.”

“With Headmaster Dippet,” Ginny said.

Dumbledore looked surprised, but nodded;
other than Dumbledore, and one of Pad-
foot’s ancestors, he had no idea about the
lineage of the Headmasters. Perhaps Gin-
ny had been spending too much time with
Percy. Dumbledore waved his hand at a
portrait, who nodded back, looking grim,
and Harry assumed that he was Dippet.

“Everything started much the same, last

time; there was an attack, and a warning-”

“How did it end?” Harry asked.

“After several more attacks, a student

was killed.” Dumbledore’s voice was sad,
and Fawkes, who’d been silent the whole

- 343 -
time, trilled gently. “After that, a culprit
was found, and while the attacks stopped,
I, personally do not believe that that per-
son was responsible.” Ginny squeaked.

“Who-”

“It is not my place to share,” Dumbledore

said gently. “What I can and will share
is that we searched the school top to bot-
tom, and never found any evidence of the
Chamber, or of the monster.”

“Other than the attacks.” Moony’s face

was grim.

“Other than the attacks,” Dumbledore

agreed gravely.

“If it wasn’t the person that was caught,”

Padfoot said slowly, “who did you think it
was?”

- 344 -
“I had one suspect,” Dumbledore admit-
ted, “who would have fit all of the criteria
except for the fact that he had a muggle
father, and a mother that may or may not
have been a witch, but, most significantly,
no evidence of a connection - that I have
been able to find - to Slytherin’s line.”

“He, sir?” Harry asked.

“Voldemort, Harry,” Dumbledore said.

“He was at the school back then?” Ginny

asked, eyes wide. She no longer seemed
scared, just intrigued.

“He was,” Dumbledore said. “But, both

Harry and Severus are… sensitive to his
presence, and I have reason to believe that
would also be the case in this instance,
were he involved.”

- 345 -
“But we can’t rule him out,” Padfoot said.

“Can we ever?” Harry asked unhappily.

“I will,” Dumbledore said after a moment,

“prepare an address to be given to the
school at breakfast. I would appreciate
your discretion-” He looked at Harry, then
at Ginny. “-in the matter until then.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, and Ginny nodded.

“Very well,” Dumbledore said, getting to

his feet. “Remus, I hope the new position
is going well. I’m just sorry we couldn’t
have met up under better circumstances.”

“Me too,” Moony said, reaching forward to

clasp Dumbledore’s hand.

“And Sirius,” Dumbledore said, with a half-

- 346 -
sigh, half-smile, “I imagine I’ll be seeing
you regularly until things have settled.”

“Yep,” Padfoot said.

“I would appreciate it if you leave me to

handle matters in my school, however,”
Dumbledore said. “Last year should be ev-
idence enough that if I need the Aurors’
help, I shall ask for it.”

“Understood,” Padfoot said, nodding.

“Now, I think it’s about time you two were

back with your friends and family, in your
House,” Dumbledore said, clasping his
hands. Harry nudged Ginny toward the
door. Ginny was a pureblood, and Har-
ry himself a half-blood, so they should be
safe, but Harry almost asked if Padfoot
and Moony would go with them anyway.
“But not alone,” Dumbledore continued.

- 347 -
“Not tonight.” Harry relaxed slightly.
“And, since I’ve sent Minerva away to do
other things, I suppose the position of es-
cort falls to me.” Ginny looked startled,
but relieved.

Harry hugged Padfoot and Moony good-

bye, and watched them vanish into the
fire as Dumbledore guided them toward
the stairs.

Ginny wasn’t at all surprised when they

arrived back in the common room – Dumb-
ledore had bid them goodbye at the por-
trait – and found Ron, Hermione and Dra-
co waiting for them. News had obviously
spread; everyone seemed to be watching
them, and she wondered if this was what
it was like to be Harry. She didn’t like it
much at all. Percy and the twins seemed

- 348 -
to be doing a good job of keeping everyone
away, though, and within seconds, Hermi-
one had thrown her arms around Harry,
and Ron had descended on Ginny and the
five of them were safely tucked away in
the second year boys’ dormitory.

Neville was the only one who’d been in

there, and he’d taken one look at them and
made an excuse about going back down
to the common room. The five of them
squeezed onto Ron’s bed and Ginny found
herself wedged between Ron and Hermi-
one, feeling very safe despite what had
happened.

“What happened down there?” Hermione

asked. “Draco’s been telling us about the
Chamber of Secrets-”

“You know about it?” Ginny asked him.

- 349 -
“My father used to tell it as a bedtime sto-
ry,” Draco said, his cheeks faintly pink.
“Nothing like hearing about Slytherin’s
monster attacking muggleborns to put
Hydrus to sleep.” Ginny knew he wasn’t
joking, and grimaced. They swapped sto-
ries quickly; Draco’s account was much
the same as Dumbledore’s, down to not
knowing who was responsible, where the
chamber was, or what the monster was.
“I’ve been thinking, though, Potter,” he
said. “If you’re the only one that can hear
it… what if it’s a Kelpie?”

“What?” Ron asked. Hermione shrugged

at him, but Harry’s mouth had fallen open.

“Do you think?” Harry asked, eyes wide.

“It would make sense; if it was a Kelpie,
it could live in the lake, and they’d nev-
er find it in there… And it would explain
why no one’s seen it; Kelpies can change

- 350 -
shape. Who’d give a mouse a second look,
when they’re after a monster? And there
was water on the floor, Ginny! Maybe it
came up through the toilet from the lake,
and attacked Mrs Norris-” Ginny glanced
in the direction of the ajar bathroom door,
and didn’t feel quite as safe as earlier.

“But what about the Chamber?” Hermione

asked. “Both Draco and Dumbledore have
said that the Chamber has to be opened
before the monster can be released… How
do you open the lake?”

“Maybe it’s in the boathouse, or there’s a

secret passage,” Draco said.

“Merlin knows there are enough passages

on the map,” Harry said. “They could have
missed one, surely.”

“Or maybe they just open the pipes,” Ron

- 351 -
said, shrugging.

“What about Petrifying people though?”

Ginny asked. Everyone turned to look at
her. “Do Kelpies do that?” Harry looked
straight to Draco, who shrugged.

“I don’t think so, but- maybe this one’s

special?”

“We need the library,” Hermione said,

nodding.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Draco said,

waggling a finger at her. “Not tonight,
anyway.”

“And why not?” Hermione demanded.

“Weren’t you listening, Granger?” he

asked, exasperated. “Slytherin’s monster
goes after muggleborns-”

- 352 -
“Oh,” she said. “Right, yes, but-”

“Write a list,” Ron said, tossing a bit of

parchment at her. “Malfoy and I can go-”

“What about-”

“Please, Potter, you’re you. You’re stay-

ing here, where the entirety of Gryffindor
can watch you.” Harry glowered at Draco,
but Draco just folded his arms and stared
back, until Harry sighed.

“Take the cloak.” Harry slid off the bed and

pulled a length of fabric out of his trunk.
“And the map. If it is a Kelpie coming
from the lake through the pipes, then you
should try to avoid bathrooms.” This time,
Ginny wasn’t the only one that looked at
the boys’ bathroom door.

- 353 -
“Right,” Draco said, nodding. “Merlin,
Granger, how are we supposed to carry all
of that?” He snatched up the list and read
it aloud. “Prophets from 1942, books about
Kelpies, books about Slytherin- You too,
Potter- really? You want that?” Harry had
just added Nature’s Nobility to the list.

“The Slytherin line ought to be well docu-

mented,” Harry said, shrugging. “I’m sure
people have looked before, but- well, it
can’t hurt, can it?”

Hermione finished her list, and then Ron

and Draco left.

“Do you think they’ll be all right?” Ginny

asked.

“Of course,” Hermione said. “You heard

Draco; they’re both purebloods.” But Har-
ry looked at Ginny and she knew he was

- 354 -
thinking that the pair of them were blood
traitors, as well.

“I think I might go to bed,” Ginny said

some time later, when it became apparent
that Harry and Hermione intended to sit
there in silence, waiting for the others to
get back. “If something happens, come and
get me, all right?” She didn’t know what
she, a first year, could do, but she’d want
to help anyway.

“Of course,” Hermione said, smiling at

her. She squeezed Ginny’s shoulders and
moved so that Ginny could get up.

“Night, Ginny,” Harry said quietly.

“Night,” Ginny replied.

Ten minutes later, she was settled in bed,

hidden by the hangings, with a quill in her

- 355 -
hand, and Tom’s diary in her lap.

Tom?

Ginny. She could imagine his pleased

smile, and it made her want to smile too.
How was the feast?

I didn’t go. Tom, when you said things

were bad when you were at school, were
you talking about the Chamber of Secrets?

How did you know that?

Because it’s happening again, Tom! Mrs

Norris was attacked. Harry and I found
her on our way downstairs.

Do they know who’s doing it?

No. Ginny hesitated. But Tom, you were

wrong. Dumbledore says the person you

- 356 -
caught didn’t do it.

Of course they did, Ginny, Tom replied.

No, Ginny wrote. Besides, you told me that

Slytherin’s descendant was still there af-
ter you ‘caught’ the culprit. That Slyther-
in’s descendent is the one who trapped you
in there.

I don’t think I did-

You did, I remember!

Ginny-

Tom, you have to tell me who it was!

Don’t you see? They’re here now, and I
don’t know if it’s the same person, or one
of their descendants, but I do know that
people are going to get hurt if they’re not
stopped. And they might know a way to

- 357 -
get you out of the diary-

Ginny, this is a lot to process, Tom wrote.

His writing was shaky, and she felt imme-
diately guilty for upsetting him. And- well,
I’ve spent so long trying to forget about
Slytherin’s descendant that I don’t know
if I can remember his name… Time’s dif-
ferent here in the diary, and it’s been fifty
long years-

I know, I know, I’m sorry to have to ask so

much, but we can fix it!

I’ll-I have to go now, Ginny. You’ve given

me lots to think about, and I need time to
try to remember.

Of course, Tom, I’m sorry-

Don’t be sorry. You’re such a kind, brave

girl, and so clever to realise my mistake.

- 358 -
My sweet Ginny. Ginny felt colour rising
in her cheeks, and was thankful that she
wasn’t in the diary, where Tom could see
it. Can you do me one favour, and not tell
anyone about what I know? I don’t think I
could stand that pressure.

I won’t say anything, Ginny promised.

Tom watched Ginny’s goodnight message

fade into the page of the diary on the ta-
ble next to him, and threw his quill down,
swearing.

- 359 -
Chapter 13:
Bludger gone rogue

When Ginny awoke, Tom lingered in the

back of her head, trying to steer her atten-
tion toward the diary. He’d decided that
would be the best course of action; face
to face, he’d be better able to play to her
sympathies, and get her to forget about
catching him out about his heir of Slyther-
in story… not that she understood the sig-
nificance of it all, of course.

Still, better to play it safe, he thought, and

- 360 -
nudged Ginny’s mind in the direction of
his diary again.

There was a knock, though, and Ginny’s

friend Hermione poked her head into the
room. She looked at Ginny’s sleeping room-
mates, then at Ginny – and Tom, without
realising it – who was reaching for the di-
ary under her pillow.

“Morning,” Hermione whispered, adjust-

ing her ghastly gold and red scarf. “Col-
in asked me to check if you were awake,
and wanted to go to breakfast with him;
he wants to get to the game early so he
can get photos of the teams warming up.”

Ginny’s hand stopped on the leather cov-

er, and then withdrew so that she could
push the covers off, and hop out of bed.

“Tell him I’ll be down in a second,” Ginny

- 361 -
said. “Was Ron okay last night? And Dra-
co? Did you find anything out?”

“Yes, they were fine,” Hermione said, and

then glanced at Demelza, who was stir-
ring. “I’ll tell you the rest later.” Hermione
left the room.

The rest? Tom wondered. If Ron, Draco

and Hermione were looking into things,
then Harry doubtless was too, and Tom
didn’t like the sound of that. Diary, Tom
whispered into the back of Ginny’s head,
but she was already at her trunk, looking
for clothes and a scarf that would have
matched Hermione’s had it been ten years
younger; the gold had faded to a yellowish
colour, and the red was almost pink. Ginny
wrapped it on without hesitation, though.
I should talk to Tom, Tom thought, but
Ginny either didn’t hear, or just outright
ignored him.

- 362 -
Tom withdrew, frustrated, as Ginny
swapped her pyjamas for a pair of worn
jeans and a lumpy jumper with a large “G”
on it, and skipped out of her dormitory to
meet Colin.

Harry ducked the bludger and spun his

broom around to make sure it wasn’t com-
ing back; it seemed to have had an unnat-
ural fixation on him today. Hydrus, who
was hovering nearby, guffawed, and Har-
ry ground his teeth together.

“Laugh,” Harry called to him, over the pat-

tering rain, “but the fact that you’re stick-
ing so close means that you think I have a
better chance of catching the snitch, even
with that thing after me.”

- 363 -
“You wish, Potter,” Hydrus sneered, his
face an unpleasant purple colour. “I just
want to be there to see it when it knocks
you off your broom.”

“Ten points to Gryffindor!” Lee bellowed,

and a deafening cheer echoed through
the stands. Harry clapped, and nodded at
Katie as she raced by, already in posses-
sion again. Wood was doing an odd kind of
dance from his place in front of the hoops.

“Harry!” Fred called from off to the side.

Harry looked at him, and then at where
he was pointing. Harry only just had time
to yank his broom sideways to avoid the
bludger, which had been barrelling up at
him from below. He felt the wind made
by its passage on his ankle, and shivered.
Hydrus laughed, and not for the first time,
Harry wondered if it was him who’d set it
up… that, or he’d asked Mr Malfoy to do

- 364 -
it; with their platinum hair, the Malfoys
were easily visible in the guest stand, be-
sides a much friendlier gold-and-red head,
a sandy coloured head, and a mop of shag-
gy black hair.

Harry curled his lip, and urged his broom

up, for a better vantage point. He loved
Quidditch, but with the weather and the
bludger, he got the feeling that the sooner
this game was over, the better.

“I don’t think I can watch this,” Sirius

mumbled, but couldn’t look away. Remus
winced, as the bludger grazed past Har-
ry, missing him by inches. Next to Remus,
Dora’s hair was constantly changing co-
lour; she was obviously making an effort
to keep it gold and red, for Harry, but ev-
ery time the bludger neared him, it would

- 365 -
go red with anger, or white and a sickly
sort of green with shock and fear.

“Someone’s tampered with that,” she

said, squinting up at Harry’s small figure,
which was slightly obscured by the rain.
“There’s a web of magic around it.” Sirius
didn’t doubt it.

“And there’s nothing you can do?” Remus

asked. Sirius caught Dora’s eye, fondly ex-
asperated. While he was a Quidditch fan,
poor Remus had never really been on the
same level as James, or Sirius, or even
Tonks.

“Nothing.” Sirius sent a dark look past

Dora, to where Lucius and Narcissa were
seated, with their house elf beside them.
Dobby hadn’t looked up the entire time
he’d been there. “There’d be complaints
about me interfering if I cast anything,

- 366 -
and even if I did, what would I cast? Fi-
nite might work, but in this rain, I’d just
as likely hit Harry and it could undo one
of the charms on his broom, and if I cast
anything to destroy the bludger and miss,
I’ll hurt him.” Sirius was dying to get his
hands on a broom and a bat and go and
sort it out himself, though he had to ad-
mit, Fred and George were probably doing
as good a job as he’d be able to. “I just hope
his friends have the presence of mind not
to try anything either.”

“And a nice save by Wood- oh! No, back to

Pucey, and-” The boy that was commen-
tating – Remus had told Sirius his name
earlier, but Sirius had already forgotten
it – swore. McGonagall told him off. “-Ten
points to Slytherin.” Sirius clapped once,
without enthusiasm, and then his eyes
went to Harry again. Sirius flinched as the
bludger whistled past his godson again.

- 367 -
“Come on, kiddo,” Sirius muttered, cross-
ing his fingers.

Harry’s newest tactic was to keep Hydrus

between him and the bludger at all times.
It was cruel, perhaps, but it kept Hydrus
too flustered to pay attention to the game,
and at least if it hit him, Harry wouldn’t
let him fall to his death. He wasn’t con-
vinced that Hydrus would do the same.

“Always got to have someone to put to-

ward you and danger, huh, Potter?” Hy-
drus huffed, twirling out of the way. Harry
dropped a few feet, and the bludger passed
him harmlessly, and was intercepted by
George, who sent it whizzing toward Mon-
tague, but it turned around again half-
way. This time, Fred was there to stop it.

- 368 -
“First your parents, then last year it was
my brother-”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry said tiredly. He

hadn’t glimpsed the snitch once, and was
beginning to wonder if the bludger was
keeping it away.

Then, he saw it; tiny and glinting golden,

over by the Gryffindor stand. Harry kept
an eye on it, and, as soon as the bludger
was returning to distract Hydrus, took off.
He could hear the bludger behind him – or
rather, hear Fred warning him that it was
behind him – but Harry was faster, and
Harry was more agile, and Harry could
see the snitch.

The snitch, of course, vanished the mo-

ment Harry took his eye off it, and Harry
was forced to pull up and lead the bludger
into the sky, before its momentum could

- 369 -
carry it into the Gryffindor stand, where
it might hurt his friends; he could see Ron
and Ginny and Draco, all very distinct be-
cause of their hair, and once he’d found
them, he saw Hermione, and Colin – who
was madly taking pictures – and the other
second year Gryffindors.

“Be careful!” he heard someone shout, as

he corkscrewed upward. The bludger got
him this time – just. It nicked his ear as it
passed, and knocked his glasses. It didn’t
hurt, but Harry still froze for a moment,
heart pounding.

“Potter has a close save with a bludger –

he’s been unlucky this game- Ooh, Bell
has the Quaffle-”

What is wrong with this thing? he won-

dered. Predictably, the bludger veered
back around, but then George was there,

- 370 -
and gave the bludger a solid whack. From
below, Colin’s camera flashed up at them,
illuminating the raindrops.

“Someone’s been messing around with

that,” George said angrily, hefting his bat.
Harry didn’t miss his pointed look at Hy-
drus, who’d managed to catch up.

“Slytherin scores again,” Lee called. “They

lead seventty to twenty.” Harry groaned,
as did most of the crowd.

“Duck, Harry,” George said calmly, and

Harry didn’t question him. A mere second
later, George’s bat and the bludger collided
where Harry’s head had been. “Freddie!”
George called. “We could use a hand!” Fred
was with them in seconds, just in time to
send the bludger in Hydrus’ direction.

“You really ought to pay them for their ser-

- 371 -
vices, Potter,” Hydrus said. “Maybe then,
they’ll be able to afford decent brooms.”

“Is Madam Hooch watching?” Fred asked.

‘Because if she’s not, I think I’ll hit the lit-
tle prat and see if that shuts him up.” He
hefted his bat, and Hydrus drifted back
out of range, looking less smug than be-
fore.

Harry, safely ensconced in the circle of Fred

and George’s bats, resumed his search for
the snitch, but their arms and legs and
bats and brooms and robes kept getting in
the way. He lost track of the rest of the
game too, but if the crowd’s groans were
any indication, it wasn’t going well.

“This is getting stupid,” George said,

signalling to Wood for a time out. Wood
wasn’t looking, though; he was watching
the girls, who were up at the

- 372 -
“And Johnson takes a bludger to the shoul-
der!” Lee called. Harry groaned again, and
Fred and George looked at each other, gri-
macing. “Montague takes possession, damn
him- Sorry, Professor. Now Pucey has it,
and-” The crowd groaned. “-ten points to
Slytherin. On the upside, Angelina’s all
right, folks, just a bit bruised. She’s play-
ing on. Don’t know why the bludger was
allowed to get her – Weasley and Weasley
are over with Potter, instead of watching
the Chasers, which is an interesting tactic
by Gryffindor, but I’m not sure how-”

Wood, who’d looked over at them when

Lee mentioned them, saw George’s signal,
and gestured to Madam Hooch. Her whis-
tle trilled through the rain, and Fred gave
the bludger a solid hit that allowed the
three of them to get to the ground safely.

- 373 -
“What the bloody hell-”

“The bludger’s been tampered with,” Fred

said, wiping his wet face with his sleeve.

“Stupid thing won’t leave Harry alone,”

George added, with a dark look at the sky.
The bludger was circling a few feet above
them, seemingly waiting. “The Slyther-
ins-”

“The bludgers have been in Hooch’s office,

though,” Wood said, looking up at the sky
as well. “They’re always checked-”

“Obviously not well enough,” Alicia said,

putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “We’ll
have get an inquiry, and postpone the
game. We’re losing anyway-”

“At the moment, yeah, but if we forfeit,

we’ll definitely lose,” Harry said, before

- 374 -
Wood – who’d obviously been about to say
the same – could. “I want this over, but
not if it means Slytherin wins.” He for
one, wanted to wipe the smirk off Hydrus’
face, and if he could do that in front of the
Malfoys, then all the better. “I’ll manage.
And you two should get back to the rest of
the team. I can’t see past you when you’re
circling-”

“Don’t be thick,” George said. “That thing’ll

crush you into potions ingredients-”

“I’ll manage,” Harry said again. He stared

hard at Wood, who was watching him
thoughtfully. “Get the snitch or die trying,
remember?” Not that he would; he might
be a bit bruised or broken if he was un-
lucky, but someone would step in before
anything really bad happened.

“Wood,” Madam Hooch said impatiently.

- 375 -
“Are you ready to resume?”

“Almost.” Wood looked at Harry, who tried

not to look worried. “We’ll leave you to do
your own thing,” he said, with a look at
Fred and George, both of whom looked
very unimpressed. “But if it’s going badly,
we’ll have another time out and re-evalu-
ate. Got it? I don’t want you hurt and out
for the rest of the season.”

“Yeah, got it,” Harry muttered. He re-

mounted his broom, trying to ignore Fred
and George, who were murmuring about
“staying low” and “easier to get to him
when he falls”. Harry wiped his glasses –
the rain was falling more heavily, now –
and kicked into the air on the whistle.

The bludger was after him at once, and

Harry ducked and looped and didn’t dare
stop.

- 376 -
“And we’re back!” Lee called. “Montague
in possession, but- Oh! Nice bludger from
Weasley – not sure which one, sorry lads!
– and now Bell’s got the Quaffle, dodges
Pucey, passes to Spinnet- Spinnet’s got it
past the Keeper, ten points to Gryffindor!
Brilliant work! That’s thirty to one hun-
dred and ten, Slytherin’s way, but could
this be a comeback for Gryffindor?”

McGonagall’s mutter of, “Let’s hope so,”

was magically amplified by Lee’s mega-
phone, causing laughter from the stands.
Even Harry, spiralling up as he was,
chuckled.

“And Johnson’s back in possession; I hope

her arm’s all right, yes, nice throw there,
to- Intercept by Flint and- Oh! Johnson
narrowly misses another bludger from
Wilkes. Weasley’s there to get rid of it,

- 377 -
though- Ha! How’s that for justice, Wil-
kes!”

“Jordan,” McGonagall said warningly.

Harry swerved to avoid his own bludger,
which vanished into the grey clouds. Gri-
macing, Harry took what time he could to
search for the snitch.

He spied it far below him, flitting over the

grass like an odd, golden butterfly.

Then something collided with his elbow,

and Harry felt something snap, and then
pain shot through his arm and the same
time as the stands gasped. Harry swayed,
tucking his broken arm against his side.

You’re not going to be sick, he told him-

self. Or faint. Breathe. You’ve had worse.
Much worse. Breathe.

- 378 -
“Potter’s just taken a nasty hit from a
bludger!” Lee said. “Doesn’t look good from
the way he’s holding it- hang on- the bludg-
er’s coming back for him- that’s not natu-
ral-” Harry, who’d heard the whistle of the
bludger the second time, didn’t think; he
could still see the glint of the snitch on the
ground, and with the bludger behind him,
the only real way to go was down.

He didn’t think he did it gracefully; he sort

of fell forward, taking his broom with him,
and he was more or less slumped over it,
since he didn’t think he’d be able to hold
anything with his broken arm. He could
hear the bludger, or was it Hydrus - or
both? - zooming after him, and urged his
broom forward at a dangerously fast rate.

“And the seekers are both diving- have

they seen the snitch, or is Potter just try-
ing to get out of the air?”

- 379 -
Harry could barely see, what with the pain
and his tears and the rain, but he was only
a few feet from the ground now and start-
ed to pull up. Then, there was a flash of
gold, and he reached for it with his good
arm.

Several things happened at once; first,

something small, hard and cold hit Har-
ry’s palm, and he closed his fist around
it, and held on for dear life. Second, with-
out Harry’s arms to pull it out of the dive,
Harry’s broom hit the mud – thankfully,
he’d pulled it up enough that it hit at an
angle, rather than directly – and Har-
ry found himself thrown off, with bare-
ly enough time and presence of mind to
brace his injured arm. Third, there was a
shrill scream as a green-robed figure hit
the mud next to him.

- 380 -
“You all right?” Harry asked groggily. Hy-
drus whimpered, and convinced he was at
least alive, Harry turned away from him
and managed to push himself upright. Hi
ears were ringing, or maybe that was the
crowd’s noise. He wasn’t sure.

“I don’t believe it,” he heard someone say.

He thought it might have been George.
Harry’s good arm – the one holding the
snitch – was lifted gently into the air. A
great deal of screaming and whistling fol-
lowed, and, dazed as he was, Harry could
only hope that it was them that had won.

Harry’s vision flickered, and he thought

someone might have said his name, but he
didn’t have time to work out who before he
fainted.

When he came around, there were signifi-

cantly more people near him. Wood, and

- 381 -
Angelina, who was cradling her own arm,
were standing over him, looking worried,
but closer still was Lockhart.

“No,” Harry said, wincing as he tried

to shuffle back. He kept his arm tightly
against his chest, trying to brace it with
his body, but it hurt anyway.

“I know it hurts,” Lockhart said brightly.

“But not to worry, Harry, I can help you.”
A murmur went through the gathered
crowd, and it sounded relieved. Harry was
not. Didn’t they know Lockhart was an
idiot? He looked for Fred or George, but
they, along with Slytherin’s beaters, were
trying to wrestle the bludger into a box.
“Lie back, there’s a good-”

“Don’t touch me,” Harry said. “Padfoot’s

here, he’ll be here any second, or I’ll got to
the hospital wing-”

- 382 -
“Lie still, Harry. I’ve used this charm
countless times, it’s very good-”

“I’m going too,” Angelina said. “I’ll take

him with me, Professor, it’s no trouble-”

“Yes,” Harry mumbled. “Brilliant idea.”

“No need to bother Madam Pomfrey with

this,” Lockhart said. “Run along, John-
son.” Looking uncertain, she did. Lock-
hart lifted his wand, and Colin’s camera
flashed. Harry looked around wildly, and
saw Colin and Ginny – who was holding
his broom – being kept at bay by Katie.
Poor Alicia was having less luck trying to
hold Ron and Hermione back. Draco was
nowhere to be seen.

“Leave him alone, you git!” Ron was shout-

ing.

- 383 -
“What he said,” Harry said, waving his
good arm at Ron.

“Excuse me, sorry, excuse me, please.”

Harry’s ears perked up as he heard Pad-
foot’s voice.

“Padfoot’s nearly here, he can fix- No,

don’t-” But Lockhart had already waved
his wand and tapped it – making Harry
wince – on his shoulder. The strangest sen-
sation travelled down toward his fingers.
To Lockhart’s credit, the pain did vanish,
but Harry wasn’t entirely sure that was
all that had happened.

Everyone gasped, and Harry tried to lift

his arm to look at it. It didn’t move.

“Ah,” Lockhart said. “Yes, well- That’s

a common side-effect of that particular

- 384 -
spell… But you’ll notice, Harry, that the
bones are no longer broken. Yes. Perhaps-
Perhaps you ought to drop by the hospital
wing, for a bit of a tidy up-”

Harry hadn’t looked away from his hand.

It was sticking out if his sleeve, looking
vaguely like his hand, but a lot more like a
flesh-coloured version of the rubber gloves
Aunt Petunia wore when she cleaned her
kitchen. Colin’s camera clicked again, and
Harry was thankful when he saw Hermi-
one take the camera away from him.

“Sorry, Ron, can I just get- Harry!” Pad-

foot had finally made his way through the
throng of Gryffindors and all but shoved
Lockhart out of the way to get to Harry’s
side. Moony and Tonks were talking in
quiet voices to Harry’s friends. “Broken?
It looked broken-”

- 385 -
“Not anymore,” Harry said, grimacing.
Padfoot glanced at his hand, and his eye-
brows shot up.

“May I?” he asked, reaching for Harry’s

arm. Harry nodded, and Padfoot picked
up his hand, and almost promptly dropped
it. Then, with a wary expression, Padfoot
squeezed it – which Harry could feel, but
it didn’t feel right – and then slowly bent
one of Harry’s fingers back toward the
back of his hand. Harry watched in dis-
gust as his forearm started to bend, and
Padfoot hastily straightened it, and con-
jured a brace for it.

“Ew!” Lavender said, from somewhere be-

hind Colin. It would have been funny, had
it not been Harry’s arm. Padfoot flicked
his wand and the oddest expression – a
cross between disbelief, horror and fury –
settled on his face.

- 386 -
“Harry needs to go to the hospital wing,”
he said, turning to Moony, who stepped
forward at once. Padfoot’s gaze had land-
ed on Lockhart, who was trying to disap-
pear into the crowd, but was having very
little success getting past Ron. Lockhart
seemed to deflate as Padfoot advanced on
him.

“Can you walk?” Moony asked. Harry nod-

ded, but let Tonks help him to his feet. His
arm flopped uselessly at his side, having
assumed a very unnatural position within
the brace. Harry looked at it in dismay.
“Come on, you two,” Moony said, gestur-
ing to Ron and Hermione. Ginny and Col-
in both looked a bit put out, but neither
complained at being left behind, and Har-
ry saw they were soon joined by Fred and
George, who’d finally managed to secure
the bludger.

- 387 -
Harry’s departure was serenaded by Pad-
foot shouting at Lockhart.

The reason for Draco’s absence became

quickly apparent when they reached the
hospital wing; he was there, with his par-
ents and his brother, looking over Hydrus,
who looked very much the worse for wear.
Or at least he did in the brief glimpse that
Harry got of him; Mrs Malfoy stood and
drew the curtains around her son’s bed-
side. Draco emerged only seconds later
though.

“He tore something in his knee,” Draco

said, fiddling with his Gryffindor scarf,
while Ron helped Harry into the bed.
“Good game, though, Potter.”

“Thanks.” Harry glanced over at where

Moony and Tonks were talking to Madam

- 388 -
Pomfrey, who marched over seconds later,
looking furious.

“Let’s see it, Potter,” she said, and Harry

turned toward her. “At least someone had
the sense to brace it,” she said.

“Padfoot, not Lockhart,” Harry said. Mad-

am Pomfrey’s lips thinned.

“You’ll need Skelegro,” she said grimly.

Harry grimaced; he’d been subjected to
that remedy several times before, and it
never got any better. “You’d best get set-
tled; you’ll be in overnight.” She glanced at
Moony and Tonks, and at Harry’s friends.
For a moment, he thought she was going to
ask them all to leave, but she just sighed.
“I’ll be back in a moment with your first
dose.”

- 389 -
Other than Draco, Colin was the only one
of Ginny’s friends that she ever brought
the diary out around. Her brothers would
try to take it, to see what she was read-
ing, Hermione – much as Ginny liked her
– could be nosy, and Harry was just gen-
erally curious, and would no doubt get it
into his head to try to rescue Tom, if he
found out that he existed.

Colin, though, lay stretched out on the

carpet in front of the fire and chattered
away about Quidditch; today’s game had
been his first. Ginny didn’t think he’d ever
be a huge fan, but the game had fascinat-
ed him nonetheless, and she thought it
always would. She and Draco had spent
most of the game explaining the rules to
him, but Ginny hadn’t minded, and, while
Draco had teased Colin about being such a
muggle, Ginny didn’t think he’d meant it.

- 390 -
So who was attacking Harry, Ginny? Tom
asked.

I don’t know, Ginny wrote back. Probably

one of the Slytherins, but no one’s heard
anything yet. Speaking of Slytherins, have
you had any luck with remembering?

I’m afraid not, Ginny. Ginny was disap-

pointed, and didn’t know what to write.
Tom seemed to know. It’s only been a day.
It was always going to take me time.

I know, Ginny said.

“-think he’s all right?” Colin asked. “Ron

and Hermione and Malfoy have been back
for a while now…”

“Who’s all right?” she asked, puzzled.

“Harry.” Colin blinked at her. “Maybe we

- 391 -
ought to visit him. It’s not curfew-”

“We only have an hour, though,” Ginny

said, biting her lip.

“We’ll be quick,” Colin said. He sat up. “I

might take him some grapes, too. I think
he’d like that-”

“Grapes?” Ginny snorted. “Take him a

chocolate frog instead. He’d like that bet-
ter, I think.”

“Ooh, good idea.” Colin bounced to his feet.

“I think I have a box upstairs.”

Ginny? Are you upset with me? You’ve

gone quiet.

I’m talking to Colin, she wrote.

“Back in a minute,” Colin chirped.

- 392 -
“I’m going to put this away.” Ginny closed
the diary. “Don’t go without me, all right?”
Colin was already halfway up the boy’s
stairs.

Ginny headed up to her own dormitory,

and wrote a quick goodbye to Tom, tell-
ing him she’d talk to him later, and then
tucked the diary into her trunk. Then, her
vision wavered, and she sank down onto
her bed with a frown, pressing a hand to
her temple.

“You’ve been quiet, Ginny,” Colin said,

glancing at her. Tom met his gaze coolly.
“Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Tom replied. The part of Ginny’s

mind that was still Ginny wriggled, and

- 393 -
Tom added a tiny bit more pressure until
she fell silent. “Just worried about Har-
ry, is all.” Colin accepted that without a
problem, as Tom had known he would,
and didn’t even look at Tom oddly, when
Tom stumbled. Most of Ginny’s movement,
thankfully, relied on muscle memory, but
whenever he thought about it too much,
he tended to cross her feet, or forget just
how small she was. It was frustrating, re-
ally, but all he had to work with at the
moment.

“Are we far off?” Colin, as it had turned

out, didn’t actually know where the hospi-
tal wing, and was relying on ‘Ginny’ to find
it. Tom wasn’t sure if Ginny even knew
where it was, but he certainly did.

“Not far,” Tom replied. “I’ve just taken us

on a bit of a round-about way. My broth-
ers told me there are less Prefects around

- 394 -
here.”

“But we’re not past curfew,” Colin said,

looking confused.

“But we’re Gryffindors,” Tom said, sigh-

ing. “The Slytherins won’t care if it’s not
curfew.” Colin nodded seriously, and Tom
looked away before Colin could see his
smug smile. Colin was the sort of person
that Tom knew how to handle; the sort
that took his word as law, and didn’t ask
any difficult questions. It was a pity Colin
hadn’t been the one to find his diary.

Ginny asked too many questions, and,

while she would happily spill her secrets
to Tom, she’d also made more friends
than Tom had meant to allow. And, Gin-
ny didn’t mind pulling the diary out when
Colin was around. That meant she trusted
him, perhaps enough to turn to him if she

- 395 -
grew suspicious.

Tom couldn’t have that.

“Oh, good,” Tom said, drawing to a stop.

He glanced into the dark room. “Colin, do
you mind if I just duck in here? I should
have gone before we left, but-”

“Go,” Colin said, bouncing on the spot.

“Just be quick, or we’re going to run out of
time.”

“Thanks, Colin,” Tom said, and slipped

into the bathroom. Myrtle drifted out of
her cubicle, and her eyes narrowed. Tom
drew Ginny’s wand, and banished her
down the toilet, without a word. Smirking,
Tom strode toward the sinks.

- 396 -
Chapter 14:
A late night visitor

“Sirius,” Marlene said, putting a hand on

his arm. “You need to settle down.”

“What part of ‘deboned Harry’s arm’

didn’t you hear?” he snorted. Marlene’s
lips thinned, and she adjusted herself on
the arm of her flowery armchair. “I’m jok-
ing, I am calm.” To prove that, he turned
the page of the Prophet, gently. Marlene’s
eyes narrowed. “Promise.”

- 397 -
“When are you going back?” she asked.

“I’m at Azkaban again tomorrow,” he said,

sighing. “I’ll mirror Harry in the morning,
see how he is.” Marlene made a noise that
told Sirius she wasn’t quite convinced.

“You’re not going back to the school?”

“Only if Harry really needs me,” Sirius

said.

“And Lockhart?” Marlene lifted an eye-

brow. “You don’t really expect me to be-
lieve that you’re content with shouting at
him-”

“Don’t be silly,” Sirius said, putting a hand

on his heart. “And here I thought you knew
me.”

“Aha! So what, then? You’re an Auror, Sir-

- 398 -
ius, you can’t very well march down there
and-”

“I know,” he said simply. Marlene fell si-

lent, looking confused. Sirius took pity on
her. “Warts,” he said.

“I-what?”

“Warts,” Sirius said again. Marlene opened

her mouth. “Time delayed spell. Should
start to appear in about five days. First lot
will be on his nose, and when he gets rid
of those, they’ll move to his elbow, then to
his hands, then his feet, then-”

“I don’t want to know where else,” Mar-

lene said, holding up a hand, but her
mouth was twitching. Sirius thought she
was probably right. “The less I know, the
better; I refuse to be your co-conspirator.”

- 399 -
“When did you become so boring?” he
asked.

“When I grew up,” she replied, tweaking

his nose.

“I’ve grown up too,” Sirius said. “Had he

done the same thing to James or Remus
when we were going through school, I prob-
ably would’ve settled for punching him.
This is much better.” Marlene opened her
mouth and then closed it, then patted him
on the shoulder.

“Of course it is,” she sighed.

“Glad we agree.” Marlene just rolled her

eyes.

“I’m going to put the kettle on,” she said.

“Want anything from the kitchen while
I’m down there?”

- 400 -
“No, thanks, I should be right,” he said.
He tried to catch Marlene’s arm, with the
intention of using it to draw her down for
a kiss, but she dodged him, and stuck her
tongue out as she left the room. He could
hear her chuckling as she moved down the
hall. Sirius summoned a quill, and focused
his attention on the crossword.

Harry awoke to a dull ache in his arm,

and the feeling of a cool, damp cloth on his
forehead. He muttered something to tease
Padfoot about his bedside manner, but the
scent was wrong. Harry’s eyes flew open
and met another pair of eyes; enormous,
green ones. Harry’s smothered yell, and
the thump of his hand landing on the bed-
side table, on his wand, was enough to
make Mrs Malfoy – who was asleep on a

- 401 -
conjured bed beside Hydrus – stir.

Harry’s visitor made nervous, shushing

motions.

“Dobby?” Harry breathed, and shoved on

his glasses to confirm it. Dobby’s face con-
torted into something that was not quite a
smile; his eyes were fixed on his sleeping
Master and Mistress, and he was wring-
ing the cloth in his hands. “What are you
doing?” Dobby vanished the cloth, and
patted Harry’s hand, which tingled. Harry
grimaced, and Dobby backed off at once.

“Poor Harry Potter,” he said, playing with

the frayed bottom of his grubby pillow-
case. “But Dobby is warning Harry Potter,
that Hogwarts is not being safe, that Har-
ry Potter should not have come back to
school.” Harry watched, shocked, as a tear
trickled down the side of his face. “Harry

- 402 -
Potter should have stayed home when he
missed the train-”

“It was you?” Harry asked, bewildered. He

shifted himself – gently moving his arm
into his lap – so that he could get a better
look at the house elf.

“T’was, sir,” Dobby said, twisting his ears.

“Dobby thought- Dobby had not realised
that Harry Potter would find another way.
Harry Potter is truly clever, sir-”

“And the bludger?” Harry asked, seized by

a sudden suspicion. “I suppose that was
you as well?” Dobby’s lip quivered, but
he nodded. “Why? Did Mr Malfoy tell you
to make-” Harry lowered his voice and
glanced over at Hydrus and Mrs Malfoy’s
sleeping forms. “Was it so that he could
win?”

- 403 -
“No, Harry Potter!” Dobby said, clapping
his hands to his mouth. “Dobby thought-
Dobby thought if Harry Potter was hurt,
he would be sent home-”

“Or if I was dead,” Harry muttered, giving

the elf a dark look.

“Not dead, never dead, sir! Just safe, safe

at home!”

“Safe from what?” Harry hissed. Dobby

shook his head. “Lockhart? The Chamber
of Secrets?” Dobby squeaked, and then
dove for the metal water jug on the bed-
side table. Harry caught his pillowcase
with his good arm, and held him in place.
“The Chamber? But I’m not a muggleborn,
I’m a half-blood.”

“It doesn’t matter, Harry Potter,” Dobby

moaned.

- 404 -
“Who opened it, Dobby?” Harry asked.

“Dobby can’t- Dobby mustn’t! Dobby just

knows Harry Potter must go home!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Harry told him.

“One of my best friends is a muggleborn,
and that makes her a target- And what
about Draco, Dobby?” Dobby whimpered.
“The more you tell me, the sooner I can
do something to fix all of this, and then no
one will be in danger-”

“Dobby must go-”

“I’ll just have Draco order you back,” Har-

ry warned. Dobby trembled, but didn’t
Apparate away as Harry expected. Harry
lowered his voice, and tried to make his
voice as gentle and persuasive as possible.
“Please, Dobby. I know you want to pro-

- 405 -
tect me, Dobby, but I’m not leaving, so the
only real way to protect me now, is to tell
me what you know. It’s the only way I’ll be
safe. Who’s doing this?”

“Dobby can’t-” Dobby choked, and then

froze. His ears flapped, and Harry could
hear footsteps. Dobby vanished with a
pop, and Harry lay down, frustrated. He
wasn’t for long, though.

Dumbledore entered the hospital wing,

with Professor McGonagall, who was lev-
itating what appeared to be a statue. She
deposited it onto a bed and then swept
out, presumably looking for Madam Pom-
frey, while Dumbledore sat down on the
end of the bed, looking sad and tired. If
he’d noticed Harry was awake, he hadn’t
said anything.

“What happened?” Pomfrey was back with

- 406 -
McGonagall, looking in horror at the thing
on the bed.

“Another attack,” Dumbledore said softly.

“I found him on the stairs, with these.” Mc-

Gonagall rattled a box of chocolate frogs.
“We think he was trying to visit Potter.”
The teachers all looked over at Harry at
that point, who couldn’t decide whether he
was supposed to be awake or asleep, and
met the stares guiltily. None of them told
him off, though Madam Pomfrey pursed
her lips.

“Who is it?” he asked, sitting up gingerly.

He could just make out a camera, clasped
in the victim’s hands, and his heart sank.

“Mr Creevey,” McGonagall said, thickly.

“He’s not-”

- 407 -
“He has been petrified,” Dumbledore said.
Harry suspected the information was as
much for his benefit as Madam Pomfrey’s.
Dumbledore reached down to take the
camera from Colin. “I wonder…”

Dumbledore fiddled with it for a moment,

and then steam hissed out of the camera.
Dumbledore coughed, and the smell of
melted plastic burned Harry’s sensitive
nose.

“What does it mean?” McGonagall asked,

as Harry’s eyes watered and he tried not
to splutter too much. “Albus?”

But Dumbledore was silent, with his head

bowed over Colin and the camera.

- 408 -
When Ginny awoke, she was achy all over
and didn’t feel as if she’d slept very well.
In fact, she couldn’t remember going to
bed at all, but obviously she had.

She couldn’t even remember the last thing

she remembered, just that she’d got back
from the Quidditch match, gone to dinner,
and then- What?

Had she done her homework? Her books

were in her school bag, so she doubted it.
Had she played cards with Colin, or per-
haps with Ron or Hermione or Draco or
Harry- well, Harry was in the hospital
wing, so probably not with him. Ginny
hugged her pillow, feeling very confused,
and her hand brushed the cover of the di-
ary. Had she spoken to Tom?

That, of all things, would be easiest to find

out. She picked up her quill, which was

- 409 -
resting in a small puddle of ink on her
bedside table, and wrote Tom’s name.

Ginny? came the instant response.

Shouldn’t you be at breakfast?

Frowning, Ginny checked her watch, and

baulked at the time. There was only ten
minutes of breakfast left, and then she
was due in lessons. She wondered why
Colin hadn’t sent someone up to get her.
Usually, he was good at that.

Ginny, is everything all right?

Distracted, Ginny glanced back at the di-

ary.

I don’t know, she wrote. I- I can’t remem-

ber what- was I talking to you last night?

You don’t remember? Perhaps you should

- 410 -
go to the hospital wing, Ginny. Maybe
you’re getting sick. How do you feel?

Achy, she wrote. And tired, and-

I think you must be getting ill, Tom wrote.

Not that you can be blamed for that, what
with worry about Harry, and this whole
Chamber of Secrets thing.

Did I talk to you, though?

Briefly, Tom said. You were going to go

to visit Harry with Colin, and said you’d
leave me to try to remember the Heir. I
think you were angry with me.

Why would I be angry? Ginny wrote, and

then wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

I don’t know, Tom wrote.

- 411 -
There was a knock on the door, and Her-
mione looked in.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I-”

“Silly question, really,” Hermione said,

biting her lip. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” Ginny said. Hermione sat down on

Demelza’s neat bed.

“Ron’s downstairs, but you know what the

girl’s stairs are like… he asked if I would
check on you.”

“Oh.” Ginny wasn’t sure what else to say.

“What about lessons, though?”

“They’ve been cancelled until after-” Her-

mione blinked. “You do know?”

- 412 -
“Know what?” Ginny asked, worried.

“About- about last night, and- Colin?”

“Colin? What about him?”

“You don’t-” Hermione’s hands went to her

mouth. “Oh, Ginny, I- Maybe you should
come downstairs.”

“Why?” Ginny asked.

“Colin’s been- There was another attack

last night, and he’s- He’s in the hospital
wing, with Harry. He’s been- he’s petri-
fied.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur. She

knew that she spent some of it downstairs,
with Ron, Hermione, Draco and the twins,
and that Luna and Astoria and Vivienne

- 413 -
came and sat with her at lunch, and that
she got halfway to the hospital wing to
visit Colin before getting too upset. She
thought Harry was the one that found her
on his way back to the common room, with
his newly healed arm, but her mind had
been wandering and she’d called him Tom,
and then run off before she had to explain,
or before she let on just how fragile she
felt at the moment.

Hermione had found her in her dormito-

ry later – apparently because Harry had
asked her to check on Ginny – but Ginny
had asked to be left alone, and Hermione
had – amazingly – left.

Can I- can I come and see you? she wrote.

Ginny? Is something wrong?

Can I- I’ll tell you when I see you, she wrote.

- 414 -
I could really use a friend right now.

I’d love to see you, Tom replied. Did you

fight with Colin, or one of the others?

Please, Tom?

Of course, Ginny. The pages of the diary

swallowed her.

“He’s always been odd,” Draco said. The

two of them were bundled up in cloaks
and scarves and were sitting out by the
edge of the forest, well away from the lake
and any Kelpies it may or may not have
housed. Harry thought Madam Pomfrey
would have a heart attack if she saw him
outside so soon after discharge, but he
didn’t want to be overheard, and he felt
Draco deserved to hear certain things be-

- 415 -
fore Ron and Hermione, given his family’s
potential involvement. “So it was Dobby?”

“Apparently,” Harry said, shrugging. He

rubbed his arm, relieved to feel bones be-
neath the skin again. “The bludger and
the platform, at least. And he knows some-
thing about the Chamber, but whatever it
is, he isn’t telling.”

“I could make him tell,” Draco said. Har-

ry was having trouble reading his expres-
sion, but he thought Draco was upset.

“Maybe.” Harry wasn’t convinced. “He was

really- well, he wasn’t keen to share.”

Draco was silent, looking out across the

grounds. Harry watched the place his eyes
landed; on Hagrid, who was fixing the roof
of his hut, while Fang watched on.

- 416 -
“And what do you think about it all?” Dra-
co asked finally.

“I dunno,” Harry said. “Dobby said some-

thing about it not mattering that I wasn’t
a muggleborn, and I don’t know how to
take that except maybe to mean that V-”

“Not that, Potter,” Draco said, sounding

agitated. “I mean, obviously you’ve done
the decent Gryffindor thing here, and told
me what you know privately, but now
what? My house elf’s admitted to trying to
murder you for your own safety, and if he
knows things about this Chamber, then
it’s likely he heard them from my father
or aunt-”

“Who are different people to you,” Harry

said quietly, guessing at what might be
the problem. Draco looked at him quick-
ly, and then away again. Harry heard him

- 417 -
swallow.

“You don’t- you aren’t angry at me-”

“For what? For what your dad might

know, or might have told Dobby? Ob-
viously it’s likely he has, but for all we
know, the Chamber’s part of some weird
bit of house elf lore.” He paused. “Maybe
I’ll ask Kreacher.” Draco wouldn’t look at
him. Harry rolled his eyes. “I didn’t bring
you out here to tell you to stay away, or
something,” Harry said. “I just thought
you should know before the others.” Draco
blinked at him.

“Gryffindors,” he muttered after a mo-

ment, but he had the smallest smile on his
face, and a moment later he said, “Thanks,
Potter.”

- 418 -
Chapter 15:
Someone to blame

“… if I hear one more complaint, I’ll make

it fifteen inches, Mr Smith,” McGonagall
said, as the class started to throw things
into their bags. Smith fell silent at once,
but Harry saw him make a rude gesture
at McGonagall’s back as he left the room.
“Mr Potter, a moment, if you would.” Ron
hovered, but Harry shook his head, and
Ron left. Harry heard his voice, and those
of Draco and Hermione in the corridor
outside. Clearly, they were waiting. “You

- 419 -
have your father’s talent for my subject,”
McGonagall said, examining the hedge-
hog-turned-hairbrush he’d made that les-
son. He was quite pleased with the way it
had turned out. With a complicated move-
ment of her wand – that Harry couldn’t
quite follow – it was a hedgehog again.

“Did you want me to do it again?” Harry

asked.

“No,” she said, quirking her eyebrow at

him.

“But you just-”

“You don’t think we let students transfig-

ure animals into various inanimate ob-
jects and then just leave them, do you?” In
truth, Harry had never thought about it.
While he tried to come up with an answer,
McGonagall put the hedgehog back into

- 420 -
the crate it had been in at the beginning
of the lesson. “How is your arm?”

“Loads better,” Harry said, wriggling his

fingers for her benefit.

“Were you awake when we brought Mr

Creevey in? The whole time?” Harry nod-
ded, and McGonagall bobbed her own
head. “I thought as much.” Harry wasn’t
sure what to say. “You heard what he was
doing when he was found?”

“Coming to visit me,” Harry said, sure that

somehow, this was going to end with him
in trouble; McGonagall looked as serious
as he had ever seen. She didn’t say any-
thing. “That’s what you said to Madam
Pomfrey, anyway.”

“It is.” She watched him through beady

eyes, apparently searching for something.

- 421 -
It was unnerving. Her nostrils flared, not,
Harry didn’t think, out of anger, but rath-
er because she was smelling him.

“I didn’t ask him to, if that’s what you’re

thinking,” Harry said slowly, not sure
what she wanted from the conversation.
“I-”

“It’s not what I was thinking,” McGona-

gall said. “No, Potter, I want to make sure
you aren’t doing something foolish, like
blaming yourself.”

“For Colin? Why? I didn’t know he was go-

ing to-”

“Precisely.” McGonagall scrutinised him

for a moment more, and then nodded. “I’m
glad. The current situation is grim enough
without students – young students, at that
– placing blame on themselves, where it is

- 422 -
undue.”

Bewildered, but touched that she’d thought

to check on him, Harry let her shoo him
off so that her sixth years could come in.
Wood clapped Harry on the shoulder and
asked about his arm, and Percy huffed at
them for blocking the doorway, and then
squeezed past to sit by a Ravenclaw girl.

Harry escaped into the corridor, where his

friends were waiting.

“What was that about?” Ron asked.

“She thought I might be blaming myself

for Colin,” Harry said, as the four of them
headed upstairs, to the common room. Un-
spoken between them, but obviously all in
their minds was that Hermione was mug-
gleborn, and Harry noticed that they’d
managed to put her in the middle of their

- 423 -
little group. He wondered if she’d realised.

“You’re not, are you?” Hermione asked at

once. “Because that-”

“I’m not, Hermione, relax,” Harry said,

bumping her shoulder. She smiled at him,
looking sheepish.

“Nothing?” Ron asked a few moments lat-

er, looking at Draco, who’d been silent.

“What?” Draco asked.

“No snide comment about this being the

first time Harry hasn’t blamed himself?
Are you feeling well?”

“I’m fine, thank you, Weasley,” Draco said,

adjusting his bag. His eyes met Harry’s for
just a moment, and then they dropped to
the floor. He and Harry had told the other

- 424 -
two about Dobby after their conversation
outside the day before, and Draco had been
aloof ever since, despite Ron and Hermi-
one handling the news as Harry had ex-
pected; with surprise and interest, but not
with blame directed at Draco.

“Nah, you’re not,” Ron said.

“I am, thank you,” Draco snapped.

“No, you’re not,” Ron said again. “You’re

expecting one or all of us to tell you to
shove off at any moment.” Harry shared a
glance with Hermione, and unspoken be-
tween them was the agreement to let Ron
handle this one.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Draco said, but his

face was pink, and he wasn’t looking at
any of them.

- 425 -
“Good,” Ron said. “’Cause that’d be stu-
pid.”

“Stupid’s a bit harsh, Ron,” Hermione said.

“Maybe something like silly, or-”

“My house elf tried to murder Potter!”

Draco exploded, rounding on the three of
them. “I can understand him being forgiv-
ing about it, because he’s a lunatic with
absolutely no concern for his own wellbe-
ing – no offence, Potter – but you two? You,
Granger?”

“Do you want us to be angry at you?” Her-

mione asked, frowning.

“No!” Draco snarled, and then stormed

back the way they’d come. Harry made
to go after him, but Hermione caught his
sleeve.

- 426 -
“Leave him,” she said. “It’s not us he’s re-
ally worried about, I don’t think.”

“Of course it is,” Harry said. “You heard-”

“Harry,” Hermione said, shaking her head,

“it’s one thing to know his Father served
You-Know-Who years and years ago, and
to hear him say nasty things about mug-
gleborns-” An ugly expression settled on
her face. “-but it’s quite another for him to
realise that Mr Malfoy might be involved
somehow… that he might know something
that could stop all of this, but won’t share
it.”

“Ah, Draco,” Hydrus said, seeming pleased

that he’d come. “Won’t spare me a sideways
look, except for when I’m on my deathbed?
Or maybe this Chamber of Secrets busi-

- 427 -
ness has made you realise it’s only a mat-
ter of time before we’re the only friends
you’ll have left?” Daphne and Pansy, who
were in seats by the bed, scowled at Dra-
co. Zabini stood up and offered Draco his
chair.

“I don’t-”

“Really, I insist.” Zabini all but pushed

Draco into it. Pansy inched away from
him.

“Gryffindor’s not contagious,” Draco said,

“don’t worry.”

“Are you leaving, Blaise?” Daphne asked,

looking put out.

“Madam Pomfrey said he could only have

three visitors,” Blaise said.

- 428 -
“Oh, who cares what she thinks,” Hydrus
said, rolling his eyes.

“What are you going to do, then?” Pansy

asked.

“Anything but this,” Zabini said. The girls

tittered, and Hydrus looked amused, but
Draco didn’t think Zabini was joking. He
found himself hiding his own smile.

“So what do you want?” Hydrus asked

Draco.

“To make sure you’re all right,” Draco

said. “Potter had to regrow his arm, and
he’s out already, whereas you-”

“Worried, are you?” Hydrus sneered. “I

can hardly blame you, it was an awful in-
jury. Madam Pomfrey thinks I’m lucky to
be able to keep my leg.” Pansy sighed and

- 429 -
patted Hydrus’ hand. Draco tried not to
roll his eyes. “And the company here isn’t
great. I had Potter yesterday, thank Mer-
lin he’s gone, but now I’ve got the mud-
blood.” He waved his arm at Creevey, who
was lying, frozen, a few beds down. Draco’s
stomach twisted. “It’s not all bad, though;
whenever my leg’s hurting, I just look at
the stupid, scared expression on his face,
and it makes me feel better.” On cue, the
girls laughed and Hydrus smirked, appar-
ently pleased with himself.

“I hope Granger’s next,” Daphne said

dreamily. Draco thought he might have
cracked a tooth; he was biting down so
hard to keep from saying anything. And
he was abruptly grateful for the chair; it
gave him something to hold onto so that he
didn’t launch himself at any of the others.
“Oh, sorry, Draco. I didn’t mean to offend
you. She’s a friend of yours, isn’t she?”

- 430 -
“Yes,” Draco said, not trusting himself to
say anything else.

“Pity,” Daphne said. “Still, I suppose she

can’t help that she was born an abomina-
tion.”

“I suppose not,” Draco said, through

clenched teeth. “Still, it makes you won-
der, doesn’t it?”

“What does?” Daphne asked warily.

“Well, you were born with arguably some

of the purest blood of our generation,” Dra-
co said. “But somehow you’ve grown into a
cow rather than a witch, so it makes me
won-”

“Why, you little-” Daphne was on her feet,

reaching for her wand, when Madam Pom-

- 431 -
frey’s door opened.

“Miss Greengrass?” she said. Daphne sat

down again at once, her face bright red
with anger. Draco smirked at her. “And-
Mr Malfoy, when did you get here?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Draco said stiffly. “I’m

leaving.”

Severus had just opened his mouth to

subject Hydrus to the most scathing rep-
rimand the boy would ever have heard;
Quidditch injury or not, Hydrus ought to
know better than to sit in Severus’ chair.
Then the situation caught up with him.
Hydrus wouldn’t dare sit at Severus’ desk,
but, more importantly, Hydrus was still
in the hospital wing; Severus had been to
visit him at lunch.

- 432 -
“Draco,” Severus said, and Draco gave him
an unhappy look, and made no attempt to
move. “My office was locked.”

“It wasn’t,” Draco said. “Your quarters are

locked, so I had to wait here.” His eyes
flicked down to the desk. “You can be very
unkind to Longbottom.”

“Enough.” Severus flicked his wand and

the half-marked stack of assignments van-
ished; they’d be on the coffee table in his
quarters now. The chair Draco was sitting
in bucked – not hard, but just hard enough
– and Draco leaped out of it. Severus swept
past him and sat down. His hands went to
the knee of his bad leg; it was always sore
after a full day of lessons. “Why aren’t you
in Gryffindor with the rest of your class-
mates?”

- 433 -
“You said I could come here when I needed
to,” Draco said, staring at his feet.

“I said you were welcome to come to me,”

Severus said. “I have never given you leave
to sit in my office and read through my
marking. How long have you been here?”

“Since the lesson ended.” Not long then.

Severus eyed Draco again, but his expres-
sion was hard to read. Severus wasn’t sure
if he should be proud, or annoyed; he was
the one who’d taught Draco to keep his
face clear. Severus took a stab in the dark.

“Madam Pomfrey told me this afternoon

that your brother should be up and walk-
ing again tomorrow-”

“What about Creevey?” His voice was bit-

ter and unfamiliar. “Will he be up and
walking tomorrow?”

- 434 -
“No.”

“Didn’t think so.” Draco fell silent again,

his expression dark.

“Professor Sprout is tending the man-

drakes as best she can,” Severus told him.
“They’ll be mature in a few months-”

“Months?” Draco asked. “Why don’t you

just buy mature ones, if-”

“Because mature mandrakes are danger-

ous,” Severus said. “You should know that
from Herbology; I know Sprout covered
it.” Draco just waited. “They’re sold as
weapons, mostly, for a significant amount
of money, and the people that sell them
won’t have anything to do with the Minis-
try or St Mungo’s, who were only able to
supply us with juveniles.”

- 435 -
“There isn’t anything in storage?”

“Some basic mandrake restoratives, yes,”

Severus said. “Unfortunately, there are
differences between that – which can be
used for a wide range of ailments – and
what Mr Creevey will require.”

“Figures,” Draco muttered.

“Were you close with Mr Creevey?” Snape

asked. He’d seen them all sitting in the
same group during meals, but assumed it
was just because both of them wanted to
be near Potter.

“Closer with him than the rest of the first

years, other than maybe She-Weasley,” he
said. “But not really.”

“Draco,” Severus said, sighing. “I am not a

- 436 -
mind reader-”

“Liar.” Draco arched an eyebrow at him,

and Severus clasped his hands together
so he wouldn’t be tempted to throw some-
thing at the boy.

“Are you here for aid or advice, or just to

pester me?” Severus asked.

“I haven’t decided,” Draco mumbled. Then,

about a minute later, “Daphne Greengrass
is a cow.”

“As her teacher and Head of House, it’s

not appropriate for me to agree or disagree
with you,” Severus said. “What did Miss
Greengrass-”

“And Hydrus is a git.”

“Did he-”

- 437 -
“And then there’s Granger-”

“What about Granger?” Severus asked

wearily. He hadn’t seen Draco this worked
up in a long time, and was finding he hadn’t
missed it; the boy could be very dramatic.

“How could she not blame me, if she’s the

next victim?! How can she not be wary?!
How can any of them be all right with-”

“Do you mean to tell me it’s you behind

this Chamber business?” Severus asked.

“Of course not!” Draco said, looking offend-

ed. “Do you really think I go around at-
tacking cats and muggleborns in my spare
time-” Severus noticed his hand was rest-
ing on his scar, the scar Severus had given
him as a reminder of the differences – or
rather, lack of – between muggleborns and

- 438 -
purebloods.

“Draco,” Severus said, frustrated. “I’m

struggling to understand why – if you’re
not the one who opened the Chamber –
people would blame you.”

“Because- Father-”

“Lucius no doubt thinks this whole mess is

the best thing that’s happened since Hy-
drus made the Quidditch team,” Severus
said, waving a hand. It wasn’t tactful, but
it was true. “You on the other hand, ought
to know better-”

“I do! But he’s my father-”

“So?”

“What do you mean ‘so’?” Draco asked.

“He’s my father, and he doesn’t care, and

- 439 -
neither does Hydrus, so someone has to,
and that leaves me!”

“Do you mean to tell me that you want

your friends to be upset with you, because
you’re the only Malfoy that will care that
they’re upset?”

“Exactly! And then I can apologise-”

“Would you believe that despite my morn-

ing class with the Hufflepuff first years,
and my lunchtime spent marking those
essays you were reading over earlier, that
what you’ve just said to me is the stupid-
est thing I’ve heard all day?” Severus said,
able to feel a headache brewing behind his
eyes. Draco seemed to shrink. “Never apol-
ogise for other people, Draco, it’s a waste
of time and effort.”

“But someone-”

- 440 -
“Someone does not have to,” Severus said,
pre-empting his godson’s next thought.
“Perhaps they should, perhaps it’s not fair
that they don’t-”

“But life isn’t fair?” Draco guessed.

“Precisely,” Severus said. He wondered if

he was a bad person, for teaching a twelve
year old to expect that all would not be
well and fair, but Draco nodded serious-
ly, and made no attempts to continue with
his warped rationalisations.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said at dinner. He’d

come downstairs with She-Weasley, who
he’d found asleep in the common room; she
was already seated next to Weasley, but
Draco hadn’t sat yet; he wanted to make

- 441 -
sure he was still welcome, after the fuss
he’d made that afternoon.

“For what? Sit down, Draco,” Granger said.

“You’re blocking the aisle. Juice?” She
thrust a goblet of juice at him, and Dra-
co took it as he sat. Potter sniggered from
Granger’s side. “Juice, Ginny?” She-Wea-
sley shook her head, and pushed her peas
around her plate.

“Not hungry?” Weasley asked her, though

his own disgusting mouthful. Potter snig-
gered again, but Granger was pulling a
face.

“I had a big lunch,” she said.

“Oh,” Weasley said, nodding. Draco caught

She-Weasley’s eye, and frowned; while he
hadn’t actually looked for her, he didn’t
remember seeing her at lunch, and Draco

- 442 -
liked to think he was observant. She-Wea-
sley glared at him, as if daring him to con-
tradict her. Draco took a sip of juice, and
decided to let the matter slide for the mo-
ment. “So where’d you vanish to this af-
ternoon?” Weasley asked Draco.

“Snape,” Potter said, without looking up

from his dinner.

“How-”

“It’s where you always go,” Potter said,

shrugging. “I take it what he said helped,
given you’re here and making eye contact?”

“And not shouting,” Granger said, with a

small smile.

“Shut up,” Draco said, but he had to work

hard to keep his smile off his face.

- 443 -
Chapter 16:
Bad company

“Padfoot?” Peter said, shuffling up to the

bars of his cell. “Padfoot, what are you do-
ing here?” He blinked his watery eyes and
then added. “Where is here?”

“Azkaban, Peter,” Sirius said. He never

made plans to stop to talk to Peter, but
somehow, he always seemed to.

“Azkaban? Is it really?” Peter looked

around and quivered. He drew his thin,

- 444 -
holey blanket around his shoulders like a
cloak. “Why are we here? Is Moony about?”
Peter asked. “And Prongs?” Thankfully,
Peter seemed to snap out of it before Sir-
ius had to respond. “Oh,” he said softly.
“That’s right.” He crawled back into the
furthest corner, and folded himself up
into a ball. Sirius watched. “You’re not re-
ally here, then, are you? Just like James
mustn’t have been. Or perhaps it was Har-
ry.” Sirius wasn’t sure what to say to that,
but couldn’t bring himself to leave either.
“I’ve been thinking of you a lot lately,” Pe-
ter said. “Or I think I am; it seems I’m see-
ing you all the time.”

“I’ve been here a fair bit.”

“Rubbish,” Peter said. “There’s nothing

here for you. Why would you come?”

“Work,” Sirius said. “I’m an Auror now.”

- 445 -
“And here I was thinking I was the stu-
pid one of the four of us,” Peter said. He
pursed his lips. “Well, perhaps I was, but
you can’t say I’m not creative; an Auror,
hmm? Just like- just like- before?”

“Just like that,” Sirius said, certain, now,

that Peter didn’t think he was real, that
Peter thought he was imagining this.

“Well, perhaps I’m not very creative at all.”

Peter was silent for a few moments, and
then looked up smiling weakly. “Perhaps
I ought to have made you Minister, or- or
conductor on the Hogwarts Express.” Siri-
us didn’t know what to say to that. “Still, I
suppose Auror makes sense. How are you
here?”

“What?”

- 446 -
“I- I’m enjoying your company, odd as that
might sound. Or- well, it’s not really odd,
is it? We were friends, once. Good friends,
in fact, until I spoiled it all.”

“Spoiled doesn’t quite do it justice, Peter,”

Sirius said.

“No,” Peter said. “I suppose it doesn’t. I

suppose that’s why you’re allowed; you’re
not a wholly happy hallucination at all,
are you? You’re a reminder.”

“Are you sorry?” Sirius asked suddenly.

“Predictable,” Peter said, mostly to him-

self. “Though this is the first time you’ve
asked it. Usually it’s James asking.”

“What do you tell him?”

“I ask him: would it matter?” Peter sniffed

- 447 -
and pressed himself back further into
his corner. “And he tells me of course it
would, but this is James, and I know-
knew James, that that’s what he’d say.”
His eyes met Sirius’ without really seeing.
“Would it matter?”

“I don’t know,” Sirius murmured.

“Neither do I,” Peter sighed. For several

long minutes, it was just the sound of the
ocean crashing against the cliff, and the
wind howling through the cells, and the
occasional whimper of a prisoner. Sirius
thought Peter might have drifted into an
actual hallucination; he was staring blank-
ly at the grey stone of his cell wall, and
Sirius, for all that he was sure his shift
must have ended, couldn’t make his feet
move to leave. Peter looked up, eyes lucid.
“Sirius?”

- 448 -
“Peter?”

“Are you sorry?” Sirius stiffened.

“For what?”

“For this. D-death would have been kind-

er, Sirius.”

“I know,” Sirius said, swallowing, because

he did.

“I thought you might. Even I knew, all

those years ago- I did try-”

Sirius left then, left the frail, broken man

that had once been his friend, and headed
for the exit.

If he wasn’t in that cell, you would be, Sir-

ius told himself, but no comfort accompa-
nied the thought. A dementor glided past,

- 449 -
and Sirius fed a happy memory to his pa-
tronus without thinking. All around him,
however, the prisoners started to howl.

Prewett and Wellington had the next shift,

and they stepped off the boat as Sirius –
and Brown, who’d done the other half of
the prison – stepped back on. A bear pa-
tronus, stomped ahead of them, guided by
Wellington.

“Are we leaving?” Sirius asked Brown,

who shook his head and waved his hand
at the pebbled beach.

“The guards said to wait for him.”

“Who is it?” Brown shrugged. A tall, thin

figure was walking away from Azkaban’s
small graveyard, toward them. After sev-
eral minutes, Bartemius Crouch climbed
into the boat.

- 450 -
“Senior Undersecretary,” Brown said,
leaping to his feet. Sirius refrained from
rolling his eyes, but only just. He nodded
politely, if stiffly, and Crouch did the same,
then turned back to Brown.

“No,” he said.

“N-no?” Brown looked at him. “I- pardon,

sir, but I don’t understand why-”

“I said ‘no’ because I no longer have that

title,” Crouch said. “I am Head of the De-
partment of International Cooperation.”
It was still an impressive title, but Sirius
got the impression he was somehow disap-
pointed with it. Brown didn’t seem to know
what to say. Sirius thought he should just
sit down. Crouch cleared his throat. “Are
we just going to sit here?” he asked.

- 451 -
“No!” Brown said. “No, we were just wait-
ing-’

“For me, I take it,” Crouch said dismissive-

ly. “And now I’m here. Shall we?” Brown
charmed the boat into motion. Crouch cast
a sad look back at Azkaban, which was
fading behind tall, foamy waves. His pres-
ence surprised Sirius who hadn’t thought
Crouch cared much for his son, either
alive or dead, but Sirius didn’t dedicate
anymore thought to the matter than that.

He wanted to go home, to Kreacher and

Marlene, and get Harry through the mir-
ror after Quidditch, and most important-
ly, he didn’t want to think about Peter.

When Ginny blinked herself awake, she

wasn’t in her dormitory with the other

- 452 -
girls and her red bed hangings. Instead,
she was in a chilly room, with a window
that showed not the sky, but dark green
water, and was tucked under a green sheet.
Tom, who was lying next to her, flicking
through a book, glanced over.

“Ah,” he said, “you’re awake.”

“Did I- I must have fallen asleep,” she said,

embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Tom-”

“No need to apologise,” he said, smiling at

her. Ginny relaxed a little. “I was just look-
ing through my diary in the hopes that it
might help me remember something about
the Heir.”

“Have you found anything?” she asked.

“Nothing yet,” he said. “But I’m hopeful.”

He closed the diary and set it down in his

- 453 -
lap. “Are you feeling better? You weren’t
looking well when you arrived.”

“I think so,” Ginny said. “I- I don’t real-

ly remember. We were just talking, and- I
don’t even think I remember coming here,”
she said, frowning.

“Like I said, you weren’t looking well.”

Tom brushed a chunk of hair out of her
face, and Ginny stared at his hand as it
passed her eyes.

“Is that new?” she asked, looking at the

ring on his hand.

“No,” he said. “In fact, it’s very old. It be-

longed to my uncle, who got it from his fa-
ther.”

“It’s… nice,” she said, but it wasn’t really;

it was a blocky stone, with scratches on

- 454 -
the front of it. She wasn’t sure if it was a
rune, or a family crest, but Tom moved his
hand and she couldn’t see it anymore. Gin-
ny checked her watch, but it never seemed
to work in the diary. She started to push
the covers off.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” Tom asked,

looking upset.

“I have to practice a charm for Flitwick,”

she said, biting her lip. “I meant to do
it earlier, but then I got distracted with
talking to you, and then I fell asleep-”

“But we’ve hardly spent any time togeth-

er,” Tom said, reaching for her hand. His
own hands were cold, and she instantly
wrapped them in her much smaller ones.
“You’re so warm,” Tom said. He extracted
one of his hands and held it against her
cheek. His eyes closed, and the smallest

- 455 -
smile crept onto his face. Ginny wondered
what he was thinking, but didn’t dare ask.

“Tom,” Ginny said, trying not to sound like

she was whining, “I really do have to go so
I can-”

“I could always help you,” Tom said. “You

have your wand with you, don’t you?”

“I- well, yes, I suppose, but-”

“I’d love to help you, Ginny,” he said, giv-

ing her hand a squeeze. “Please? Give me
a chance to repay you for the company
you’ve given me these past months.”

“You don’t pay your friends!” Ginny said

shaking her head. “I spend time with you
because I like to-”

“Then stay,” Tom said, smiling. “Spend

- 456 -
some time with me, not sleeping, not wor-
rying about the Chamber, or the Heir, or
about poor Colin, or being bothered by Per-
cy.” Ginny had to admit that sounded nice.
“A charm, at least, I can help you with.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be annoy-

ing…” Life with six older brothers meant
Ginny knew that there were times when
people needed time apart; knowing when
someone needed a break from her was one
of the main reasons she thought she’d sur-
vived her childhood.

Stupid, stubborn Ginny. Tom supposed it

was better that she was hesitant, and that
she didn’t force her company on him con-
stantly, but her reluctance to stay around
too long was forcing Tom to the limits of
his creativity; telling her he wanted her
around as a vessel in the short term, but
that in the long term he’d use her body

- 457 -
and magic to rebuild his own was unlikely
to end well for him.

“You could never annoy me, Ginny,” Tom

said, with the smile he’d used to charm
old Professor Slughorn years ago. Gin-
ny chewed her lip, and Tom swallowed
an order for her to just stay until he told
her otherwise. Instead, he put a hand on
her knee, and smiled again; this time, it
wasn’t entirely manufactured. He hadn’t
been lying earlier when he’d told her she
was warm; she was, warm, and alive, and
her little sleep in the diary had left Tom
feeling more alive than ever.

“Are you sure-” A plan – and a brilliant

one, struck Tom like lightning. How his
older self had messed up so badly, when
he had brains and charm like this, was
beyond Tom. He looked up biting his lip –
the way Ginny did when she was nervous

- 458 -
– and met her eyes.

“I- I’m not very good with these sort of mat-

ters,” he said, trying to sound hesitant. It
wasn’t something that came naturally to
him, but Ginny seemed interested; she was
sitting straighter, and her eyes were fixed
steadily on his own. “I’ve never really- I
haven’t had such a close friend, haven’t-
I haven’t felt like this before.” He looked
away, not to seem embarrassed, though
he hoped that would be what she thought,
but rather because he didn’t want her to
see the smug look on his face, that would
ruin this entirely. “It’s foreign to me, this-
this- and I don’t know quite how to- I want
you to stay.” Tom wished he could blush;
it would give this sort of thing a greater
impact. Ginny’s face lit up like a Lumos
charm; she tried to control the expression,
but he could see it in her eyes. Got you,
he thought. “I-” Tom kept his eyes on the

- 459 -
sheets of his bed. “I enjoy spending time
with you.”

“I enjoy spending time with you too,” Gin-

ny said.

“Me?” Tom asked, giving her a taste of

self-doubt to see how she liked it. “A boy,
trapped in a diary? Ginny, you’re too kind,
really.”

“I do,” Ginny said, blushing. “A lot.” Tom

let that hang in the air between them, and
then, finally, looked up.

“So you’ll stay?”

“Hermione!”

Hermione looked up, startled. Across from

- 460 -
her, Draco grumbled under his breath, and
mopped up his spilt ink. Ginny dropped
into the seat between them, and Her-
mione thought it was just luck that had
placed Madam Pince at the other side of
the library. Otherwise, Ginny’d have lost
points, and would already be on her way
back to the tower.

“You’re looking… well,” Draco observed,

and Hermione had to agree. She still had
bags under her eyes, but there was light in
them, and colour in her cheeks that hadn’t
been there for at least a few days.

“Can I talk to you?” she asked Hermione,

and the colour in her cheeks rose even
more. “Just you?”

“Of course,” Hermione said, interested.

“Draco, do you mind-”

- 461 -
“Yes,” Draco said. “I do mind, actually.
I’m only a paragraph off finishing and I’m
not moving. You can either go somewhere
else, or you can pretend I’m not here, but-”

“Ginny?”

“You’re not here,” Ginny told him, scowl-

ing. “If you tell any of my brothers any of
what Hermione and I talk about, I’ll-”

“You seem to be under the impression that

I’m interested in listening,” Draco said,
sounding absurdly like Snape. Hermione
thought it was unnerving. “Chat away.”

“Draco-”

“Who are you talking to?” Draco asked.

“I’m not here.” Hermione exchanged a look
with Ginny; Draco was a good friend, but
he could be a complete pain, sometimes.

- 462 -
“Ron’s not likely to show up, is he?”

“It’s the library,” Draco said, snorting.

“Weasley and the library-”

“Ron comes to the library sometimes,” Her-

mione said defensively. “Besides, Draco,
you’re not here, so be quiet.” Draco pulled
a face at her, but was silent, but for the
scratching of his quill.

“So Ron-”

“Ron’s down at Hagrid’s, with Harry,” Her-

mione assured her. “They won’t be back
before dinner. Is something wrong?”

“How do you know if a boy likes you?” Gin-

ny asked. Hermione had never seen any-
one’s face so red. Then, the question sank
in. Hermione herself, was only thirteen,

- 463 -
and really not very knowledgeable when it
came to that sort of thing. But, she’d read
books where people fancied each other,
and it couldn’t be that different, really.

“Well,” she said, “sometimes they’re mean

to you, other times, they might do nice
things for you-”

“The normal ones will tell you,” Draco said.

“You’re not here,” Hermione reminded

him. “But he’s right,” she conceded. Ginny
chewed her lip. “Why? Who fancies you?”

“I’m not sure if he does,” Ginny said hasti-

ly. “Just- just something he said made me
think-”

“Who?” Draco asked.

“Draco,” Hermione said warningly.

- 464 -
“You- don’t know him,” Ginny said, face
still red. “He’s older.”

“How much older?” Hermione asked.

“Not telling.” Ginny fiddled with her tie.

“I was just wondering if you know how to
tell-”

“Ask him,” Draco said.

Hermione opened her mouth to tell Draco

to be quiet again, but Ginny turned to him
before she could.

“But what if he doesn’t?”

“I think the most important thing here,

Ginny,” Hermione said, breaking back into
the conversation, “is how you feel about
him. Do you know him well? Do you have

- 465 -
classes together?” Ginny hesitated.

“He’s-” Ginny’s face glazed over, and then

she blinked. “Do you know what, it doesn’t
matter. Maybe I’ll just wait and see what
happens. Thanks. I have to go.”

“Ginny-” Hermione said, but she was gone,

walking stiffly away from their table. She
tripped on a stray chair, and Madam Pince
descended, but somehow, Ginny said a few
words, and smiled sweetly, and Madam
Pince let her go.

“She’s got to teach me that,” Draco said.

“Not the tripping part, the allaying Pince
part.”

Hermione only vaguely heard him; she

was too busy frowning at Ginny’s bright
hair, as it disappeared behind the shelves.

- 466 -
Chapter 17:
The Gaunt line

“Kelpies can’t petrify things,” Ron an-

nounced, shutting the large book on mag-
ical creatures he’d been reading. Draco,
who was next to Hermione, reading over
his potions notes, just grunted. “So it’s not
that.”

“Not even Slytherin’s kelpie?” Harry asked,

looking over. Hermione thought he looked
tired. Between Quidditch, and homework
and his research on the Chamber of Se-

- 467 -
crets, which had become something of an
obsession for him, Hermione wasn’t sure
how he was still finding time to sleep. She
looked at the bags under his eyes again,
and thought that maybe he wasn’t.

“No mention of it, mate,” Ron said apol-

ogetically. Harry sighed and closed Na-
ture’s Nobility.

“Nothing here either,” he said. “I tracked

Slytherin to the Gaunt line, but Marvolo
Gaunt only had a son, and he’s in Azka-
ban because he killed a family of muggles.”
Hermione’s lip curled in distaste. “Never
married,” Harry said, propping his head
in his hands. “Never had any kids, and,”
he said, with a glance at a thick ledger be-
side Draco, “never came to Hogwarts.”

“If the Heir and the monster were easy to

find,” Draco said, “they’d have sorted it all

- 468 -
out last time.”

“True,” Ron said. “At least there haven’t

been any attacks since Colin. And it’s
Christmas next week-” Hermione couldn’t
quite believe how quickly the term had
gone. “-so there’s that as well-”

“Yeah, I s’pose,” Harry said.

“Stop worrying, Harry,” Hermione told

him. She was frowning, but she tried to
keep her voice gentle. “I know you want to
help, but no one’s expecting you to solve it.
Leave it to the teachers.”

“I know,” Harry said. “I just- I just can’t

shake the feeling that-” He looked away,
mouth turning down. “Never mind.” Her-
mione found herself exchanging looks
with both Ron and Draco. “I should go.
Wood’ll make me do extra laps if I’m late.”

- 469 -
He stood, tucking the books they’d been
reading under his arm, so that he could
return them to Madam Pince on the way
out. Hermione was just trying to think of
an excuse that would let her go with him,
when Ron stood.

“Mind if I come?” he asked. Harry, who

probably would have been surprised or
suspicious if Hermione or even Draco of-
fered to go, just bobbed his head. The boys
were talking about Quidditch before they
were even out of the library, and Harry
already looked more relaxed. Ron glanced
back, once, from the library doors, and met
Hermione’s eye.

Don’t worry, the look said, I’ll keep an eye

on him. Hermione smiled.

“I think I might head back,” Hermione said,

tossing her own things into her bag. She

- 470 -
thought Ginny should be heading down to
dinner and hoped to catch her on the way.
It had been a few weeks since that day in
the library – at this very table, in fact –
and Hermione had tried to talk to Ginny
about her mystery boy several times, but
never had any luck. There was always an
excuse, or Ginny was with other people,
or, Ginny was nowhere to be found. Her-
mione suspected she was avoiding her,
and worried that she’d somehow managed
to upset or offend the other girl.

“Wait,” Draco said. “I’ll come too.”

“You’re not finished,” Hermione said,

frowning.

“I’ll finish it in the common room.”

“Don’t leave it because of me,” she said. “I

can walk alone, you know.”

- 471 -
“I’m hungry though, too,” Draco said. He
flicked his wand, and his things stacked
themselves into a neat pile, which he
tucked into his bag. He stood. Hermi-
one’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t say
anything; she hadn’t missed the fact that
none of the boys had let her go anywhere
by herself since Colin’s attack. There was
always one of them with her, and she ap-
preciated it, she did, but she also thought
it was a bit silly. If Slytherin’s Heir want-
ed to attack her, the fact that she had her
non-muggleborn friends with her, proba-
bly wouldn’t stop them.

They talked about Christmas on the way

back; Draco was spending his time split
between Harry’s and Ron’s; Harry was
spending three days in France toward
the end of the break, with Mr Lupin and
Tonks, and Draco refused to go home to

- 472 -
the Manor. Hermione suspected that had
everything to do with not wanting to deal
with his father or Dobby, but she didn’t
ask, and Draco didn’t volunteer the infor-
mation.

They passed Fred and George on the way

up; they were running late to Quidditch
training, and they also passed Neville and
Parvati, who were heading down to din-
ner, and promised to save seats for Hermi-
one and Draco.

“Longmane,” Draco said, to get past the

Fat Lady. “I’m just going to put my things
away, Granger. I’ll be down in a few min-
utes.” Hermione nodded, but her atten-
tion was fixed on Ginny, who’d just dis-
appeared into her dormitory. Hermione
followed her up, and knocked on the door.
There was no answer from inside.

- 473 -
“Ginny?” Hermione pushed the door open.
The dormitory was empty, and the bath-
room door on the far side was open, and
the bathroom itself was dark. Ginny’s bed
was messy and unmade, and her diary was
resting on her pillow, but Ginny herself
was nowhere in sight, even though Her-
mione had just seen her in here, and there
was nowhere else she could have gone.

Perturbed, Hermione closed the door and

continued upstairs to put her own things
away before dinner.

Christmas passed without incident. Draco

spent the first few days playing chess and
Exploding Snap at Grimmauld with Pot-
ter, and the day before Christmas, the four
younger Weasleys Flooed over and Grang-
er’s parents drove her around, and they

- 474 -
spent the day in the park across the road,
having what Draco thought might have
been the most intense snowball fight he’d
ever had; it had been Draco, Potter, Black
and She-Weasley against McKinnon, the
twins, Granger and Weasley, and they’d
all been cold, wet, battered, and extremely
pleased with themselves by the time they
trudged back inside.

Kreacher had told them off for tracking

snow through the hallway, but obviously
wasn’t too mad because he’d served them
all a hot bowl of French onion soup and
fresh, steamy bread, and cast warming
and drying charms on their clothes.

“-sounds brilliant,” Black said. His grin

was enormous, and Draco wondered what
the twins had said; the three of them had
their heads together. “Just the two of you?”

- 475 -
“Shh,” Weasley One said, waving at Weas-
ley and Weaselette, who were taking bets
on the colour of the jumpers they’d get that
year.

“They’re not listening,” Weasley Two said.

“But yeah, just us. It’s an idea we’ve had
for a while, but now we’re actually old
enough to do the magic needed…”

“As long as you’re not messing around with

anything too dangerous-”

“Nothing too bad,” Weasley One said. “But

that’s why we’ve mentioned it; we were
wondering if we could borrow a few books
from your library. Madam Pince tells Mc-
Gonagall when we take books out at Hog-
warts and what they are-”

“Can’t blame her,” Weasley Two said fairly,

“given some of the stuff we’ve researched,

- 476 -
but it’s a bit of a pain. And she knows we
get books through Lee, too, now-”

“-and we’d rather avoid the awkward ques-

tions-”

“Definitely don’t want any of this getting

back to Mum-”

“You can borrow whatever you need,”

Black said. “I’ll show you how everything’s
arranged.” He stood, bowl of soup still in
hand, and grabbed another slice of bread
from the middle of the table. The twins
stood and followed him upstairs, and Dra-
co wondered what was going on. So, ap-
parently, did McKinnon.

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” she said, getting to

her feet. “We’ll have to continue this con-
versation later; someone’s got to make sure
the children-” Draco thought her tone and

- 477 -
smile made it very clear that she includ-
ed Black in that. “-don’t cause too much
trouble.” Hermione laughed as McKinnon
hurried up the stairs.

“What was that about?” She-Weasley

asked.

“Not sure,” Draco told her, shrugging, and

let himself be drawn into the conversation
about jumpers.

Draco’s, as he found out when he arrived

at the Burrow for their Christmas lunch,
was a nice maroon colour, which Mrs Wea-
sley said looked nice with his pale skin.
Weasley scrunched up his face and seemed
relieved he’d been given a blue one, but
Draco was just touched that he’d been giv-
en one at all, and pleased that his wasn’t
gaudy orange like Weasley Two’s, or pale
pink; She-Weasley seemed rather unim-

- 478 -
pressed with the colouring of her jumper,
and even more unimpressed with the fact
that she owed Weasley a sickle.

Draco had been at the Burrow before, of

course, but never for more than a day at
a time, and never when he was the only
guest. He hadn’t quite been sure what to
expect, but it turned out to be about as dif-
ferent to the Manor as it was possible to
be. For all that it had six bedrooms and
was several storeys high, it was not a big
house, and Draco was constantly bump-
ing into people on the landing, or being
dragged downstairs for Quidditch in the
orchard, or to play a card game in the sit-
ting room.

And, he had to help out around the house...

Well, that wasn’t entirely true; Mrs Wea-
sley actually told him not to help her chil-
dren, and Draco took it as a challenge.

- 479 -
He helped Weasley feed the chickens and
gnome the garden, helped Prefect Weasley
set the dining table and helped She-Weas-
ley hang out the washing. Father and Hy-
drus would have been horrified but Draco
felt rather pleased with himself for discov-
ering the clothespeg, and so what if he’d
embarrassed himself by asking why the
Weasleys only used one knife and one fork
when they ate.

“Just some light reading?” Padfoot asked,

coming to perch on the arm of the arm-
chair Harry was in. The scent of what
could have been pasta drifted out of the
kitchen, followed by Marlene’s voice, coax-
ing Tonks through the recipe. Tonks’ cook-
ing hadn’t improved in her time away from
her parents and Kreacher, and Moony had
confided that he often ate at Beauxbatons

- 480 -
before coming home. Harry didn’t blame
him, after the watery, well-intentioned ra-
tatouille Tonks had attempted to make on
their first night in France.

Her Auror skills had, though; it had been

Tonks and Padfoot that stayed up late,
talking, after Harry and Marlene and
Moony went to bed. Harry had been able
to hear them from his makeshift bed on
the couch, talking about the intricacies of
warding, and various duelling techniques,
and they’d had a spectacular duel the day
before – just for fun – and Tonks had ab-
solutely trounced Padfoot. Moony had just
looked smug.

“Yep,” Harry said, reading over the page

on the Slytherin family, for what felt like
the hundredth time.

“I thought Kreacher was losing it even

- 481 -
more when he said he couldn’t find Master
Regulus’ favourite book.” Padfoot arched
an eyebrow. He put a hand on Harry’s
shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Want to
tell me what this is about?”

“It’s him,” Harry said, without looking up.

“I know it is. I just don’t know how.”

“You mean the Chamber of Secrets?” Har-

ry nodded.

“I said we couldn’t rule him out,” Padfoot

said. “I didn’t say it was him. Even Dumb-
ledore didn’t-”

“It’s him,” Harry said again. He flicked to

the Selwyn page, and skimmed over the
familiar family history and the familiar
names on the family tree.

“Ah, kiddo,” Padfoot said, “what have we

- 482 -
done to you?” Something in his tone made
Harry look up.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Padfoot said, smelling sad, “that

Voldemort’s not the only bad person out
there. Look at my cousin Bella, or Peter,
or-”

“They’re all his, though,” Harry said.

“Then look at that Umbridge woman in the

Ministry.” Padfoot tapped the page Harry
was looking at, where, on a side chain of
the Selwyn family tree, Umbridge’s name
was printed. “Or Blaise’s mother- How is
Blaise?”

“All right,” Harry said. “I only see him in

Potions and Defence, but he said he’s at
his Dad’s for Christmas, so-”

- 483 -
“Good,” Padfoot said, nodding.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Harry

asked. “That it’s him.”

“Honestly? Yes, it seems like the sort of

thing he’d do… but how? Why? My sourc-
es and Dumbledore’s have him placed
abroad-”

“You’ve been talking to Dumbledore?”

“There’s a monster loose in the school, of

course I’ve been talking to Dumbledore.”
Padfoot looked at Harry like he was daft.
Harry felt silly for not realising that earli-
er. “I’ve also been talking to Quirrell.”

“Quirrell?”

“The man that had Voldemort in his head

- 484 -
for a year,” Padfoot said.

“I know who he is,” Harry said, scowling.

“What did he have to say?”

“About the Chamber?” Harry nodded.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“No. He’d never even heard of it. And it’s

all- I hate to be blunt here, kiddo, but what’s
the one thing that Voldemort wants?”

“A body,” Harry said. “To be himself again,

rather than- whatever he is now.” Clear-
ly, this wasn’t the answer Padfoot had
expected. Harry cocked his head. “What
were you going to say?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Padfoot said, looking

grim. “A body then- yeah, well- How does

- 485 -
he get a body from the Chamber? Sly-
therin’s monster attacks muggleborns, it
doesn’t convert them into body parts for
the Heir to use, or a restorative potion-”

“How do you know?” Harry asked stub-

bornly.

“Because this happened fifty years ago,”

Padfoot sighed. “And it wasn’t- it wasn’t
for some greater purpose, it was just to
prove a stupid point about blood purity.”
He sighed, and they were silent for a min-
ute or so before Padfoot spoke again. “I’m
not saying it’s not him, I’m just saying,
with what we know, it doesn’t fit.”

As it turned out, it didn’t need to fit. Much

later that night, after dinner, and after
he’d been coaxed into going for a walk with

- 486 -
Padfoot and Moony, Harry was tucked un-
der a blanket on the couch, poring over
Nature’s Nobility again. He was sure he’d
regret being up so late, when tomorrow
he had to catch an international portkey
back to London so that he could catch the
train back to school, but he couldn’t help
himself.

With a guilty glance at the guest room,

where Padfoot and Marlene were sleeping,
Harry adjusted his wand so that the light
fell more evenly over the Gaunt page. The
old Prophet cutting of Regulus’ that they’d
found in the book when they first moved
into Grimmauld was there; the one of the
old, vaguely-monkeyish man wearing the
ugly ring and making the rude hand ges-
ture, the hand-gesture that Regulus, Mer-
lin-knew-why, had circled. Harry glanced
at it and then moved it aside so he could
read the actual page.

- 487 -
Prestigious family… lost wealth in goblin
rebellion… nothing left but pride in the
end… Line extinct. Harry skimmed over
the paragraph he’d read so many times
before. Only there, at the very end of the
paragraph, the sentence Line extinct had
been crossed out. Heart pounding, because
that was not the case in the school’s copy,
Harry held the page up for closer inspec-
tion.

Regulus? he wondered, looking at the al-

teration. He scanned the rest of the page,
looking for something, for anything. Har-
ry froze; there, at the very bottom of the
family tree were two lines, and five words,
etched in, in what could only be Regulus’
neat handwriting, and in the same ink
that had been used at the top of the page.

One of the lines descended from Marvo-

- 488 -
lo Gaunt to connect him to three words:
Merope Gaunt. Squib? And the second
line descended from her to connect to two
words: Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle didn’t have
a father, so either Regulus hadn’t known
him, or hadn’t cared. Harry didn’t know
or recognise the name Tom, but it meant
something to him, all the same. Using the
newspaper cutting as a bookmark, Harry
shut the book, dimmed his wand, climbed
off the couch, and padded over to the guest
room door. He knocked, once, softly, but
neither Padfoot or Marlene replied.

Harry opened the door and tiptoed over to

Padfoot’s bedside. In the faint wandlight,
Harry could see that his godfather was
very obviously asleep – and had even left
drool on the pillow – and so Harry reached
out and shook him. Padfoot mumbled
something, and opened one eye.

- 489 -
“Harry?”

“Padfoot,” he said, “Who’s Tom Riddle?”

“I was right,” Harry said, only a few min-

utes later, when Sirius had managed to
find trousers and join him in the sitting
room. Harry had pushed the book, open on
the Gaunt page into Sirius’ hands, so that
he could read Regulus’ notes.

Sirius had several words that he would

have liked to say in response, but none of
them were very polite, and he didn’t seem
able to make his mouth move to say them
anyway. He wasn’t surprised. He’d never
said it wasn’t Voldemort, just that – with
the information they’d had to work with –
it had seemed unlikely.

- 490 -
“I told you,” Harry said, but didn’t seem
happy about it at all. He was very pale,
and was sitting very still. “What do we
do?”

“Get you home, and safe, and then I sup-

pose I’ll Floo to the school and tell Dumb-
ledore,” Sirius said, finally managing to
find his voice.

“Home?” Harry asked.

“Yes, home,” Sirius said.

“But wouldn’t it make sense for me to come

with you? I can just stay at the school, that
way, instead of having to catch the train
back-”

“Back?” Sirius asked. He wasn’t sure

whether to laugh or cry. “You aren’t going
back, Harry-”

- 491 -
“I am,” Harry started, but Sirius cut him
off.

“No,” he said. “We’ve just found out that

the lunatic that wants to kill you is some-
where, undetected in your school, with ac-
cess to some sort of monster, Harry. I know
I’m fairly relaxed, and that I give you a
lot of freedom with what and how you do
things, but you’re mental if you think I’m
going to let you pack your trunk and hop
back on the train-”

“I’m not mental,” Harry said, sounding a

bit hurt. Sirius looked at him and wasn’t
surprised to see his jaw was set, the way
James’ always used to when he was go-
ing to be stubborn about something. “I am
going back, though. You said it yourself,
there’s no way for him to get a body out of
this-”

- 492 -
“That we know of,” Sirius said.

“-and,” Harry said, ignoring him, “so far,

there’ve been two attacks but no one’s died.
There’s nothing to suggest that there’s
anything going on except him trying to
prove a stupid point about blood purity.”

“And what if that’s not what it’s about?”

Sirius asked. “What if it’s about you-”

“I’m a halfblood, I’m not a target.”

“Harry-”

“The only things that have attacked me

this year, so far, are Dobby with the bludg-
er, and stupid Lockhart.” Sirius growled
quietly at the mention of Lockhart, but re-
fused to be distracted.

- 493 -
“That isn’t the point-”

“What about last year?” Harry asked.

“What about it?” Sirius asked, annoyed.

“When we knew it was him, and we knew

he was around, and you said ‘be careful’
and let me go back to school anyway!”

“And you nearly died,” Sirius snapped,

“because you refused to let us handle it-”

“Because you did die,” Harry snapped,

right back at him. “And Dumbledore and
Moony were off sorting that out, and some-
one had to stop him, didn’t they?!”

“No one said it had to be you-”

“What in Merlin’s name are you two argu-

ing about out here?” Sirius hadn’t heard

- 494 -
the door open, but Dora was standing in
the doorway of her and Remus’ bedroom,
blinking at them. “It’s two in the bloody
morning, for Godric’s sake. I have work to-
morrow.” Harry could see Remus sitting
in bed behind her, but he obviously knew
better than to interrupt.

“Sorry we woke you,” Sirius said. “Go back

to sleep, we’re finished talking anyway.”
Dora’s eyes narrowed, but she retreated
inside and closed her door.

“We’re not finished,” Harry said, looking

mutinous.

“I’m always happy to discuss things with

you, and hear what you’ve got to say,” Sir-
ius said firmly. “But I’m the adult here,
and when it comes down to it, I’m respon-
sible for you, and it’s my-”

- 495 -
“It’s no one’s choice,” Harry snapped.
“There’s a prophecy that says so.”

“You’re twelve for Godric’s sake. It’s not

your job to fix it. This is not yours to deal
with.”

“And I don’t want to deal with it,” Harry

snarled. “But I’m not going to hide at home
with Kreacher while all of my friends are
at school-”

“Your friends aren’t targets like you are-”

“Hermione’s a muggleborn! She’s the only

one that we know for sure is a real target!”

“Then maybe she should stay home too.”

“I’m not staying home.”

“So you’ll go to school so you can throw

- 496 -
yourself in front of one of the monster’s
victims? Is that your plan, Harry?”

“I would love for Dumbledore to handle

this, or for you and the rest of the Aurors
to, because I don’t want to. But I’m not go-
ing to stay home and do nothing, just be-
cause that’s safe. You fought him in the
war-”

“I was of age,” Sirius said. “I was an adult-”

“Voldemort doesn’t care!” Harry bellowed.

“I do! You’re mine to look after! Leave this

to me, and to Dumbledore to fix-”

“But he won’t,” Harry said. “Otherwise it

would have been sorted last time, wouldn’t
it.” It wasn’t a question. “I can hear the
monster, and there’s my scar to tell me if
he’s close. I’m not asking to fight him and

- 497 -
his monster myself, I’m asking to help.”

When he spoke to Dumbledore, Sirius was

going to make him close the bloody school
so that Harry couldn’t go back, even if he
wanted to.

- 498 -
Chapter 18:
A professor’s perspective

“I’ve long ago stopped trying to tell you

what to do for Harry.” Dumbledore’s eyes
drifted over the small pot of sweets he
kept on his desk and he unwrapped one.
He offered Sirius one, but Sirius shook
his head. “Should you- You were always
a good student, and were you to remove
Harry from the school and take charge of
his learning yourself, I’m certain that, ac-
ademically, he would not be any the worse
for it. Not everyone is as privileged with

- 499 -
their guardians as Harry, however. Oth-
er parents lack the ability or the time to
homeschool their children, and so, for as
long as they are willing to send us their
children, we are willing to accept them.”
He popped the sweet into his mouth, look-
ing grim.

“Even if it could kill them?”

“Quidditch is a dangerous sport,” Dumble-

dore said. “It doesn’t stop us from letting
the students take part.”

“What part of Tom Riddle is the Heir didn’t

you understand?”

“I’m old,” Dumbledore said, his eyes flash-

ing, “but you’re mistaken if you think my
mental processes are even slightly dis-
rupted.”

- 500 -
“That’s not what I meant to imply,” Sirius
muttered.

“I know,” Dumbledore replied lightly.

He clasped his hands and looked over at
Fawkes, and then at the copy of Nature’s
Nobility that rested on the desk between
them. “I cannot close the school.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Sirius asked.

“Frankly,” Dumbledore said, “both.” He

sighed. “I don’t have the influence to close
the school on my own. I could encourage
students not to return or I could – because
I am under no illusions about the place-
ment of my staff’s loyalty – arrange for all
of the teachers – including myself – to re-
sign as one-”

“Then-”

- 501 -
“But,” Dumbledore said, “the Ministry will
simply fill the positions with their own
people, with people from the Department
of Management and Control of Magical
Children, the School Board, or from the
Wizarding Examinations Board, and stu-
dents will be encouraged to return to re-
sume their studies.” Dumbledore sucked
on his sweet for a moment. “My students
are, as you’ve said, in danger, and I’m do-
ing what I can to resolve that-”

“I never said you weren’t-”

“I never said you said such a thing,”

Dumbledore replied, his eyes, absurdly,
twinkling for just a moment. He watched
Sirius, apparently waiting for another in-
terruption. Sirius was silent. “Until the
situation is resolved, however, it is all I
can do to ensure the students are as best
protected as they can be, and I do not think

- 502 -
leaving them in the hands of the Ministry
would align with that at all.”

“No,” Sirius had to say. “Probably not.”

He’d expected this meeting to have a great
deal more shouting in it, and had not at
any point stopped to consider that Dumb-
ledore’s reasons might be as good as they
were. “But then why not send the muggle-
borns home, where they’ll be safe?” And
Harry. Harry needs to be safe too.

“Because they belong in this world as

much as any of the purebloods,” Dumb-
ledore said. “It’s not the first time Tom’s
failed to see that, and not the first time
that muggleborns have refused to go along
with what he wants. I imagine Lily, for
one, would have had very strong words
for anyone who dared suggest she wasn’t
good enough to be a witch.” Sirius cracked
a smile at that; he didn’t have to imagine,

- 503 -
having been around on several occasions
to see Lily verbally tearing strips off Sly-
therins who’d judged her for her blood.

“Not all of them are Lily, though,” Sirius

had to say. “She was- she was something
special-”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said.

“And what about their parents?”

“Know that I’ve done what I can to keep

this out of the Prophet’s hands, but I’ve
done nothing to keep my students quiet-”

“And what about the ones that haven’t

told their folks, because they’re scared
they’ll be dragged out of school, or don’t
want them to worry?”

“A student not telling their parents would

- 504 -
be very indicative of that student’s desire
to stay, I should think,” Dumbledore said.

Sirius couldn’t fault him there, but still

said, “They still deserve to know.”

“The majority are not concerned.”

“I struggle to believe-”

“The majority have children that are half-

bloods and purebloods, and therefore safe.
You would be concerned for the other stu-
dents – Miss Granger, in particular – but
tell me honestly, were it not Tom Riddle
behind this, would you be truly worried
for Harry?”

“Of course I would,” Sirius said. “Have you

met the kid?” But again, Sirius could see
his point.

- 505 -
“And then there’s the muggle parents,”
Dumbledore sighed. “Mr Creevey’s father
has, of course been notified, and some will
have been told by their children, but the
rest…? The rest have no concept of blood
status, or what the name Voldemort means
– if they know the name at all – and as-
sume that Hogwarts is dangerous anyway
because to them, magic is the unknown.”
He sighed again. “And that can’t be helped,
not with the Statute of Secrecy as firmly
in place as it is at present.” Sirius fiddled
with the dogtags he wore around his neck,
not sure what to say. “I do, however, agree
with you; it is not my place to withhold in-
formation from parents when it concerns
the safety of their children. When we are
done here, I will speak to Minerva and Po-
mona and Filius and Severus and deter-
mine how best to address them.”

“Right,” Sirius said.

- 506 -
“Forgive me, Sirius,” Dumbledore said,
leaning forward in his chair, “but may I
ask why things are so different this year?”
Sirius, ridiculously, felt like a teenager
again, being asked why he and James had
blown up a suit of armour, or persuaded
Peeves to harass Snape.

“Because it’s Voldemort-”

“We knew that last year-”

“But now he’s actually in the school-”

“That was the case last year as well, but

last year, you were running patrols, and
following leads, not trying to pull Harry
out of classes.”

“There aren’t leads this year, though,” Sir-

ius said. “There’s- it’s just a legend and a

- 507 -
monster no one knows anything about,
and- and Voldemort. I just want him safe.”

“Come in,” Remus said, without looking

up from his marking. He’d been expecting
a student or perhaps Madam Maxime, or
Monsieur Motte, but it wasn’t the Defence
professor coming to discuss their next
lesson; it was a very unexpected visitor.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, as a
damp Sirius let himself into the office.

“Came to talk,” Sirius said. He flicked his

wand, drying himself, and pulled up one
of the chairs. “Are you busy?”

“Not with anything that can’t wait,” Remus

said, frowning. “Did you speak to Dumble-
dore? What-”

- 508 -
“Dumbledore can’t and won’t close the
school,” Sirius said, and Remus wasn’t en-
tirely surprised. “But he said that what I
do with Harry is up to me.” Remus flicked
his wand at the teapot and cups he kept
on the table in the corner, and they float-
ed over, along with his teabags and pot of
sugar.

“Not that I’m not pleased to see you,” Remus

said, passing Sirius a steaming cup, “but
why didn’t you just write a letter? Two in-
ternational portkeys in one day-”

“I brought my bike,” Sirius said.

“Oh.” Remus stirred a few teaspoons of

sugar in, and sipped his tea. “Good flight?”

“Wet,” Sirius said, and offered nothing else

after that. He looked calm enough, but his
scent was all over the place.

- 509 -
“You still haven’t said why you’re here.”

“Because Harry’s not going to take it well

when I tell him he isn’t going back, if last
night and this morning are any indication.
I just- I know I’m right, that this is the
way it’s going to be, but I need to hear it.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus said.

“For what?” Sirius blinked at him and low-

ered his teacup.

“I can’t tell you you’re right,” Remus said.

Once, he might have lowered his head and
avoided eye contact, or said the words jok-
ingly. Now, he met Sirius’ startled eyes.
“Do I think that Harry needs to be protect-
ed? Absolutely. Do I think locking him up
in Grimmauld is the way to do it? Abso-
lutely not.”

- 510 -
“I was thinking of sending him here, actu-
ally.”

Remus’ heart constricted; he loved Tonks,

he did, but she was out and about at all
hours with the Aurors, and Remus missed
Harry and missed Sirius. It had been won-
derful having them over Christmas and
hard to see them leave that morning –
even if Sirius was back again already. The
idea of having Harry coming to stay per-
manently was something that appealed
to him greatly. But Remus pushed that
thought away.

“No,” he said.

“I thought you’d like the idea,” Sirius said,

frowning.

“Does Harry?”

- 511 -
“I haven’t asked him yet,” Sirius sighed.
“But I think he’ll adjust to the idea-”

“From what he’s said, I think he wants to

stay at Hogwarts,” Remus said. At least,
that was the impression he’d got from Har-
ry and Sirius’ shouting last night. “And
unfortunately for you, Harry’s got all of
Lily’s selflessness, all of James’ stubborn-
ness, and his very own brand of wanting
to help.”

“I can talk him out of that, with time,” Sir-

ius said.

“You don’t have time, though,” Remus

said. “Harry also takes after his prat of a
godfather.” Sirius scowled. “He’s not ambi-
tious, but trying to get in the way of what
he wants isn’t a good idea… Your parents
wanted you to stay away from James and

- 512 -
the Potters – told you so after your first
week at school – and look how that went.”
Sirius had a funny look on his face.

“James wasn’t dangerous, though-”

“I was,” Remus said.

“Moony-”

“Don’t deny it,” Remus said, smiling. “If I

wasn’t, you’d have let Harry come out for
the full moons already.”

“That’s- that’s beside the point,” Sirius

said, floundering. “And we were fifteen-”

“Only because it took you so long.” Remus’

smile widened, to let Sirius know he was
teasing. “You put yourself in danger to help
me because you thought it was the right
thing to do. How is what Harry wants any

- 513 -
different?”

“You were a teenage werewolf, not a bloody

Dark Lord,” Sirius said.

“It’s all relative,” Remus said, shrugging.

“And we weren’t trying to be sacrifices,”

Sirius said. “And sometimes, with the way
Harry talks, that’s what I think he-”

“You’re the one who told him the Proph-

ecy,” Remus reminded him. “Of course
that’s going to shape his thinking, and his
actions.” He took a sip of his tea, noticing
that Sirius’ had been abandoned for sever-
al minutes now. “For the record, though, I
don’t think Harry wants to be a sacrifice.”

“But you still think he should go back?”

“Not particularly. But, nor do I think it’s

- 514 -
in any way, shape or form my decision to
make.”

“Doesn’t sound like that,” Sirius grumbled.

“I think that you should be talking to Har-

ry about this, not me,” Remus said. “But
since you aren’t, I feel obliged to make the
arguments that he would be.”

“What you’ve said isn’t what Harry was

saying last night,” Sirius said.

“Harry got angry and perhaps didn’t get

his point across as well as he ought to
have,” Remus said, “and even if he had,
you were too angry and scared for him to
want to listen anyway.” Sirius glowered at
him. Remus took another sip of tea, unre-
pentant.

- 515 -
Won’t be on the train. I’ll work something
out. Be careful; I was right. See you soon.
Harry.

Ginny glanced at the note as it passed

from Ron to Draco, and frowned. Hermi-
one, who was patting Hedwig, looked wor-
ried.

“He was right?” Ginny asked. “About

what?”

“No clue,” Draco said, scrunching up the

note and tucking it into the pocket of his
robes. “It would, of course, be too much for
Potter to explain something.”

“He said ‘be careful’,” Ron said. “Maybe it

isn’t safe to tell us-”

“All the more reason for him to do so.” Dra-

co arched an eyebrow, apparently waiting

- 516 -
for someone to contradict him, but no one
did.

“I suppose we’ll just have to wait,” Hermi-

one said. “Did he want a response?” Hed-
wig only flew up to rest on the edge of the
luggage rack and tucked her head under
her wing.

“Apparently not,” Ron said.

“I hope he’s all right,” Ginny said.

“He’ll be fine,” Hermione told her.

“Oh, definitely,” Draco said. “It’s only Pot-

ter, after all. How much trouble could he
get himself into?” Everyone laughed, and
Draco looked rather pleased with him-
self. Conversation lulled after that; Dra-
co pulled out a Marvin Miggs comic that
he’d borrowed from Ron, Ron entertained

- 517 -
himself by making Scabbers run back and
forward along the seat after a bit of corned
beef from Ron’s otherwise untouched
sandwich, and Hermione vanished behind
a truly enormous book called Branches of
Magic and Their Use.

Ginny pulled Tom’s diary out of her pock-

et, along with the self-inking quill she’d
been given by Percy for Christmas. She
propped the diary up against her knees,
and rested her back against the window,
so that no one would be able to read over
her shoulder.

Hi, Tom.

Ginny. Hold on just a moment.

Why? What’s happened?

I want to try something.

- 518 -
Try what? Have you been working on an-
other project?

Something like that.

What is it? No response came. Tom?

The page remained blank. Ginny winced;

the back of her head had, abruptly, start-
ed to hurt.

Ginny? Her name didn’t appear on the

pages of the diary, though. She heard it,
heard Tom’s soft voice whisper it into her
head.

“Tom?!” she asked, her mouth falling open.

Hermione looked up, frowning.

“Did you just say Tom?” Hermione asked,

eyes bright and curious from over the top

- 519 -
of her book.

I’m sorry, Ginny, I didn’t mean to startle

you-

“I was- um- supposed to meet him. Sorry.

Didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll just- See
you later.” Ginny fled the compartment.

“What are you doing in my head?” Ginny

hissed, when she was out in the quiet cor-
ridor. “Tom?”

Think your words, Ginny, his voice mur-

mured. People will think you’re crazy.

I’m not crazy, she snapped.

I never said you were. I just know that

people can be unkind.

So what are you doing in my head?

- 520 -
I feel- very close to you. I- I think it’s sim-
ilar to the way that you’re able to visit
me in the diary… now I can visit you on
the outside. I think this might be the be-
ginning of a solution to get me out of that
book. His voice sounded so hopeful that
Ginny couldn’t help but smile. I’m sorry I
startled you.

I don’t know how I feel about having you

here, Ginny said. What if he heard her
thinking about him? Then he’d know that
she thought she might fancy him, and she
didn’t think Tom would tease her about
that, but what if he did?

It must be strange, Tom agreed. Ginny re-

laxed; clearly, he hadn’t heard anything. I
should have asked, but I didn’t know if it
would work. I’ll ask next time.

- 521 -
Thanks, Ginny said. I’m sorry I told Her-
mione your name. She’ll never let it go,
now.

We’ll sort something out, I’m sure, Tom

said, not sounding worried. There was an
odd sensation in Ginny’s head, and then
everything fell silent.

Tom? she thought, but Tom didn’t respond.

Worried, Ginny scribbled his name into
the diary, and watched the letters fade.

I’m here. I don’t know what happened, he

wrote back.

Are you okay?

Tired. So, so very tired. I think I need to

go now, Ginny.

Okay, she wrote. I’ll come and see you to-

- 522 -
night, after dinner.

That… that would be lovely, thank you…

My sweet Ginny.

Then, he was gone. A little sad to lose his

company so quickly, Ginny tucked the di-
ary into her robes, where it would be safe,
and – unable to face Hermione again so
soon - set about trying to find Luna and
the Greengrass twins’ compartment.

Harry wasn’t at dinner that night, and

wasn’t at breakfast the next morning.
Ron, Hermione and Malfoy were seriously
entertaining the notion that maybe some-
thing was wrong, that maybe Harry had
got himself hurt, or wasn’t coming back.

They settled into their usual seats at the

- 523 -
back of the Defence classroom, and were
twenty minutes into the lesson when the
door opened and Harry slipped in. Ron
thought he looked far more tired than he
should, given he was returning from the
Christmas holidays.

“Sorry I’m late,” Harry said shortly. He

dropped his bag on the floor, and sat down
in the empty seat beside Draco.

“Harry-” Hermione started, but Harry just

shook his head.

“Not to worry, not to worry,” Lockhart

said, beaming at him. “I was just telling
the rest of your classmates how close I
came to catching Slytherin’s monster over
the break. Yes, yes,” Lockhart continued,
“I know, it’s shocking isn’t it, Harry-” Har-
ry did indeed look stunned. “-but I don’t
mind; giving up my holidays to pursue the

- 524 -
beast seems like a small sacrifice, in the
scheme of things.”

“Was there another attack?” Was it Ron,

or did Harry’s voice sound strangled.

“No,” Lockhart said. “No, no. But it’s best

to take the offensive, in this sort of circum-
stance.”

“You’re very brave, Professor,” Parvati

said. Ron caught Malfoy’s eye, and pre-
tended to retch. Malfoy sniggered, and
Hermione gave the pair of them filthy
looks. Harry was still watching Lockhart.

“So what is it?” Harry asked.

“What- what’s what?” Lockhart asked,

blinking. The silly smile he’d been wear-
ing since Parvati spoke slid off his face.

- 525 -
“What’s the monster?” Harry repeated.

“A snake, Harry,” Lockhart said. “Clearly-

Slytherin House is all about snakes, isn’t
that right?” He looked at the Slytherin
side of the room.

“Absolutely,” Zabini drawled. He was

clearly mocking Lockhart, but Lockhart
didn’t seem to notice. Parkinson giggled.

“That makes sense,” Hermione said.

“Of course it does,” Lockhart said, beam-

ing again.

“Salazar Slytherin was a parselmouth,”

Hermione said eagerly, “so that explains
why only his Heir can control it; it’s be-
cause the gift’s been passed down-”

“Precisely, precisely,” Lockhart said. “Very

- 526 -
keen deductive work, Miss Granger; those
are the exact conclusions I myself reached
only a few weeks ago-” Ron snorted.

“Yeah, nice work, Granger,” Greengrass

whispered. “Still won’t save you, though.”
Shafiq and Parkinson laughed. Ron balled
his hands into fists, but Hermione put a
hand on his arm. She was too far away to
stop Malfoy, though, who, Ron noticed, was
pouring his ink into Greengrass’ school
bag. She hadn’t noticed.

“So it’s a snake?” Neville asked.

“Keep up, Longbottom,” Lockhart said,

“Haven’t I just said that-”

“And where is it?” Harry asked. “The

Chamber, I mean?”

“Now, now, Harry,” Lockhart said, “I can’t

- 527 -
go revealing everything to you… We’ve
all heard of your penchant for trouble and
your love of saving the day-” Malfoy – the
one Ron didn’t like – laughed, but their
Malfoy – who was calmly screwing the top
back onto his inkpot – looked amused as
well. “I’d never forgive myself if you got
yourself injured following information I’d
given you.”

“You didn’t mind when it was his arm,”

Zabini said. Ron laughed before he could
stop himself.

“That was- an unfortunate side effect, Mr

Zabini, and Mr Potter bears me no ill will-
”

“That’s news to me,” Harry muttered. Ron

sniggered.

“Have you got any advice, Professor?” Da-

- 528 -
vis asked. “For avoiding the monster?”
Nott and Bulstrode exchanged grim looks
over the top of her head, and Ron won-
dered – not for the first time – if Davis’
lineage might not be as pure as people like
Malfoy and Greengrass thought.

“I wouldn’t worry yourself about it,” Lock-

hart said. “I’ll have vanquished it before
you know it.” This time, Ron was one of
about five people that snorted. Sadly, at
least five others – including Hermione –
sighed, like that was the greatest thing
they’d heard that day. “But, staying alert
never hurt anyone, and brushing up on
your Defence skills is always a good op-
tion-”

“Good thing we do loads of Defence, then,”

Ron heard Malfoy mutter. Harry snig-
gered. “Defence lessons are more like sto-
ry time with Gilderoy.”

- 529 -
“-and so-” Lockhart smiled his silly smile
at them all. “-I was supposed to keep this
quiet, but I think you deserve to hear it;
I’ve approached Professor Dumbledore for
permission to start a duelling club at Hog-
warts.” Even Ron sat a little straighter
in his seat. “I expect notices will go up in
the common rooms sometime in the next
week-”

“Is it just you running it, Professor?” Sea-

mus asked. “Because I heard Professor
Flitwick used to-”

“I’ve approached several staff members

with the offer of being my assistant,” Lock-
hart said. “None of them have- er- taken
me up on the offer yet, but I’m still wait-
ing to hear back from some of them-”

“Is-”

- 530 -
“No, I’ve said too much already. Mr Goyle,
I think you can start with the reading for
today; Holidays with Hags, Chapter Four.”

- 531 -
Chapter 19:
A disarming day

“So,” Harry said, when the four of them

were safely tucked away in the second
year boys dormitory, “I reckon you’ve got
some questions?”

“One or two,” Ron said, grinning. Harry

mustered a grin back; that, at least, was
easier to do than think of a way to deal
with Hermione’s frown, or Draco’s arched
eyebrow.

- 532 -
“I don’t,” Hermione sighed, “understand
why we always seem to end up in here.”
Harry blinked, wondering if her frown
had more to do with the location than any-
thing.

“Because we aren’t allowed in your room,”

Ron said. He’d wanted to speak to Ginny
one night, but Hermione had – very stern-
ly – told him he wasn’t allowed. Privately,
Harry thought that was more a guideline
than a rule, and that there was nothing
– other than their formidable friend –
stopping them from sneaking up. So far,
though, they hadn’t needed to.

“That’s right,” Hermione said, “you’re not.”

Ron made a face at her, and she poked her
tongue out at him. “I still feel funny com-
ing up here, though. I’m sure Neville and
Seamus and Dean wouldn’t like-”

- 533 -
“They don’t mind,” Harry assured her.
“They’re hardly up here anyway.” Hermi-
one’s frown didn’t quite go away.

“If you’re done,” Draco interjected, look-

ing annoyed, “I’d rather like to hear what
mess Potter’s got himself into this time.”

“The usual,” Harry shot back.

“Define usual,” Ron said. Harry grimaced

at him, and Ron paled. “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” Harry said, looking at his hands.

“Wish I was, but-”

“Do you mind verbalising this conversa-

tion?” Draco asked snidely. “We’re not all
privy to whatever weird connection it is
that you-”

“It’s Voldemort,” Harry said. “You know:

- 534 -
the usual.”

“Harry,” Hermione said, just as he’d known

she would. “Are you- You’re sure?”

“Positive.” Harry risked a glance at Draco,

whose expression was impossible to read,
just as Harry had known it would be. He
slid off the bed and opened his trunk, which
had clearly been brought up while he was
in Defence. He pulled out Reg’s copy of
Nature’s Nobility and flipped open to the
Gaunt page. Hermione took the book from
him, frowning again. Ron peered at it over
her shoulder.

“Tom Riddle?” he asked. “That’s-”

“That was his name, yeah,” Harry said.

“How?” Draco asked, finally. “Is he here,

or is someone just helping-”

- 535 -
“Dunno,” Harry said, shaking his head.
“He’s the Heir, though, so surely he’d have
to be here-”

“Not necessarily,” Draco said. “He’s the

Heir of Slytherin… there’s probably an
heirloom or something that could serve
just as well as him being here.”

“An heirloom?” Ron asked. “Like a ring or

something?”

“Slytherin had a locket,” Hermione said,

putting Nature’s Nobility down. Harry,
who knew all too well about Slytherin’s
locket, shuddered, but then frowned. He
hadn’t realised the locket was common
knowledge.

“How did you know that?” he asked her, at

the same time as Draco.

- 536 -
“It’s in Hogwarts: A History,” Hermione
said, rolling her eyes. “Gryffindor had
a sword, Ravenclaw a diadem, and Huf-
flepuff a cup.”

“How did you know?” Draco asked Harry.

Harry just shrugged.

“Who said I did?”

“If you hadn’t known, you wouldn’t have

questioned her,” Draco said. “If you want
proof, look at Weasley.” Ron, who had
stayed quiet, scowled at him.

“I don’t think it’s the locket, Harry said.

Draco frowned, apparently thinking.

“Why not?” Ron asked.

“Call it an educated guess,” Harry said.

- 537 -
“Why’s that?” Hermione asked curiously,
but Harry refused to say anything more.
She looked disappointed, and he was cer-
tain she’d be off to the library as soon as
she could, to read up on the Founders’ ob-
jects.

“It’s not,” Draco said. “At least I don’t

think-” His face was turning steadily
whiter. Harry wondered, for a moment, if
he was going to be sick. “I know how my
father’s involved, I think.” He certainly
sounded like he might be ill.

Harry’s mind caught up after a moment;

Mr Malfoy - if Padfoot and Moony were to
be believed, and Harry thought they were
– had been in Voldemort’s inner circle
during the war. When he’d been defeated
by Harry all those years ago, his followers
would have hoarded anything of his they

- 538 -
could, to have ready for his return… But
then, over the summer, following Croak-
er’s possession and death, the Ministry
had searched the homes of its employees
and Ministry associates. Mr Malfoy would
have had things to hide. Things Dobby
would have known about. Things Dobby
might have decided to warn Harry and
Draco about.

“Not necessarily,” Ron said; obviously he,

too, had found and followed the same line
of thought. “It might not be an object or
an heirloom. It might just be- you know;
him.”

“Maybe,” Draco said. He looked like he ap-

preciated the effort Ron had made to give
his father an out, but not as if he believed
it. “So what’s all this got to do with why
you weren’t back with the rest of us, last
night?”

- 539 -
“Well, obviously Sirius was worried,” Ron
said. Both Hermione and Draco looked a
little surprised at that, and Harry was
surprised as well, that Ron had guessed
it. “I don’t know how you talked him into
it, Harry; if it was Mum and I was the one
with a murderous lunatic after me, she’d
have probably just put me in a Body-Bind
and tucked me away in my room.”

“Surely he’s used to it by now?” Draco

asked.

“He does know you’re back, doesn’t he,

Harry?” Hermione asked sharply.

“Of course he does,” Harry said, rolling his

eyes. “If I’d sneaked out, he’d have tracked
me into Defence and dragged me home.”
And probably hexed Lockhart for good
measure, Harry couldn’t help but think.

- 540 -
He chuckled. “He wasn’t happy about it
all, but I’ve promised I won’t go looking
for trouble-”

“Well that’s good,” Hermione said briskly.

“I’ll say; can you imagine if Potter went

looking for trouble on top of everything
that manages to find him?” Draco asked.

“Would you believe that after seven years

in Azkaban, a couple on the run, a trial
that almost went horribly wrong, thinking
I was going to die in what turned out to be
an elaborate Auror scheme, actually dying
for a couple of hours, and a few chats with
Peter on top of that, that I’m still sane,
but that a twelve year old is coming dan-
gerously close to ruining aforementioned
sanity?”

- 541 -
“You’ve been speaking with Peter?” Mar-
lene asked, looking up from a letter from
Neville Longbottom. She’d sent him a let-
ter after his Sorting the year before, to
congratulate him, and they’d fallen into
an irregular correspondence during the
school terms; during holidays, they tend-
ed to bump into each other at St Mungo’s.

Mostly he asked if she had any advice on

how to do a particular spell, or how his par-
ents were, and she mostly told him about
Frank and Alice, and sent him the sweet
wrappers that Alice usually gave him her-
self. This time was a bit different; Neville
clearly had noticed that Harry hadn’t been
at dinner the night before, and had sent
a very tentative letter to ask if that was
supposed to be the case, and was Harry all
right?

- 542 -
“That’s what you got out of all of that?” Sir-
ius asked. He spun on his heel to pace back
the other way, almost bowling Kreacher
over in the process. Kreacher, though, had
years of experience dealing with his Mas-
ter, and dodged with ease. He settled him-
self with his dinner and a single – rare –
butterbeer, by the fire and the Black family
tapestry, with a contented look on his face.
Marlene didn’t spend enough time in the
drawing room to know if this was a habit
of Kreacher’s, but he seemed at ease, and
Sirius hadn’t commented on it. That said,
she doubted he’d even noticed;

“Voldemort could be there with Harry

right now and we wouldn’t even know!
What was I thinking, taking him back? I-”

“What’s Peter had to say?” Marlene asked.

“Nothing important.” Sirius stopped his

- 543 -
pacing to scowl at her, and then bowed
into Padfoot. He didn’t seem to know what
to do as a dog though; for a moment, Mar-
lene thought he might have been enter-
taining the notion of destroying one of the
pillows on the couch, or going to gnaw on
the tapestry, but then thought better of it
and turned back into a human again. The
pacing resumed.

“You said a few,” she said. “Obviously

there’s something to keep you going back.”

“When I know what it is, I’ll tell you,” Sir-

ius said darkly.

“Why don’t you write to Remus?” she

asked, trying to think of something to dis-
tract him.

“Remus agrees with Harry-”

- 544 -
“You told me he didn’t, that he just want-
ed you to see both sides-” Sirius stopped to
scowl at her again. Marlene dropped her
eyes back to her letter, and waved at him
to continue.

“The point is, is that Dumbledore knows,

and Snape knows-”

“And Harry’s friends, doubtless,” Marlene

said. “If he’s anything like you and James
– and he is – he won’t be able to keep his
mouth shut.”

“-and them, then,” Sirius snapped, “and

the other teachers, but who can do any-
thing about it? They’ve tried to solve this
Chamber thing before, and still, the near-
est anyone’s come to it is Harry with Reg’s
book! How can they protect him if they
don’t know what’s going on? How can I
protect him if I’m here and he’s there-”

- 545 -
“Ask Robards to assign Aurors to the
school,” Marlene said, folding Neville’s
letter up. She’d read it – the parts about
what was for dinner at Hogwarts, and the
conversation Neville had had with Nearly
Headless Nick - to Alice and Frank tomor-
row.

“Already have,” Sirius said. “And we can’t,

because there’s not a case there, and we
can’t assign a guard unless the Board ap-
proves it. And why would people like Lu-
cius Malfoy want to waste money on pay-
ing Aurors to protect his pureblooded sons
from a muggleborn-hunting monster?”

“If Draco keeps tagging along with Harry,

protection might not be a terrible idea,”
Marlene said. “You could always point
that out.”

- 546 -
It had clearly been the wrong thing to say.
Sirius’ face shut down entirely, and he was
silent for one… two… three… four… five
seconds, and then he opened his mouth,
and Marlene braced herself for what would
doubtless be a scathing retort, when Siri-
us blinked and tore his pocket in his haste
to retrieve his mirror from his pocket.

“Harry?” Sirius sounded impressively

calm but she could see the tension in his
shoulders.

“Padfoot, hi,” Marlene heard Harry say. “I

was just talking with everyone, and Draco
thought maybe an heirloom? As in, if he’s
not here in person, that maybe this- this
thing could be letting someone open the
Chamber.”

“Right,” Sirius said, glancing at Marlene.

His eyes softened a bit. She felt her mouth

- 547 -
quirk up at the corner.

“So I was thinking- Could you just check

that the locket’s where it’s meant to be?”
Sirius was over on the other side of the
room so quickly she thought he might
have apparated. Kreacher certainly had;
he materialised by Sirius, peering onto a
shelf in a big glass cabinet full of all sorts
of junk that Marlene couldn’t believe Sir-
ius had kept when he cleaned the house;
his mother’s portrait had been condemned
to Kreacher’s cupboard-room, but Sirius
had kept old brooches and jewellery and a
truly ugly compact mirror.

“It’s here- it’s- it’s still it,” Sirius said,

and Kreacher bobbed his head, glowering
through the glass. “But that’s not a bad
thought about heirlooms. Maybe the ring?”

“The one in the paper clipping?”

- 548 -
“Maybe Reg did circle it,” Sirius said. “I’ll
have a look in the library here, see if I can
identify it. Can you send the clipping back
with Hedwig?”

“I’ll get Hermione to help me copy it,” Har-

ry said. “And then we can look here too.”
Sirius’ fingers twitched on the mirror, and
clearly his face – which Marlene couldn’t
see – did something too, because Harry
sighed. “I’ll be careful,” he said. “Prom-
ise.” Sirius grunted. “Anyway, I’ve got to
go, I’ve got Quidditch. I’ll talk to you to-
morrow night.”

“Okay,” Sirius said. “Bye, kiddo.” Harry’s

responding ‘bye’ echoed, and then Sirius
tucked the mirror away. His eyes went
to the cabinet again, and then landed on
Marlene.

- 549 -
“Locket?” she asked.

“It’s nothing.” He came to sit down next to

her, and ran his fingers through the ends
of her hair. “I’m sorry for being-”

“Stressed?” she offered.

“Mmm.” He was silent and then muttered,

“Why didn’t I think of that? Heirlooms.”
But before Marlene could answer, he’d
kissed her on the forehead and swept out,
presumably headed for the library to look
for the ring Harry had been talking about.

“I don’t recall- Hello, first years,” Lockhart

said, waving at Ginny, Luna, the Green-
grass twins, and the two Andrews – Kirke
and Higgs – who were standing over near
Padma Patil. His smile seemed a bit off,

- 550 -
and he was looking around, as if for help.
“I’m sorry, but the posters were promoting
this for people in second year and up-”

“The point of these little classes of yours,

however is to teach the students to defend
themselves. First years need those skills
just as much as the rest, or do I have to re-
mind you that Slytherin’s monster has al-
ready attacked a first year?” Snape strode
into the Great Hall, robes billowing. Harry
was almost relieved to see him; if he was
here, he wouldn’t let Lockhart get away
with teaching them rubbish. Even Ron
looked pleased. Draco looked smug, and
Harry wondered if he’d known about this
before now. “Stay,” he told the first years.
“But I expect your best efforts in keeping
up with the rest.”

“Yes, sir,” the Slytherin Greengrass twin

– the tiny one – said quietly. Snape nod-

- 551 -
ded at her.

“Yes, well- I’m glad you can stay, I al-

ways thought it was ridiculous that only
second years and above could- yes, well.”
Lockhart cleared his throat. “You all know
me, of course, and Professor Snape; he’s
agreed to be my assistant today-” Harry
glanced at Snape, who looked as if he was
only just resisting the temptation to roll
his eyes. Harry didn’t blame him. “-very
kind of him, isn’t it, yes. Now, the best way
to learn, I’ve always found is by doing, so
I’m going to split you into pairs-”

“After,” Snape interjected, “you’ve been

shown how to Disarm your opponent.”

Lockhart blinked at him, then smiled, “I

was just getting to that; your Professor
Snape’s a bit eager, I think.” A group of
Hufflepuff girls giggled, and Snape looked

- 552 -
mildly revolted at the idea of belonging to
anyone. “Now, the charm is Expelliarmus
and the wand movement is as follows-”
Lockhart gave his wand a quick twist. “-so
now-”

“We will demonstrate,” Snape said. He

strode forward and students parted around
him. Everyone stepped back to make room
for a rough circle around him and Lock-
hart, and Snape conjured a platform while
Lockhart talked them through the prop-
er way to greet an opponent. Ron leaned
closer to Harry.

“I hope Snape puts him on his-”

“-ask; does anyone have any questions

about what I’ve just shown you?” Draco
sniggered and Hermione shot the three of
them unimpressed looks, then bounced up
onto her toes to try to see over the peo-

- 553 -
ple between them and the platform. A re-
sounding silence met Lockhart’s question,
and he straightened himself and waved a
hand at Snape, who nodded.

“On my count,” Lockhart said. “One, two,

three-”

Snape uttered his spell, with no more pomp

than he would have said a student’s name,
or the name of a potion they were work-
ing on in class. Lockhart, predictably, said
his spell loudly, and dramatically. Snape’s
spell hit first, and Lockhart’s wand soared
into Snape’s waiting hand. Ron made a
small, quiet cheering noise, and Hermi-
one looked disappointed. Lockhart’s spell
fizzed past Hydrus and his cronies and
collided harmlessly with the stone wall.

“Very good,” Lockhart said, pressing his

hand to his side, where the spell had land-

- 554 -
ed. “Very good, an excellent demonstration,
Professor Snape. Just be glad it wasn’t a
real duel; I’m sorry to tell you that if we
were playing for keeps, that things might
have gone rather differently.”

Snape’s only response was to throw Lock-

hart’s wand back at him.

“Pair up,” Snape said, “but you’re not to

start until we’ve made sure that the part-
ners you choose are suitable.”

“Hop to it!” Lockhart said, beaming.

- 555 -
Chapter 20:
The speaker

“Sharper wand movement than that, Wea-

sley, or you’ll take off Mr Longbottom’s
arm-”

Harry grinned at Draco as Ron flushed

bright red, and Neville examined his arm,
without being as subtle as he’d obviously
intended. Ron scowled.

“Expelliarmus!” Draco said, and Harry’s

wand twitched, but remained firmly in his

- 556 -
hand.

“Very good, Mr Malfoy, you almost had it;

try not to drag your pronunciation out too
much-”

“Expelliarmus,” Harry said, while Draco

was pulling a face at Lockhart. Draco’s
wand landed on the floor, a few feet away
from him, with a clatter.

“Well done, Harry!” Lockhart said, beam-

ing. He collected Draco’s wand and passed
it back to him; Draco was, Harry was
amused to notice, looking perfectly polite
again. “Nicely done, very nicely done; al-
most as good as I was at the same age-
Keep trying, Miss Granger, you look like
you’ve almost got it…”

“Not bad for a second year,” Fred said, ap-

pearing beside Harry, who grinned. Draco

- 557 -
scowled, and muttered – only just loudly
enough for Harry to hear him – the spell
again, this time, with his wand pointed at
George. “Did-”

“Oi!” Draco disarmed him, but only just;

rather than arcing through the air, like
Lockhart’s had done in Snape’s demon-
stration, George’s wand just seemed to
slide out of his hand. Fred advanced on
Draco, grinning, apparently in defence of
his twin.

“Weasley!” Snape had turned around at

the wrong moment.

“Expelliarmus,” Fred said calmly, and Dra-

co’s wand flew into his hand. “Ha! Did you
like that, Professor?” Snape’s expression
indicated otherwise, and he opened his
mouth but couldn’t speak before George
cut him off.

- 558 -
“I’m speechless too, Professor.” He’d re-
trieved his wand, and was standing beside
Fred, with a hand over his heart. “Perfect
spell, old chap; that wand movement, that
catch-”

Snape’s eyes flicked over Draco for the

briefest of moments, apparently checking
him for any injuries – physical ones, or to
his pride, Harry wasn’t sure – before they
landed on the twins again. His lips thinned,
and he spun on his heel – as smoothly as
he ever had, even with his leg – and went
to harass Ginny and Luna. At Snape’s in-
struction, Ginny disarmed Luna as easily
as Fred had Draco and turned to Snape
with a smug but somewhat blank expres-
sion that Harry had never seen her wear
before. Snape’s expression darkened, and
he pointed at Hermione – who’d been part-
nered with Millicent Bulstrode – and had

- 559 -
her swap with Ginny. Hermione looked
grateful for it.

“-is a tempting offer, isn’t it, George?”

“It is indeed, Freddie, but will he stick to

it?”

“Of course I will,” Draco huffed. “As long

as you give me my wand back.”

“Deal,” Fred said, seizing Draco’s hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you, young
Malfoy-”

“Pleasure indeed. Not a word to him, ei-

ther.”

“I won’t say a word to him,” Draco said,

rolling his eyes. Harry waited until the
twins had headed over to Lee to arch an
eyebrow at Draco.

- 560 -
“Tell Weasley to check his trunk for dung-
bombs before bed tonight,” Draco said,
pinching the bridge of his nose. “I prom-
ised those two I’d sneak one in there.”

“All right! Listen in, listen in!” Lockhart

called over the top of everyone. “We’re go-
ing to do some duelling now that you’ve all
got the basics down; can I have a volunte-
Mr Malfoy, lovely.” Draco looked terrified
for a moment, until he realised Lockhart
meant Hydrus, and then started to snig-
ger. “I know; I should be punishing you
for talking, rather than giving you such
a wonderful opportunity, but, well, that’s
just who I am.”

Hydrus stomped up to the platform. He

was obviously trying to look derisive, but
he was eyeing the older students – like
Fred and George, and a tall boy who was

- 561 -
Huffleuff’s Seeker, and Percy’s Prefect
friend from Ravenclaw – with some trepi-
dation.

“And perhaps…”

“Potter,” Severus said, because Lockhart’s

gaze had been flicking between Crabbe
and Goyle. Lockhart looked up, seeming
surprised, but pleased. Potter was glar-
ing at Severus, and Draco didn’t look hap-
py either, but Weasley seemed to be just
holding in a smile as he nudged Potter up
toward the stage.

Yes, better one of those four Gryffindors

than any of the others; with the Chamber
of Secrets business, people were already
frowning upon Severus’ House, and he
didn’t want to provoke that rivalry by hav-

- 562 -
ing Hydrus beat or hurt another student,
or by having Hydrus embarrassed and an-
gry at losing to another student. Really,
why hadn’t the boy just had the sense to
keep his mouth shut, and then Severus
could have had Diggory and Clearwater
duel, or made the Weasley twins face off
against each other.

He sighed. Still, better Potter than Draco

– who Hydrus didn’t need any more reason
to dislike – and better Potter than Grang-
er – who didn’t need to tempt the Heir by
being a muggleborn capable of beating a
pureblood – and better Potter than Wea-
sley – who Hydrus would be particularly
nasty to, due to learning where Draco had
stayed over Christmas.

“Now,” Lockhart said brightly, “bow- yes,

that’s it, boys, well done-” Severus saw Hy-
drus’ mouth move, and saw Potter’s move

- 563 -
in response, but didn’t hear what had ac-
tually been said. “-now, to your ends of the
platform. On three; one, two-”

“-three!”

“Expelliarmus!” Harry said, but Hydrus

stepped to the side.

“Predictable, Harry!” Lockhart said,

and Harry felt his face heat up. Hydrus
smirked, and Harry vowed to get Snape
back for this, somehow; just when Harry
started to think the git might not be so
bad…

“Petfrificus tot-”

“Pedis offencio!” Hydrus toppled over.

“Saponum!” Harry added, for good mea-

- 564 -
sure, and Hydrus’ face turned comically
revolted. He coughed up soapy bubbles,
and Harry grinned. Ron looked ecstatic,
and lots of the onlookers were laughing.
“Tar-”

“Locomotor wibbly!” The spell was muf-

fled – Hyrus was still spitting out bub-
bles – but the spell was too fast, and it hit.
Harry’s legs gave way beneath him, and
he came dangerously close to smashing
his face into the platform. Hydrus, wiping
his mouth, got to his feet. Parkinson and
Greengrass cheered, and the twins booed
loudly. “Expelliarmus!” Hydrus said, and
Harry threw himself to the side. It was
less graceful than when Padfoot had done
it when he duelled Tonks, but the spell
didn’t hit him, and that was what mat-
tered.

“Torpeo!” Harry said, pushing himself

- 565 -
upright. The spell missed Hydrus’ wand
arm, but hit his other arm, which plas-
tered itself to his side. “Torpeo!” Harry
said again, and Hydrus hopped out of the
way, and tried another full Body-Bind. The
spell ruffled Harry’s hair, but, thankfully,
missed. “Ventus!” Hydrus tumbled to the
platform, bringing him down to Harry’s
level. Harry thought Lockhart might have
said something. “Exp-”

“Serpensortia!” Hydrus yelped.

“-elliarmus!” A snake dropped out of the

end of the wand, just as the wand soared
into Harry’s hand. His win was met with
silence, brought about by the snake on the
platform. Only Hydrus, and a few of the
other Slytherins didn’t seem bothered by
it, and they were all silent due to Hydrus’
loss. Harry wiggled the wand, smirking,
and then threw it back to him. Hydrus

- 566 -
hiccoughed a bubble, which made it all
the better. Harry grinned, and Hydrus’
expression darkened.

“Him,” Hydrus said, pointing at Harry,

who ignored him.

“Finite,” he said with his own wand, and

the effects of the Jelly-Legs Jinx stopped.

When he looked up, he had time to regis-

ter two things; one, that Lockhart had his
wand in one arm and was holding Snape
off with the other, insisting loudly that he
could handle the snake, and two, that said
snake was slithering steadily toward Har-
ry.

“Hurt you, oh, yess,” it said.

“Sorry, what?” Harry asked, staring at it.

The snake stopped, just in time for Lock-

- 567 -
hart’s spell to hit it; it, however, only flew
into the air with a hiss that Harry didn’t
understand and landed with a thump.

“Sspeaker,” it said, and twisted its head to

the side in a reptilian imitation of Padfoot,
when he was a dog and interested.

“Apparently,” Harry said. Ginny was close

enough to the platform that she could
hear him. Harry’s expression – which had
been as startled as everyone else’s – had
changed to a sort of curious frown, like he
was thinking hard. She focused on that,
on his face, because focusing on anything
else would mean

“Sssorry, ssspeaker, but my caster

chosssse you-” The snake turned back to
nod at Malfoy, whose expression was fro-

- 568 -
zen somewhere between horror and sur-
prise. The snake let out a hiss that didn’t
seem to mean anything. Ginny shuddered,
and wrapped her arms around herself.
Snakes didn’t talk- well, they did, but only
parseltongues were supposed to be able to
understand them, and Ginny wasn’t- Gin-
ny couldn’t be a parselmouth. That was
a Dark gift, and Ginny was a Gryffindor
and- “-for hurting,” the snake continued,
making Ginny flinch, “ssso hurt you I will-
”

“Are you all right?” Luna whispered, put-

ting a hand on her arm, and Andrew Higgs
looked down at her, concerned. No one else
was paying her any attention; they were
all too interested in Harry and the snake.
They couldn’t understand it.

“Fine,” Ginny made herself say, but prob-

ably ruined any semblance of ‘fine’ by run-

- 569 -
ning for the doors as soon as she was free
of the crowd.

Tom! she shouted into her head. He’d been

there just before, and helped her Disarm
Luna, but he’d left, saying he was tired,
and she hoped he wasn’t too tired now; she
needed to talk to him and his diary was a
whole seven floors away. Tom!?

Ginny, you seem distressed; what’s the

matter?

“ Sssorry, ssspeaker, but my caster

chosssse you for hurting, ssso hurt you I
will-”

Harry was vaguely aware of Snape saying

something, and then the snake was gone.
Harry looked for Snape in the crowd, and

- 570 -
was startled to see he was wearing the
same surprised expression as Hydrus.
Harry glanced around; Snape and Hydrus
weren’t the only ones. Just about everyone
in the Hall looked either disbelieving or
frightened, and Harry saw long, red hair
– Ginny’s hair – disappearing through the
door. Hermione’s bushy head followed just
after.

Then, all he could see was a pale hand,

and on his other side and a freckled one
on the other side, and Ron telling Percy to
move as he was literally dragged from the
platform and out of the Hall.

“You’re a parselmouth, and didn’t say

anything?” Ron demanded, as soon as
they were secluded in the library; obvi-
ously, Harry’s friends were bursting, and
hadn’t had the patience to get to the com-
mon room. Thankfully, the library was

- 571 -
just about empty, because everyone else
was downstairs, likely listening to Lock-
hart try to take credit for getting rid of the
snake.

“I don’t know what that means,” Harry

said, “but I think I can talk to snakes-”
Draco rolled his eyes.

“That’s precisely what it means, Potter,

and if you’d read that thesaurus-”

“I doubt that would be in there-”

“Do I look like a muggle, Potter? It’s a wiz-

arding thesaurus, of course it’s in there-”

“Malfoy, shut up,” Ron said, kicking him.

“Harry, do you have any idea what you’ve
just-”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Draco said. “Does

- 572 -
he ever-”

“They’re all going to think you’re the Heir.

I know you aren’t,” he added quickly, “and
that it’s You-Know-Who and all that, but
parseltongue is Dark and just then, down-
stairs, it looked like you turned Malfoy’s
snake on him-” Draco nodded, rather sol-
emnly.

“What?” Harry frowned at them. “No, it

said I was a speaker – the Keplie used the
same word, isn’t that funny-” Draco did
not seem at all amused. “-and then it told
me that its caster wanted me hurt and so
it was going to hurt me-”

“But that’s not what it looked like,” Ron

said. For all that his tone was patient, he
looked strained. “We couldn’t understand
a word-”

- 573 -
“You could understand me,” Harry said,
still frowning. “Just not the snake-”

“No, Harry, because you were speaking

parseltongue-”

“Didn’t we just establish that?” Draco

asked.

“But I was- you couldn’t understand me-”

Draco looked like he was about to say
something scathing and sarcastic, so Har-
ry stopped talking, and tried to let it all
sink in. Ron and Draco both looked a little
shaken.

“Well,” Harry said finally, “at the very

least, one good thing’s come out of all of
this; Lockhart was right.”

“That’s a good thing?” Draco asked, at the

same time as Ron snorted and said, “Yeah,

- 574 -
right, Harry. Lockhart was right? Did you
hit your head in your duel-”

“I think the monster is a snake. That’s why

I can hear it, and why no one else seems to
be able to.”

Sweet Ginny, you mustn’t worry about

such things; as a Slytherin, being able to
talk to snakes seems like a wonderful tal-
ent. It simply means you’re special. And it
can’t be all dark, surely, not if Harry Pot-
ter can do it.

You’re right, Ginny thought, clinging to

the idea. You’re right, thank you, Tom, I
don’t know what I would have done if I
couldn’t talk to-

“Ginny!” Hermione appeared at the end of

- 575 -
the corridor, out of breath and clutching
her side. “What’s- why did you leave? Are
you all right?”

“Fine,” Ginny said, swallowing. “Just star-

tled.”

“I’ll say.” Hermione bit her lip, apparent-

ly deep in thought. Her eyes brightened.
“Professor Lockhart was right! It must be
a snake-”

“What must be?” Ginny asked, aware of

Tom listening as well.

“Slytherin’s monster; that’s why Harry’s

hearing it, because it’s a snake!” Her hand
flew to her mouth. “So parseltongue must
be what lets the Heir control it… could still
be an heirloom, but it seems more likely
to be an inherited ability, passed down for
years and years- Oh dear.”

- 576 -
“What?”

“Well, other people will have reached

that conclusion – or something similar –
but they don’t know what we know, they
only know that Harry’s a parselmouth, so
they’re going to think it’s him, and then
I ran out after you, but I don’t think peo-
ple saw you, so they’ll think I’ve run from
him-”

Hermione was talking so quickly that it

took Ginny a moment to sort through her
words.

“What do you know that no one else does?”

she asked curiously.

“Of course,” Hermione said, clapping her

hand to her forehead. “You weren’t there
the other night. Over Christmas, Har-

- 577 -
ry found the Heir-” Tom did something
that sent a spike of pain through Ginny’s
head. She pressed her hand to her temple,
wincing. “-in an old book. It’s- oh, Ginny,
it’s You-Know-Who!” A thrill of fear ran
through her.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. He was here at Hogwarts fifty

years ago, and opened it then, but now he’s
doing it again somehow- Oh, I hope it’s not
through Harry somehow, he’d have said if
he’d felt his scar…”

“He was in the Hospital Wing, the night

Colin was petrified,” Ginny said. “And he
was with me when we found Mrs Norris-”

“Right, right.” Hermione muttered. She

looked up, eyes not entirely focused.
“You’re sure you’re all right?”

- 578 -
“Fine,” Ginny said again, too overwhelmed
to come up with any other words.

“I’ll see you at dinner. I need the library.”

- 579 -
Chapter 21:
The Heir’s heir

By breakfast the next day, rumours that

Harry was the Heir of Slytherin had
spread through the school and taken root
in the minds of the other students.

A group of Hufflepuffs split Harry’s school

bag when they saw him in the corridor, to
give time for one of them – apparently a
muggleborn – to get away from him, and
Ron got himself detention for punching
Cormac McLaggen at lunch after he asked

- 580 -
a question that none of Harry’s friends
would repeat to him.

Dinner was quiet; only Draco and Ginny

sat with Harry; Hermione was in the li-
brary with Ron (the pair of them came in
to load plates, then disappeared again)
and the rest of Gryffindor kept their dis-
tance, with the exception of the Quidditch
team, who patted him on the back as they
passed, and sat just beyond Draco to talk
about the upcoming game in low voices.
Harry couldn’t quite muster the energy to
join them, and instead kept his head down
and tried to ignore the whispers that were
all too clear to him, thanks to his Anima-
gus-hearing.

Harry supposed it wasn’t entirely sur-

prising that he found himself escorted to
Dumbledore’s office after dessert, by a
thin-lipped McGonagall. He wondered if

- 581 -
she believed the rumours too.

“Hi, Fawkes,” Harry said, and got a rather

sick sounding croon in response; he sup-
posed it was burning week.

“Take a seat, Mr Potter,” she said, gestur-

ing to the chair. “The Headmaster will be
with us shortly.” Harry sat, and she was
right; Dumbledore was arrived just min-
utes after them, and offered Harry a lem-
on drop as he sat down.

“No, thanks,” Harry said.

“Admirable as their loyalty is,” Dumble-

dore said, with an arched eyebrow, “you
might suggest to Mr Malfoy that he keep
tabs on you from a greater distance; he al-
most got himself crushed by my revolving
staircase, just now.”

- 582 -
“Shall I-”

“Leave him be, Minerva,” Dumbledore

said, choosing a lemon drop for himself.
“Harry needs his friends at the moment,
they merely need to be more careful about
it.” At this, Dumbledore graced Harry with
a smile.

“Not loitering,” McGonagall muttered, but

remained where she was.

“I s’pose you heard about yesterday,” Har-

ry said.

“I believe we’ve had a conversation about

secrets – or, rather, the lack of secrets –
at Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said. “And I –
while, admittedly oblivious to some things
– have a tendency to hear these sorts of
things.” Harry, not sure whether he was
about to be told off, or comforted, stayed

- 583 -
silent. “First and foremost, are you all
right?”

“Sure,” Harry said, shrugging. McGona-

gall made an irritated noise.

“Potter,” she said.

“Given the circumstances, I’m as good as I

can be,” Harry said, not looking at either
of them. He stared at his shoelaces. “Am
I having a brilliant day? No. Could it be
worse? I reckon it could be.” He looked up
at the pair of them. McGonagall’s mouth
was open, like she wanted to say some-
thing, and Dumbledore looked thoughtful.
“Do you know why?” Harry asked after a
pause.

“Why what, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“Why I can- you know. Talk to snakes.”

- 584 -
Harry was well aware of McGonagall look-
ing at him with pity, not because he could
see it, but because he could smell it. It was
a sickly sort of smell.

“I don’t have answers,” Dumbledore said.

“Only guesses.” Harry waited. “My best
guess, at this stage, is that the night Volde-
mort attempted to kill you as a baby, he
accidentally transferred some of his own
abilities to you-”

“So then I kind of am the Heir of Slyther-

in, given that I-” Harry wrinkled his nose.
“-inherited his abilities.”

“By magic, not by blood,” Dumbledore said

gently.

“But parseltongue’s how it all happens,”

Harry said. “Or at least we think so.”

- 585 -
“Indeed?”

“We think it’s a snake. That’s why I can

hear it, but no one else can-”

“A very logical explanation.” Dumbledore

was on his feet, pacing around behind his
desk. “One I hadn’t considered, but given
the rarity of the gift…”

“So I could be, then-”

“You have time to ponder the intricacies

of inherited magical abilities and their ap-
plications later, Albus,” McGonagall said
tersely.

“Of course,” Dumbledore said, inclining his

head in her direction. Slowly, still looking
thoughtful, he made his way back to his
chair. “I suppose what I really wanted to
talk to you about, Harry, is where we’re

- 586 -
going to go from here.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“I cannot think of anything that will make

your problem go away,” Dumbledore said.
Harry shook his head; neither he, his
friends or Padfoot had come up with any-
thing either. “There will be rumours, and
some of the bolder students may target
you out of fear-”

“I know,” Harry said.

“That behaviour will not be tolerated,”

McGonagall said firmly. “I’ll have them
trimming the Quidditch pitch with nail
scissors, Mr Potter, I assure you.” Har-
ry mustered a weak smile, sure that he’d
never turn anyone in to her for that, even
if they did properly attack him. She nod-
ded at him.

- 587 -
“But the fact remains, that they are scared,
and people who are scared can be danger-
ous,” Dumbledore said. “I have no wish
to see you in danger, Harry, and so, must
ask if you’re sure you want to remain at
Hogwarts.”

“I’m always in danger, sir.” Or at least

it seems that way, Harry thought. “I can
handle it.” Dumbledore didn’t look sur-
prised, but he did seem a little sad, and
didn’t speak. “If that’s it,” Harry said,
“then I have an essay-”

“Actually, Harry, I might have to trouble

you for some more of your time.” Harry
lowered himself back into the chair and
watched, curious. “The Board of Governors
are always looking for reasons to force me
aside,” Dumbledore said, almost cheerily.
“And I think they’ve come to the conclu-

- 588 -
sion that this Chamber business might
be the way to go about it…” His cheeri-
ness faded, and he was left looking grim.
“I heard whispers over Christmas, though
everything seems to have fallen quiet in
the last week.” He paused and glanced at
McGonagall. “Whether that’s a good thing
remains to be seen.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Harry

asked.

“Last time, the attacks only stopped be-

cause Tom couldn’t risk exposing himself
after he went to such great lengths to con-
ceal his involvement. This time, nothing
of the kind has happened, and so-”

“There’ll be more attacks,” Harry said. Mc-

Gonagall’s lips thinned. “That’s what you
think, right?”

- 589 -
“It seems likely,” Dumbledore said grave-
ly. “Obviously we are doing what we can
to keep the students safe but-”

“-but that doesn’t mean they are,” Har-

ry said, and then realised what he’d just
said. “Sorry, I-”

“There is no need to apologise, dear boy,”

Dumbledore said, waving a hand. “You
are – unfortunately – correct.” He sighed.
“And I fear that the next attack will result
in my removal from the school.”

“That’d be stupid,” Harry said, folding his

arms. “No one on the Board has as good a
chance as you do of finding Riddle-”

“You might,” Dumbledore said softly. Har-

ry blinked at him. “I am not,” Dumbledore
said, suddenly stern, “suggesting that you
throw everything aside in order to track

- 590 -
him down, Harry. As I said before, I have
no wish to see you in danger-”

“I’m always-”

“You’ve said,” Dumbledore said, gently.

“What I do mean to suggest, is that Tom
may be drawn to you. He’s cunning, and
talented, but he’s always had the unfortu-
nate need for acknowledgement. He will
want someone to know that all of this is
because of him.”

“You think he’ll let himself get caught?”

Harry asked, frowning.

“No,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head.

“I think, though – and I know you must
have had similar thoughts yourself – that
he may reach out to you-” Harry nodded
slowly. It was something that had occurred
to him. “-be that to gloat, or-”

- 591 -
“Or for the prophecy,” Harry said quiet-
ly. McGonagall made a soft, questioning
noise, and Dumbledore shook his head at
her.

“Perhaps.” The word hung in the office,

blunt, but not as terrifying as Harry would
once have found it. He swallowed, and
nodded. “I know, Harry, that you have
made promises to Sirius-” Harry arched
an eyebrow, and Dumbledore only smiled
knowingly. “-that you will tell him about
any developments or danger. I ask for the
same, and, if I have been displaced by the
Board, that you go to Minerva.”

“And then what?” Harry asked. “Sit by?”

“I suspect, that in these coming weeks,

with these rumours, and the knowledge of
the Heir’s identity, you may feel very alone,

- 592 -
and very responsible-” Dumbledore’s eyes
were sad. “-but you are not alone in this,
Harry, and it is not solely your responsi-
bility-”

“I’ve never said that,” Harry protested.

“Sirius did,” Dumbledore said. His beard

moved with the faintest smile.

“He told you that?” Harry asked, doubt-

ful. He had thought things between Pad-
foot and Dumbledore were still- well, he
hadn’t thought Padfoot would tell Dumb-
ledore that sort of thing.

“I think, Harry, that you underestimate

how far Sirius is willing to go to keep you
safe. The more eyes, the better, were his
choice of words, I believe.” Dumbledore’s
eyes twinkled. “If you learn or suspect
something, I would like to know, because,”

- 593 -
he said, lifting a finger, “I want my stu-
dents safe, Harry. All of them.” Dumble-
dore caught Harry’s eyes with his own,
and Harry did his best to hold the contact,
until it became too much.

“Yes, sir,” Harry said finally.

“Very good. Now, I believe you said you

had an essay to do.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said again.

“Run along then,” Dumbledore said,

smiling. Harry left the office, and nearly
bowled Draco over as he stepped off the
staircase; he only stopped in time because
Draco leaped out the way, and pulled off
the cloak.

“You took your time,” he said, tucking the

cloak into his robes.

- 594 -
“You nearly got yourself crushed,” Harry
retorted, arching an eyebrow at him.

“I- did- Who told you that?”

“Dumbledore,” Harry said, and Draco

scowled.

“I knew he saw,” Draco said. “No clue how,

given we were under the cloak, but I just
had a feeling-”

“Ron still at the library?” Harry asked.

“Of course; someone’s got to keep an eye

on Granger until we sort out this Chamber
rubbish. Did you want to go meet them,
or-”

“Common room,” Harry said, shaking his

head. “I don’t really fancy having books

- 595 -
thrown at me, for being the Heir.” He rolled
his eyes and Draco’s expression tightened.
He opened his mouth, and then closed it
again. Harry didn’t mind the silence. His
talk with Dumbledore had given him lots
to think about.

“So what did they want?” Draco asked fi-

nally, as they climbed through the portrait
hole.

“Hmm?” Harry’s eyes were on the stairs; at

least a third of the people in the common
room had headed upstairs when Harry
and Draco arrived, and Harry didn’t think
it had anything to do with Draco. Only
Percy and a few older students remained,
too deep in study to have noticed him, and
Ginny, who was frowning into the fire.

“Dumbledore, Potter. I don’t imagine he

had you there to ask what you had for din-

- 596 -
ner… Which wasn’t much,” he added dis-
approvingly.

“He just wanted to talk about yesterday,

make sure I still wanted to be here, offer
me support… the usual. He thinks we’re
right, though. That maybe it could be par-
seltongue that’s letting the Heir get into
the Chamber, and control the monster.”

“Did you ask him why you’ve got it?” Dra-

co asked, as they sat – by unspoken agree-
ment – in the armchairs in the far corner.
Gloomily, Harry supposed that was a bo-
nus of everyone being afraid of him; that
he’d never have to worry about finding
empty seats.

“His guess was from Voldemort,” Harry

said in a low voice, though Ginny was the
only one in earshot, and she was still frown-
ing at the fire. “That the night he died, he-

- 597 -
I dunno, gave me some of his powers or
something.” Harry grimaced. “In a sense,
I am the Heir, because I inherited those
powers from someone from the bloodline-”

“But only magically,” Draco said, as Dumb-

ledore had. “It’s not actually by blood.”

“If we’re right, though, and the whole key

to the chamber and the monster is par-
seltongue, what does blood matter?”

“But you haven’t been attacking people,”

Draco said. “You do know that, right?”

“I know that,” Harry said, kicking him.

“Good,” Draco sniffed. “Now, what are

my chances of getting you to explain that
Transfiguration essay to me?”

“Isn’t that what Ron’s working on with

- 598 -
Hermione? You could have gone with
them, instead of waiting-”

“I think Transfiguration will be the last

thing on Granger’s mind,” Draco said
smoothly, but Harry smelled evasion. “Be-
sides, you’re better at it.”

“Right,” Harry said. Draco looked pleased,

and trotted upstairs to get his things,
while Harry leaned back in his chair and
tried to think if he’d been left alone since
he’d revealed it was Voldemort behind ev-
erything. His eyes narrowed on Draco –
who was at the top of the stairs – when he
reached the realisation that no, he hadn’t
been. Draco and Ron – and possibly Her-
mione – were tag-teaming to keep him
company and keep him safe, the same way
he and Ron and Draco had been looking
after Hermione.

- 599 -
“What are you smiling at?” Draco asked.

“I’m not smiling,” Harry said, scowling at

once.

“Right,” Draco said after a pause. “Well,

look at this, would you?”

“Gently, Ginny,” Tom admonished, as he

adjusted the mindscape he’d created in
Ginny’s mind; one of the armchairs was
wobbling, and his own visage wavered for
a moment.

“Sorry,” she said, sitting very still, in her

own armchair. She looked unsettled, but
Tom was too focused on other things to try
to find whatever was unsettling her. “So
how did you say you were doing this?”

- 600 -
“I don’t know,” Tom lied. “I just thought,
instead of you only hearing my voice, that
I could try to create our own little place in
your head, where you can see me, and I
can see you. Like being in the diary, with-
out having to be.” Ginny’s mind was about
as good; as empty as the pages of his dia-
ry, and very much open to him.

“But how?” Ginny asked, looking impa-

tient.

“The same way I did with the diary, I sup-

pose,” Tom said, shrugging. “Or perhaps I
only created myself, and your own mind’s
done the rest.” It hadn’t, of course, but
it couldn’t hurt to let Ginny think that.
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” he said softly,
sitting down on the arm of the chair in
her mind. “You are truly incredible.” He
combed his fingers through her long hair,
and was surprised to find it felt the same

- 601 -
here, in her head, as it did in the diary.
She made a quiet, pleased sound, but her
frown didn’t fade.

“But I have to vanish when I visit the di-

ary,” she said, much more calmly. Tom
made a sound to show he agreed. “But
right now, I’m still in the common room.”

“Yes.”

“But then, won’t people notice? I must be

sitting awfully still, and I’m not really do-
ing anything, so-”

How was it that she was so aware of some

things, yet so completely and utterly obliv-
ious to everything else? I’m trying to help
Harry Potter find the Heir of Slytherin,
Tom, you don’t know who that could be,
do you? but then she’d turn around and
wonder what people would think if she sat

- 602 -
too still and too quietly. Tom was just glad
she’d be dead in a few weeks.

He reconsidered her question. He could

tell her the truth; that he was managing
it. That she was moving around every few
minutes – scratching her nose, crossing
her legs and the like – and that he was
vaguely aware of who was around – most-
ly through listening, rather than seeing
– but he suspected Ginny might panic at
that, and there was no telling what dam-
age that might do to Tom’s delicate mind-
scape, and he really didn’t think now was
the time to test his control over her body
and mind, to see if he could surpress her
while she was awake and alert. What if
she won?

“I- I hadn’t thought of that.” Tom let his

fingers fall out of her hair. “I was just so
eager to try this, that-”

- 603 -
“Maybe not here,” she said. Her mental
self climbed out of its chair, and looked
around the mindscape. “How do I get out
of this?” she asked.

“Just ask,” he said, and let the mindscape

melt away. He felt Ginny’s mind taking
control of her eyes and ears and arms and
legs again, pushing him away as it did so.
He didn’t think she even noticed he was
there, but then, she wouldn’t have known
what to look for. Tom let himself sink back
into the corner of her mind that was start-
ing to resemble his favourite corner of the
Slytherin common room.

Harry and Draco are back, she said.

Are they? Tom asked, though he knew

perfectly well that they were. He’d heard
them come in, through her ears, while she

- 604 -
chattered away in his mindscape. I won-
der what the Headmaster wanted to talk
to him about. He really did. In all likeli-
hood, Dumbledore was probably just con-
cerned for the boy, but Harry Potter trou-
bled Tom. He was nosey, but apparently
quite resourceful – he had, after all, man-
aged to trace Tom’s family back to Slyther-
in, something that had taken Tom himself
almost a year – and Tom could just tell he
would do his best to interfere as soon as he
got the chance.

And, for all that he was he was twelve,

thought Quidditch was the best thing ever,
and chose Weasleys and mudbloods and
bloodtraitors to be his friends, Tom wasn’t
going to underestimate him. He wasn’t as
clever as Tom had been at the same age,
but he was getting decent grades (if his
responses to Granger’s pestering about re-
sults were anything to go by) and had de-

- 605 -
feated Tom’s older self twice.

Harry Potter needed to be dealt with, or

at least distracted until Tom was strong
enough to get rid of him permanently. It
really was a shame that he knew it was
Tom behind it, or Tom might have tried
his Hagrid story again.

Do you think they talked about yesterday?

About his- about snakes? Ginny was still
clearly unnerved about that. Tom couldn’t
see why; it was a very valuable, very im-
pressive gift to have. It was just a bit of
a shame that she’d ended up with it. Hy-
drus Malfoy, for all that he was a preten-
tious little thing, would have made much
better use of it. It would have made things
very interesting in his duel against Potter
yesterday.

And that was another thing; how Potter

- 606 -
had managed to get that particular gift was
beyond Tom. Parselmouth – in every case
that he’d ever heard of (and there weren’t
many) – was only inherited through blood.
Tom was even beginning to fear that his
older self might have- that he and Harry
Potter might be- related.

“-I am the Heir,” Harry Potter said in a

low voice, from just within earshot, “be-
cause I inherited those powers from some-
one from the bloodline-”

“But only magically,” Malfoy said. “It’s not

actually by blood.”

Now that was interesting.

Do you think I got mine magically? Ginny

asked. Tom could feel her chewing her lip.

I don’t know, Ginny, he said, and tried

- 607 -
not to sound impatient. Now hush; may-
be they’ll explain more. Thankfully, she
didn’t argue with him, or talk back. Tom
strained Ginny’s ears. He’d missed part of
the conversation, thanks to her interrup-
tion.

“But you haven’t been attacking people,”

Malfoy said. “You do know that, right?”

“I know that.”

Tom had never been overly fond of Christ-

mas, but he imagined he was experienc-
ing the feeling one might get if Christmas
came early. He made his excuses to Ginny
about feeling tired, and fled back to the di-
ary. He had an idea.

- 608 -
Chapter 22:
Head hunting

“So what precisely is happening at Hog-

warts, Black?” Sirius glanced over his
shoulder at Crouch. Other than an abrupt
greeting, or an occasional glance, the ob-
servation that Crouch was looking peaky
of late, and the conclusion that he didn’t
much care, Sirius ignored the other man,
and he did the same. His stare was un-
nerving. “There’ve been rumours-”

“Very informative and reliable, rumours

- 609 -
are,” Sirius said, looking out over the
ocean as their boat skipped over a wave.
Wellington, who was sitting up the front,
shook; Sirius could smell his suppressed
laugh.

“Funny.” Crouch didn’t sound amused.

“I know you know, Black, your godson’s
there-”

“You’re assuming the kids know what’s

going on,” Sirius said.

“Does yours? I heard a rumour through the

Board that the Heir of Slytherin’s come
back, and just last week you were talking
to that other Auror about the Chamber of
Secrets-”

“Then why are you asking me?” Sirius

asked, glancing over his shoulder again.
He’d never known Crouch to be so chatty.

- 610 -
Sirius didn’t like it. He wanted to put his
ears back, and lift his hackles. “Clearly
you’re quite well informed already.”

“I wanted the Aurors’ take on it,” Crouch

said. “It’s obviously Dark Magic, which
has me wondering what, or who-”

“The Aurors aren’t involved, Mr Crouch,”

Wellington piped up.

“I know you know,” Crouch said, jabbing a

finger at Sirius.

“Frankly,” Sirius said, “and I don’t mean

any disrespect, but I don’t know why it’s
your business; your Department certainly
isn’t involved.”

“I’m concerned for the students, as we all

are, is all.” Sirius’ eyes narrowed.

- 611 -
“I’m sure if you approached Dumbledore,
then, he’d be happy to give you more infor-
mation.”

“Can’t go to Dumbledore,” Crouch mut-

tered. Sirius frowned at him. The boat –
finally – bumped against the small jetty
on the coast, and Sirius leapt to his feet.
Wellington cast a charm to hold the boat
steady, and they disembarked. He and
Wellington were just heading to the Ap-
parition point, when a hand caught the
sleeve of Sirius’ robe. “Is it Him, Black? Is
it the Dark Lord?”

“Why don’t you ask the Board,” Sirius said,

prising him off. “I’m sure they know better
than me.” Crouch, thankfully, didn’t try to
follow them. Sirius pulled Wellington into
Apparition, and they arrived on the street
by the phonebox entry to the Ministry.

- 612 -
“He’s not normally like that, is he?”
Wellington asked. He looked grim, and
punched in the numbers without seeming
to think about it; his eyes held Sirius’ the
whole time.

“He’s always been a bit of a piece of work,”

Sirius said, leaning against the side of
the telephone box, as it began to sink. “I
wouldn’t think anything of it-”

“But that- Just at the end, when he grabbed

you-”

“His son was a Death Eater,” Sirius said.

“That’s why he’s always visiting Azkaban;
to see his grave.” It had never made sense
to Sirius; Crouch had only visited his son in
prison once while he was alive, and there
had been no love lost between the pair of
them. “I reckon the rumours and the De-
mentors might have got him today, and of

- 613 -
course he’d love to fix it; might get himself
back into his role as Senior Undersecre-
tary, feel like he’s back in the loop.” Even
as he said it, though, something niggled
at Sirius. He pushed it aside, as the tele-
phone box settled in the Atrium. “I wasn’t
going to indulge him, though.”

“He was the one that didn’t-”

“Yes, he was.” Sirius stepped out into the

Atrium, Sidekick in hand, to flash at Eric,
the security wizard. Wellington followed
close behind, silent.

Tom slithered into Ginny’s mind, and at

once, it seemed to light up.

Tom.

- 614 -
Ginny, he replied warily; she wasn’t call-
ing him, or checking to see if he was there;
she knew. It was very, very basic Occlu-
mency, being able to detect another pres-
ence in one’s mind – in fact, most people
knew instinctively – but Ginny had nev-
er noticed before, and so she’d clearly set
this up, perhaps even subconsciously. He
probed the top layers of her thoughts, and
found pain, and guilt and stubbornness.
It was very interesting. Tom didn’t like it.
What’s wrong? he asked. He tried to take
a look through her eyes, but couldn’t; not
without being forceful, anyway; bits of
Ginny’s mind were restricting his access.

I’m sick and tired and dizzy, she said,

sounding petulant. Tom instantly regret-
ted his timing; Ginny was more annoying
than usual when she was like this. You
left so quickly the other day, it’s like some-
thing tore. My head hurts, so much. That

- 615 -
explained the mental defences; he proba-
bly had torn something in his haste to get
back to the diary to plan, and Ginny’s head
was busy patching itself up. She probably
didn’t even know.

Ginny, I had no idea! And he hadn’t. I’m

so, so, sorry. He wasn’t. How long have
you been like this?

I told you, she said, sounding annoyed.

Since you left. Percy took me to the Hos-
pital Wing, but I could hardly walk, and
Madam Pomfrey said she couldn’t do any-
thing to help- Of course she hadn’t been
able to; she wasn’t a mind healer. Tom
didn’t say this, though; he didn’t think
Ginny would react well. –so I’ve just had
to stay in bed, and it is starting to get bet-
ter, but it’s taken days.

You poor thing, Tom said, in his kindest

- 616 -
tone, and then tried to sound sad. I really
had no idea such a thing would happen-

I know you didn’t. The angry edge had

come out of her tone, but her mind was
still tense. I’ve been thinking, though.

About what?

About you being in my head. I don’t think

I want you to do it anymore. More than
anything, now, Tom could feel her guilt.
I know you didn’t meant to hurt me, but
you did, and I couldn’t get out of the head-
common-room you made. What if I got
stuck in my head-

Like I’m stuck in the diary? Tom asked

smoothly.

I know you hate being trapped in the dia-

ry, but I’ll find you another way, I just- it

- 617 -
hurt so much-

We’ll work on it, then. I’ll learn how to stop

hurting you-

You just said you had no idea you’d done

it, so you can’t control it, she pointed out,
and Tom just hated it when she did things
like this, and tied him up – unknowingly
– with things he’d said.

What about your classes? Tom asked. Him

staying out of her head was not about to
happen. He hadn’t yet worked out how to
make his Potter-idea work, and so watch-
ing him through Ginny was the best he
could manage at the moment. And she was
right; he did hate being trapped inside the
diary. I’ve been giving you memories, and
you’ve been doing as well as Luna. With-
out me here, you’ll-

- 618 -
Have to manage on my own, Ginny said. I
don’t think that’s a bad thing, really. I do
appreciate your help, but- well, I know my
first year classes bore you-

No, Tom said, but he had made flippant

remarks about that, so the denial had no
weight behind it. I like them. I like spend-
ing time with you, I really do-

And you can, Ginny said. Just- my head

is my head. Please, Tom. There isn’t room
for both of us in here-

We’re doing well enough at the moment,

Tom said. And I’ve come and gone before,
just not so suddenly. I think that must be
where I went wrong-

Tom, please, no; I don’t want you to exper-

iment, it hurt. I don’t-

- 619 -
I think you need to rest, Tom said, sooth-
ingly. We’ll talk about this later, when I’ve
had more of a chance to think about things,
and worked out how to make the common
room without hurting you too much.

Tom, no, she said, and he detected tears in

her tone. Please, I-

I didn’t mean to upset you, Ginny, he said

sincerely; keeping her happy for the time
being, while he grew stronger again, re-
ally was the best way to get things done.
Rest up, and I’ll visit you again later.

No, Tom-

And he left ever so carefully, to make sure

she didn’t feel a thing. That ought to prove
his point.

- 620 -
Tom, Ginny said crossly, as soon as she felt
him, I told you, you can’t be in my head-

You- you don’t want me? he asked, sound-

ing hurt. I thought- I didn’t think you’d
meant it-

Well I do, Ginny said. I’ve only been able

to get back to classes today, and even now
my head’s still throbbing-

But I’ve missed you so much-

I tried to write to you yesterday and you

ignored me, she retorted.

I was tired, he said, and she could feel

him getting angry. That worried her a lit-
tle, but Ginny had always been one to say
what was on her mind.

But you’re well enough to come into my

- 621 -
head a day later? she asked.

Yes, apparently, Tom snapped. Have I

done something, Ginny, because I real-
ly don’t feel like I deserve this attack. I
wanted to see you, and make you feel bet-
ter, and all you’re doing is throwing accu-
sations at me.

You only want to see me when it suits you,

Ginny said. She was aware of people star-
ing at her - probably because she looked
so angry – and so she muttered an excuse
to Astoria and ducked into the girl’s toilet.
Myrtle immediately started to shriek and
splash water at her, and Ginny snapped
a spell at her without thinking, and as
Myrtle was sucked down the sink, Ginny
locked herself in a cubicle, so that she’d be
able to talk to Tom privately. I know you
want to get out of the diary, Tom-

- 622 -
What gave you that idea? he asked wasp-
ishly. The fact that I’ve been trapped there,
for years and years, all alone, or-

You’re ignoring me because of it, though!

Ginny said. You never want to talk to me,
anymore, you just want to sit in my head,
and pretend you’re free.

I- no, that isn’t-

It is! Ginny said. And I want to help you,

I do, but I can’t- you built your common
room in my head and I couldn’t get out of
it until you let me! And then, you hurt me,
and you’ve come back, even when I asked
you not to do it again-

Tom was silent for a long time. She didn’t

have any way of tracking time, but she
guessed it was for a good few minutes. Gin-
ny almost feared she’d upset him so much

- 623 -
that he’d left, and that he’d never talk to
her again, except she could feel him in her
head.

You’re right, he said, and his tone was

off, but Ginny was so relieved to hear the
words that she didn’t care about that. I
have been so- intent on finding a way out,
that I’ve been neglecting you in the pro-
cess. Ginny, I’m so sorry.

It’s all right, Tom, she said quietly. Or-

well, it’s not, but now that you know, you
can try-

I’ll make it up to you, he said, sounding

pained. I don’t know how, but I’ll work
something out. He was silent, for nowhere
near as long as before. You should get to
your next lesson; I’d hate to have you miss
any more of your classes because of me.

- 624 -
Tom-

Will you talk to me tonight, in the diary?

After dinner, she said, surprised and re-

lieved that he’d taken it so well. She’d
expected anger, or him to be defensive. I
promise.

Enjoy the rest of your day then, he said

softly, and she felt him fade.

Bye, Tom, she whispered.

Ginny Weasley was a stupid, stupid little

brat, and if she thought she had any sort
of power over this situation at all, she was
sorely mistaken. Tom kicked the armchair
she usually sat in, and wished he could
kick her instead.

- 625 -
What rankled most about it all, though,
was that she was- she wasn’t wrong; he
had been too obvious about spending time
in her head, and he’d shown her too effort-
lessly just how much power he could have
over her, if he so chose. Yes, the worst thing
about all of this was that it was partially
his fault. He kicked the armchair again.

He refused to play the role of Ginny’s

friend much longer, though; her fear and
her anger and her guilt all made perfect
sustenance for him; he’d never felt stron-
ger, though the excitement she’d felt on
the day he’d ‘confessed’ to fancying her
came close. He was strong enough to take
her over now, he was sure of it, the timing
just wasn’t right; Dumbledore was still
around, and Harry Potter was still very
much on the lookout for the Heir.

- 626 -
They needed to be out of the way, or at
least distracted before he could really get
started. He knew exactly how, thanks to
the conversation he’d overheard, but he
didn’t know how to get to Potter. Tom sat
down in his own armchair, and thought.

As it turned out, Tom didn’t have to do

anything at all; later that night, Tom had
just finished writing a question to Ginny –
who’d said she was in the common room –
like they’d agreed, and was resting in his
common room in the diary, when Ginny’s
writing cut off with a smudge. Tom toyed
with the idea of slipping into her head to
see what had happened, but resisted. The
last thing he needed was her causing a
scene in the common room, where Potter
or one of Potter’s friends might see.

Then, the common room expanded, or rath-

er, a tunnel opened up, and Tom felt- Tom

- 627 -
felt himself at the other end. He threw
his Occlumency up, to block the other out,
while he prepared his Legillimency for
an attack. Tom had no intentions of join-
ing up with his other self, the weak one,
who’d lost to Potter too many times, and
who had no supporters that weren’t in Az-
kaban, nor did he have any intentions of
joining up with any of the other bits of his
soul; he’d split it for a reason.

But, the other him made no attempt to

push through, and no attempt to drag him
out. The link vanished, and Tom, shakily,
looked around to see Ginny’s writing on
the diary beside him.

Sorry, Fred knocked me, she’d written.

And George stole my diary, but then Har-
ry took from him and gave it back.

Harry Potter was holding the diary just

- 628 -
now? Tom wrote, sure now, that that some-
how explained what he’d felt.

Yes, he’s so nice, not like my stupid broth-

ers-

Ginny, I have to go, Tom said. He saw

her begin to write something back, but he
ignored it, and climbed out of the diary.
Ginny’s head was bright and familiar, and
so close and easy to get to, but Tom was
interested in another, one that was only
across the common room and more open to
him than he’d possibly imagined.

“George, you nearly hit him!” Angelina

bellowed, as the bludger flew so close by
Harry that it ruffled his hair.

“He’s supposed to move,” George called

- 629 -
back, putting his hands up. “Not just sit
there.”

“You all right, Potter?” Wood shouted from

the goals. Harry gave him a thumbs up. It
was just a headache; nothing he couldn’t
handle. “Good. Play on!”

Snitch, Harry told himself, looking around.

It was a foggy, February night, and Harry
– with his poor eyesight – was not having
much luck at all. His headache didn’t help.
Where are you? he thought. He did a slow,
low lap of the pitch, searching, while the
Chasers ran drills and the twins knocked
bludgers at them all to keep them on their
toes. There.

Harry urged his broom forward, toward

the end of the pitch, where the snitch was
weaving around the goalposts.

- 630 -
I’ve never really liked Quidditch, a smooth
voice said. Harry didn’t recognise it, and
he looked around. There was no one near
him, though and the voice had sounded so
close. Stupid game, if you ask me.

And who are you? Harry wondered.

You don’t remember? the voice replied.

Harry thought it – he - sounded amused.
You can call me Tom, if you’d like.

- 631 -
Chapter 23:
A piece named Tom

“Potter!”

“Harry!”

“Harry, mate?”

Harry forced his eyes open and tried to sit

up. Pain lanced through his head – from
his scar, he thought – and a hand seized
his shoulder and held him down. For some
reason, his shoulder hurt too.

- 632 -
“Easy, Potter,” Wood said, as Harry squint-
ed up at him. “It’s not good for your head-”

“You know?” Harry asked, aghast. He won-

dered if his scar was inflamed, or bleeding,
for them to know it was paining him.

“Flying into the post wasn’t exactly sub-

tle,” Fred – at least Harry thought it was
Fred, everything was still a bit blurry –
said. “You’re a bit banged up-”

“Bloody heavy too, for a speccy little git,”

George said. He was grinning.

“Good catch, though,” Fred said, nudging

his twin.

“Wait, you- The post?” Harry asked, con-

fused. He lifted a hand to his head and
winced, running gentle fingers over the

- 633 -
tender lump.

Yes, the post, another voice said, sound-

ing amused. I don’t know who should be
more embarrassed; you, for doing it, or
me, because despite your obvious affinity
for trying to get yourself killed, my old-
er self hasn’t managed yet. Harry’s team
took hasty steps back, and watched him
warily.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Katie asked.

“You’re looking a bit green- Harry!” Harry
knocked Wood’s hand off his shoulder and
forced himself upright. His head spun, and
he ignored it.

Careful, Harry, you’ve just sustained a

head injury-

Get out of my head, Harry snarled, get-

ting unsteadily to his feet. Wood had his

- 634 -
arms hovering by his sides, likely ready to
catch Harry if he needed to. Harry shooed
him away.

“Where’s my broom?” It was pressed into

his hand by a frowning Alicia. “Thanks,”
he said.

“Do you want us to take you to the hos-

pital wing-” Angelina started, but Harry
waved a hand at her, already setting off
across the pitch.

“I’ll manage,” Harry said, and heard Ka-

tie telling Fred and George to follow him,
just to be sure he was all right. “I said I’ll
manage!” he said, slightly louder, and kept
moving as quickly as he could without run-
ning; he didn’t think his head could han-
dle that. “Sorry for- I’ll see you all later.”

That’s awfully bold of you, Harry, Tom

- 635 -
said softly. I wouldn’t want to be alone
with me, if I was you.

Harry ignored him, and tried to think.

The voice in his head did sound young –
younger than the Voldemort Harry heard
around dementors, and younger than the
Voldemort he’d faced last year. Harry
wasn’t sure how, but he thought he might
really be dealing with Tom, rather than
the adult Voldemort. No confirmation
came from the voice, and Harry wondered
how much access he actually had. Obvi-
ously he could talk to Harry, and hear
Harry when he talked back, but what else
could he find? Could he find the Secret,
which Harry kept as Secret Keeper? Could
he find the prophecy, which – if he wasn’t
the Voldemort Harry knew – he might not
even be aware of? Could he find out that
Harry and Padfoot had the locket? Could
he find out that Padfoot had helped Har-

- 636 -
ry become an Animagus – which Padfoot
could very well lose his job over, if anyone
found out?

Harry tried to keep those thoughts out of

his head, but it was very difficult not to
think of them once the ideas had occurred
to him.

Shut up, shut up, shut up, he told himself.

Now really, Harry, I’ve been quiet this

whole time. Was it Harry’s imagination,
or did Tom sound a little offended.

I told you to get out. Harry threw open the

doors into the Entrance Hall, and stormed
in. Chatter drifted out of the Great Hall
on his right, where some people were still
having dinner. Harry hoped Dumbledore
wasn’t among them.

- 637 -
He took the stairs two at a time, which
made his injured head hurt more and
more, but Harry hardly noticed, so intent
he was on getting himself to Dumbledore’s
office.

Aren’t we a good little Gryffindor, Tom

said, but Harry didn’t think he sounded as
entertained as before; Harry imagined a
meeting with Dumbledore might have put
a damper on his fun. Off to Dumbledore at
the first sign of trouble… I wouldn’t waste
your time, though, Harry. He won’t be
pleased to see either of us, when he hears
what you’ve done.

Again, Harry ignored him, and tried to

think of the password. Before he could,
though, the gargoyle had stepped aside to
reveal the staircase.

“Thanks,” Harry said to it, and got a grunt

- 638 -
in reply. He started up the stairs. Dumb-
ledore opened the door to the office just as
Harry lifted his hand to knock.

“Good evening, Harry,” he said gravely,

and moved back to allow Harry into the
office.

Always so polite, Tom sneered, but Har-

ry thought he sounded a bit afraid. He
hadn’t made any move to leave, yet, which
Harry thought was odd; perhaps he had
a message for them, or terms or some-
thing, or perhaps- Perhaps he wanted in-
formation. Harry stumbled and hit his hip
on the desk. Dumbledore was at his side
in moments, helping him into the chair,
and propping his broom against the desk.
Fawkes crooned from his perch.

“Sir,” Harry said, “he’s-he’s in my head.”

Dumbledore’s eyes, which had been fixed

- 639 -
on the lump on Harry’s head, moved to
Harry’s eyes at once. Dumbledore moved
back, seemingly to get a better look at him.

“Could you please explain that, Harry?

When you say in your head’-”

“I mean he’s- I can hear him, and- I don’t

think he can tell much of what I’m think-
ing, but he can definitely- maybe it’s just
what’s on the surface, like what I see and
what people say to me-”

“He talks to you?” Dumbledore was very

still.

Tell him I say hello, Tom said. Harry

thought he sounded smug again.

“He says to tell you ‘hello’,” Harry said,

and absurdly, felt Tom’s delight that he’d
listened.

- 640 -
Now tell him-

Shut up!

Rude little thing, aren’t you?

“Indeed,” Dumbledore murmured. “If

you’ll excuse me for just a moment, Harry,
I have some messages to send.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said. Dumbledore didn’t

use the fireplace in the room with them,
however; instead, he disappeared through
the door that Harry suspected led to his
chambers, and Harry, realising why –
and, knowing his hearing might well be
good enough for him to overhear despite
the wall between them - plugged his ears.
Unfortunately, that didn’t stop him from
being able to hear Tom.

- 641 -
He’s worked it out, Tom said.

Worked what out? Harry snapped.

How I’m doing it, Tom replied.

Doing what? Being in my head? Harry

would rather like to know how that was
possible as well. Hang on… Harry said,
frowning. How is it even possible? Last
year, you couldn’t even be touched by me
– or Morton- Quirrell couldn’t, because-
Harry decided against saying what had
protected him. –because it burned you.

Perhaps I’m not me, Tom said. So it doesn’t

work.

Not- Well, Harry that supposed that was

more to support the notion that the Volde-
mort in his head was Tom instead.

- 642 -
But that isn’t what I meant when I said
how I’m doing it, Tom said.

What did you mean, then? Harry asked,

irritably. He hoped Dumbledore would be
back soon, so he didn’t have to be alone
with Tom for much longer. As if sens-
ing that thought, Fawkes launched off
his perch and came to rest on the back of
Harry’s chair. He looked as if he was only
a few weeks past burning; he was still
quite small, and his feathers were fluffy,
like Hedwig’s had been when Harry and
Padfoot first brought her home. Fawkes
let out a soft warble, and something hot
dripped onto Harry’s face, and then again.
Shocked, Harry reached up to the lump on
his head, and found it was healed.

“Thanks,” he said, patting Fawkes, who

rubbed his beak against Harry’s hand,
and ruffled his feathers in a pleased sort

- 643 -
of way.

I meant, Tom said, and Harry could feel

he was somehow disgruntled, that Dumb-
ledore’s worked out how I’m opening the
Chamber, and controlling the monster.
Harry almost replied with ‘parseltongue’,
but didn’t. He didn’t want Tom to know
what he knew.

How’s that?

With you, Tom said, sounding smug again.

I’d ask if you remember the first time I
showed up in your head, but I know you
don’t; I took care of that.

Dumbledore returned before Harry could

think of anything more to say.

“Ah,” he said, “Fawkes has seen to you, I

see.” He favoured the bird with a smile.

- 644 -
“Yes, sir.”

“Is Voldemort still with you, Harry?”

“Sort of,” Harry said. “I think it’s Tom, sir,

not Voldemort. I don’t know if that makes
any sense, but-”

“Tom?” Dumbledore looked surprised.

“And what makes you say that, Harry?”

“His voice. Some stuff he said.”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore murmured.

“Is that even possible, sir? I mean he’s-

older now, only-”

“Oh, it is possible,” Dumbledore said. “The

ways enabling it to be are dark and com-
plicated, but they exist.”

- 645 -
What does he mean? Tom asked sharply.

Wouldn’t you like to know? Harry asked

him, though he himself didn’t have much
idea either. He wasn’t about to tell Tom
that, however.

Obviously, Harry, or I wouldn’t have

asked. Tell me.

No. Pressure and pain built behind Har-

ry’s eyes, and he was sure Tom was the
cause.

“..rry. Harry?” With effort, Harry focused

on Dumbledore, who was kneeling beside
his chair, looking concerned. Harry’s vi-
sion wavered again. “Harry, what’s hap-
pening?”

- 646 -
“He’s- hurting me,” Harry mumbled, and
then slumped sideways. His pulse still
hammered beneath the skin at his neck,
and his chest still rose and fell without
difficulty, so Albus forced himself to relax.
He added higher armrests to the chair, so
that Harry couldn’t fall out of it. He’d just
finished doing that, when the fireplace
flared green.

Severus stepped out, his eyes landing on

Harry at once. His lips thinned, and there
was fear in his eyes, but he made no effort
to move. He looked around the office.

“Black’s not here, yet?” he drawled.

“I’d expected him to come through at

once,” Albus admitted. “Something seems
to have delayed him, however.”

“He’s likely taken a detour to France, to

- 647 -
fetch his furry-”

“Severus.” Severus fell silent for a few mo-

ments.

“When we spoke, you said Potter was

awake.”

“He was.” Albus couldn’t be sure if Tom

had rendered the boy unconscious, or if
fainting was a side-effect of Harry fighting
back internally. Neither boded particular-
ly well; there were reasons for the laws
prohibiting the use of mind magics on chil-
dren under the age of thirteen. Anything
more than a brush of Legillimency – and
if Tom was inhabiting Harry’s mind, then
he was employing significantly more than
that – could cause all sorts of damage.

Those words hung over the office, and it

was quiet but for the sounds of Fawkes

- 648 -
repositioning himself on the back of the
chair, and for the sounds of Albus’ instru-
ments whirring on their table. Then, the
fire flared again, and Sirius stepped out.
He took several steps forward, toward
Harry, then it seemed to register that he
was unconscious, and paused.

“Dumbledore?” he asked uncertainly, but

before Albus could respond, the fire flared
again. Albus hadn’t invited a third person,
though he supposed that Severus could
have been correct; that perhaps Sirius had
stopped to get Remus on his way. It wasn’t
Remus that emerged from the flames,
though. It was a shorter man, with darker
hair, and a face that Albus had designed
himself.

“Headmaster,” he drawled. “Snape.”

“Quirrell,” Severus said tersely, with a

- 649 -
glance at Sirius.

“I thought his input might be useful,” Sir-

ius said shortly, “so I brought him along.
He’s sworn to help, remember?”

“My input with what?” Quirrell asked, fold-

ing his arms. “Black was rather… sparing
with the details-” Then he spied Harry.
“Should have known,” he muttered.

“Should have,” Sirius agreed. “He’s got

Voldemort in his head.” Quirrell glanced
at Severus, and then at Albus, who in-
clined his head. “You’ve got experience
with that; what do we do?”

“Nothing,” Quirrell said. “He’s eleven-”

“Twelve,” Sirius snapped.

“Still not of legal age to be subjected to

- 650 -
mind magic. Any of the three of us-” He
gestured to himself, Severus and Albus.
“-have the skill to aid him, I’m certain,
but it’s not worth the risk. He is perfectly
capable of causing enough damage to Pot-
ter’s mind without us blundering around
in there as well.”

“Skill?” asked a very pale Sirius.

“A combination of Occlumency and Legil-

limency, Black,” Severus said quietly.

“Well outside your area of expertise, I’m

afraid,” Quirrell added. He seemed to miss
the look that Severus and Sirius shared,
but Albus certainly didn’t. Quirrell be-
gan to pace, looking thoughtful. When he
passed Fawkes, Fawkes flapped his wings
and squawked until he backed off again.
Fawkes had clearly not forgotten, nor for-
given that attack last year. “Was the boy

- 651 -
himself, or was He talking to you through
the boy?”

“Harry was Harry,” Albus replied.

“It’s new then,” Quirrell said.

“What is?” Sirius asked.

“This… presence, or possession.”

“You’re certain?” Severus asked.

“Quite,” Quirrell said coolly. “Possession

begins in one of two ways; either there’s a
certain amount of trust between the par-
ties which allows the possessor to have
some power over the - let’s call them the
victim’s – mental faculties. The other is
brute force, but it’s nowhere near as sim-
ple in people – even children – as it is in
animals. It can take weeks or even years

- 652 -
for the possessor to ingrain themselves
deeply enough to have any real power over
their victim. Since I’ve seen first-hand
how Potter regards the Dark Lord, I high-
ly doubt there’s any degree of trust there,
which suggests it’s the latter.”

“So-”

“So He will exhaust himself eventually,

and have to leave to recharge-”

“Recharge?”

“Recover,” Quirrell said, with a derisive

look at Sirius. “And when that happens,
you’ll be able to assess the damage.”

When Harry awoke, he was sick all over

the carpet of Dumbledore’s office. Both

- 653 -
Snape and Quirrell stepped back, looking
revolted, but Dumbledore cleared it away
with a sweep of his wand, and moved for-
ward with Sirius.

“Harry?” Sirius said softly, and Harry

blinked a few times, his eyes unfocused.
“Kiddo?” That got his attention, and he
looked at Sirius.

Thank Merlin.

“Padfoot,” he said hoarsely, and then spied

Dumbledore, who was offering him a cup
of water. Harry mumbled something that
might have been a thank you, and sipped
at it. “He left,” he said, when he’d finished
drinking. Sirius couldn’t help but glance at
Quirrell, who looked a little smug at being
proven right. “He said he’s going to come
back, though, he said- he said it’s been me,
all this time, that he’s been controlling me,

- 654 -
and making me control the monster, and
attack Colin, and Mrs-”

“It’s not your fault, even if that is true,”

Sirius said at once, and wondered if it
could be. “That’s him, Harry, not you-”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, looking at Dumb-

ledore. “I didn’t-” Harry noticed Snape and
Quirrell for the first time, and frowned.
“Who’s he?” he asked in a low voice, looking
at Sirius. Sirius saw his nostrils flare as
he took in the room’s scent. Harry flinched
back, and would have thrown himself off
the chair, had it not had such high arm-
rests. “Padfoot, that’s-”

“Quirrell, yes,” Sirius said, in a calm voice.

“He has a new face.”

“How did he-” Quirrell asked, pointing at

Harry. Sirius hid a smug smile.

- 655 -
“Why’s he here?” Harry demanded.

“You and I have something in common

now,” Quirrell said, before any of the rest
of them could answer. “Your godfather
thought I might be able to help.” Sirius
could feel Harry’s eyes on him, and won-
dered what he’d see if he met them; be-
trayal, condemnation, anger, fear?

“Can you?” Harry asked in a small but

somehow sharp voice. Sirius risked a
glance at him, but saw he was now watch-
ing Quirrell.

“Possibly,” Quirrell replied.

“Can you help me keep him out next time?”

“No,” Quirrell said. “You’re too young for

Occlumency-”

- 656 -
“Can you help me stop him from possess-
ing me next time he tries?” Harry asked.
“I don’t want to attack anyone else-”

“He’s had you attacking people?” Quirrell

asked, arching an eyebrow. Harry nodded,
not meeting anyone’s eyes. “And you re-
member it?”

“No, but he told me he covered it up with

other memories, things that didn’t really
happen.” Snape’s face darkened, and the
look he was giving Quirrell was so poison-
ous that Sirius was surprised the other
man hadn’t melted or something. “Is that
possible?”

“It is,” Snape said, practically biting the

words off as he said them.

“It does, however, take a considerable

- 657 -
amount of skill,” Dumbledore said. “Skill
that Voldemort has, but Tom…”

“You don’t think he could?” Harry sat

straighter, looking hopeful.

“No, I don’t think so,” Dumbledore said.

“Erase them, certainly- Are there periods
of time that you have no recollection of?”

“Does History of Magic count?” Harry

asked wryly. Sirius snorted, as – surpris-
ingly – did Snape and Quirrell. Dumble-
dore smiled at Harry. “No, sir. Nothing
like that.” Relief oozed out of him, light and
heady and so strong that Sirius thought
he could get drunk off it if he smelled it
for long enough. “So it’s not me? Tom was
just-”

“Trying to scare you, I think,” Dumbledore

said. “Or distract you, perhaps.”

- 658 -
“What do you mean by Tom?” Sirius asked.
“That’s twice that you’ve-”

“He’s younger, Padfoot,” Harry said. “Not

like he was last year.”

“How-”

“It is possible that Voldemort has found

a way to leave- a part of himself? behind.
Or, perhaps, in an endeavour to avoid rec-
ognition, he has experimented with time
travel. I don’t know. There are ways, I’m
sure, I just don’t know how likely-”

“It can’t be time travel,” Sirius said. “I get

the newsletter from the Department of
Mysteries-”

“Fabulous, aren’t they?” Dumbledore

asked, beaming.

- 659 -
“They’ve had a lot of trouble with time
turners,” Sirius said. “Awful accidents,
like across-time splinching, and whole
families being erased from the timeline,
and they’re experts-”

“Croaker was from the Department,”

Snape said hesitantly, “he might have had
access-”

“Wrong area,” Quirrell said quietly, but

firmly, and no one argued. “I think, Head-
master, that your first idea – about him
preserving himself somehow – is most
likely.”

“Not all of him,” Harry said, tugging on

Sirius’ sleeve. “Only a piece. Maybe a Tom
piece.” He’d gone white, and Sirius caught
on, moments later; was Harry suggesting
that they’d stumbled across another hor-

- 660 -
crux? And what did that mean? First off, it
meant that Voldemort hadn’t split his soul
once – in the locket – but that he’d done it
again with- well, Sirius didn’t know what
it was with, but it was with something.
And second, if it was a horcrux, and it was
behind the Chamber of Secrets attacks,
how on earth were they supposed to stop
it?

- 661 -
Chapter 24:
To be a host

“Is it really appropriate for Potter to be

here for this conversation?” Snape asked,
though not rudely. “He’s had an unpleas-
ant experience, to say the least, and ought
to be resting, not trying to understand
obscure magical theories well beyond the
comprehension of a twelve year old.”

“I see no issue with Harry’s presence,”

Dumbledore said absently, “so long as Sir-
ius is comfortable with it.” Harry went

- 662 -
from beaming at Dumbledore, to shooting
Sirius a pleading look. Sirius nodded at
Snape, who rolled his eyes, but looked un-
surprised.

“Well, first thing, I think,” Sirius said, “is

to find it. It- he- Tom will have to be living
in something, right? Or someone?”

“The Dark Lord was greatly weakened by

time outside of a host,” Quirrell said, nod-
ding. “Or at least that was the case last
year. Even moving between hosts was a
massive drain for him-”

“And fatal for you,” Snape said, eyeing

Quirrell, “were it not for your stolen rem-
edy.” Fawkes ruffled his feathers, looking
as unimpressed as Sirius had ever seen
any bird look.

“Ours was a long term arrangement,”

- 663 -
Quirrell said.

“Paul Morton’s wasn’t,” Sirius said.

“A few weeks,” Quirrell said, shrugging.

“That’s long enough. And I daresay the
Dark Lord wasn’t gentle when he left; it’s
not like him to leave loose ends, and Mor-
ton would have been one, had he survived.”

“So you think the person he was in might

be dead?” Harry asked, looking ill.

“Unlikely,” Quirrell said. “If it’s an un-

willing possession, he’ll have been subtle
about it, and limited his time in them to
avoid raising suspicion. And, if he’s found
himself another ally-” Quirrell sighed
at that, but what the sigh meant, Sirius
couldn’t have said. “-he won’t let them die
until he’s convinced he’s won or lost.”

- 664 -
“If it is an unwilling possession,” Sirius
said, unwilling to let on about horcruxes –
because he didn’t trust Quirrell with that
information – but needing answers, “then
he wouldn’t be spending all of his time
with them, would he?”

“Probably not, no,” Quirrell said.

“So then he’d have another- place. Another

person, or an object-” Dumbledore – who’d
been sitting quietly in his chair with a
frown on his face for the last few minutes
– looked up at that.

“An animal, perhaps,” Quirrell said. “Yes,

probably.”

“And one in the school,” Harry said.

“Not necessarily,” Quirrell said. “We used

owls last year-”

- 665 -
“But you said that moving around makes
him tired.”

“Yes, Potter-”

“So then I have to have had some contact

with whoever he’s with, or-” Harry caught
Sirius’ eye. “-whatever. Right?”

“Correct,” Quirrell said slowly, frowning.

“So he is in the school,” Harry said. “Or he

was today.” While Harry looked pleased
with himself for working that much out,
both Snape and Dumbledore looked as ill
as Sirius felt. Quirrell just looked thought-
ful.

Dumbledore turned to a portrait on the

wall, and gave it instructions; that McGo-
nagall was to gather Sprout, Flitwick, and

- 666 -
someone to see to the Slytherins while
Snape was with them, and to get the stu-
dents to their common rooms. Once there,
they were to be asked about any suspi-
cious behaviour or magic they’d seen that
day; most specifically, the hours before
Harry’d gone to Quidditch (because there
was no way of knowing when he’d been
possessed), and in the last half hour, since
Tom had left Harry’s head.

“Fred and George were with me for most

of the afternoon, and on the way down to
Quidditch,” Harry said. “They might have
seen something.”

“Then I am sure they will volunteer the

information when Professor McGonagall
asks,” Snape said. “Those boys are men-
aces, but they’re not Death Eaters.” Siri-
us supposed it was a testament to how far
he and Snape had come, that Sirius didn’t

- 667 -
even think to come up with an insult to
follow the Death Eater statement. “And, if
you’ll excuse me, Headmaster, I’ll not have
another teacher managing my Slytherins
under these circumstances. I should be
there with them.”

“Thank you, Severus,” Dumbledore said.

Snape made a gesture that could have
been a wave at Sirius, or could have been
him simply shaking his sleeve, or shoo-
ing a bug off his robes, and then stared
at Harry for a bit. For a moment, Sirius
thought he was going to say something
like ‘be careful’, but then Snape turned
and left the office without a word, and Sir-
ius wasn’t surprised at all.

“I think I’ll leave as well. I don’t have a

noble excuse like Snape-” Quirrell’s lip
curled, and he rolled his eyes. “-but Black
did drag me out of work tonight, and I

- 668 -
rather think Madam Wolple will want me
back in time to help her close up.”

“Thank you for your… cooperation to-

night, Quirinus,” Dumbledore said. “Your
insights were- unique.”

“There’s a backhanded compliment, if ever

I’ve heard one,” Quirrell sneered. “And
you can save it; I have to help. You saw to
that.” He gestured to the fireplace. “May
I?” Dumbledore waved a hand. Quirrell
took a handful of Floo powder and threw
it into the fire. He stepped into the green
flames, robes flapping around his ankles.

“Thanks,” Harry said to him. It was curt,

and wary, but sincere. Quirrell looked up,
startled, but quickly masked the expres-
sion into something that Sirius thought
was meant to be derisive. It wasn’t, though;
it was too… curious. And then, looking

- 669 -
only at Harry, Quirrell bobbed his head.

“Wolple’s,” Quirrell murmured and the

fire swallowed him. Sirius looked at Har-
ry, who was looking embarrassed and de-
fiant all at once.

“What?” Harry asked. Sirius could feel

Dumbledore’s eyes flicking between them.
“He did help-”

“He also tried to kill you-”

“Help’s help,” Harry said grimly, and Siri-

us supposed that was true.

S’pose that doesn’t leave me with many

options then, does it? Sirius took a deep
breath.

“Well, Harry, if Sirius is amenable to it, I

think it might be time to have you return

- 670 -
to Gryffindor tower. You’ve had an event-
ful evening, to say the least-”

“Actually,” Sirius said, “I’d like him to stay,

at least for a bit. There are some things
that need to be… erm… discussed, and
he knows almost as much as I do about
it.” Harry, to his credit, seemed to know
exactly what Sirius was talking about,
though he did look surprised that Sirius
had thought to bring it up now; after all,
this was something they’d kept to them-
selves for years. Dumbledore looked wary,
but waved a hand, inviting Sirius to con-
tinue.

After several long moments thinking of

the best way to broach the topic, but get-
ting nowhere, he decided to just go for it,
and said, “Voldemort has a horcrux, may-
be two.”

- 671 -
“Pardon?” Dumbledore asked, blinking.

“A horcrux. It’s-”

“You did say that,” Dumbledore said soft-

ly. “I hoped I’d misheard.”

“So you know what they are?”

“A way to live forever,” Dumbledore said,

in that same, soft voice. It turned hard and
bitter, suddenly. “If one is willing to pay
the price. It’s been years since I’ve heard
anyone talk of them. Horace was the last,
and before him…” Dumbledore’s eyes were
far-away. “Voldemort has one, you say?”

“A locket. Slytherin’s locket,” Harry said

quietly.

“And how, might I ask,” Dumbledore said,

frowning, “did you happen to come across

- 672 -
this information? The existence of a hor-
crux is not something that every Auror and
his godson-” At this, Dumbledore’s mouth
twitched beneath his beard. “-ought to
know about.”

And so Sirius told the story, of Regulus

and Kreacher, and of the cave by the sea,
and the boat, and the potion, with Harry
quietly adding details that Sirius had for-
gotten about.

“We’ll need to remove it, as soon as possi-

ble,” Dumbledore said, getting to his feet.
“Sirius, if you would agree to accompany
me there, and perhaps ask Kreacher – his
insight could prove useful-”

“It’s not there anymore, sir,” Harry said.

Dumbledore’s eyes went to him, and then
to Sirius. The Headmaster was an old
man, and – some would argue – a bit se-

- 673 -
nile, but he was clever, and Sirius knew
the moment he worked it out; his eyes nar-
rowed, almost dangerously at Sirius, and
then his face reset itself when he turned
back to Harry.

“You have it?” Dumbledore asked.

“It’s at home,” Harry said.

“Sirius-”

“Not my best idea as a guardian,” Sirius

said easily. “Nowhere near, in fact, but it
turned out all right. We got Remus back-”

“I got Moony back,” Harry said smugly.

“You were moping around home with hot
chocolate-” Sirius scowled. “And I met you,
sir. Remember, at St Mungo’s?”

“I do remember, Harry, yes,” Dumbledore

- 674 -
said, almost faintly. He sat back down,
and Fawkes flew to his side, chirruping.
Dumbledore’s mouth opened and closed
several times, and then, finally, pinching
the bridge of his long nose he seemed to
put away the other questions and judge-
ments he had, and asked, “And is it still
intact?” Sirius felt his expression sour.

“I’ve tried almost anything; curses, hexes,

potions, poisons, I let Kreacher have a go,
and I even left it with a banshee for a good
while-”

“The shop assistant at Wolple’s?” Dumble-

dore asked.

“Keira,” Sirius said, nodding. “Got arrest-

ed doing it, too.” Sirius could almost see
things falling into place in Dumbledore’s
head, and let him have time to make sense
of it all. “I really have tried everything; be-

- 675 -
yond magical repair is all any of the books
say about getting rid of them. There was a
huge purge centuries back, but no details
on how-”

“No one would bother if they were easily

destroyed,” Dumbledore said. “Have you
considered a dementor?”

“Yes,” Sirius said. “But that wouldn’t de-

stroy it, necessarily, it would just… move
the piece… Who’s to say it couldn’t take
over the dementor once it- swallows? it.
I’d rather deal with a mostly inanimate
bit of Voldemort, than one that can move
around.”

“Mostly inanimate?”

“There was an incident a few years back.

Things were said, I blew up the room,”
Sirius said, and didn’t say more than that.

- 676 -
It was an unspoken agreement between
Harry and Sirius not to talk about specif-
ics of that afternoon. Even Remus didn’t
know the full version of events.

“I fear I’m getting a headache,” Dumble-

dore said, with a weak smile. Sirius gri-
maced. “I’m not finished hearing about
this locket of yours,” Dumbledore warned,
“but I am willing to ignore it for a moment;
you mentioned there might be a second?”

“Well,” Harry said tremulously, “a hor-

crux seems like a good way to store your-
self, doesn’t it, sir? A- a good way to store
Tom?”

“Ah,” was all Dumbledore said.

Remus stepped into the lift, and pressed

- 677 -
the button for the fourth floor, then wiped
his sweaty palms on his robes. He, and the
other three non-Auror occupants of the
building – Mrs Hardy on the first floor,
and Olivier Roche and his daughter Marie
from the third floor - had been given small,
glowing blue pebbles that let them use the
lift (which had been charmed to refuse to
carry anyone without one), so that they
didn’t have to use the stairs.

Remus was grateful for that; when Au-

ror-arranged housing put all but two of
the members of Dora’s specialist group in
the same building, the result was a bunch
of competitive, magically talented people
in a confined space. While they were good
fun – mostly – and good company, and the
building had to be one of the most secure
buildings in the world due to the number
of highly trained occupants, heaven forbid
if any of its occupants got bored.

- 678 -
In the first few months, it hadn’t real-
ly mattered, because none of them had
known each other all that well, and they’d
kept to themselves. As Dora’s course pro-
gressed, though, and the Aurors got closer
and more comfortable around each other,
things had changed.

Carla, who lived on the fifth floor, took great

joy in inventing spells designed to incon-
venience anyone trying to use the stairs;
spells with counter-spells that didn’t exist
yet, that were – according to Dora – a pain
in the backside unless you were Joanna,
who could See what the counter spells
were, and waltz right through… and then
proceed to sit in her flat, and scan the fu-
ture for ideas to boobytrap the stairs with,
and See who would fall for what.

Tarek would layer the stairs with com-

- 679 -
plicated wards; some would repel peo-
ple, some that would create illusions – of
other wards, to waste people’s time, or to
make it seem like the stairs had moved al-
together – some that would trap them in
place until they could undo the runes that
bound them. Neither Beth or Luc tended
to target the staircase directly; instead,
they held little make-shift skirmishes all
throughout the building, and favoured the
staircase just as much as the hallways,
the other flats, and the small garden on
the roof.

And then there was Asha, a witch very tal-

ented in mind-magics, who didn’t need eye
contact to manage Legillimency – though
it was considerably weaker that if she did
– and spent her spare time projecting her
mind through the building, to see how her
abilities were limited by distance. It was
common for Remus and Dora to have set-

- 680 -
tled down to dinner, and then – generally
Dora – would hear her voice telling them
that their dinner looked good tonight, or
did Dora just trip over the couch again,
because something just thudded on Asha’s
kitchen roof, or Canis had found his way
into Asha’s flat again (and Merlin knew
how he navigated the perilous halls), could
one of them please come and get him be-
fore she has an allergic reaction?

No, it’s never boring here, Remus thought,

shaking his head. On the other side of the
doors of the lift, something crashed, and
someone shouted something. He wasn’t
sure whether to sigh or laugh; on the one
hand, most of them were a bit younger, like
Dora, and well and truly entitled to their
fun. And, Dora loved it too; she’d grum-
ble at home about how it had taken her
half an hour to get up four flights of stairs,
or how Luc had beaten her again (though

- 681 -
she’d started to use spells that needed ver-
bal counters against him) by startling her
in the hallway, but she also said it kept
her on her toes, and in his letters, Mad-
Eye said that one could never be too vigi-
lant. And so, Remus dealt with it in good
humour, as long as he could have his blue
pebble and the lift.

The lift came to a smooth stop, and Remus

glanced out, checking left and right, before
stepping into the hallway.

Clear, he thought, relieved. Good. He

crossed the hallway quickly, unlocked
his flat, and stepped inside. He closed the
door behind him, and locked it. No inter-
ruptions, he thought, nodding to himself.
But there was.

Dora and Beth were lounging on the

couches, the latter scowling. Remus heard

- 682 -
the name ‘Sato’ and thought that rather
explained it; Dora had told him in strict
confidence that Beth fancied the Auror co-
ordinator, but refused to act on it because
it would be unprofessional. Remus had
replied that they’d just be a very intimi-
dating, very capable couple, and Dora had
laughed and said he didn’t understand.

“Wotcher,” Dora said, grinning at him.

“How was school?”

“Fine,” Remus said.

“You look stressed,” she said, cocking her

head.

“No,” Remus said. “Hello, Beth,” he said,

though he wasn’t keen to see her at the
moment.

“Hey,” she said, with a little wave, utterly

- 683 -
oblivious to the fact that she was intrud-
ing.

“Remus,” Dora said, her mouth twitching.

“Are you really just going to stand there
looking lost?”

“I’m not-” But he was. “Sorry. No. I’ll- go

and change.” And then he cursed him-
self for saying that, because usually he’d
change into pyjama pants, but he needed
to keep his robes on, else the small, square
box in his pocket would be too obvious.

“All right.” Remus could feel Dora’s eyes

on him as he headed for their bedroom,
and closed the door behind him to escape
them. “Hello,” Remus said, when Canis
opened one yellow eye to glare at him for
the disturbance. Remus patted him once,
quickly, before Canis could decide to bite or
scratch him. “I’m surprised you’re not off

- 684 -
menacing our neighbours.” Canis yawned
in response, and Remus thought about it
for a moment, and decided it was best that
Canis was here; that way, he couldn’t yowl
at the front door to be let in, and the neigh-
bours couldn’t come by – either with him,
or to ask one of them to come and fetch
him. Yes, it was best that the cat stayed
here.

Remus didn’t change, but thankfully, nei-

ther of the witches in the lounge room
commented on that. Both had eaten – and
Remus had eaten as school – so dinner
didn’t need to be made, and Remus – hav-
ing foolishly assumed he’d have Dora to
himself tonight – had made sure he had
all of his lesson plans done, and that he
was up to date on his marking.

Stuck for things to do to kill time until

Beth left, he started to write a letter to

- 685 -
Harry, but Dora asked him what he was
doing, and then asked him to wait, so that
she could write too. Remus set the parch-
ment aside and tried to think who else he
could write to. Matt was due to visit on
the weekend, so there wasn’t much point
writing to him, and Remus was waiting
for replies from both Sirius and Hagrid,
so he couldn’t write to them either… And
then who else was there? He drummed his
fingers on his desk, then got up and decid-
ed to read a book.

Remus wasn’t in a reading mood, though;

he flicked through the Defence textbook
that the Beauxbatons students were as-
signed, for lesson ideas, but he didn’t take
any of it in, because he was too busy try-
ing to listen to Dora and Beth, and work
out when the latter would leave. Never,
seemed like the answer; both were having
an in-depth, very technical conversation

- 686 -
about potion-making; more specifically,
polyjuice and the animagus potions, or
what sounded a bit like a mix of them both.
More than that, thought, Remus couldn’t
say; he was terrible at potions.

Finally, Beth left, around ten o’clock, and

Remus almost threw his book in his haste
to put it aside, and stood up, not quite sure
how to go about it all, yet, but being up-
right was probably a good start.

“Yes?” Dora asked, staring at him, from

over by the door.

“I didn’t say anything,” Remus said, start-

ing to sit down again, to allay her suspi-
cions, and then deciding against it. He
straightened.

“Tea?” she asked, with slightly narrowed

eyes.

- 687 -
“Please,” he said, a little weakly, as she
headed toward their little kitchen. “Did
you do much today?”

And then she was off, talking about po-

tions again, and about the traps she’d left
on the staircase that afternoon; she was
hoping to get Carla, she said; it’d be fun-
ny to see her with pink hair, since she so
disapproved of Dora having colourful hair.
Remus laughed with her, and accepted a
cup of tea with a sweaty hand.

They sat down at their kitchen table, and

– at her prompting – Remus told her about
his day, and how next year, he and Mon-
sieur Motte were looking into teaching al-
ternating years next year; Remus would
take the first years, Motte would take the
second years, Remus the thirds, and so
on. Remus was excited by the prospect,

- 688 -
because it meant he’d have a bigger role,
and more freedom with his curriculum.

Canis wandered out of the bedroom at

some point, and promptly reminded Remus
– who’d relaxed – of his plans, when he
started to sniff and paw at Remus’ pocket.

How he knew, Remus didn’t know, but it

was so very Canis to do something like
that.

“Must have spilled gravy on my robes at

dinner,” Remus muttered, finally succeed-
ing in detaching the cat’s claws from his
robes. Canis’ ears flicked back, and Remus
used his foot to nudge him toward the door-
way, while Dora watched on, amused. “I
hate your cat,” Remus told her, resettling
back into his chair.

“No, you don’t; he’s grown on you, I know

- 689 -
it-”

“Grown on me?” Remus asked. “What, so

I’ve gone from hating him to just disliking
him?”

“Something like that,” Dora said, grinning.

“Speaking of growing on me… or rather

things- people that have-” Remus stopped
there, because that was a terrible way to
start things. Nervous, his hand went to
the box in his pocket. “I mean- erm-”

Someone hammered on the door, and

Remus dropped the box back into the safe-
ty of his robes before Dora could think any-
thing of it. She was already up, stumbling
on her chair, to get to the door.

Leave it, Remus was tempted to say. It

was probably just one of the Aurors with

- 690 -
a new staircase set-up idea. It’s nothing
that can’t wait until morning, surely. But
he followed Dora into the living room, and
craned his neck around the corner to see
who it was when she opened the door.

A pink-haired, rather windswept Sirius

gave Dora a one-armed hug as he brushed
past, motorcycle helmet under the other
arm.

“I don’t suppose the stairs were your do-

ing?” he asked her, and her own hair went
a sheepish pink in response. “I couldn’t
use the lift for some reason, and when I
used the stairs-”

“Pink hair’s a small price for using the

stairs,” Remus muttered. “You’re lucky
you weren’t ambushed.”

“What are you doing here?” Dora asked,

- 691 -
as she fixed his hair.

“I don’t suppose you’ve just come by be-

cause you’re bored?” Remus asked. He sort
of hoped he had; firstly, because if it was
just boredom, Remus could and would send
him home, but secondly, because Sirius
didn’t show up unannounced, in France, if
he didn’t have news. And Sirius’ news was
rarely good news.

“Nice to see you too,” Sirius said, peevish-

ly.

“Sorry,” Remus said, offering him a small,

apologetic smile. “It’s just- unexpected-”

“Yeah,” Sirius said distractedly, not look-

ing at all upset or annoyed anymore. “Sor-
ry, I just- Marly would take too much ex-
plaining, and I’ve done a lot of explaining-”

- 692 -
“I’ll get you a cup of tea,” Dora said, with
a look between them.

“Sorry,” Sirius called after her. “Remus

can catch you up later, just-”

“Would you like sugar, Sirius, or milk?”

she called, not sounding at all bothered.

“Both, neither- I don’t mind, really,” Sir-

ius said. He turned to Remus. “Sorry to
just- show up, but-”

“You’ve said,” Remus said, mouth twitch-

ing. “What’s happened? I take it Harry’s
not in any immediate danger or he’d be
here, tucked under your wing-”

“Ha,” Sirius said, scowling. And then his

scent hit; angry and scared and confused
and helpless and all sorts of other horri-
ble things. Remus took a few steps back,

- 693 -
pinching his nose. “Ah, sorry,” Sirius said.
He took a deep breath. “So Harry met
Voldemort today, and we think we might
have found a horcrux.”

“I beg your pardon?” Remus asked, sitting

down, hard.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, grimacing.

- 694 -
Chapter 26:
Losing control

McGonagall told me what you are.

Tom recognised the writing as Ginny’s,

even though it was shaky, and even though
she seemed to be putting a lot more pres-
sure on the quill than she usually would.
It was a wonder she hadn’t gone through
the page. Tom lifted his copy of the diary,
and reached for a quill.

And what’s that? he asked her.

- 695 -
You’re the Heir, she wrote. And Hermione
said the Heir is You-Know-Who, so that
means you’re him-

Clever little thing, aren’t you? he wrote,

but didn’t think he sarcasm would be con-
veyed very well through the page.

It’s been you all along, you’re the one that

attacked Colin, and-

Wrong. I didn’t attack your little friend.

You-

You can’t trick me, Tom. He could imag-

ine her face, red, and angry, maybe teary.
He could imagine the way her hand must
have tightened around the quill, the way
her eyes must be about ready to shoot
sparks.

- 696 -
No trick, he wrote. I haven’t attacked any-
one. I don’t have a body, remember?

There’s the monster, though. If you can

talk to me, you can talk to it, make it do
what you want.

Or that I could make you do what I want,

he said. Ever been tired, and achy, and
had odd dreams, or had bits of your mem-
ory seemingly missing, Ginny?

There was silence for a long few seconds,

and Tom would have given anything be in
her head for that. Ginny’s distress would
be as nice as Harry’s, he was certain. Then,
Tom blinked, a little startled as a small
hole appeared in the page she was writing
on, and the slightest stabbing sensation
went through his thigh. It healed itself at
once, obviously, and the sting faded from
his leg. He frowned. It seemed her quill

- 697 -
had gone through the page.

Please don’t, Ginny, he wrote. That hurt.

Holes began to appear in the diary in
quick succession, and Tom felt them like
little pinches, all over his arms and back
and neck and legs. He snarled under his
breath, and launched himself out of the
diary. Ginny seemed ready for him; there
were walls up in her mind, walls of fear
and anger. Once, Tom might have soothed
them down, but he’d had quite enough of
Ginny for the moment, so he put pressure
on them, and kept it there. They shattered,
and Ginny’s mind flared with pain. What
part of ‘Please don’t’ did you fail to under-
stand, Ginny? he asked.

GET OUT! she shouted at him, but her

voice was shaky with tears. He’d hurt her,
he knew. The thought pleased him. She
started to stab the diary with her quill

- 698 -
again – and it was obviously just brute force
behind it, because the tip of her quill had
snapped and cracked. The pinching sensa-
tion started again, and Tom endured it…
and shared it, so that she felt it too. She
winced – he felt that, barely – under the
pain of his intrusion, but kept at it. Tom
didn’t think there was anything sweeter
than her horror, as she watched the pages
fix themselves. She started trying to shred
it, and the page would tear, but fix itself
before she could get the page out.

She was sobbing now, quietly, and one of

the girls knocked on the bathroom door.

“Weasley?” she called. “Are you all right? I

need the bathroom.” Tom could feel Ginny
weighing up her chances. She’d just decid-
ed to call for help, when Tom seized con-
trol, and forced her mouth shut.

- 699 -
Say you’re fine, he said. He could feel her
fury. Do it now, or we’ll go out there and
put her in the hospital wing with Creevey.

We’re not doing anything, Ginny snapped

at him. You’re getting out of my head, now-

And he’d give her credit for trying. The

broken shards of her wall came togeth-
er again, into a barrier that tried to push
him out, but Tom waved it aside. Not eas-
ily – his visit into Potter’s mind had tired
him, somewhat – but he knew Ginny, and
he knew her mind and how it worked. The
barrier shattered again, and Ginny whim-
pered.

“Weasley?”

Say you’re fine, Tom told her. Now.

No.

- 700 -
Tom braced himself, and loosened his hold
on her jaw.

“Fine,” he forced out through her mouth.

Ginny was fighting with everything, try-
ing to take control back, but he had her
now. He was stronger, and he couldn’t lose
now. “Just stubbed my toe. I’ll be out in a
bit.”

You can’t! Ginny shouted at him. This is

my body, you can’t-

Watch me, Tom said. He forced her to

stand. It wasn’t nearly as easy as when
she was sleeping, because here, she was
fighting him, but at least he didn’t have to
shield her. There was something so lovely
about letting her see everything that was
happening. He picked up the diary with
her shaking hand.

- 701 -
Stop it! she shouted. She was throwing all
of her mental strength against his, but it
wasn’t enough.

Make me, he said. She sobbed internally;

Tom wouldn’t let a sound of it pass her lips.
Poor Ginny. Hatred boiled in her, stron-
ger than he’d thought she was capable of.
He tucked the diary under her arm, and
forced her to the door. This was danger-
ous, he knew, but it was more dangerous
to stay in the bathroom. People might ask
questions. One of her brothers might send
Granger to check on her, and if Granger
was suspicious, or Granger was worried,
Granger would talk. He knew she would.
He opened the door, and Georgina brushed
past, looking impatient, and closed the
door. Tom walked Ginny toward her bed.

“Demelza,” she said, and loudly, as he

- 702 -
concentrated on dodging a loose shoe, and
Tom jammed her mouth shut before any-
thing else could come out. When he was
confident he had control, he forced out a
“Goodnight.” He needn’t have bothered;
all he got was a sleepy mumble from in-
side the other girl’s curtains.

He put Ginny into her bed, and had her

draw the curtains.

Sleep, he told her.

No.

How very predictable, he sighed. It was

frustrating. If she was asleep, Tom could
keep her asleep by blocking all of her sens-
es, but he couldn’t put her to sleep – at least,
he didn’t think he could. He supposed he’d
just have to wait for her to tire herself out.
Well, if we’re staying up, we might as well

- 703 -
talk. Do you have anything you want to
talk about? Ginny ignored him, and Tom
had her tuck the diary under her pillow.
This is going to be very dull if you just sit
here silently.

If I was asleep I wouldn’t be talking ei-

ther, Ginny said. She would have folded
her arms and put her nose in the air, but
Tom still had control of that, and wouldn’t
let her.

Ginny cried all night, and silently. She

didn’t think she’d ever been so scared, or
betrayed, or angry. She’d known McGo-
nagall wouldn’t give them a name if she
hadn’t been sure, but part of her had hoped
that it was wrong. That Tom – her friend
Tom – wasn’t, couldn’t be the Heir, that he
couldn’t be You-Know-Who.

- 704 -
But he hadn’t even tried to talk his way
out of it, or deny it, and then he’d told her
that it was her – and she couldn’t see why
he’d lie about that, so she thought it might
have been true – and then she’d known
it was true, because he’d proven that he
could walk and talk for her, that she was
nothing more than a puppet, and he’d hurt
her, and the diary hadn’t even had a hole
left in it, despite the fact that she’d stabbed
it over and over with her quill. And now
there was nothing she could do, she was
trapped, a prisoner in her own body, and
she couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid.

She should have gone straight to Dumble-

dore or McGonagall, or even to one of her
brothers or Hermione or Harry or Draco,
and Tom wouldn’t have even known that
she knew. She wasn’t sure what Tom want-
ed – from her, or from anyone – but she

- 705 -
knew it couldn’t be good, and that Harry
was probably in danger, and Ron and Her-
mione and Draco, because they were Har-
ry’s friends.

She’d cried for all of them, because she

couldn’t help them right now, and they
couldn’t help her. She didn’t know when
or how this would all end, but if she sur-
vived it, and if her family did, what would
they say? Mum and Dad would be so an-
gry and disappointed, Percy would never
be Head Boy because his little sister had
been friends with You-Know-Who and had
attacked people, and Ron would never talk
to her again because she’d put Harry in
danger. And Colin… when they woke Col-
in, what would he say? He’d be terrified of
her, and she’d ruined his entire first year,
with all the school he’d missed. And what
if his family didn’t let him come back to
Hogwarts at all?

- 706 -
You’ve ruined everything, she told Tom.
My family, my friends- and now I’m going
to lose them all, because who will want
anything to do with me after this?

Tom didn’t respond. Ginny listened for

him in her mind as best she could, and
when he didn’t respond, tried to move her
arm. It moved, just the way she wanted it
to. Tom, it seemed, was gone.

She didn’t waste any time at all. She

launched herself out of bed, snagging the
diary and her wand from her bedside ta-
ble as she went, and wiping her eyes with
her other hand. She skidded out onto the
stairs and took them two at a time. The fire
was still going in the dark common room,
and she threw the diary into it, and then
turned around when she heard movement.

- 707 -
“Percy,” she croaked. He was sitting in an
armchair, with bags under his eyes, but
looked alert all the same. He stood and
moved toward her.

“Ginny,” he said, staring past her into the

fire, where the diary was. “That’s the dia-
ry?”

Ginny stood, frozen for a few moments,

wondering what to say. But then she re-
membered that Percy had seen the diary,
in the summer, and must have put some
of it together. He hadn’t run from her yet,
though, or tried to bind her. And Percy
was a Prefect. He’d help her.

“Percy,” she sobbed, “it’s him, he’s in the

diary, and he’s made me do awful things- I
have to- before he comes back, I have to-”
Percy wasn’t an overly affectionate person
– certainly he’d never hugged her as much

- 708 -
as Bill or Charlie – but he hugged her now,
and Ginny clung to him for dear life. “I just
want him gone,” she said. “Please, Percy-”

“I might need the diary,” Percy said, with

a rueful look at it.

“You can’t, you don’t understand-”

“Only to give it to Professor Dumbledore,”

Percy said gently. “I’ll say I found it, and
recognised the name. You can even stay
here, that way, they’ll never even know
you were involved-”

Ginny took a deep breath. She went to the

fire and pulled the diary out with a pair
of tongs. She wasn’t entirely surprised to
see that it was as good as new. Percy held
his hand out for it, but Ginny held it away
from him. “He’ll know,” she sniffed. She
was a Gryffindor, she could be brave, she

- 709 -
had to be. “I-I’ll hold it until we get there,
and then you can have it. I’ll- hide or- some-
thing. I don’t want them to know that I-”
Percy took her hand, and squeezed, and
led the way toward the portrait hole.

“Where are you going, dears?” the Fat

Lady asked.

“My sister’s not feeling well,” Percy told

her, without even hesitating. “I’m taking
her to the Hospital Wing.”

“Be careful, then,” the Fat Lady said.

“Thank you,” Percy replied, and tugged

Ginny’s hand gently to keep her walking.

For a moment, Ginny thought everything

might be all right. Then, Ginny felt Tom,
trying to get back into her head.

- 710 -
No! No, no, no, no, no-

She scrunched up her face as he burst in,

and felt him seeping into her arms and
legs, felt rough, phantom fingers take con-
trol of her mouth.

NO! She tried to tell Percy to run, but Tom

wouldn’t let her.

Haven’t we been naughty? Tom sounded

furious. He kept her hand in Percy’s – and
she tried to squeeze it, but that didn’t work
either – and kept her walking. I don’t like
it when you try to ruin my diary, Ginny.
Not at all.

I don’t like you, Ginny told him.

How did you force me out?

Not telling, Ginny said, though she didn’t

- 711 -
know. She’d thought he’d just left on his
own, or lost focus.

How? he demanded. Ginny tried to say

something to Percy while Tom was dis-
tracted, or to throw herself on the ground,
but neither worked. Her traitorous feet
just kept moving, one after the other, over
and over. And where are you going? Off to
see the Headmaster? There was a bit of
fear in his voice, and that comforted Gin-
ny.

No, Ginny said. Percy came to see me, and

I said I wasn’t feeling well, so he said he’d
take me to the hospital wing-

With the diary. Tom’s voice was hard and

flat, and she knew he didn’t believe her.

I didn’t want to leave it where Georgina

or Demelza might see it. I couldn’t leave

- 712 -
you near them- Tom was silent, probably
trying to work out whether she was be-
ing truthful or not. Then, Ginny’s mouth
opened.

“How long until we’re there?” Tom asked,

with her voice.

“Not long now,” Percy said. “I hope he’s

still awake, though I’m sure, given the cir-
cumstances, he’ll be understanding if he’s
not-”

Madam Pomfrey’s not a he, Tom said an-

grily. You lied to me! How much does your
brother know?

Enough, Ginny said fiercely. Enough that

if you hurt me, or say anything, he’ll know
and he’ll go straight to Dumbledore. That
was true, and she’d learned enough from
Fred and George to know that bluffs were

- 713 -
best mixed with truth. And he knows
about me, so if you try to draw my wand,
he’ll put a Body Bind on me, and still go
straight to the Headmaster. And that was
the bluff, but Tom seemed to be believing
it. Ginny could taste victory. It’s over, she
said.

Tom had her stop walking, and Percy

looked back at her in askance. She wanted
to tell him to Stun and Disarm her and go,
but the words didn’t come.

“I’m scared,” was what she heard herself

say instead. “I just want this to all be over,
Percy.”

“It will be,” he said. “I promise. In an hour,

you’ll be tucked up in bed, nice and safe,
and we can forget this ever happened.”
Sometimes it frustrated Ginny that Percy
was so certain of himself, but right now,

- 714 -
Ginny loved him for it. She just wondered
what Tom was playing at.

“Do you promise?” Tom asked through her.

“Promise.” Percy gave her hand another

little squeeze, and Tom yanked hers free
and grabbed her wand. Percy frowned, his
hand going to his own wand.

“Percy, look!” Tom had her gesture – at

what Ginny could see was nothing – and
Percy, poor, poor Percy, who’d never have
fallen for something like that if it was the
twins saying it (because he knew better
than to listen to them) spun around.

“Stupefy,” Tom said, and Percy sagged to

the ground without a word. Ginny thought
she felt her heart break.

Now what? Tom asked her. He stepped

- 715 -
forward, and rolled Percy over with her
foot. Percy wasn’t even frowning, though
his glasses were askew. He hadn’t even
suspected.

Leave him alone! she snarled at Tom. She

fought for control, and for a moment, her
hand twitched and she thought she’d won,
but then Tom clamped down on everything
and Ginny felt control slip away again.

I can’t do that, Ginny, he said. He knows

too much – you said so yourself. Ginny’s
body knelt down, presumably to give Tom
a better look at Percy’s unconscious face.

Make him forget tonight, then, Ginny said

desperately. She didn’t like Tom’s tone,
not at all. And then Percy would still hear
the name tomorrow – everyone would be
talking about Tom – and he’d still remem-
ber the diary from summer, and maybe

- 716 -
he’d go straight to Dumbledore.

It wouldn’t be enough, Tom said. Memory

charms can be broken by strong feelings,
or visual associations, and you would be
one of them. I can’t risk it… Something
more… permanent-

You don’t mean-

I’m afraid so, Ginny, Tom said, though he

didn’t sound at all sad. He just knows too
much to be allowed to wake up.

You can’t kill him, Ginny said. You can’t!

And why not? Ginny didn’t think begging

would do Percy any good, so she racked
her aching brain for something, anything-

Because then they’ll know, she said. They’ll

know it was you that did it, and the Fat

- 717 -
Lady knows we left together. She’ll tell
Dumbledore, and once they have me, they
have you.

Clever, Tom said, and Ginny couldn’t tell

if he meant it or not; either way, he sound-
ed annoyed. I could have the basilisk do it.

They’d still know. Ginny’s heart was rac-

ing, and she tried not to sound desperate,
but if she could convince Tom of this much,
Percy might still have a chance. He’s a
pureblood. There’s no reason for him to be
the monster’s target. He’d said basilisk,
just before. Ginny stored that away for
later. You can’t do anything to him at all,
actually. If you do, Madam Pomfrey will
wonder why he didn’t come in with me.

Heart still racing, it occurred to Ginny

that, while Tom was the Heir, and was
You-Know-Who, he wasn’t that much old-

- 718 -
er than her. He was just a boy, and Gin-
ny had enough brothers to know that boys
didn’t always think things through, par-
ticularly when they were angry, and Tom
was angry at the moment. She could feel
his fury bubbling in her head, adding to
her splitting headache.

Tom was silent for a long while, and Gin-

ny hoped he’d forget about Percy, and
that Percy would wake up before Tom
could make up his mind. He didn’t. Tom
lifted Ginny’s wand and pointed it at her
still unconscious brother. She could only
watch, helpless and sick, with her heart in
her throat as he made a funny little move-
ment and said, “Imperio.”

Talk, Tom told Ginny, while Madam Pom-

frey looked on, concerned. He was exhaust-

- 719 -
ed from fighting her all day, but couldn’t
afford to let her know that, and she’d real-
ise if he had to control her for much longer.
But one misstep, and I’ll take control back,
and I’ll change my mind about your broth-
er. Percy was off to Myrtle’s bathroom to
stare into the mirror and wait for the bas-
ilisk to petrify him. Much as Tom hated
to admit it, Ginny was right that killing
him would stand out. But, the basilisk
also would have instructions – delivered,
hopefully coherently – by Percy, to roam
the school tonight and petrify or kill – Tom
didn’t care – anyone else it came across,
muggleborn or otherwise. That way, Per-
cy’s attack wouldn’t stand out at all, but it
would serve its purpose; by the time Percy
could be restored with mandrakes, Ginny
would be dead, Tom would have a body,
and it wouldn’t matter what Percy knew.

“I-” Ginny hesitated, apparently surprised

- 720 -
to have her voice back. It was too late for
Tom to change his mind and kill Percy,
but Ginny didn’t know that, so he knew
she’d behave. “I’ve just got the most aw-
ful headache.” Tom was almost impressed
with her composure. He’d expected tears
at the very least, and maybe a tantrum at
worst, but she’d been oddly silent. He pre-
ferred her that way, it was just… unnerv-
ing.

“Drink this,” Madam Pomfrey said, push-

ing a glass of water into Ginny’s hand.
“And I’ll be back with something for the
pain. This is the fourth time this year that
you’ve been to me with headaches.” Mad-
am Pomfrey started toward her office. “I
don’t recall ever having your brothers for
it, but did either of your parents ever have
trouble with migraines?”

“No,” Ginny said. “I don’t think so. I can

- 721 -
write and ask, though.”

“Might be worth a trip to St Mungo’s at

some point,” Madam Pomfrey called,
sounding thoughtful. Tom could hear her
rummaging through her potions cabinet.
“Just to get them to have a look at you.”

“Maybe over the summer,” Ginny said

quietly, and Madam Pomfrey made an af-
firming noise. Tom wondered if Ginny had
realised that she wouldn’t get another
summer.

- 722 -
Chapter 26:
Losing control

McGonagall told me what you are.

Tom recognised the writing as Ginny’s,

even though it was shaky, and even though
she seemed to be putting a lot more pres-
sure on the quill than she usually would.
It was a wonder she hadn’t gone through
the page. Tom lifted his copy of the diary,
and reached for a quill.

And what’s that? he asked her.

- 723 -
You’re the Heir, she wrote. And Hermione
said the Heir is You-Know-Who, so that
means you’re him-

Clever little thing, aren’t you? he wrote,

but didn’t think he sarcasm would be con-
veyed very well through the page.

It’s been you all along, you’re the one that

attacked Colin, and-

Wrong. I didn’t attack your little friend.

You-

You can’t trick me, Tom. He could imag-

ine her face, red, and angry, maybe teary.
He could imagine the way her hand must
have tightened around the quill, the way
her eyes must be about ready to shoot
sparks.

- 724 -
No trick, he wrote. I haven’t attacked any-
one. I don’t have a body, remember?

There’s the monster, though. If you can

talk to me, you can talk to it, make it do
what you want.

Or that I could make you do what I want,

he said. Ever been tired, and achy, and
had odd dreams, or had bits of your mem-
ory seemingly missing, Ginny?

There was silence for a long few seconds,

and Tom would have given anything be in
her head for that. Ginny’s distress would
be as nice as Harry’s, he was certain. Then,
Tom blinked, a little startled as a small
hole appeared in the page she was writing
on, and the slightest stabbing sensation
went through his thigh. It healed itself at
once, obviously, and the sting faded from
his leg. He frowned. It seemed her quill

- 725 -
had gone through the page.

Please don’t, Ginny, he wrote. That hurt.

Holes began to appear in the diary in
quick succession, and Tom felt them like
little pinches, all over his arms and back
and neck and legs. He snarled under his
breath, and launched himself out of the
diary. Ginny seemed ready for him; there
were walls up in her mind, walls of fear
and anger. Once, Tom might have soothed
them down, but he’d had quite enough of
Ginny for the moment, so he put pressure
on them, and kept it there. They shattered,
and Ginny’s mind flared with pain. What
part of ‘Please don’t’ did you fail to under-
stand, Ginny? he asked.

GET OUT! she shouted at him, but her

voice was shaky with tears. He’d hurt her,
he knew. The thought pleased him. She
started to stab the diary with her quill

- 726 -
again – and it was obviously just brute force
behind it, because the tip of her quill had
snapped and cracked. The pinching sensa-
tion started again, and Tom endured it…
and shared it, so that she felt it too. She
winced – he felt that, barely – under the
pain of his intrusion, but kept at it. Tom
didn’t think there was anything sweeter
than her horror, as she watched the pages
fix themselves. She started trying to shred
it, and the page would tear, but fix itself
before she could get the page out.

She was sobbing now, quietly, and one of

the girls knocked on the bathroom door.

“Weasley?” she called. “Are you all right? I

need the bathroom.” Tom could feel Ginny
weighing up her chances. She’d just decid-
ed to call for help, when Tom seized con-
trol, and forced her mouth shut.

- 727 -
Say you’re fine, he said. He could feel her
fury. Do it now, or we’ll go out there and
put her in the hospital wing with Creevey.

We’re not doing anything, Ginny snapped

at him. You’re getting out of my head, now-

And he’d give her credit for trying. The

broken shards of her wall came togeth-
er again, into a barrier that tried to push
him out, but Tom waved it aside. Not eas-
ily – his visit into Potter’s mind had tired
him, somewhat – but he knew Ginny, and
he knew her mind and how it worked. The
barrier shattered again, and Ginny whim-
pered.

“Weasley?”

Say you’re fine, Tom told her. Now.

No.

- 728 -
Tom braced himself, and loosened his hold
on her jaw.

“Fine,” he forced out through her mouth.

Ginny was fighting with everything, try-
ing to take control back, but he had her
now. He was stronger, and he couldn’t lose
now. “Just stubbed my toe. I’ll be out in a
bit.”

You can’t! Ginny shouted at him. This is

my body, you can’t-

Watch me, Tom said. He forced her to

stand. It wasn’t nearly as easy as when
she was sleeping, because here, she was
fighting him, but at least he didn’t have to
shield her. There was something so lovely
about letting her see everything that was
happening. He picked up the diary with
her shaking hand.

- 729 -
Stop it! she shouted. She was throwing all
of her mental strength against his, but it
wasn’t enough.

Make me, he said. She sobbed internally;

Tom wouldn’t let a sound of it pass her lips.
Poor Ginny. Hatred boiled in her, stron-
ger than he’d thought she was capable of.
He tucked the diary under her arm, and
forced her to the door. This was danger-
ous, he knew, but it was more dangerous
to stay in the bathroom. People might ask
questions. One of her brothers might send
Granger to check on her, and if Granger
was suspicious, or Granger was worried,
Granger would talk. He knew she would.
He opened the door, and Georgina brushed
past, looking impatient, and closed the
door. Tom walked Ginny toward her bed.

“Demelza,” she said, and loudly, as he

- 730 -
concentrated on dodging a loose shoe, and
Tom jammed her mouth shut before any-
thing else could come out. When he was
confident he had control, he forced out a
“Goodnight.” He needn’t have bothered;
all he got was a sleepy mumble from in-
side the other girl’s curtains.

He put Ginny into her bed, and had her

draw the curtains.

Sleep, he told her.

No.

How very predictable, he sighed. It was

frustrating. If she was asleep, Tom could
keep her asleep by blocking all of her sens-
es, but he couldn’t put her to sleep – at least,
he didn’t think he could. He supposed he’d
just have to wait for her to tire herself out.
Well, if we’re staying up, we might as well

- 731 -
talk. Do you have anything you want to
talk about? Ginny ignored him, and Tom
had her tuck the diary under her pillow.
This is going to be very dull if you just sit
here silently.

If I was asleep I wouldn’t be talking ei-

ther, Ginny said. She would have folded
her arms and put her nose in the air, but
Tom still had control of that, and wouldn’t
let her.

Ginny cried all night, and silently. She

didn’t think she’d ever been so scared, or
betrayed, or angry. She’d known McGo-
nagall wouldn’t give them a name if she
hadn’t been sure, but part of her had hoped
that it was wrong. That Tom – her friend
Tom – wasn’t, couldn’t be the Heir, that he
couldn’t be You-Know-Who.

- 732 -
But he hadn’t even tried to talk his way
out of it, or deny it, and then he’d told her
that it was her – and she couldn’t see why
he’d lie about that, so she thought it might
have been true – and then she’d known
it was true, because he’d proven that he
could walk and talk for her, that she was
nothing more than a puppet, and he’d hurt
her, and the diary hadn’t even had a hole
left in it, despite the fact that she’d stabbed
it over and over with her quill. And now
there was nothing she could do, she was
trapped, a prisoner in her own body, and
she couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid.

She should have gone straight to Dumble-

dore or McGonagall, or even to one of her
brothers or Hermione or Harry or Draco,
and Tom wouldn’t have even known that
she knew. She wasn’t sure what Tom want-
ed – from her, or from anyone – but she

- 733 -
knew it couldn’t be good, and that Harry
was probably in danger, and Ron and Her-
mione and Draco, because they were Har-
ry’s friends.

She’d cried for all of them, because she

couldn’t help them right now, and they
couldn’t help her. She didn’t know when
or how this would all end, but if she sur-
vived it, and if her family did, what would
they say? Mum and Dad would be so an-
gry and disappointed, Percy would never
be Head Boy because his little sister had
been friends with You-Know-Who and had
attacked people, and Ron would never talk
to her again because she’d put Harry in
danger. And Colin… when they woke Col-
in, what would he say? He’d be terrified of
her, and she’d ruined his entire first year,
with all the school he’d missed. And what
if his family didn’t let him come back to
Hogwarts at all?

- 734 -
You’ve ruined everything, she told Tom.
My family, my friends- and now I’m going
to lose them all, because who will want
anything to do with me after this?

Tom didn’t respond. Ginny listened for

him in her mind as best she could, and
when he didn’t respond, tried to move her
arm. It moved, just the way she wanted it
to. Tom, it seemed, was gone.

She didn’t waste any time at all. She

launched herself out of bed, snagging the
diary and her wand from her bedside ta-
ble as she went, and wiping her eyes with
her other hand. She skidded out onto the
stairs and took them two at a time. The fire
was still going in the dark common room,
and she threw the diary into it, and then
turned around when she heard movement.

- 735 -
“Percy,” she croaked. He was sitting in an
armchair, with bags under his eyes, but
looked alert all the same. He stood and
moved toward her.

“Ginny,” he said, staring past her into the

fire, where the diary was. “That’s the dia-
ry?”

Ginny stood, frozen for a few moments,

wondering what to say. But then she re-
membered that Percy had seen the diary,
in the summer, and must have put some
of it together. He hadn’t run from her yet,
though, or tried to bind her. And Percy
was a Prefect. He’d help her.

“Percy,” she sobbed, “it’s him, he’s in the

diary, and he’s made me do awful things- I
have to- before he comes back, I have to-”
Percy wasn’t an overly affectionate person
– certainly he’d never hugged her as much

- 736 -
as Bill or Charlie – but he hugged her now,
and Ginny clung to him for dear life. “I just
want him gone,” she said. “Please, Percy-”

“I might need the diary,” Percy said, with

a rueful look at it.

“You can’t, you don’t understand-”

“Only to give it to Professor Dumbledore,”

Percy said gently. “I’ll say I found it, and
recognised the name. You can even stay
here, that way, they’ll never even know
you were involved-”

Ginny took a deep breath. She went to the

fire and pulled the diary out with a pair
of tongs. She wasn’t entirely surprised to
see that it was as good as new. Percy held
his hand out for it, but Ginny held it away
from him. “He’ll know,” she sniffed. She
was a Gryffindor, she could be brave, she

- 737 -
had to be. “I-I’ll hold it until we get there,
and then you can have it. I’ll- hide or- some-
thing. I don’t want them to know that I-”
Percy took her hand, and squeezed, and
led the way toward the portrait hole.

“Where are you going, dears?” the Fat

Lady asked.

“My sister’s not feeling well,” Percy told

her, without even hesitating. “I’m taking
her to the Hospital Wing.”

“Be careful, then,” the Fat Lady said.

“Thank you,” Percy replied, and tugged

Ginny’s hand gently to keep her walking.

For a moment, Ginny thought everything

might be all right. Then, Ginny felt Tom,
trying to get back into her head.

- 738 -
No! No, no, no, no, no-

She scrunched up her face as he burst in,

and felt him seeping into her arms and
legs, felt rough, phantom fingers take con-
trol of her mouth.

NO! She tried to tell Percy to run, but Tom

wouldn’t let her.

Haven’t we been naughty? Tom sounded

furious. He kept her hand in Percy’s – and
she tried to squeeze it, but that didn’t work
either – and kept her walking. I don’t like
it when you try to ruin my diary, Ginny.
Not at all.

I don’t like you, Ginny told him.

How did you force me out?

Not telling, Ginny said, though she didn’t

- 739 -
know. She’d thought he’d just left on his
own, or lost focus.

How? he demanded. Ginny tried to say

something to Percy while Tom was dis-
tracted, or to throw herself on the ground,
but neither worked. Her traitorous feet
just kept moving, one after the other, over
and over. And where are you going? Off to
see the Headmaster? There was a bit of
fear in his voice, and that comforted Gin-
ny.

No, Ginny said. Percy came to see me, and

I said I wasn’t feeling well, so he said he’d
take me to the hospital wing-

With the diary. Tom’s voice was hard and

flat, and she knew he didn’t believe her.

I didn’t want to leave it where Georgina

or Demelza might see it. I couldn’t leave

- 740 -
you near them- Tom was silent, probably
trying to work out whether she was be-
ing truthful or not. Then, Ginny’s mouth
opened.

“How long until we’re there?” Tom asked,

with her voice.

“Not long now,” Percy said. “I hope he’s

still awake, though I’m sure, given the cir-
cumstances, he’ll be understanding if he’s
not-”

Madam Pomfrey’s not a he, Tom said an-

grily. You lied to me! How much does your
brother know?

Enough, Ginny said fiercely. Enough that

if you hurt me, or say anything, he’ll know
and he’ll go straight to Dumbledore. That
was true, and she’d learned enough from
Fred and George to know that bluffs were

- 741 -
best mixed with truth. And he knows
about me, so if you try to draw my wand,
he’ll put a Body Bind on me, and still go
straight to the Headmaster. And that was
the bluff, but Tom seemed to be believing
it. Ginny could taste victory. It’s over, she
said.

Tom had her stop walking, and Percy

looked back at her in askance. She wanted
to tell him to Stun and Disarm her and go,
but the words didn’t come.

“I’m scared,” was what she heard herself

say instead. “I just want this to all be over,
Percy.”

“It will be,” he said. “I promise. In an hour,

you’ll be tucked up in bed, nice and safe,
and we can forget this ever happened.”
Sometimes it frustrated Ginny that Percy
was so certain of himself, but right now,

- 742 -
Ginny loved him for it. She just wondered
what Tom was playing at.

“Do you promise?” Tom asked through her.

“Promise.” Percy gave her hand another

little squeeze, and Tom yanked hers free
and grabbed her wand. Percy frowned, his
hand going to his own wand.

“Percy, look!” Tom had her gesture – at

what Ginny could see was nothing – and
Percy, poor, poor Percy, who’d never have
fallen for something like that if it was the
twins saying it (because he knew better
than to listen to them) spun around.

“Stupefy,” Tom said, and Percy sagged to

the ground without a word. Ginny thought
she felt her heart break.

Now what? Tom asked her. He stepped

- 743 -
forward, and rolled Percy over with her
foot. Percy wasn’t even frowning, though
his glasses were askew. He hadn’t even
suspected.

Leave him alone! she snarled at Tom. She

fought for control, and for a moment, her
hand twitched and she thought she’d won,
but then Tom clamped down on everything
and Ginny felt control slip away again.

I can’t do that, Ginny, he said. He knows

too much – you said so yourself. Ginny’s
body knelt down, presumably to give Tom
a better look at Percy’s unconscious face.

Make him forget tonight, then, Ginny said

desperately. She didn’t like Tom’s tone,
not at all. And then Percy would still hear
the name tomorrow – everyone would be
talking about Tom – and he’d still remem-
ber the diary from summer, and maybe

- 744 -
he’d go straight to Dumbledore.

It wouldn’t be enough, Tom said. Memory

charms can be broken by strong feelings,
or visual associations, and you would be
one of them. I can’t risk it… Something
more… permanent-

You don’t mean-

I’m afraid so, Ginny, Tom said, though he

didn’t sound at all sad. He just knows too
much to be allowed to wake up.

You can’t kill him, Ginny said. You can’t!

And why not? Ginny didn’t think begging

would do Percy any good, so she racked
her aching brain for something, anything-

Because then they’ll know, she said. They’ll

know it was you that did it, and the Fat

- 745 -
Lady knows we left together. She’ll tell
Dumbledore, and once they have me, they
have you.

Clever, Tom said, and Ginny couldn’t tell

if he meant it or not; either way, he sound-
ed annoyed. I could have the basilisk do it.

They’d still know. Ginny’s heart was rac-

ing, and she tried not to sound desperate,
but if she could convince Tom of this much,
Percy might still have a chance. He’s a
pureblood. There’s no reason for him to be
the monster’s target. He’d said basilisk,
just before. Ginny stored that away for
later. You can’t do anything to him at all,
actually. If you do, Madam Pomfrey will
wonder why he didn’t come in with me.

Heart still racing, it occurred to Ginny

that, while Tom was the Heir, and was
You-Know-Who, he wasn’t that much old-

- 746 -
er than her. He was just a boy, and Gin-
ny had enough brothers to know that boys
didn’t always think things through, par-
ticularly when they were angry, and Tom
was angry at the moment. She could feel
his fury bubbling in her head, adding to
her splitting headache.

Tom was silent for a long while, and Gin-

ny hoped he’d forget about Percy, and
that Percy would wake up before Tom
could make up his mind. He didn’t. Tom
lifted Ginny’s wand and pointed it at her
still unconscious brother. She could only
watch, helpless and sick, with her heart in
her throat as he made a funny little move-
ment and said, “Imperio.”

Talk, Tom told Ginny, while Madam Pom-

frey looked on, concerned. He was exhaust-

- 747 -
ed from fighting her all day, but couldn’t
afford to let her know that, and she’d real-
ise if he had to control her for much longer.
But one misstep, and I’ll take control back,
and I’ll change my mind about your broth-
er. Percy was off to Myrtle’s bathroom to
stare into the mirror and wait for the bas-
ilisk to petrify him. Much as Tom hated
to admit it, Ginny was right that killing
him would stand out. But, the basilisk
also would have instructions – delivered,
hopefully coherently – by Percy, to roam
the school tonight and petrify or kill – Tom
didn’t care – anyone else it came across,
muggleborn or otherwise. That way, Per-
cy’s attack wouldn’t stand out at all, but it
would serve its purpose; by the time Percy
could be restored with mandrakes, Ginny
would be dead, Tom would have a body,
and it wouldn’t matter what Percy knew.

“I-” Ginny hesitated, apparently surprised

- 748 -
to have her voice back. It was too late for
Tom to change his mind and kill Percy,
but Ginny didn’t know that, so he knew
she’d behave. “I’ve just got the most aw-
ful headache.” Tom was almost impressed
with her composure. He’d expected tears
at the very least, and maybe a tantrum at
worst, but she’d been oddly silent. He pre-
ferred her that way, it was just… unnerv-
ing.

“Drink this,” Madam Pomfrey said, push-

ing a glass of water into Ginny’s hand.
“And I’ll be back with something for the
pain. This is the fourth time this year that
you’ve been to me with headaches.” Mad-
am Pomfrey started toward her office. “I
don’t recall ever having your brothers for
it, but did either of your parents ever have
trouble with migraines?”

“No,” Ginny said. “I don’t think so. I can

- 749 -
write and ask, though.”

“Might be worth a trip to St Mungo’s at

some point,” Madam Pomfrey called,
sounding thoughtful. Tom could hear her
rummaging through her potions cabinet.
“Just to get them to have a look at you.”

“Maybe over the summer,” Ginny said

quietly, and Madam Pomfrey made an af-
firming noise. Tom wondered if Ginny had
realised that she wouldn’t get another
summer.

- 750 -
Chapter 27:
The reflection

He heard the low grate of what could

only be the Chamber’s opening and would
have turned around to look, but couldn’t
even open his eyes. He still couldn’t be-
lieve what had happened, couldn’t work
out how it had gone so, so horribly wrong.
He wished he hadn’t tried to be so clever,
wished he hadn’t been so selfish, but knew
he’d done, what he’d done – mostly – for
her. He hoped Ginny would be all right.
He’d never forgive himself otherwise.

- 750 -
Words that weren’t his – words that
weren’t even words – slithered out of his
mouth in a steady, menacing hiss.

Now, open your eyes. Don’t look away from

the mirror.

No, he told the voice.

Do it.

He opened his eyes, and, through the mir-

ror, met a pair of slitted yellow ones.

“I’m hungry,” she said, and got a blank

stare in response. “Are you coming?”

“But- Professor Sprout said we’re sup-

posed to stay in tonight-”

- 751 -
“Are you scared?” she asked incredulous-
ly.

“No.” His scent was nervous though, rath-

er than defiant. “I’m just- not hungry.”

“You’ve gone soft,” she scoffed. “What

would Father say if he heard that you
were scared of a snake? You’ve got wizard-
ing blood anyway- you’d be safe-”

“Father’s dead,” he told her. She glared at

him. “And I just- don’t want to go, Sarah-”

“You know I hate that name,” she snapped.

“Fine, stay.” He was so frustrating, some-
times. She couldn’t wait for summer, when
they could get back home, and be with their
family again. He was in dire need of it; she
worried, sometimes, that he was thinking
too much like a human.

- 752 -
“Well, I’m going to the kitchens,” she an-
nounced to the common room. “Anyone
else want to come?”

“Walker, I don’t think-”

“I asked if you were coming, Diggory, not

for your opinion,” she snapped. Diggo-
ry frowned at her, but said nothing else.
Smith’s laughter started from his corner
– he was so predictable – and he got to his
feet.

“I’ll come for a walk, if you’d like,” he

drawled. She wrinkled her nose. Smith
was a pain, but she had asked.

“Fine,” she said. “Keep up, then.”

They were about halfway to the kitchen,

when a voice stopped them.

- 753 -
“What are you two doing here?” It was the
Fat Friar – she’d never met a more annoy-
ing ghost, always wanting to know about
her day, and if she was homesick – wring-
ing his hands. “Didn’t Professor Sprout
tell you – you’re not supposed to be out to-
night.”

“We were hungry,” Smith said. Derisive-

ly, she thought that the Friar would have
some sympathy; if his size was anything
to go by, he’d enjoyed food when he was
alive. “The kitchens aren’t far-”

“Even so…” The Friar made a little ner-

vous titter, and then, from behind him,
her sensitive ears heard another sound,
one he hadn’t made.

“What was that?” she demanded, and

Smith just gave her a blank look. “Behind

- 754 -
him,” she said impatiently, pointing at the
Friar. He spun around, blocking her view
– and Smith’s, if the small, annoyed noise
he made was any indication – but before
she could crane her neck to get a better
look than that of the Friar’s translucent
midriff, an long tongue flickered around
the corner, followed by a pair of large eyes.

He sighed as he looked at the shiny cup,

and at the name on the plaque. He’d been
a first year when Tom Riddle was in his
final year, had heard the horrors of the
Chamber (which had closed again by the
time he started) and of Riddle’s heroics in
capturing poor Hagrid. He’d heard Riddle
was charming and talented, and it had
been Riddle’s Charms score that he had
set as his benchmark (and beaten by a sin-
gle point in his own seventh year).

- 755 -
And now this. He sighed again, and hoped
for it to all be over soon. He didn’t even
hear the monster come in behind him, but
he did see it reflected in Riddle’s trophy.

She heard something move, and froze.

Was it her imagination – because she’d
been reading an awful amount about mag-
ical snakes tonight – or had it sounded
like scales? She listened, and there it was
again, the sound of something dragging
along the carpet, and the sound of some-
thing hard scraping against a bookshelf.
She hoped it was her imagination – it
was nearly three in the morning, and she
hadn’t slept yet, so it was entirely possible
she was hearing things.

Heart in her throat, she glanced at the

- 756 -
map, but there was nothing there, just
her name in the otherwise empty library.
But she could hear it, and it was closer
this time. She felt tears prickle her eyes,
and reached for the cloak. Perhaps, if it
couldn’t see her, it couldn’t find her… But,
she’d read enough that night to know that
it would just listen to hear heart’s pound-
ing, or that it would smell her out. And,
if she was under the cloak, they’d never
find her, or what she’d found. She tore out
the page she’d been reading, and shoved it
into her bag.

“M-mischief m-anaged-d,” she whispered.

Then, with shaking hands, she tossed her

books, wand, the map and the cloak into
her bag as well, heaved it over her shoul-
der, and stood. It was close now; she could
hear it hissing faintly, and perhaps the
flicker of an enormous tongue. She couldn’t

- 757 -
hear footsteps, though, and took comfort
in that. Harry would kill her – again – if
Riddle got the map and cloak. Swallow-
ing a sob, she ran from her table. She’d
never outrun it, she knew. She wasn’t a
very fast runner, and she had a bag full of
books. She couldn’t fight it, or it would eat
her for sure, and if she closed her eyes and
refused to look at it, it would probably eat
her as well.

Breathe, she told herself. Breathe, it’ll be

all right. She sniffed, and kept running,
and she knew it could hear her; the noise
of its movement was getting louder and
louder. Finally, she came to a halt, in front
of a window. Through it, she could see the
lake, dark and still, lit only by a sliver of
light from the barely-there moon, and see
the yellow glow of Hagrid’s kitchen win-
dow.

- 758 -
She took a deep, shuddering breath,
and looked into the window, rather than
through it. She could see movement be-
hind her scared reflection.

Good luck, she thought toward her friends,

and wondered if what came next would
hurt.

She yawned and got out of bed, gently

extracting herself from the bed so she
wouldn’t wake her twin. Her sister had
always been a light sleeper, though, and
stirred.

“Whererugoing?” she mumbled, squinting

around.

“Back to my common room,” she whis-

pered. She’d been told to stay where she

- 759 -
was last night, by Flitwick, and she’d been
glad; she’d much rather have her twin’s
company at a time like this, than her sis-
ter’s company back in Slytherin… even if
it did mean they had to share a bed, and
that she’d had to put up with her sister
snoring and hogging the sheets. “It’s near-
ly six and I want to get my things before
breakfast.”

“Isitsafe?”

“It’s morning, I’m sure it is,” she said reas-

suringly. “I’ll see you in Defence.”

She got a sleepy mumble in response, and

smiled as she slipped out of the dorm. Ro-
wena’s statue watched her walk across
the empty common room with that wise,
severe stare. She’d just reached the first
floor and passed Myrtle’s bathroom when
she heard an odd hissing sound.

- 760 -
“Hello?” she asked, and when there was
no response, decided it must just be a
pipe in the bathroom. She looked around,
shrugged, and kept walking. Then, she
saw the suit of armour ahead of her, mov-
ing. She frowned and drew her wand, and
went to talk a closer look. It wasn’t the ar-
mour moving, she decided after a second,
it was something in the armour, casting
dark green shadows over it. A reflection,
maybe.

Then, she saw yellow.

“ I would have gone earlier,” Granger said,

hopping off of Harry’s bed, “only Harry
was missing and I wanted to know…”

“ Well, I’m safe,” Potter said wearily. “And

- 761 -
if you’re going, I’m coming too. I want to
know how to keep him out.”

“ No,” Draco, Weasley and Granger said,

all at once, but it was Granger that pressed
on. “You’re staying here, Harry; McGona-
gall would have you in detention until you
finish your N.E.W.T.s if she caught you
walking around the school after the night
you’ve had.”

“ But with the cloak and map-”

Draco might have conceded the point, but

Granger wrinkled her nose again and said,
“I’m not standing under the cloak with you,
when you smell like that.” Draco snorted,
amused, as Potter sniffed his Quidditch
robes with a crestfallen expression.

“ I’ll shower-”

- 762 -
“Really, Harry, it’ll be fine,” she said. “I’ll
find a book on mind magic, and do a bit
more reading on magical snakes-” She,
Draco and Weasley had been doing some
reading that afternoon, and found some
interesting possibilities for Slytherin’s
monster, but hadn’t had enough informa-
tion to confirm anything, one way or the
other. “-because now that we know who
it is, sorting out the monster and how it’s
getting around is the next step. Then we
can work out where it’s being kept, and we
can sort this whole mess out-”

“ And the ring,” Potter said. “The Gaunt

ring.”

“ Yes,” Hermione said impatiently. “I’ll

look for that too.” She grabbed Draco’s
schoolbag off the ground and emptied it.
“Do you mind? It’s sounding like I’ll have
a lot to carry.”

- 763 -
“ I wouldn’t mind a walk,” Weasley said.
“And I can help you carry the bag.” Potter
looked relieved.

“ Don’t be silly, Ron,” she said. “Harry

needs company-”

“And what am I?” Draco demanded,

though he did agree that Potter needed
company; he was keeping it together well,
but Draco could tell he was shaken (and
Draco thought he had every right to be).
He wouldn’t cope at all with having some-
one in his head. “Take Weasley, Granger,
please. It’s safer-”

“If what Quirrell told Harry is right, Rid-

dle ought to be exhausted,” Granger said
primly. “And now that the teachers have
his name, and the students, he’ll be keep-
ing a low profile. And we’ve all been told to

- 764 -
stay in our common rooms, so he won’t ex-
pect anyone to be out, and, even if he did,
he’d be stupid to risk an attack tonight,
with everyone on such high alert.”

“ She’s right,” Potter said, reluctantly.

“Hermione, are you sure-?”

“ Positive.” She draped Draco’s bag over

her shoulder, and took the cloak and map
from Potter with a smile. She gave Draco
and Weasley pointed take-care-of-Potter
looks, and headed for the door. “I’ll see you
all at breakfast.”

She’d lied.

Draco and the others hadn’t even made it

to breakfast; a pale McGonagall had been
waiting for them – and for Weasley One
and Two - in the common room first thing
in the morning.

- 765 -
She’d said, “Come with me, all of you,” and
that had been it, but Draco had known.
And Weasley and the twins were panick-
ing too; they, like Draco, had noticed that
not only was She-Weasley missing, but
Prefect Weasley was as well.

“They’re not-?” Draco had choked, and Mc-

Gonagall had shaken her head.

“Petrified, Mr Malfoy,” she’d said thickly.

“Thankfully. Miss Weasley will meet us
there.” Weasley had sagged, and Weasley
One had put an arm around him. Weasley
Two looked more serious than Draco had
ever seen. Potter didn’t even seem to have
heard. His face was white and blank and
he hadn’t said a thing all morning.

In the hospital wing, Weasley had given

Granger’s bed a miserable look and then

- 766 -
run to hug his sister, and join his brothers
at Prefect Weasley’s bedside. Potter went
straight to the chair beside Granger’s bed,
and Draco followed him. His legs felt stiff.
Five other beds were occupied – Draco
recognised Astoria, and Flitwick, Smith,
the Hufflepuff ghost, as well as a girl from
Hufflepuff whose name he didn’t know. All
of them looked shocked, or confused, and
so incredibly still. It was unnerving.

“Riddle had a busy night, it seems,” McGo-

nagall said unsteadily. Draco moved his
bag – the one that Granger had borrowed
last night – off the chair next to Potter’s -
and sank into it. He didn’t feel up to look-
ing through her research now, and could
only bring himself to stare at her frozen
face. She didn’t look surprised at all, Draco
didn’t think. Her lips were pressed tightly
together, and her eyes were terrified. Dra-
co looked away.

- 767 -
“Why?” Potter croaked. “I mean- the
Greengrasses are purebloods, and so’s
Percy, and Smith-”

“I was wondering if you had any insight,”

McGonagall said shakily. She swallowed
again. “The Headmaster ought to be here
shortly. He’s had to meet with the Board
this morning, after-”

“Where?” Potter asked. “Where were they

all-”

“Miss Granger was in the library – that’s

her bag there - Miss Greengrass was in the
first floor corridor… and – awful as this
might sound – it’s a lucky thing, because
we’d never have found Mr Weasley oth-
erwise. He was in the bathroom.” Draco
saw Potter frown at that, but he didn’t say
anything, and McGonagall didn’t seem to

- 768 -
notice. “Miss Walker, Mr Smith and the
Fat Friar were all found near the kitchens,
and Filius was found in the trophy room.”
Her tartan handkerchief emerged from
a pocket in her robes, and she dabbed at
her eyes. “Thankfully, none of the attacks
were fatal, but I do wonder what the point
of it all was-”

The doors of the hospital wing opened and

Snape swept in, accompanied by Daphne
who walked over to her sister’s bed, look-
ing more confused than anything else, and
a teary Vivienne. Sprout was the last to
arrive, with a tired-looking, lanky third
year boy who Draco had seen around but
couldn’t name.

He swallowed and looked at Granger

again.

- 769 -
“-letters written to the families of those af-
fected, of course, but beyond that-”

“The Prophet will want a statement, I’m

certain,” Lucius said, smoothing his robes
as he and Dumbledore approached the
hospital wing. “And admirable as it is for
you to want to keep things quiet, I don’t
think you’ll have much say in the mat-
ter.” Dumbledore said nothing. “In light
of recent events, I also think it might be
best that you are removed from the school.
Clearly, your ability to protect the stu-
dents has been grossly overestimated.”
Again, Dumbledore said nothing. Lucius
had never seen him this tired, or this…
broken. He delighted in it. “Oh, and Ha-
grid too-”

“Not Hagrid,” Dumbledore said sharply. “I

have provided the Board with ample evi-
dence-”

- 770 -
“Potter’s evidence. None of which is tan-
gible,” Lucius said, dismissively. “Hagrid
was responsible last time; removing him
now isn’t likely to hurt the situation, is
it?” He smiled; Dumbledore’s disapproval
was written all over his old face, but he
seemed not to have anything to say. Or,
perhaps he knew that Lucius’ mind was
made up.

“You should close the school,” Dumbledore

said. “Percy Weasley was attacked, and
he’s a pureblood-” Lucius may not have
masked his derision well enough, because
Dumbledore frowned and said, “-as is As-
toria Greengrass, and Zacharias Smith.
Tom’s motives have changed.” That was
interesting, in Lucius’ opinion, that Dumb-
ledore referred to the diary’s work as if it
was actually the Dark Lord’s work… The
diary wasn’t sentient, for Merlin’s sake, it

- 771 -
just a key of sorts, or at least, that was the
impression that the Dark Lord had given
him when he first gave Lucius the diary.
He put it down to one of Dumbledore’s
many eccentricities. “No one is safe.”

Lucius made a non-committal noise; he

couldn’t understand why the Greengrass
girl had been attacked, but Smith was a
Hufflepuff name, and Weasleys were al-
most as bad as mudbloods… and, one of
those had been attacked too. The other
Hufflepuff girl was entirely ordinary, as
was Flitwick and, while they wouldn’t
have struck Lucius as high-risk targets,
there was nothing special about them that
might give them protection either.

“Hogwarts will remain open for as long as

students wish to attend it,” Lucius said.
The way he saw it, Hogwarts could use
a bit of selective pressure on those who

- 772 -
were in attendance, and if the mudbloods
and bloodtraitors weren’t smart enough to
leave, they deserved whatever happened
to them. Dumbledore shook his head, an-
ger sparking behind his half-moon glass-
es, but he said nothing. Lucius gestured to
the hospital wing doors. “May we?”

“After you,” Dumbledore said curtly.

The seven beds on the far side of the hos-

pital wing were full, with the Heir’s vic-
tims, and Madam Pomfrey was over on the
other side, attending a boy with a cough.
All around the hospital wing were oth-
er students, gathered around the beds of
their friends, though what they hoped to
achieve with that, Lucius didn’t know. He
spotted the red herd of Weasleys, all gath-
ered around their petrified brother. They
youngest – the girl – looked stricken, and
Lucius wondered if she knew what her di-

- 773 -
ary had unleashed, and then disregarded
the thought; if she had known, she’d have
handed it right to the Headmaster and
he’d have burned it and Lucius wouldn’t
be visiting.

Lucius’ eyes moved past her, past several

other offensively bright heads, past Pot-
ter’s scruffy black one, to a more familiar
platinum one.

“Draco,” he said, surprised. Draco didn’t

hear him, nor did he appear to have no-
ticed Lucius; his eyes were fixed on the girl
in the bed beside him. It was the bushy-
haired mudblood, Granger. “If you’ll ex-
cuse me,” he said to Dumbledore. “I’d like
to speak with my son.”

“Of course,” Dumbledore replied. “I dare-

say some comfort will do young Draco well
right now.” Lucius rolled his eyes and

- 774 -
strode up to his son. Draco looked up, and
seemed not to recognise him for a few mo-
ments.

“Father,” he said, seeming startled. Lu-

cius thought the tremor in his voice was
unbecoming. Potter watched them, wary,
and Lucius ignored him.

“Walk with me,” he said to his son. Draco

gave Granger a long look, and then glanced
at Potter.

“Back in a minute,” he mumbled, and Pot-

ter nodded. Lucius led the way out of the
hospital wing – noting that Dumbledore
had approached Potter – and Draco shuf-
fled after him, silent.

“Are you here for the Board?” Draco asked,

when they’d found a quiet part of the cor-
ridor.

- 775 -
“I am.”

“What do they make of it all?” Draco asked.

“Dumbledore will be out by dinnertime,”

Lucius said, curling his lip. “He’s trying to
talk me into closing the school, but that’s
rubbish-”

“You’re keeping it open?” Draco asked,

aghast. “Father, you can’t!”

“I’ll thank you not to tell me what I can

and can’t do, Draco,” Lucius said curtly.
The look he was giving Draco would have
cowed Hydrus, and likely even earned
him a muttered apology, but Draco’s eyes
blazed. He thrust a hand back toward the
hospital wing doors.

“You can keep the school open,” Draco said

- 776 -
in a chilly tone that reminded Lucius of
Narcissa, somehow, “but you’d be stupid
to.” Lucius opened his mouth, angry now,
but Draco ploughed on. “Are you blind,
Father?! Five people and a ghost were at-
tacked last night-”

“A pity, to be sure,” Lucius said, “but hard-

ly worth closing Hogwarts over. This is
Slytherin’s work-”

“Slytherin’s work?” Draco asked flatly.

“The way you always told it, Slytherin
cared about blood purity, except Granger
was the only muggleborn; the rest were
purebloods, or halfbloods. The Heir’s a
lunatic, Father, he’s attacking people be-
cause he can, not because he’s doing Sly-
therin’s work-”

Lucius just wished his son was a little

older, or a little more reasonable than he

- 777 -
was at present. Then, Lucius might have
been able to better explain that this was
the Dark Lord’s work, and that it wasn’t
their place to question it. Lucius hadn’t
approved of everything the Dark Lord did
during the war, but he did believe it had
contributed toward the best cause, and so
he’d gone along with it. It was the same
now.

“The Heir has his reasons for choosing

them,” Lucius said delicately, “I’m certain
of that much.” For some reason, that made
Draco go very still.

“Reasons,” he said in a strained voice.

“Right. Do share, then, Father.” He folded
his arms.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re involved enough to know some of

- 778 -
them, at least.” It was almost flippant, the
way he said it, but his eyes were sharp,
and watching Lucius closely.

“I beg your pardon?” Lucius asked again,

incredulous. Draco’s grim, angry expres-
sion didn’t change at all, nor did his closed
posture.

“You heard me. It’s disgraceful, Father.”

His lip curled. “A member of the Board,
involved with the Heir and attacks on stu-
dents and refusing to close-”

Lucius’ first thought was to wonder how

much Draco knew about the diary, or had
guessed, and how. His second thought
was that Draco ought to know better than
to make such bold accusations mere feet
from the door of the hospital wing, which
held the Headmaster and a significant
portion of the staff. His third, was that, no

- 779 -
matter what Draco thought he knew, he
had no right to speak to Lucius in such an
impertinent manner.

“Your mother and I have tolerated an in-

credible amount since your Sorting,” Lu-
cius said in a low voice. “Including all sorts
of awful stories from Hydrus about your
antics with your little Gryffindor friends.
He’s told me how rude you can be to the
pureblooded children-”

“You clearly don’t care about them, or

you’d have closed the school on Astoria’s
behalf,” Draco said coolly.

“Don’t interrupt me, Draco,” Lucius hissed.

“We have tolerated mockery and questions
from our friends, about how you ended up
in your House, and then there’s the fact
that you get caught up in Potter’s foolish
heroics-” Lucius took a deep breath, to

- 780 -
calm himself. He did his best not to let his
children see him riled, and he had no in-
tention of starting now. “If you truly want
to talk about disgrace, Draco, how about
we talk about the miserable look on your
face when I found you at Granger’s bed-
side? She’s a mudblood, she is nothing.”
Draco was pale, but his expression hadn’t
changed at all. “Or how about your accu-
sations of me, in the middle of the school?”
Lucius took another deep breath, and stood
tall over his son… though, not as tall as he
once had. Draco had grown this year, it
seemed. “I am on Board duty at the mo-
ment, and can’t take the time to deal with
your insolence now, but your behaviour is
unbecoming and will be dealt with later, I
assure you.”

Lucius left his son standing there, and

went to find Dumbledore. He was sick of
Hogwarts, and quite wanted to go home.

- 781 -
Chapter 28:
Meeting Myrtle

Severus watched Lucius re-enter the

hospital wing. Draco did not follow him.
Severus started toward the door and saw
Potter – who’d also stood – sit back down
again, with a nod.

Draco was out in the corridor perched on

a low wall that overlooked several flights
of staircases.

“May I?” Severus asked, gesturing to the

- 781 -
wall beside his godson. Draco glanced up
at him, and nodded, then looked away
again. Severus sat, and tried not to look
down. Heights didn’t bother him, but he
never would have sat here on his own;
if he leaned back too far, he’d fall sever-
al storeys. Draco didn’t seem bothered by
that, though.

“Did Father send you to talk with me?”

Draco asked, after a moment. His voice
was tight, and he didn’t look at Severus.

“No,” Severus said. “I thought I’d make

sure you were well.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Draco demanded.

“Well, Granger’s lying in a hospital bed,

for one,” Severus drawled. He’d come out
here to make sure Lucius hadn’t offended
the boy, but he knew talking about that

- 782 -
wouldn’t get him anywhere at the mo-
ment. “If it was Potter you might not even
bat an eye, because it happens so regular-
ly, but-” Draco startled him by making an
odd, sobbing sound, and Severus stopped
talking at once, trying to decide whether
he should comfort Draco or not. He was
a little reluctant to, however, because Lu-
cius could walk out at any moment, and
that could well make things worse.

“Father’s an idiot,” Draco said, taking the

decision away by starting to talk. He still
hadn’t looked up but he sounded angry
rather than sad, and Severus wondered if
he’d imagined the sob.

“How so?” Severus asked quietly. He

glanced at the hospital wing doors, to be
certain Lucius wasn’t on his way out, and
Draco misinterpreted it.

- 783 -
“He did send you!” Draco leaped to his feet
and would have stormed off, but Severus
caught his sleeve.

“Sit down, you silly boy,” he said. Draco

sat. “I thought I made it perfectly clear
last Christmas whose side I was on, when
it comes to things like this.” Draco’s ex-
pression cleared a little.

“Sor-”

“You’ve had a trying morning,” Severus

said, waving the apology away. “Just try
not to do me the disservice of such assump-
tions in the future.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco mumbled. He looked up,

and Severus turned. Lucius and the Head-
master left the hospital wing – not speak-
ing – and walked the other way. Dumb-
ledore caught Severus’s eye, only briefly,

- 784 -
but if Lucius was aware of them, he gave
no indication. Draco scowled.

“Might I ask what you quarrelled about?”

Severus asked.

“He said I was a disgrace, and that I need

to be punished,” Draco said, eyes still on
his father.

“Did he say why?”

“Because he’s stupid and I called him out

on it,” Draco said, after a moment’s hesita-
tion. “And because I’m upset about Grang-
er, and he thinks that’s unbecoming. He’s
unbecoming!” Draco kicked the wall they
were sitting on. Severus watched him.
This time last year, Draco’d have been
upset that he’d displeased his father- or,
rather, Draco would have just nodded and
gone along with whatever Lucius said, re-

- 785 -
gardless of what he personally believed.
He’d never have called him stupid.

Look at what we’ve created, Narcissa,

Severus thought, but didn’t think she’d
view her son with anything but her usual,
distant interest. A boy who thinks inde-
pendently, who lets himself speak unpop-
ular opinions, a boy who’s sadder about
the attack on his muggleborn friend than
his father’s diminished opinion of him…
Severus couldn’t whether to be sad or
proud, or both.

“What?” Draco asked.

“You’ve changed,” Severus said, seeing no

point in lying to him, “since your sorting.”

“Good,” Draco said. “Particularly if not

changing would have meant I’d think like
Father.” Severus got the impression that

- 786 -
this would be Draco’s attitude for the next
little while. He’d come out expecting a sad
or confused Draco, and wasn’t entirely
sure what to do with an angry one. There
was no point in defending Lucius – Dra-
co wouldn’t listen, but Severus suspected
Lucius was in the wrong – but agreeing
with Draco would just make him angrier
and that wasn’t likely to help matters.

Draco looked up again, as McGonagall

stepped out into the corridor, looked
around, and then strode over. Behind her
were the Weasley twins and their sister,
the two Greengrass girls and Runcorn. All
looked a little lost.

“Have Potter and Weasley come by?” Mc-

Gongall looked stressed, Severus thought.

“Should they have?” Severus asked.

- 787 -
“They seem to have misplaced them-
selves.” McGonagall’s nostrils flared, but
she looked more worried than angry. Lit-
tle Ginny Weasley looked like she might
be ill, and Draco’s anger had already been
replaced by fear. “Keep an eye out, if you
would, Severus, and if they turn up, please
escort them back to Gryffindor.”

“And the rest?” Severus glanced at the

mismatched lot of students behind her.

“Poppy wants visitors out until later, so

I’m taking these three back to Gryffindor,
and Miss Greengrass to Ravenclaw. Pomo-
na’s with Poppy, discussing mandrakes,
so if I could steal you for a moment to take
Miss Greengrass and Mr Runcorn back to
Slytherin and Hufflepuff, I’d be grateful-”
Severus almost asked where Flitwick was,
and then remembered.

- 788 -
“Certainly,” he said, standing.

“Mr Malfoy, with me, if you wouldn’t mind,”

McGonagall said, and Draco fell into place
beside the lone Greengrass twin. Severus
gestured to Greengrass and Runcorn to
follow him.

“Did they say where she was found?” Ron

asked, adjusting Draco’s book bag on his
shoulder, which held all of the books Her-
mione’d put in there that night, and had,
thankfully, had the cloak and the map.
Riddle would have loved to get his hands
on them, Harry was sure.

“Library,” Harry said, catching the cloak

as Ron’s movement threatened to pull it
off of them. Ron’s expression twitched, as
if he might have smiled, but then grew

- 789 -
grim again; Harry suspected he’d remem-
bered why she was at the library, and that
Ron, like Harry and like Draco, were all
responsible because they hadn’t gone with
her.

“Is this the one?” Ron asked, gesturing to

the door.

“I think so.” The map said it was. The

glanced at each other, pulled the cloak off.
Harry stuffed it into his pocket, and drew
his wand. Ron adjusted the bag again, and
drew his wand as well. They pushed the
door open, and walked inside.

“What now?!” a girl shrieked, and Harry

jumped back into Ron, trying to find the
voice’s source. “Have you come to blast me
down the drain as well?”

Harry finally found her; it was the ghost

- 790 -
of a long-faced, bespectacled girl in Hog-
warts robes, floating just above the first
toilet cubicle.

“No,” he said, “we- erm-”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she said snippi-

ly. She was glowering at Ron. “How many
of you are there, anyway?”

“Of- me?” Ron asked, looking to Harry for

help.

“You’re Moaning Myrtle,” Harry said, “ar-

en’t you?” He hadn’t realised until now,
that this was the same bathroom that Gin-
ny had pointed out to him on Halloween.
That got her attention.

“And if I am?” she asked, folding her arms.

“I bet you’ve heard all sorts of awful things
about me, haven’t you?”

- 791 -
“Erm, no,” Harry said, deciding not to
talk about Ginny’s encounter with her,
“just that you lived here.” Ron was silent,
still staring up at her, bewildered. Myrtle
watched him for a long moment, and then
drifted down to the ground, so that she was
of a height with them, rather than hov-
ering up near the ceiling. She was a tiny
bit shorter than Ron, but Harry thought
she might have been a bit older than they
were.

“What do you want, then?” she asked, with

a wary look at Ron.

“I’m Harry,” Harry said.

“Myrtle,” Myrtle said glumly.

“And this is my friend Ron.” Ron waved,

watching Myrtle just as warily. “His broth-
er was attacked in here last night-”

- 792 -
“No,” Myrtle said. Harry stared at Ron,
confused. Had they got the bathroom
wrong? “His brother attacked me! I was
just sitting at the sinks, minding my own
business when he burst in here and ban-
ished me down the drain-!”

“Percy’s a Prefect, he wouldn’t attack you,”

Ron said, crossly.

“Oh, yes he would,” Myrtle retorted. “Be-

cause he did!”

“Well,” Harry said, holding a hand up to

keep Ron quiet, “he was found here this
morning, petrified.” Myrtle blinked.

“The tall, red haired boy, with glasses?”

she asked.

“Yeah,” Ron said, “that’s him-”

- 793 -
“He’s the one that attacked me,” she said.
She floated up a little bit, so that she could
look down on them.

“He’s also the one that was petrified,” Har-

ry said.

“Unlucky him,” Myrtle replied, shrugging.

“You still haven’t said what you want.”

“To know if you know anything,” Harry

said.

“Obviously not, because he sent me away!”

she snapped.

“Right, sorry, but I mean- you haven’t seen

anything else… odd, or seen anyone- Do
you know Tom Riddle?”

“I went to school with him,” Myrtle said.

- 794 -
“Olive Hornby fancied him, but I never
had anything to do with him. And the only
odd thing I’ve seen is two boys in a girl’s
bathroom.”

“You don’t know anything about the Cham-

ber of Secrets?” Ron asked.

“It was open when I was a student here,”

Myrtle said. Then, she sighed. “Slytherin’s
monster killed me. And all the teachers
that used to listen to my problems when
I was alive, stopped visiting when I was
dead. They just left me here-”

“Slytherin’s monster killed you?” Harry

asked, mouth open. “What is it? How?”

“Yes, it killed me,” she said. If he didn’t

know better, he’d say she was enjoying
herself, but it was hard to tell with ghosts,
because he couldn’t smell what they were

- 795 -
feeling. It occurred to Harry that he relied
on that, far too much these days. “It was
awful. And I’m not entirely sure what it is,
but it has big, yellow eyes-”

“Aha!” Myrtle looked up at the noise, star-

tled, and then a dreamy expression settled
on her face. Ignoring Harry and Ron alto-
gether, she drifted over to greet Lockhart,
who’d just walked in. “Thought I might find
you two here.” Harry very much doubted
that; more likely was that he’d walked
past and happened to overhear them.

“Myrtle,” Harry said, but she didn’t turn.

“Hello, Professor,” Myrtle said coyly.

“Hello.” Lockhart gave her an uneasy look,

and then turned back to Harry and Ron.
“Yes, well, off we go, now. Can’t have you
wandering around on your own at a time

- 796 -
like this, can we?”

“Sure you can,” Ron replied. “What were

you-”

“Come along, boys.”

“She was just telling us about Slytherin’s

monster,” Harry said, frustrated.

“And I’d love to hear what you have to say

about it all,” Lockhart said, beaming at
Myrtle. “Would you be happy to talk to me
after I’ve seen these two to safety-?”

“Oh, yes,” Myrtle said, giggling.

“See now; the matter’s in much more capa-

ble hands. Let’s go.” And with that, Lock-
hart ushered Harry and a very disgruntled
Ron from the bathroom. For all that he
was an idiot, Lockhart was still a teacher,

- 797 -
and Harry was sure he’d be back to talk
to Myrtle – if only because she seemed to
like him – and hopefully, Lockhart would
pass news of whatever he found onto Mc-
Gonagall or another teacher.

“You really don’t need to walk us all the

way back,” Ron said. Harry nodded.

“Boys,” Lockhart said, with a knowing

smile, “you can’t trick me like the rest. I
know if I let you go, you’ll just run off to
try to catch the Heir. You want the fame,
the glory, I know you do.”

“Yeah, the fact that Hermione was at-

tacked doesn’t have anything to do with
it,” Harry said sarcastically. Or that it’s
Voldemort.

“I was sorry to hear about Miss Granger,”

Lockhart said, and Harry believed him.

- 798 -
“But fear not, Harry. I’m on the case now,
well and truly-”

“You mean you weren’t before?” Ron asked,

rolling his eyes; Lockhart had been telling
them in class for weeks how near he was
to ending the whole Chamber business.

“I’m afraid I underestimated the Heir,”

Lockhart said. “Happens to the best of us,
you’ll understand, but now he has my full
attention on him. He won’t last more than
a few nights. You’ve almost got to feel sor-
ry for him, with me on his trail, don’t you?”
Lockhart smiled his white, toothy smile
and Harry stared at him.

“Sure,” he said after a moment.

“I’ve even got the Prophet coming tomor-

row; people are scared, you see, and it’s
important that they’re aware that I’m

- 799 -
taking care of things. They ought to sleep
much more soundly once they’ve read my
take on the matter.”

“So what do you know, so far?” Harry

asked. Lockhart tsked.

“Harry, Harry, Harry. I fear I’ve made my-

self something of a role model to you, this
year-” Ron mimed gagging on Lockhart’s
other side, while Harry stared at Lockhart,
disbelieving. “-and I see my selflessness in
you. Really I do; I see that you – and your
friends – would put yourself in danger to
save the other students, but, Harry, it’s
a hard life. It’s not one I chose, or would
chose for anyone else.” Harry just stared.
“I think telling you about the Heir will just
upset and distract you, and I can’t do that;
it’s my job to keep you safe”

Clearly, Lockhart hadn’t been informed of

- 800 -
the arrangement Harry had with Dumb-
ledore. Harry wasn’t sure whether he was
comforted by that, or frustrated.

“Right,” he said, barely managing not to

roll his eyes. Footsteps made him look up,
in time to see McGonagall round the cor-
ner. Her eyes ran over them, apparently
looking for injuries, and then narrowed.
Harry knew she wasn’t happy.

“I trust there’s an explanation for this,” she

said, folding her arms. “Sneaking off with-
out an explanation is a poor way to repay
the trust that we’ve put on you of late, Mr
Potter. And you, Mr Weasley; given every-
thing that’s happened, I’d have thought
you would have more regard for the safety
of your friends, and for yourself.”

“Sorry, Professor,” Ron mumbled. Harry

said nothing.

- 801 -
“They were in the first floor bathroom,
Professor,” Lockhart said. McGonagall
raised an eyebrow at Harry, who held her
gaze. “Trying to solve this business with
the Heir, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” McGonagall said, still watch-

ing Harry.

“I found them before they could get them-

selves into any trouble… seems there’s
been enough of that lately. They meant
well, I’m sure.”

“I’ll take them from here,” McGonagall

said. Harry saw Ron almost smile.

“I don’t mind-”

“Boys.” Harry and Ron went to stand with

McGonagall. “Thank you for your help,

- 802 -
Gilderoy.”

“It’s nothing, really. Don’t go too hard on

them, Professor.”

“I’ll deal with them as I see fit,” McGona-

gall said curtly. Lockhart left, looking a
little inflated.

“Are we in trouble?” Harry asked.

“I’m not at all impressed,” McGonagall said,

sweeping down the corridor. “Undoubted-
ly you were investigating, but sneaking
off alone is not the way to have gone about
it.” Harry stared at the ground. “You will
be assigned a detention each.” Ron looked
at her, but before he could say anything,
she added, “And consider yourselves lucky
that that is the only punishment; I could-”
She jerked her head back toward Lock-
hart. “-have left you with him.”

- 803 -
Chapter 29:
Falling into place

It was obvious that no one particularly

wanted to be alone, but nor was anyone
particularly chatty. The result was the en-
tirety of Gryffindor house all in the com-
mon room, but other than the low hum of
tense voices, it was so quiet that Draco
thought he’d be able to hear a wand drop.

Even when Potter and Weasley returned,

ushered in by McGonagall, no one said
much; instead, everyone turned to look at

- 804 -
the Head of House.

“Classes will be cancelled this afternoon

as well,” she said, and was met with si-
lence. “Sandwiches will be provided here,
for lunch, but dinner will be in the Great
Hall, as usual. You are encouraged to stay
here in the common room until I come to
retrieve you.”

“Professor,” Parvati said, looking upset, “I

wanted to see Padma-”

“I would advise against it, Miss Patil,” Mc-

Gonagall said, not unkindly.

“Professor, what if the monster comes

here?” one of the girls from Potter’s Quid-
ditch team asked. Draco wasn’t surprised
by the question; it had not gone unnoticed
that three of the monster’s victims had
been from Gryffindor, so far. He’d heard

- 805 -
them murmuring about it all morning.
Next to him, She-Weasley shifted, and one
of the twins put an arm around her.

“Then you are advised to leave,” McGona-

gall said, “but I don’t think it will come to
that.” She looked around, as if to ask for
any other questions.

“What about tomorrow?” Weasley asked.

“Do we still have lessons?” It was such
a Granger-sort of question that Draco
couldn’t help but wonder if that was why
he’d asked it.

“At this stage, it is sounding like the school

will remain open.” Draco had a sour taste in
his mouth. “The Board is making arrange-
ments with the Headmaster – and I will
keep you updated on that – and the Min-
istry has arranged for someone to teach
Charms in Professor Flitwick’s place. We

- 806 -
– that is, the teachers – will likely escort
you to and from lessons, but that is yet to
be discussed, and again, I will keep you
updated.” She glanced around the com-
mon room, and then nodded once – in an
almost-sad-almost-proud sort of way – and
then she left.

The dull murmur of conversation started

again, but not loudly, and Weasley and
Potter wove their way through the clus-
ters of students to join Draco and the oth-
er Weasleys. Draco was relieved to see
Weasley had Draco’s bag – the one Grang-
er had borrowed – with him. He wouldn’t
have put it past them to forget it.

“Where’d you go?” She-Weasley asked,

sounding almost suspicious.

“Myrtle’s bathroom,” Potter said quietly.

“We thought it seemed odd that Percy was

- 807 -
there-”

“Percy in a girl’s bathroom?” Weasley Two

asked, arching an eyebrow. His hand was
still on She-Weasley’s shoulder, and she
looked like she needed it; she was as pale
as Draco had ever seen her and didn’t seem
able to look away from Potter.

“Calm down, Ginny,” Weasley said. “We

just wanted to look around-”

“What did you find?” she asked in a trem-

bling voice.

“Myrtle,” Weasley said, wrinkling his

nose. Draco grabbed his bag and sifted
through it. The map and the cloak were
missing – Draco guessed Potter had them
somewhere on his person – but there were
a few books, and a bit of torn paper.

- 808 -
“She was killed by the monster last time
the Chamber was opened,” Potter said.
“And Percy was just attacked there…
seems like there’s a bit of a pattern. Mc-
Gonagall said they searched it last time,
but couldn’t find anything, but she’s said
she’ll go and talk to Myrtle and she and
the other teachers will have another look
around.”

“But if they didn’t find anything last

time…”

“Exactly,” Potter said, looking grim. “But

McGonagall said the attacks stopped after
Myrtle, except they’re still going now…
maybe something’s different. Maybe this
time, there’ll be something there.”

“Did Myrtle know what the monster is?”

Draco asked.

- 809 -
“No,” Weasley said. “She wasn’t very help-
ful.”

“Granger was.” Draco skimmed the page

that she’d left for them. “She thinks it was
a basilisk.” She-Weasley stiffened next to
him. “Would have been nice for Myrtle to
confirm it, but it makes sense; deadly stare,
but only if you look right at it; otherwise
you’re petrified… it’s a snake, so that fits
too, Potter, that’s what you’ve been hear-
ing…” He passed the page to Potter and
Weasley, who bent their heads over it for
a few long moments.

“Rooster’s cries are fatal to it,” Weasley

said, tapping the page. “That could be
helpful, right?”

“There you go, Ginny. I’ll owl Mum and

she can send ours.” Weasley One nudged
her, grinning.

- 810 -
“You can carry it around in your school-
bag,” Weasley Two added. They were the
only ones that seemed entertained by it;
She-Weasley seemed least amused of them
all, and just stared.

“And remember the roosters, Ginny?” Pot-

ter said suddenly.

“No,” she replied. “Should I?”

“After we found Mrs Norris, McGonagall

was saying someone had been killing Ha-
grid’s roosters… not that she said they
were his, but he told me later, that time
we went for tea, remember, Ron?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Weasley said, and

She-Weasley nodded too. Potter bran-
dished the torn page at the five of them.

- 811 -
“I think Hermione was – as usual – right,”
he said. All Draco could think of was how
still she’d been in the hospital wing that
morning, and how scared. Going with her
wouldn’t necessarily have kept her safer –
Astoria, a pureblood Slytherin was proof
of that – but what if it would have? Would
they ever know? Draco’s misery wriggled
in his chest, along with the anger at his
father. It was an unpleasant combination.
“I say we pass this onto McGonagall at
dinner-”

“Not Dumbledore?” Weasley One asked.

“Father said he’d be gone by dinnertime,”

Draco said quietly.

“Dumbledore told me something similar,”

Potter said. He and Draco shared a long
look. Potter, Draco was relieved to see,
looked wry and worried, but not as if he

- 812 -
was blaming Draco.

“That’s mental!” Weasley said. “They can’t

get rid of Dumbledore!”

“They can,” Draco assured him unhappily.

“But that’s what Riddle wants,” Weasley

protested. “Without Dumbledore here to
keep everyone safe-”

“We’re not safe, though,” She-Weasley

said. “Look at Percy.”

“We’re safer than we would be without

him,” Weasley Two said firmly. “No one’s
died yet, which is already better than last
time. Look at Myrtle.”

“Without Dumbledore, though,” Weasley

said quietly, “the only one who can really
do anything is…” Though he didn’t finish

- 813 -
what he’d been about to say, Draco could
tell from where his eyes went, and his wor-
ried expression, that Potter’s name would
have been the next word.

“Lockhart,” Potter said, with a grin he

didn’t seem able to help. The twins and
Weasley chortled, though She-Weasley
didn’t, and Draco felt the tiniest smile
pulling at the corners of his own mouth.

“We’re doomed,” She-Weasley said.

Ginny’s twin brothers had long since dis-

appeared up to their dormitory, but Potter
and his friends – minus Granger – were
still sitting nearby, talking over plates of
sandwiches. Tom focused Ginny’s ears on
their conversation. She’d gone oddly quiet.
He imagined she was exhausted, having

- 814 -
not slept much at all the night before, and
then there was the emotional trauma and
whatnot. Poor Ginny. Tom chuckled in her
mind, but she didn’t respond. Pleased, he
went back to listening.

“-say anything in front of them, was I?”

Malfoy said, looking miserable. He picked
at the sandwich on his plate, but didn’t try
to eat it. “He’d deserve it, but-”

“I don’t blame you,” Potter said, and Wea-

sley nodded. “Are you all right? I saw
Snape-”

“We talked for a bit,” Malfoy said. “I al-

most told him, too, but- I don’t know what
he’d do either-”

“And we don’t know how involved he is,”

Potter said. “He might not-”

- 815 -
“The fact that he’s involved at all is more
than enough for me, thank you,” Malfoy
said curtly.

“Don’t start on Harry,” Weasley said, low-

ering his sandwich.

“I wasn’t,” Malfoy snapped. “I’m just try-

ing to cope with a few things, Weasley, so
forgive me if I accidentally offended-”

“My brother’s in the hospital wing with

Hermione,” Weasley said. “You not the
only one who’s trying to cope-”

“Shut up, both of you,” Potter said tiredly.

Tom looked down, afraid his glee would

show on Ginny’s face. That morning, he’d
seen just how functional Potter’s little
group could be, and some of their theories
were getting too close for comfort. This

- 816 -
sort of arguing was exactly what he need-
ed; if he could keep them at each other’s
throats, keep them distracted, then he’d
have a much easier time of things. He
wondered if or how he could use Ginny…
perhaps have her start a rumour about
Malfoy, or-

I don’t know why you even bothered with a

monster, Ginny said to him. You’re enough
of one on your own.

Ah, you’re talking again, Tom said.

“-need to find the thing he’s hiding in,”

Potter said. “He can’t have been living in
a person for all this time, or they’d have
died when he came to talk-” Distaste crept
into Potter’s voice. “-to me the other night.
Remember Morton’s owl?” Tom stored that
away for later. Prickles of fear came from
Ginny’s direction.

- 817 -
That’s your plan, isn’t it? she asked.

No, Tom said. You’ll have a long, slow

death over several hours, to ensure the
maximum amount of your strength goes
to me. Having her drop dead the second he
left her would not suit his purposes at all.
He’d have to be careful with that.

You’re not getting anything from me, she

snapped. Tom reached up with her hand,
to twirl her hair around her finger, just
to prove he could, and revelled in Ginny’s
misery and fury.

“-find it? You said you think it’s a ring,

Harry?” Tom wondered if they meant his
uncle’s ring, and if so, wondered how they
knew about that. Ginny took advantage of
his distraction, to try to shout ‘diary!’, and
almost got there; at the last moment, Tom

- 818 -
thrust a mental cage around the part of
Ginny’s mind that was Ginny’s control and
pushed her back into a corner, where she
wasn’t as bothersome. And, he clamped
her mouth shut so hard he tasted blood.
Ginny shrieked, frustrated and rattled
the cage.

“-what else it could be,” Potter said.

“I know how we can find out,” Malfoy said.

He cleared his throat and said, “Dobby!”
Potter and Weasley straightened and
looked around expectantly. When nothing
happened, Malfoy just looked angry. “I bet
he thought of that,” Malfoy said. “Doubt-
less he has instructions to ignore me un-
til I’m behaving properly.” He glowered
around the common room.

“He might not have been able to say any-

thing, anyway,” Potter said. “He didn’t

- 819 -
last time-”

“This time, it’s different,” Malfoy said, “be-

cause I’m upset, and Dobby hates it when
I’m upset. But that’s fine, I’ll get to him
another way.”

“I could try to get Kreacher to meet him,”

Potter said uncertainly. “Or we could send
Hedwig-”

“I’ll corner Hydrus,” Malfoy said, as if he

hadn’t heard Potter. “Father won’t see
that coming, because he’s an idiot.”

“Malfoy won’t call Dobby for you,” Weas-

ley said, looking apologetic.

“Oh, yes he will,” Malfoy said, and Tom

believed him.

“And Dobby will help?” Potter asked. “I

- 820 -
know he’ll want to,” he added, when Mal-
foy glared at him, “but last time-”

“I told you, it’s different this time.” Mal-

foy was silent for a moment and then a
calculating look spread over his face. “And
you won’t be with me, Potter; that way, if
Dobby says no, I’ve got a back-up; I’ll say
you were attacked.” Malfoy looked pleased
and a bit guilty all at once. “He’ll crumble.
I think he likes you better than me; he’s
always been a bit odd.” Malfoy smirked,
and Potter and Weasley laughed.

“So you’ll go at dinner?” Weasley asked.

“I’ll go now,” Malfoy said. “And then this

can all be done by dinner; we know what
the monster is now and to use roosters, we
know about the bathroom, and we know
it’s Riddle… if we can find out exactly what
this thing he’s hiding in is, then we can

- 821 -
tell the school… someone will have seen
something-”

“Malfoy, you-”

“You and Potter were just downstairs in

the bathroom, so you can’t tell me-”

“Mate,” Weasley said putting his hands

up, “Do you really think we’re going to stop
you?” Malfoy stared at him. Tom swore si-
lently; he’d hoped they would stop him;
that, at least, would give him more time to
work out what he was going to do. Potter
and Weasley – and even Malfoy – would
put everything together the second this
Dobby they were talking about mentioned
the diary. Tom was skeptical that anyone
knew, but they seemed confident, and Tom
had learned not to underestimate Potter
and his friends. “I was just going to ask if
you wanted company.”

- 822 -
“Oh,” Malfoy said. He was silent for a mo-
ment. “Best not. Hydrus is going to be a big
enough pain without you there.” He and
Weasley watched each other for a moment
and then Malfoy made an odd gesture and
said, “Brothers.” Weasley nodded.

“Take your wand,” Potter said.

“Obviously, Potter, I’m not an idiot.”

“And if you see any of the teachers-”

“I’ll tell them what we know. Again, Pot-

ter, I’m not an idiot.” Malfoy grinned, and
Potter pulled a face at him. “I’ll see you in
an hour or so.”

Now what, Tom? Ginny asked smugly, as

Tom swore and tried to think.

- 823 -
Chapter 30:
Dumbledore’s dismissal

Dear Mum and Dad, Ron wrote, and then

stopped and sucked on the end of his quill.
It shouldn’t be this hard to write to them
– he did every week or two – but this letter
was different. This letter wasn’t that Snape
was a git, and that yes, he’d got their last
letter, and yes, he was taking care of Gin-
ny, and yes, he’d ask Fred and George to
write, and yes, he was managing to keep
up with his homework. This letter was the
sort of letter than Percy would write.

- 824 -
This was a letter with important news, the
sort of letter that had to let them know
what was going on – though Ron was sure
the school would have already – but had
to do so in a way that wouldn’t make Mum
worry more. Percy was good at that sort of
thing.

Except, Percy wasn’t in any state to hold

a quill, much less write a letter. And Fred
and George had gone upstairs, probably to
plan some prank or other to help distract
themselves – and they didn’t often write
to Mum and Dad, because it meant being
told off for whatever trouble they’d cause
most recently – and when Ron had men-
tioned to Ginny that maybe they should
write, he’d only got a blank look in return.
She was taking this harder than anyone,
he thought.

- 825 -
Ron dropped his quill, and put his head
in his hands. He hoped Malfoy was hav-
ing some luck with his brother and Dob-
by, and that they’d know where to look for
Riddle. He hoped that knowing where to
look would help them find him, and that
once they found him, they could make
him close the Chamber. He hoped that
the Mandrakes were ready soon, so that
he could have Percy and Hermione back,
and that Ginny could have them and Col-
in, and that maybe she’d cheer up a bit.

None of that was any good for putting into

a letter, though. Ron huffed, and then
jumped when a hand came to rest on his
shoulder. A glance up revealed that the
hand was Harry’s, and that Harry looked
as tired and worried as Ron felt. Harry was
working on his own letter, but he’d written
as much as Ron; Dear Moony and Tonks
had been the only thing on his parchment

- 826 -
for at least ten minutes.

The quiet mumble of voices in the common

room died as the portrait hole opened, to
readmit Malfoy. Ron brightened at the
sight of him, and then really looked; Mal-
foy looked disgruntled. He flopped down
onto the couch beside Harry and glowered
at the pair of them.

“Went well, did it?” Ron asked, grimacing.

“I made it to the Entrance Hall,” Malfoy

said peevishly. “And then couldn’t get to
the dungeons. You should see it; I think
about half the Ministry’s there, most of
the Board, a couple of teachers, and some
witch from the Prophet… It’s insane-”

“Why?” Harry asked.

“Dumbledore,” Malfoy said, mouth turn-

- 827 -
ing down. “The Board moved quickly, from
the looks of things. He appointed McGona-
gall as Headmistress while he’s gone, but
that’s all just formality; the Board’ll run
the school until they find someone they
like better…” Ron’s frown was mirrored on
Harry and Malfoy’s faces. “But they’d all
have seen me if I’d gone in, and I thought
the school’s looking bad enough as it is-”

“No one saw you?”

“I think Severus might have,” Malfoy said.

“And possibly Dumbledore, but neither of
them are likely to say anything, so-”

“Until Snape tells you off for it later,”

Harry pointed out. Malfoy grimaced. “And
what are the Prophet doing here? I’d have
thought Dumbledore and the Ministry
would be keeping them out of it-”

- 828 -
“Apparently not. Father was talking to
the witch when I first got there-” Ron felt
bad for Malfoy, really, he did, and grate-
ful for Dad, who, while embarrassing at
times, tended to be a decent bloke. “-and
then Lockhart was talking to her by the
time I left.” Ron rolled his eyes, and Harry
blew out a breath, apparently frustrated.
“I think they took his picture.”

“Of course they did,” Harry said, shaking

his head. “He was supposed to be talking
to Myrtle.”

“It’s been a few hours,” Ron said, “maybe

he did already?”

“Do you really think that, Weasley?” Mal-

foy asked.

“No,” Ron snorted. “He probably heard the

Prophet was coming and spent the morn-

- 829 -
ing curling his hair.”

“Probably,” Harry said, shaking his head.

“Well, I say we stop by Myrtle’s on the way
back from dinner, if McGonagall hasn’t.
And Draco, you’ll have to try to get to Hy-
drus then.”

Tom let out a deep breath of relief, while

Ginny’s consciousness sat quietly in a cor-
ner of her mind, defeated.

“All right, Black?” Wellington asked. The

boat rocked slightly as Wellington clam-
bered in, and Sirius tore his eyes off the
grey sky to look at the other man.

“Exhausted,” Sirius said, rubbing his tem-

- 830 -
ples. He’d got back from France in the
early hours of the morning, and it felt like
he’d just dropped off to sleep when his
Sidekick started to burn. Scrimgeour had
said something about a breakout in Azk-
aban, a hostage, that he was needed, and
then the Sidekick had gone quiet. Twen-
ty minutes later, he’d stepped off the boat
and found Rodolphus Lestrange with a
wand at Crouch’s throat, in angry negoti-
ation with what was probably the majori-
ty of Britain’s DMLE, and all Sirius could
think was that he was so glad it wasn’t
Peter.

He, the dementors, and a handful of oth-

er Aurors had secured the island while
Scrimgeour and Rattler negotiated. Ro-
dolphus had wanted Bellatrix, Rabastan
and a boat to take back to the mainland,
in exchange for Crouch’s safety. Rodol-
phus had got none of those things; after

- 831 -
several hours, Scrimgeour had called in
the dementors – figuring if Crouch was go-
ing to be harmed, that Rodolphus would
have acted already – and Rodolphus had
given in.

Sirius was ready to take back everything

he’d ever said about wanting a busy, ex-
citing life. If he could have a single week
without Harry being put in danger, or a
disaster at work, he’d be a happy man.

“Same; Same; I reckon I’m about ready for

bed,” Wellington said. He yawned, which
made Sirius yawn, and the two of them
shared tired grins. “Bet poor Florence is
feeling it even more, though; she had to
deal with Malfoy all day.”

“Don’t envy her there,” Sirius said, and he

didn’t. Narcissa – while admittedly more
pleasant than Bellatrix – could still be a

- 832 -
piece of work if she so decided.

“Do you reckon it was her? I mean,

Lestrange is her brother in law-”

“If Narcissa was going to try to break any-

one out, it would be Bellatrix, not Rodol-
phus, and she’d have done it years ago,”
Sirius said. “Besides, they wouldn’t have
let her go if they thought she was involved.
He waved a hand at the steep, stone walk-
way that wound down the cliff to the boat;
at the top, he could discern Narcissa –
mostly from her long, silvery hair – be-
ing escorted by a small dark-haired figure
that he thought was Prewett, and a taller
figure that he thought was Brown.

“But Lestrange had to have had help,”

Wellington said. “You can’t get out of the
cells without a wand-”

- 833 -
“I did,” Sirius said quietly.

Brown looked uncomfortable for a mo-

ment – Sirius was sure he’d forgotten, if
only temporarily, about Sirius’ history
with Azkaban – and then said, “Yeah, but
you had-”

“Special, dark magic?” Sirius asked, arch-

ing an eyebrow.

“Your dog thing,” Wellington muttered.

“Padfoot? Nah. Given another year or two,

I might have been skinny enough to just
slip through the bars, but not then.” He
could read Wellington’s expression easily
enough. “It was accidental magic.”

“Really?” Brown wrinkled his nose.

“Weren’t you- like… thirty?”

- 834 -
“Just about,” Sirius said, amused. “And
pretty… erm… worked up, I suppose.”

“Lestrange seemed calm,” Wellington said.

“He did,” Sirius agreed. Sirius had never

known Rodolphus to be an overly expres-
sive person, and he didn’t think it was be-
cause Rodolphus was good at hiding his
feelings; Sirius genuinely thought there
wasn’t much more to him than what was
there to see on the surface. It made him a
poor candidate for accidental magic.

“So he must have had help?” Wellington

said.

“Scrimgeour thinks so,” Sirius said, shrug-

ging. “What concerns me most, is why.
Why Rodolphus, and why now?” Sirius
didn’t see how Tom Riddle being loose in
Hogwarts could be related to the almost

- 835 -
escape of a Death Eater – and two others,
if he’d had his way – but he just couldn’t
believe it was a coincidence.

He wondered what Harry would make of it

all, or if it was even right to tell him about
it; Harry had quite enough to deal with at
the moment, after Tom’s visit the day be-
fore. Sirius had tried to get him that morn-
ing through the mirror to make sure he’d
recovered from Riddle’s visit, but Harry
hadn’t answered, and Sirius hoped it was
just because he’d slept in. He’d have to try
to get him again after dinner.

Prewett, Brown and Narcissa climbed

into the boat, disrupting Sirius’ line of
thought; Narcissa looked at Ben’s robes,
then at Prewett’s rather unimpressed ex-
pression, and took the seat beside Sirius,
all without uttering a word. Prewett sat
with Wellington, and the pair of them put

- 836 -
their heads together, and Brown stared at
Crouch, who’d just reached the beach.

He had a blanket wrapped around his

shoulders, and looked rather grim as he
boarded. Sirius almost groaned when he
took the seat on Sirius’ other side.

“All right, sir?” Brown asked. Crouch

glanced at him and nodded once, slowly,
then turned to Sirius.

“Has there been news from Hogwarts?”

“Don’t know,” Sirius said tersely. “I’ve

been here all day, haven’t I?”

“But before that,” Crouch pressed. “Was

there news?”

“Mr Crouch,” Prewett said, before Sirius

could say anything. “After the day you’ve

- 837 -
had, I think you’ve earned the right to not
worry about other wizarding affairs for a
few hours, at least.”

Not that it’s any of your business anyway,

Sirius couldn’t help but add silently. If
Wellington’s scent was anything to go by,
he was having similar thoughts.

“Yes, it’s- well, yes, been a long day.” Crouch

cleared his throat. “Thought I might try to
think about other things for a moment…
distract myself… but if no one’s going to
be forthcoming, I suppose I’ll just sit qui-
etly, shall I?”

Sirius was sure Crouch was hoping to

make one of them protest and start talking,
but all that followed was silence. Crouch
huffed as Rattler sat down, and the boat
glided away from the beach.

- 838 -
 §

THE HERO OF HOGWARTS

The removal of Headmaster Albus Dumb-

ledore from Hogwarts School this after-
noon (for statements from the Board of
Governors about their decision, see page 5)
has been greeted equally by relief and con-
cern. Thankfully, Mr Gilderoy Lockhart,
Order of Merlin Third Class, and current
Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at
Hogwarts remains to watch over the next
generation of witches and wizards.

“ The Headmaster’s a talented wizard,”

Gilderoy said this afternoon, “but he just
doesn’t have the same experience I do and
I – not wanting to show him up – let him
handle the investigation, but that just
can’t happen anymore; five students and
one of the staff were attacked last night,

- 839 -
and Dumbledore’s just not the man to
stop that.” Mr Lockhart was overcome
with tears at this stage in the interview,
his emotion plain to see, but he apolo-
gised and pressed boldly on. “I just can’t
help but feel responsible, in a way; if I’d
taken charge earlier, then perhaps those
students would still be up and about right
now. I’m just glad none of the attacks have
been fatal… I don’t think I’d be able to live
with myself if they had been.”

Mr Lockhart said he was sad to see the

Headmaster go, but also that he thought it
was for the best because it would allow him
the freedom to conduct his own investiga-
tion without well-meaning interruptions.
“I haven’t been idle,” Mr Lockhart added.
“While I haven’t been able to resolve this
situation, I’ve still gathered a lot of infor-
mation about the Chamber of Secrets, the
Heir, and the monster.” Older members of

- 840 -
the wizarding public may remember the
Chamber’s opening fifty years ago, which
closed eventually, but was never resolved,
and still remains a mystery.

When pressed for a statement about the

information he has at this stage in his in-
vestigation, Mr Lockhart was reluctant to
share, but then relented; “I can’t bear to
see you so worried, so know this; the Heir’s
name isn’t one I’m prepared to say - if you
get my meaning – and, while he is con-
sidered a dangerous opponent, he’s never
dealt with my like before, and I think he’ll
find I’m just as formidable. Hagrid’s been
taken into Ministry custody as a suspect,
and I think the Heir will struggle without
his help; as soon as I find out where he’s
hiding, I’ll have him, and I’m confident
that in a week, this will all just be a bad
memory.”

- 841 -
 §

Sirius finished reading, tossed the paper

down onto the table and stood so quickly
the bench toppled backward. Kreacher –
who was at the stove – looked up, and Sir-
ius could feel eyes on him as he got up.

“I’m going to Hogwarts,” he said, heading

for the Floo powder on the mantel. Six at-
tacks in a night, Dumbledore gone, Ha-
grid a suspect, and Lockhart the ‘Hero of
Hogwarts’… Sirius wasn’t sure what he
could do at the school without Dumble-
dore there – Lucius Malfoy and the other
members of the Board probably wouldn’t
want him involved – but Harry was there
and Sirius had to do something. He’d tried
to get Harry through the mirror when he
got home and had put the lack of response
down to Harry being at dinner or Quid-
ditch. Six attacks…

- 842 -
Sirius was sure someone would have let
him know if Harry had been attacked, and
if not, was sure that it would have made
the paper – given that Harry was easily as
much of a public figure as Lockhart – but
he couldn’t actually be sure, not until he
could see Harry, could talk to him. Sirius
grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and lit
a fire in the grate with his wand.

The doorbell chimed through the house,

just as Sirius was about to throw the pow-
der in. Some of the powder slipped through
his hands and onto his shoes.

“Was Master expecting anyone?” Kreach-

er asked, turning away from the stove.

“No,” Sirius said slowly, frowning. Mar-

lene would have just Flooed in, as would
Remus or Dora, and not many other peo-

- 843 -
ple knew where the house was; Snape,
Matt and Harry’s friends and some of Har-
ry’s friends’ parents were really the only
ones that were in on the Fidelius charm.
Others, like Mad-Eye and Robards, and
Dumbledore probably knew – and certain-
ly knew the postal address outside the Fi-
delius charm, but weren’t in on the Secret
and tended to get into contact with Sirius
in other ways anyway. Sirius glanced at
the fire by his feet, which was just, faintly
tinged with green from the dropped pow-
der. “Could you get it please, Kreacher?”

Kreacher bobbed his head and Disappa-

rated. Sirius heard the door open upstairs,
and heard, of all people, Dumbledore mur-
mur a greeting. Sirius dropped the pow-
der back into the pot on the mantel and
headed upstairs.

“Good evening, Sirius,” he said. Dumble-

- 844 -
dore looked very out of place in the hall-
way, and his eyes were fixed on Sirius, who
lifted an arm and gave it a wave. Dumble-
dore’s eyes followed the movement.

“You can see me?” Sirius asked.

“Harry told me I might find you here,”

Dumbledore said.

“Oh.” Sirius felt a bit silly. “What are you-”

Sirius tried to work out a way to ask ‘What
do you want?’ without sounding too rude,
and Dumbledore seemed to know what he
was thinking.

“To talk, if you have a moment?” Sirius

nodded and gestured for Dumbledore to
follow him down to the kitchen. “A lot has
happened since I saw you last night.”

“I saw the paper,” Sirius offered.

- 845 -
“I would imagine that’s the embellished
version,” Dumbledore said mildly, “but
probably factual at its base.” He sat down
at the table while Sirius righted the other
bench.

“It said you’ve been removed from the

school, and Hagrid’s in custody, and there
were six attacks-”

“All true.”

“And Harry-”

“Was well enough this morning. Or, as well

as he could be; Miss Granger was one of
the night’s victims.” The relief Sirius had
felt quickly twisted into a rather ill feel-
ing. Dumbledore spied the paper on the
table and gestured to it. “May I?” Sirius
waved a hand, and Dumbledore picked it

- 846 -
up. Sirius couldn’t read his expression or
decipher his scent all that well, but when
he finished reading, he snorted once, soft-
ly.

“They’re mad to have sent you away,” Sir-

ius said, after a moment.

“They’re frightened… or most of the Board

are. I do believe that Lucius Malfoy simply
doesn’t like me.” Sirius snorted at that.

“Where will you go?” Sirius asked, and for

a moment was afraid Dumbledore might
ask to stay here; Sirius would say yes, but
it would be awkward. Dumbledore would
make a very odd housemate.

“I have arranged for a room at the Hog’s

Head,” Dumbledore said, “but I think I
ought to make the best of this time; you
and Harry gave me a lot to think about

- 847 -
when you mentioned horcruxes, and in
the interest of finding the one that’s trou-
bling us at the moment, I’d first like to see
the locket you spoke of, and then I shall be
off… back in time, so to speak.”

“What?” Sirius asked.

“If Tom really is descended from the Gaunt

line, then Tom has an uncle, still alive;
Morfin Gaunt is imprisoned in Azkaban
for the murders of Mr and Mrs Riddle and
their son Tom.” Dumbledore gave Sirius a
significant look. “Tom Riddle – the one we
are dealing with – would have been six-
teen or seventeen at the time.”

“You think he might know something

about the ring?”

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore said. “Or if not, he

may know something about the Chamber;

- 848 -
he, after all, is descended from the Sly-
therin line, and Tom has to have learned
about the Chamber from somewhere.”

He set the paper down, and smiled; he’d

been right! The Dark Lord was at Hog-
warts, and now it was just a matter of
making contact. Finally. After weeks of
clutching at straws and getting nowhere…
finally, finally, finally. He couldn’t help
but laugh.

A squeak and footsteps made him look up,

and he frowned.

“I thought I told you to go to bed.” The two

looks he got in return couldn’t have been
more different; one, was of utter loathing,
and he revelled in it. The other was scared
and apologetic. “Well? Off you go. Sleep,”

- 849 -
he added, to be sure there were no loop-
holes in the command. “Until morning.”
One could never be too careful with loop-
holes. They’d given him his freedom, after
all… well, loopholes and a purpose had,
anyway. “And I’d like you to tell me if he
wakes,” he added. “He’s not to leave the
house, and neither are you, without my
leave.”

The pair of them left, and he was alone

with the paper and his comfortable chair,
and the warmth of the fire.

“So,” he murmured to himself. “Off to Hog-

warts I go, then.”

- 850 -
Chapter 31:
Sick and tired

“Harry Potter,” Sirius said, and Harry’s

face appeared in the mirror at once.

“Padfoot.” He looked relieved, more than

anything, but also tired; his eyes were dull
behind his glasses, and shadows hung be-
neath them. “I tried to get you earlier, but-
”

“Rodolphus Lestrange tried to break out of

Azkaban,” Sirius sighed. “I’ve been there

- 851 -
all day trying to sort it out. I tried to get
you this morning, to see how you were af-
ter last night-”

“I’d have been in the Hospital Wing,” Har-

ry said. He sounded exhausted, and sad.
“Hermione was attacked.”

“Dumbledore told me,” Sirius said. “I’m

sorry, kiddo-”

“He’s there already?”

“Up in the drawing room, actually, having

a look at the-” Sirius could see movement
behind Harry, and thought he recognised
one of the paintings from the common
room. He swallowed the word ‘locket’. “-at
Regulus’ necklace.” Harry didn’t seem at
all surprised, and Sirius gathered that
he’d either discussed this with the Head-
master when they spoke, or that Har-

- 852 -
ry had guessed, and guessed accurately.
“And then I daresay he’ll adjourn to the
library, to try to find any references to the
Chamber or the monster.”

“Hermione thinks it’s a basilisk.” Every-

thing in the mirror started to blur, as Har-
ry moved. Sirius thought he recognised
the boy’s dormitory stairs, and then, when
Harry stopped, Sirius definitely recognised
the red four poster hangings. “And we all
think that Myrtle’s bathroom’s involved.”

“Myrtle?” Sirius asked. “That miserable

ghost in the girls’ loo?” She’d fancied Siri-
us until he and James blew up one of the
toilets in her bathroom, and then she’d
turned her affections on poor Remus in-
stead.

“She was killed by the monster, ages ago,”

Harry said. “But then Lockhart came and

- 853 -
found us and now we’ve got detention.”

“Lockhart gave you a detention?” Sirius

asked, scowling.

“No, McGonagall.” Harry looked sheep-

ish. “She was angry we went off without a
teacher.” Given the state of the school at
the moment, Sirius couldn’t find it in him-
self to fault her.

“When’s it set for?”

“Dunno, she’ll probably tell us at dinner.”

Harry didn’t seem overly concerned, or ac-
tually concerned at all. Sirius wasn’t sure
whether to be comforted by that, or wor-
ried.

“And how are you holding up, kiddo?”

“Fine,” Harry said, still sounding uncon-

- 854 -
cerned. Sirius arched an eyebrow. “Does it
really matter?” Harry asked. Before Sirius
could say anything else, Harry had added,
“I’m hardly enjoying myself, Padfoot-” And
there was something of Lily’s in his voice.
“-but I’m alive and I’m not petrified, which
is a start. And with Dumbledore gone,
Tom’s going to think he has free reign, and
someone has to do something, and if I’m
not fine, what can anyone do about it any-
way?” Sirius wondered how many times
he’d had this conversation with himself in
his head.

“It matters,” Sirius said. “And yes, we’re

trying to do something about it, Harry,
but it doesn’t have to fall to you, on your
own.” How many times had they had this
conversation, Sirius wondered. And how
many more times would they have it be-
fore Harry worked it out?

- 855 -
“I’ve got Ron and Draco,” Harry said de-
fensively.

“And me,” Sirius said. “And the other

teachers, and-”

“The teachers are too busy trying to hold

the school together,” Harry said, tiredly.
“They’re doing what they can, but with
Dumbledore gone, they’re going to be more
worried about trying to keep us safe, than
about finding Riddle. And unless the Board
call for an Auror investigation, you’ll be
sent home if you come-”

“Because the idea of getting in trouble’s

going to stop me,” Sirius scoffed, and he
was pleased to see Harry’s mouth twitch.
But, he had to concede the point about the
teachers. “And if you’re not fine, I’ll bring
you home until Hogwarts is safe again. Or
if it’s not, I’ll teach you myself, or pack you

- 856 -
off to France with Remus and Dora.” Har-
ry shook his head, as Sirius had known he
would.

“Did you say Lestrange before? Isn’t he

your cousin’s husband?” Sirius hadn’t spo-
ken to Harry about Bellatrix very much,
so he was surprised he’d made the connec-
tion.

“How-?”

“I think I’ve seen the name on the tapes-

try… the one at home, upstairs-”

“Right,” Sirius said, still surprised. “He is,

yeah.”

“And what happened?”

“He tried to break out,” Sirius said. “Or-

well, he did break out, but didn’t make it

- 857 -
of the island. Took Crouch hostage and
wanted Bellatrix and Rabastan – that’s his
brother – and his freedom in exchange.”

“Crouch from the Ministry?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Why?”

“No idea,” Sirius said, shaking his head.

“You don’t think it’s got anything to do

with Tom, do you? He was able to get to
the Ministry last time-” Sirius wouldn’t
forget that particular encounter any time
soon. “-so-”

“I don’t know,” Sirius said. “It’ll be looked

into, but Rodolphus is mad. I’ll be im-
pressed if they get anything sensible out
of him.” Harry didn’t look at all reassured,

- 858 -
and Sirius wondered if this was the best
thing to have talked about, given there
were so many other things going on. It
was too easy to forget that Harry was
just twelve, sometimes. “But- erm- maybe
they will. Or maybe he said something to
Crouch, or somehow communicated with
one of the other two. We’ll sort it all out,
I’m sure.”

Harry wore an odd little smile that told

Sirius he hadn’t bought it, but that he ap-
preciated the effort all the same. Sirius
heard a door open in the background, on
Harry’s end, and saw a flash of red that he
was sure was Ron, but it was Draco who
spoke.

“Potter, McGonagall’s downstairs to take

us to dinner, if you’re hungry.”

“I have to go,” Harry said.

- 859 -
“They’re escorting you to dinner?” It was
a good idea – sort of. What if the monster
came and attacked them all at once? But,
Sirius was glad that Harry wasn’t wonder-
ing around on his own; McGonagall was a
formidable witch, and probably well up to
the challenge of keeping Harry safe. Or,
as safe as Harry could be.

“They’re scared,” Harry said simply.

He glanced over his shoulder, and Siri-

us heard, “-talking to Black, I think your
stomach can wait, Weasley.”

“All I said was that I was hungr-”

“I’ll let you go,” Sirius said, and Harry

turned back to face him. “Look after your-
self, kiddo. And stay in touch.”

- 860 -
“Tell Dumbledore what I told you,” Harry
said. His face disappeared from the mir-
ror, and Sirius could hear his footsteps,
and those of the other two. “Bye, Padfoot.”

There was a knock on the door, and Tom

glanced up in time to see it open. An older
girl with dark, braided hair – one he’d seen
but not paid much attention too – looked
in.

“Weasley?” Ginny obviously recognised

the girl – he could feel it – but she wouldn’t
give up a name. “Fred sent me to get you
for dinner.”

“I’m not hungry,” Tom said. “Thanks,

though.”

“Are you sure?” The older girl hovered in

- 861 -
the doorway, looking uncertain. “He said
you hardly touched lunch.”

He was watching? Ginny’s consciousness

brightened a little.

Apparently, Tom said sourly.

“I’m sure,” Tom said, trying to say it the

way Ginny would. People seemed to lis-
ten to her more than they did him. It was
infuriating, and being questioned wasn’t
something he was accustomed to.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” the girl

said, playing with one of her braids. Tom
seized the opportunity.

“I just- need some time,” he said.

“It’s awful – but there isn’t anything you

can do. Why don’t you come downstairs,

- 862 -
where your brothers are, and have some-
thing to eat and drink, and- well- just not
be alone?”

“I’m staying here,” Tom said firmly, and

the older girl gave her a sad look, but – fi-
nally – left. Ginny, oddly, felt smug. A lit-
tle, not-so-gentle probing gave her away;
by staying in bed, Tom was drawing at-
tention to her, and if anyone – namely
Malfoy, who Tom had been trying to work
out how to silence all afternoon – was at-
tacked, they’d immediately look to people
who were unaccounted for. If Tom had
Ginny stay in bed, she’d be one of them.

Tom cursed and rolled Ginny over to put

shoes on.

It was almost too easy, in the end. When

- 863 -
Tom walked Ginny down into the common
room, where the rest of Gryffindor was
gathering under McGonagall’s beady eyes,
he cast a silent, tricky little hex he’d cre-
ated back in his fifth year. It was a child-
ish hex, but the beauty of that was that no
one had ever suspected polite, proper Tom
Riddle of being the one behind it. If they
suspected anyone at all, it was usually Av-
ery or Nott. McGonagall blinked when the
spell hit her, but did nothing more than
frown and straighten her robes.

Tom fell into line beside the twins and

waited.

When they reached the fifth floor, McGo-

nagall had started to pale, and her mouth
was pressed together more tightly than
usual.

By the third floor, she was beginning to

- 864 -
look unsteady on her feet, and had the
lightest sheen of sweat on her forehead.

By the first floor – conveniently enough,

in the corridor where the bathroom was –
she was positively green.

“Wait here,” she said hoarsely, and then

clamped her mouth shut and walked
swiftly toward the bathroom. Potter,
Weasley and Malfoy broke away from the
main group and followed her at once, as
did the girl who’d come to retrieve Ginny
earlier, a boy wearing a Quidditch captain
badge, and a pair of seventh year girls.
Tom made Ginny follow as well, and the
rest of Gryffindor huddled together in the
hallway, talking nervously amongst them-
selves.

Myrtle was mercifully absent, and McGo-

nagall’s feet were sticking out of the ajar

- 865 -
door of the end cubicle. Potter and the two
seventh year girls were over with her, and
she alternated between being sick, apolo-
gising, and trying to shoo them away from
her. The Quidditch captain and the twins’
friend were watching over the door, but
let Tom pass.

Weasley and Malfoy were – and Tom re-

ally couldn’t believe his luck – over by the
sinks, and so he went to stand with them.

“Is she okay?” Tom asked, putting Ginny’s

back to the sink.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Weasley said, but his

face scrunched up every time McGona-
gall was ill. “I didn’t even realise teachers
could get sick, except for Lupin-”

“He was a bit of a special case, though,”

Malfoy said, arching an eyebrow. “Do you

- 866 -
think we should get someone?” Almost in
response, a silvery cat appeared in the
bathroom, and then streaked out. While
everyone watched, Tom reached behind
Ginny to twist the broken tap three times
clockwise, and twice counter-clockwise;
without opening the Chamber, that would
let the basilisk know that it was needed.

Tom spent a few seconds building a cage

of sorts around Ginny’s consciousness,
and then, when he thought the basilisk
was nearby, reached out of Ginny’s mind
toward it. His mind touched its alien one.
Using Legillimency, he showed it Malfoy’s
face, and got a dim sense of acknowledge-
ment. Satisfied, Tom withdrew back into
Ginny. She’d been battering the cage while
he was gone, and almost broken it in that
short time… thankfully, though, she qui-
etened when he returned, and withdrew
into her corner.

- 867 -
Then, Snape was there – obviously Mc-
Gonagall’s cat had fetched him from the
Great Hall – ushering them out of the
bathroom and down to dinner, while Mc-
Gonagall stayed in the bathroom with an-
other teacher that Tom didn’t know, for
company.

Upon arriving in the Hall, Tom was glad

he’d chosen to come to dinner; Dumble-
dore’s seat was empty, as was Hagrid’s,
and a few Ministry officials were scattered
around the place, watching over the ner-
vous students. He’d caused this, and what
a beautiful realisation that was. Dinner
appeared, and Tom loaded Ginny’s plate,
not even caring to listen to Potter’s whis-
pered conversation, as he usually might
have.

Dumbledore was gone, Ginny’s strength

- 868 -
was fading, and the monster was awake
and ready to deal with Malfoy. Potter
would remain in the dark, and after an-
other few days of feeding off the school’s
fear and Ginny’s misery, Tom would be
strong enough to get his body back.

It was an effort to keep from smiling.

- 869 -
Chapter 32:
Closure

“Malfoy’s taking ages,” Ron said. Harry

looked up from his letter to Moony and
Tonks, and then over at the grandfather
clock in the corner of the common room.
His stomach twisted unpleasantly.

“Maybe Dobby had a lot to say?” Three

hours was still a long time, though.

“Yeah,” Ron said, nodding. “That’s proba-

bly it.” Harry could tell from his tone, that

- 870 -
Ron was worried too. “Or maybe Snape
caught him, or something.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, and glanced at the

clock again.

He’s fine, Harry told himself. He’s a pure-

blood- Not that that had spared Green-
grass. –and his father would have taken
measures to ensure his safety, surely.
Draco and Hydrus are probably the only
safe ones in the whole school.

But the minutes dragged on, and Ron

turned more pages of the Prophet, scowl-
ing, and students trickled upstairs to bed,
and Harry’s letter got longer and longer,
and Hedwig – who’d shown up just after
dinner thanks to her uncanny ability to
know when she’d be needed – grew more
and more impatient for him to finish writ-
ing, but still Draco wasn’t back. He and

- 871 -
Ron were the only two left, and the dying
fire was casting grim shadows on the com-
mon room walls.

Harry stroked Hedwig’s smooth back, and

looked at Ron, who’d put his paper down.

“Harry,” he said, “what do we do?”

Harry’s instinct was to grab the cloak and

map from their dormitory, and try to find
Draco… but if something had happened,
then they’d have to get a teacher, and
he could only imagine what McGonagall
would say if she found them wandering
around again… Professor Sprout had said
it was stress that was making her ill, and
a visit from Harry and Ron after hours
probably wouldn’t help her at all.

So instead, Harry tore the corner off of his

letter.

- 872 -
Snape, he wrote, after a moment’s hesita-
tion. Draco went to see Hydrus after din-
ner and hasn’t come back yet. We thought
someone should know. Harry. Then, Ron
reached over, plucked the quill out of Har-
ry’s hand, and wrote and Ron.

“To Snape,” Harry said, rolling the note

into something that Hedwig would be able
to hold. She hooted softly and hopped over
to the window. Harry opened it, and she
launched herself out into the night, and
then plummeted, down toward the lower
levels of the castle, obviously searching
for Snape.

Harry shut the window.

“And just wait,” Ron said, with obviously

false humour, “any second, Malfoy’s going
to get back and tease us both for worrying,

- 873 -
and then be angry that we told Snape.”
Harry mustered a weak smile.

Only Draco never came.

Narcissa was just readying herself for bed

when she heard the Floo chime. Lucius
lowered his hair brush and glanced at her
in askance.

“Expecting someone?” he asked. She shook

her head, slowly, trying to think of who it
could be. The only ones that used the Floo
were the boys, purebloods within their so-
cial circle, and occasionally Severus, and
she wasn’t expecting any of them. Her hus-
band frowned. “Dobby!” Dobby appeared
before them, and – at Lucius’ instruction
– vanished again just as quickly.

- 874 -
“Shall I?” she asked, gesturing at the door.

“You’ve had a big day,” he said, and kissed

her on the cheek. “I’ll handle it.” He strode
from the room. Narcissa followed, grabbing
a dressing gown as she went. “I thought I
said I would-”

“I appreciate the gesture, Lucius,” she

said, tying her dressing gown on. She’d had
a very eventful day in the place of what
was supposed to have been a simple visit
to Bella, and then returned to find Lucius
speaking to the Greengrasses about their
daughter and the state of things at Hog-
warts, and then they’d left, and Lucius
had said that he and Draco had argued –
and badly, if Lucius’ mood was still so aw-
ful after managing to remove Dumbledore
from the school. Narcissa was more than
ready for bed but it seemed she’d have to
wait. “But if we’re not expecting some-

- 875 -
one, then it’s likely something important.”
And, frankly, with a sister whose husband
had almost broken out of Azkaban today
– along with said sister – and two sons at
a school in crisis, it was more than like-
ly that it was her presence that would be
needed tonight than Lucius’.

His only response was a gentle touch to

the back of her hand.

Dobby had brought their guest into the

drawing room, and was offering tea when
Narcissa and Lucius entered.

“No, thank you.” It was Severus that

turned and stood, and he looked awful;
tired, and sad, and- well, Narcissa decided
she wasn’t the only one who’d had a long
day. “Lucius, Narcissa.”

“Dobby, out! Are you well?” Lucius asked.

- 876 -
“Well enough,” Severus said. “I- it’s Dra-
co.”

“What about him?” Lucius asked curt-

ly. Severus’ expression twitched when he
looked at Lucius, though what the expres-
sion was, Narcissa couldn’t have said.

“He’s been attacked,” Severus said. Nar-

cissa grasped Lucius’ arm to try to steady
herself; she felt suddenly ill and dizzy, and
Severus’ voice seemed to be coming from a
long way away. “Attacked? By who?” Lu-
cius asked, looking bewildered.

“Slytherin’s monster,” Severus replied.

“Or so we assume, given that he’d Petri-
fied like all of its other victims-”

“The- but- Draco’s a pureblood,” Lucius

said.

- 877 -
“Lucius,” Narcissa heard herself say, faint-
ly, “didn’t you say the students weren’t go-
ing anywhere unescorted?”

“Apparently he was trying to visit Hydrus,”

Severus said. Lucius’ arm stiffened under
her hand, and she glanced up at his face,
but it was blank and hard, like ice. “But
Hydrus said he never arrived and- Dra-
co’s absence was… noted… in Gryffindor
tower. I found him earlier this evening…
He’s since been moved to the hospital wing
with the others.” Severus’ face contorted
in a rather miserable way, and his tone
was bleak.

Lucius tugged his arm out of Narcissa’s

grasp, and stormed from the room.

“Lucius-” Severus began, but Narcissa

held up a hand.

- 878 -
“Leave him,” she said, shaking her head.
“Oh, Severus, I don’t understand! Why
Draco?! He’s a pureblood, he ought to have
been safe!”

“As should have Astoria Greengrass,”

Severus said. “But I had to visit her par-
ents this afternoon as well. I’m more in-
terested in why he was trying to visit Hy-
drus.”

“They’re brothers,” Narcissa said. Severus

gave her a flat look, and Narcissa didn’t
like what it insinuated. “I often went to
Bella if I was frightened, or needed help.”
Her tone was chilly. “Is it so far-fetched
that Draco would do the same?”

“You would know best, of course.” And

though his tone was polite and smooth,
and his words agreed with her, she knew

- 879 -
he was being sarcastic.

“I would,” she replied coldly. “I know Dra-

co better than anyone.” And she did; she’d
had a far more influential role in the way
Draco had turned out than anyone but
Severus, but Severus wasn’t Draco’s blood
like Narcissa was, just Draco’s teacher
and legal godfather. And neither would
acknowledge that at school; Severus was
one of the least paternal people she knew,
and also had a reputation to maintain,
and Draco was so private and independent
that rarely came to her or Lucius for advice
these days, so she couldn’t imagine him
going to anyone else. And he didn’t come
home very often because he had appear-
ances to keep with Potter – which was the
whole point of his Sorting, so she couldn’t
fault him for that – but he’d been home
last summer, and they’d talked about all
sorts of things, and – more importantly –

- 880 -
he’d listened and said he understood.

“As you say.” Severus inclined his head,

and the gesture was almost mocking. Nar-
cissa felt cold anger bubbling up inside
her, but before she could say anything
else, Lucius was back. He’d changed out
of his pyjamas and into robes.

“I want Hydrus out of that school, now,”

Lucius said. “Wake him, have him pack
his bags, and send him here through the
Floo.” Narcissa wasn’t sure whether to
protest, or be relieved; on the one hand,
he was obviously not safe, and she want-
ed him out of harm’s way. On the other
hand, he had to pass his second year, and
couldn’t afford to be missing lessons. “And
I want Draco moved to St Mungo’s-”

“Draco should stay at Hogwarts,” Severus

said. “Madam Pomfrey has experience car-

- 881 -
ing for Petrified people now, and Sprout
and I are responsible for the restorative.”
And, though she was annoyed at him for
his earlier rudeness, Narcissa would be
lying if she said she’d rather a random
Healer taking care of Draco than Severus.
He had presumed too much in regards to
Draco, but that didn’t mean he was any
less capable as a potions master.

“But St Mungo’s-”

“Haven’t seen anything like this before.

They’ve had their Healers dropping into
Hogwarts from time to time to have a look
at the monster’s victims, so that they do
know what to do if they’re ever present-
ed with a case.” Narcissa watched Lucius’
face; it changed from thoughtful, to frus-
trated, to resigned. “Very well. But I want
Hydrus home.” Severus inclined his head.
“Will you wait up for him?” Narcissa nod-

- 882 -
ded. “Good. I have some arrangements to
make.”

Ginny slept. Tom used a bit of Occlumen-

cy and Legillimency establish some wards
in her mind – one to let him know if she
woke, another to stop her from using her
mouth, and a third that was more of an il-
lusion and would make it seem as if he was
still there – and slid back into the diary,
aware that it had been almost a whole day
now, and that Potter had said that long-
term possession could kill Ginny. He felt
a vague, pained sensation from her as he
detached himself, and her mind seemed to
quiver, but she was too deeply asleep to be
woken by it, and it didn’t kill her, so Tom
counted it a success.

The common room in the diary was a wel-

- 883 -
come sight, and Tom enjoyed the quiet of
it; there was no Ginny here, to whine at
him, or insult him, or to try to push him
out, though he could still feel her when
he probed out with Legillimency. Come
morning – or whenever Ginny woke – he’d
have to go back to her, to make sure she
didn’t give him away, but for now, it was
just him, and the knowledge of all he’d ac-
complished; Ginny’s brother and friends
were falling victim to his monster one by
one, and his attacks had driven Dumb-
ledore from the school. Potter had han-
dled Granger’s attack well enough, but
Tom hoped Malfoy’s death or Petrification
would unsettle him further. Tom thought
he’d like to watch Potter’s slow descent
into hopelessness.

With a content sigh, Tom settled into his

armchair and prepared to wait out the
night.

- 884 -
 §

It was Snape that came to fetch them for

breakfast the next morning, not McGo-
nagall. Harry caught Ron’s eye and won-
dered, with a sinking stomach, if she’d
been attacked too; Snape had written back
late last night to tell Harry and Ron that
he’d found Draco, Petrified, in one of the
dungeon corridors.

“Professor McGonagall is simply busy,”

Snape said, perhaps anticipating the ques-
tion on everyone’s minds. “She’ll meet us
at breakfast.” He gestured – rather im-
patiently – for them to follow him. “Don’t
dawdle; I have no intention of waiting if
you do, and being alone in this school is
assuredly a poor idea.” No one needed to
be told twice; everyone hurried along after
Snape in tightly packed group, whisper-
ing.

- 885 -
If anyone else had noticed Draco’s absence,
they didn’t comment on it, but despite the
tight walking formation, the space around
Harry felt oddly empty. Hermione wasn’t
chattering away at his side about some-
thing or other she’d read, and her masses
of hair weren’t obscuring Harry’s peripher-
al vision the way they usually did, nor was
her over-full book bag knocking against his
leg as they walked. And Draco – while not
as talkative as Hermione – wasn’t there to
bicker with Ron, or tease Harry about silly
things he’d done or said, or catch Harry’s
eye and smirk when someone else said or
did something silly.

That said, Harry knew he wasn’t alone

in missing them; several times, he’d no-
ticed Ron glance back or to the side, as if
expecting someone to say something, and
then look disconcerted when there was no

- 886 -
one there. Ron was by him now, looking
closely at the walls as they walked.

“Where’s Malfoy?” Ginny asked, appear-

ing on Harry’s other side.

“Hospital wing,” Harry said glumly, “with

all the other victims.”

“How awful,” she said. Something in her

voice sounded off, and Harry glanced at
her, but she wasn’t looking at him; she was
watching her feet, and her face was pale
and drawn. He sniffed the air, trying to be
casual about it, and when he did catch her
scent, it made his eyes water; misery and
anger were rolling off her in waves, and
there was defeat in there too. It was such
a thick, unpleasant scent that Harry was
almost drowning in it. He rubbed his nose,
and decided to breathe through his mouth
instead.

- 887 -
Harry reached for her shoulder and gave
it a squeeze, and that made her jump and
stare at him.

“It’ll be all right, Ginny,” he said, though

at the moment, it didn’t really seem that
way; with Draco gone, there wasn’t any
real way to get to Dobby, though Har-
ry supposed the attack might prompt Mr
Malfoy to take back the horcrux, or let slip
something about its nature or appearance.
They knew it was Tom, knew the mon-
ster was a basilisk, and knew that Tom
was probably here because of a horcrux,
but they didn’t know where Tom was, or
where the Chamber was – though Har-
ry suspected Myrtle’s bathroom was in-
volved – and they didn’t know if anyone at
Hogwarts was helping Tom. And, Harry
didn’t know how to stop him – if the locket
was any indication, getting rid of a hor-

- 888 -
crux wouldn’t be easy. But Ginny didn’t
need to worry about that, and she looked
like she could use some comfort, so Harry
mustered a smile.

She stared at him for a long moment and

then said, “We’ll see.” She melted back
into the mob of Gryffindors – probably to
find Fred and George – and Harry felt his
smile wither. Ron was watching the place
where his sister had been, looking upset.

Snape walked them past the Great Hall

and down into the dungeons, much to ev-
eryone’s confusion, and then asked them
to wait, before disappearing down a corri-
dor. Harry wondered if they were close to
where Draco had been attacked.

“Why’s he brought us down here?” one of

the first year boys asked.

- 889 -
“Maybe there isn’t anyone to watch us in
the Hall,” Katie Bell said, glancing back
up the stairs.

“Or maybe Snape works for Riddle and

he’s brought us all down here to die.” This
theory was met mostly by frowns and
headshakes, but Harry smelled concern
on the people around him. It was almost
as funny as it was tragic; no one particu-
larly like Snape – and Harry was among
them – but assigning detentions and tricky
essays, and being generally a bit of a git
didn’t mean he was out to kill students.
But, Harry supposed people were scared
enough to consider anything.

“If that’s the case, Mr McLaggen,” Snape

said, appearing around a different corner
than the one he’d left around just before,
with what appeared to be all of Slyther-
in House behind him, “then I’m sure you

- 890 -
can’t trust me to take you back upstairs,
and you’ll be safer on your own.” Snape
stared him down, and McLaggen shook his
head – in the meekest gesture Harry had
ever seen him make – and stepped back
in amongst his friends. “Ten points from
Gryffindor for idiocy.”

Snape stepped around them and took the

lead again, and the Slytherins fell into
step with the Gryffindors.

“Your Malfoy’s gone too?” Blaise appeared

beside Harry, and his dark eyes glanced
over Ron and then around them.

“Blaise,” Harry said.

“Zabini if you don’t mind, Potter,” Blaise

said, putting his nose in the air. But there
was a gleam in his eye, and Harry knew
he was only saying that to keep up appear-

- 891 -
ances. “Weasley.”

“Zabini.”

“Now look; Weasley understands how to

be proper,” Blaise said. Harry wasn’t re-
ally in the mood for this sort of conversa-
tion, and tried to let his expression say
so. Then, his mind caught up with what
Blaise had said.

“What do you mean gone?” he asked.

“Snape came bursting into the dormitory

at about one in the morning,” Blaise said
quietly. “Had Malfoy pack his truck, and
said he was going home.” Harry looked
at Ron. “Rumours are flying, of course,”
Blaise continued. “Snape burst in about
this time last year, only he was looking
for Morton-” Blaise looked uncomfortable.
“-so everyone’s wondering if Malfoy’s in-

- 892 -
volved…” He looked at Harry, almost ex-
pectantly.

“Draco was attacked,” Harry said quietly.

“Snape found him last night.” Blaise’s eye-
brows climbed, and Harry could see him
trying to make sense of it all. They climbed
the stairs but somehow, the large, bright,
open Entrance Hall didn’t seem any more
inviting than the dark, cramped dungeons
had.

“Greengrass said Granger was attacked,”

Blaise said eventually, looking sad. “And
given that she isn’t here… Sorry to hear
it, Potter, Weasley.” Harry nodded, stom-
ach dropping at the reminder.

They were in the Great Hall now, and

Blaise ducked off to rejoin the other Sly-
therin second years. They made an odd
group, without Hydrus’ platinum head in

- 893 -
the middle of them.

“Malfoy’s gone home?” Ron asked in a low

voice, as they sat in the empty space be-
tween Neville and George at the Gryffind-
or table. “What do you think-”

“If I could have your attention, please.” Mc-

Gonagall had just come in through a door
at the front of the Hall, and stood in front
of the teacher’s table. Harry was relieved
to see that she looked healthier than she
had yesterday, though he thought he’d
heard a small shake in her voice.

“The Board-” And when she glanced off

to the side, Harry noticed Mr Malfoy and
Minister Fudge speaking quietly together.
“-of Governors, the Ministry of Magic, and
I – on behalf of the staff here at Hogwarts
- have spent the early hours of this morn-
ing in lengthy discussion about the best

- 894 -
course of action for Hogwarts and for you
as students.” This time, Harry definitely
heard her voice catch, and he exchanged
a wary look with Ron. “These past few
hours, I have been writing letters to your
families, so that they too are aware of the
situation; it will affect them, after all.” Mc-
Gonagall pulled a handkerchief from her
pocket and dabbed at her eye. Murmurs
broke out in the Hall, but ceased as soon as
she held up her hand. This time, her voice
was steady. “You are to eat your breakfast
here, and then you will be escorted back to
your common rooms, to pack your things.”

No one spoke, but Harry imagined he

could hear everyone’s minds racing, as
they reached the same conclusion.

“The train leaves at midday, sharp,” Mc-

Gonagall continued, clasping her hands in
front of her. “Hogwarts is closed, from now

- 895 -
until it is deemed safe. We shall keep you
updated by post.”

Breakfast appeared in front of them as

she moved to stand with Malfoy and the
Minister, but Harry found he didn’t have
much of an appetite.

- 896 -
Chapter 33:
Out of time

“Mr Lockhart?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

“Mr Lockhart, are you in?”

Gilderoy weighed his options for a few sec-

onds, and then replied, “Yes! Yes, I am,
one moment…” He pushed his half-packed
trunk under the desk, and went to open
the door. A young man, with awful, waxy
skin, freckles, and bags under his eyes
like Gilderoy had never seen, stood in the
doorway.

- 897 -
“Who are you?” Gilderoy asked blankly;
the man’s robes were simple but expen-
sive, but the man didn’t look expensive.
He had a terrible, slumped posture, and
his straw-coloured hair hung in uncombed
strings around his ears.

“Barty Crouch,” the young man said. “I’ve

got some questions for you; I’m a reporter
for Defenders Against the Dark Arts.”

“Never heard of it,” Gilderoy said.

“We’re a new magazine, Mr Lockhart.

I’m hoping to get interviews from Aurors,
and Hit Wizards, and other heroes with-
in our society, and given everything that’s
going on here at Hogwarts and your in-
volvement, I thought that you’d be a good
place to start.” Gilderoy smiled at that. A
notebook and quill appeared from inside

- 898 -
Crouch’s robes. “Do you have a few min-
utes?”

Gilderoy waved him inside, and offered

him a seat, which he took. Gilderoy took
the one behind his desk. “Did you say
Barty Crouch? I thought he was older.”
And much more influential; Crouch had
been Senior Undersecretary to the Minis-
ter, and had a lot of contacts in the Minis-
try besides. Gilderoy had met him once or
twice, but the other man had always been
rather disinterested.

“Barty Crouch Junior,” Crouch amended,

after a few moments.

“Your father?” The other man nodded.

“And you’re starting out, you said?” Gilde-
roy watched Crouch’s face slowly.

“Yes,” Crouch said. “I was hoping your sto-

- 899 -
ry could be the feature of my second edi-
tion-”

“I can see right through you, Mr Crouch,”

Gilderoy told him. Crouch stiffened in
his chair, and Gilderoy knew that he was
right about him. “You’re a new reporter
– and reporting is a very competitive oc-
cupation.” Crouch was very still. “I dare-
say your magazine’s first edition didn’t get
the response you wanted, so you’re plan-
ning to use my fame to get more attention
for your second one.” A slow, disbelieving
smile spread over Crouch’s face; obvious-
ly, he had underestimated Gilderoy, as
people were prone to doing.

“I’m afraid you’re right,” Crouch said. “I

hope you’re not mad-”

“Mad?” Gilderoy asked. “I’d do the same

thing, if I was in your position; I am, af-

- 900 -
ter all, one of the most notable wizarding
names of our time, and I have an estab-
lished fan-base. You’ll sell thousands of
copies!”

“You mean you’ll talk to me?” Crouch

asked, with something close to worship in
his eyes.

Gilderoy smiled the smile that had won

him so many awards, and asked, “What
was your first question?”

“Do you reckon we’ll ever come back?” Ron

asked, sitting down on his packed trunk.

“Dunno,” Harry said. He disappeared

into the bathroom and reappeared with
his toothbrush, which he threw into his
trunk. “Guess that depends if they catch

- 901 -
Riddle or not.” Ron sighed and kicked the
bed, and Harry jumped at the noise. His
hand went to his wand, and he looked at
Ron, wide-eyed.

“You all right?” Ron asked. “You’ve been

jumpy since breakfast.”

“Fine,” Harry said. He dropped to the floor

and pulled a pair of socks out from un-
der his bed. They went in his trunk too,
and Harry stayed sitting on the floor. He
stared at his trunk for a few long seconds,
and then said, “Or not. I- It doesn’t feel
right.”

“What do you mean?” Ron asked, warily.

“This,” Harry said, waving his hand at his

trunk. “Hogwarts closing. It’s not right.”

“Genius, Harry, really,” Ron said, rolling

- 902 -
his eyes. Harry jumped again, though, as
the door opened to admit Seamus, Dean
and Neville, all of whom were sooty from
a game of Exploding Snap.

“-plenty of time to pack, Neville,” Seamus

was saying. “You’ve still got a couple of
hours.”

“That might be enough for you,” Neville

said. “But I have to find everything I’ve
lost since September.” Ron cracked a smile
at that, but Harry was still looking edgy.

“What?” Ron asked in a low voice, prod-

ding him with his foot. “There’s nothing
we can do now, except leave. And Riddle
can’t get us at home, and the monster’s
not there either-”

“Exactly,” Harry sighed. Ron frowned at

him, confused. “We’re not entirely sure

- 903 -
what Riddle wants,” Harry said, watching
the other boys out of the corner of his eye,
“but if he wants to do Slytherin’s work, and
clear the school of muggleborns, or if he’s
following some other pattern with the at-
tacks, or if he wants me, or- or something
else, then he’s running out of time.”

Harry picked up a stack of school books,

glanced at the titles, and then tossed all
but his Charms and Transfiguration books
into his trunk. He opened the Transfigu-
ration one.

“What do you mean running out of time?”

“You said it, just before; we’re leaving, and

Riddle can’t get us there, and neither can
the monster.”

“He’s waited before,” Ron said. “Myrtle

was attacked years ago. And why are you

- 904 -
reading?”

“Myrtle was attacked when Riddle was

alive- or- well, not jumping around in peo-
ple’s heads. He’d have been caught even-
tually, I think, so he stopped to be safe.”
Harry looked up from the book. “But what’s
he got to lose this time, that he hasn’t al-
ready?”

“- I really don’t know!” he whimpered. “I

promise-” Barty snorted and flicked his
wand. Lockhart let out a thin scream and
sagged a little more in his chair.

“You told the Prophet you knew-”

“I lied,” Lockhart babbled, clutching his

chest. “I lied, I don’t know!”

- 905 -
“Tell me!” Barty snarled.

“I d-don’t know!” And Lockhart started to

cry. Disgusted, Barty jabbed his wand at
the other man again, with a non-verbal
Crucio.

“He really doesn’t!” one of the portraits of

Lockhart said from the wall.

“Leave him be!” another cried, while the

real Lockhart writhed and sobbed. Barty
blasted the painting off the wall. Lockhart
snivelled in his chair, and glanced at the
door, which was locked and warded with
a Silencing charm. He didn’t look so pret-
ty now; his hair was in disarray, his eyes
were red and puffy, and his white teeth
were bloody from biting his tongue.

“Crucio.” Lockhart wailed under the spell

as Barty sat down in his chair again. Barty

- 906 -
would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it;
there was something so… rewarding about
hearing Lockhart screaming and broken,
when he was usually so confident. Barty
had always thought that was the beauty
of torture; wealth or lineage or education
didn’t matter; under the Cruciatus curse,
everyone screamed the same.

“I’m only going to ask once more,” he said,

politely. “Where is the Dark Lord?”

Gilderoy ached and burned. He could

hardly keep himself upright in his seat.
His wand was on the floor bent at an odd
angle, and the door was locked. He could
only hope that one of the teachers would
need a hand escorting the students to the
train, and would come to fetch him.

- 907 -
As if summoned by the thought, McGona-
gall’s cat appeared in the room, glowing
and blue. Crouch trained his wand on it.

“Gilderoy, if you could escort the Gryffind-

ors to the train, I would appreciate it,” she
said. “Be at their common room at eleven.”
The cat vanished, and Gilderoy’s hopes of
help faded.

“Where is the Dark Lord?” Crouch repeat-

ed, eyes still fixed on the place the cat had
been.

It seemed Crouch hadn’t known the truth

when he’d heard it; Gilderoy didn’t know.
But when the truth wasn’t enough, there
was only one thing for it; to lie… and Gil-
deroy was a good storyteller.

“Okay,” Gilderoy said, and didn’t have to

manufacture the panting, or the tears. It

- 908 -
was embarrassing, but it would serve him
well. “Please, just- just stop.”

“You’ll tell me?” Crouch asked eagerly.

“Yes,” Gilderoy said, trying to think. “He’s-

been staying in the Chamber.”

“Which is where?”

“There’s a secret door, in the Slytherin

common room,” Gilderoy said. “You need
a password to open it, but I’ve never been
able to manage-”

“What is it?” Crouch demanded.

“I don’t know,” Gilderoy said. He gently

rubbed his side; even talking hurt. “Some-
thing in snake-language, I think-”

“Parseltongue?”

- 909 -
“That’s the one.” He would have nodded,
but it was too painful. Crouch considered
him for a long while.

“Show me,” he said. He stood, and walked

around the desk, to yank Gilderoy out
of his chair. Gilderoy eyed his wand. As
Crouch went to drag him around the desk,
Gilderoy let himself fall – and with his legs
feeling the way they did, it was no difficul-
ty at all.

Crouch cursed, and Gilderoy’s hand

wrapped around his wand. It felt like it
would snap at any moment, but it was
intact now, which was all that mattered,
and as Crouch bent to help Gilderoy up,
Gilderoy jabbed the wand up into his ribs.

His second year Transfiguration book

didn’t have what he wanted in it, so Har-

- 910 -
ry tried to get Padfoot through the mirror,
but all he got was darkness; he suspect-
ed the mirror was in a bag, or a drawer
and so he let his own mirror revert back to
normal; Harry stared at his own reflection
for a few seconds, and then slid it into his
rucksack, so that he’d have it on the train.

“Do you reckon we have time to go by the

hospital wing?” Ron asked. “It’s ten now…
so there’s only an hour, but-”

“We’ll have time if we’re quick,” Harry

said, hopping up. He patted his pocket,
to check for his wand, and then followed
Ron out of the dormitory. The corridors of
the school were busier than he’d expected;
people were hurrying around in groups of
three or four, fetching owls from the owl-
ery, or returning library books, or looking
for cats that had a tendency to wander the
school. There was a teacher on each floor,

- 911 -
as well, acting a general sort of supervisor;
since they couldn’t be with every student,
Harry assumed they’d decided to just split
up and try to cover as much of the castle
as possible.

Madam Pomfrey didn’t come to the hospital

wing door when Harry knocked, nor when
Ron called for her. Worried, Harry pushed
the heavy doors open, a little afraid to see
what might lie beyond. He needn’t have
worried; he could see Madam Pomfrey in
her office, talking to Snape about some-
thing, and the basilisk’s victims lay still
as ever on their beds… except for Draco’s
bed; something moved near him, and Har-
ry headed for it, as Ron headed to Percy.

“Dobby?” A pair of large, green eyes and

bat-like ears peered over the other side of
the bed. Harry saw Ron glance their way,
and start to come over, but Harry gestured

- 912 -
to him that it was all right.

“Harry Potter?” Dobby squeaked. He

looked miserable, and he had a sponge in
one hand; obviously, he’d been attempting
to tend to Draco. “Does Harry Potter see
now why Dobby told Harry Potter not to
come back to Hogwarts? Tis just sadness
for Harry Potter here, sir, and for Master
Draco too! Master Draco should have been
safe with Harry Potter and Weasley-” Ron
looked up at his name. “-but Dobby over-
heard that Master Draco wasn’t safe, that
Master Draco went for a walk.” Dobby
clutched his pillowcase, and sniffed.

“He was trying to get to Hydrus, so that he

could talk to you,” Harry said. “He wanted
to ask you how Riddle got to Hogwarts?”

“Dobby can’t say,” Dobby said, backing

away. “Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter, but

- 913 -
Dobby mustn’t- Dobby would be in such
trouble-”

“I’m not asking you, Dobby,” Harry said,

putting his hands up; he didn’t want to
scare Dobby into leaving. “I’m just saying
that Draco wanted to know. That’s why he
was walking, when he was attacked. He
just wanted all of this to stop… I mean,
Hermione’s been attacked-” Harry waved
at her bed. “And Ron’s brother Percy, and
Astoria Greengrass… I think Draco knows
her.” Dobby quivered. “Draco just wanted
everyone to be safe.” Harry let that sink
in for a moment, and then said, “Did Mr
Malfoy tell you they’re closing the school?”

“The school, Harry Potter?” Dobby asked.

“All the students have to go home,” Har-

ry said. “The teachers can’t find Riddle, so
everyone has to leave to be safe.” Dobby

- 914 -
wrung his hands, and Harry decided to
push his luck. “Without Riddle, though,
we won’t know what he did to Draco and
the others, and how to fix it. Colin’s been
like this for months.” Harry waved a hand
at Colin’s bed.

“Months?” Dobby squeaked. Harry nodded

sadly.

“I just want them to be better, Dobby. And

that’s what Draco wanted too, only now
he’s petrified as well, and without Riddle-”

Dobby’s eyes were wide and terrified, and

fixed on Draco. He swallowed noisily and
patted Draco’s hand.

“A book,” he said, a voice Harry wouldn’t

have heard without his animagus hear-
ing. “A- a diary.” Dobby let out a screech
and launched himself at the bedside table.

- 915 -
He connected, hard, before Harry could
stop him, bounced off, and then started to
hit his head on the stone floor. The bed-
side table crashed to the ground, narrowly
missing him. Harry dragged him upright,
trying to tell him to stop, but Dobby strug-
gled and kicked and shrieked and eventu-
ally, won free. With a teary look at Harry
and Draco, Dobby vanished. Harry felt ill,
and hoped Dobby wouldn’t hurt himself
too seriously.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on out

here?” Snape had swept out of Pomfrey’s
office – with her on his heels – and was
taking in the hospital wing; Draco’s fall-
en bedside table, Harry sitting on the floor
staring at where Dobby had been, and
Ron, frozen a few feet from Harry, obvi-
ously coming to help.

“A diary,” Harry said. “Riddle’s in a dia-

- 916 -
ry.” Whose diary, though? Hogwarts was
a boarding school; there were bound to be
a few around… but, if it was a horcrux,
then maybe it was Riddle’s diary, left from
when he was here. So maybe it had been
left in the library, or in the Slytherin com-
mon room. Or, perhaps it had been sent in
with Hydrus, since Mr Malfoy was some-
how involved.

Snape stared at him for a long time, and

then nodded once, curtly.

“I will inform Minerva as soon as I am

done here,” he said. Harry got to his feet,
and went to stand by Ron. “We’ll have stu-
dents turn out their bags before they leave
the school, and hopefully, that will be the
end of it.” Harry nodded, still trying to
think. “You ought to get back to your com-
mon room, or you’ll miss the train. I trust
the pair of you can make it back without

- 917 -
any drama or investigative detours?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry muttered, feeling his face

warm.

“Good.” Snape turned back toward Mad-

am Pomfrey’s office, while Madam Pom-
frey saw them out.

“A diary?” Ron asked, when they were out

in the corridor. Whose?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, thinking hard.

“I mean, it must have belonged to Riddle
at some point if he’s in it… so maybe they
found it, or bought it-” No. No, it couldn’t-
“-second hand.” Harry swallowed the lump
in his throat.

“Maybe,” Ron said. “So where do we look?”

Second hand. The words took Harry back

- 918 -
to last summer, where they’d met the Mal-
foys in Flourish and Blotts. Mr Malfoy had
taken one of Ginny’s books, and mocked
her for it. Second hand, he’d said, as if it
was a crime. And then Padfoot had come
over, and Malfoy had put the book back
and left.

Ginny had spent the summer writing in

a diary; Harry vaguely remembered Ron
telling him about it. And how often had he
seen it since? More often than not, it was
in her lap in the common room. Hadn’t
he found her asleep like that, before they
went down to dinner on Halloween, and
found Mrs Norris?

And just last week, Fred and George had

tried to take it from her, and Harry had
given it back… and then Riddle was in my
head at Quidditch that same night.

- 919 -
And Ginny hadn’t been herself lately;
she’d been quiet, and pale, and in and out
of the hospital wing with headaches and
exhaustion… Harry knew, with sick cer-
tainty, that he was on to something.

“Harry?”

“I know who Riddle’s with,” Harry said.

“You’re mad!” Ron said. “She’s eleven, and

she’s not evil!”

“She might not have had a choice,” Harry

said. “But she’s had a diary all year, she
hasn’t been looking well or acting properly
for the last few weeks-”

“I can’t be Ginny!” Ron looked upset, and

Harry couldn’t blame him, but he hoped

- 920 -
he’d listen at least. “It just- she wouldn’t-”

“She might not have had a choice,” Harry

said again, as gently as he could. “But she
wasn’t at dinner on Halloween; I found
her asleep in the common room, with the
diary in her lap, and she was- confused…”
And not feeling well, Harry remembered.
She hadn’t wanted to go to the feast at all,
but he’d talked her into it. “Myrtle.”

“What?”

“Myrtle attacked her. Percy told us about it,

remember? He said that Fred and George
must have upset Myrtle, so she went for
Ginny, except maybe it wasn’t the twins’
fault. Maybe it was Riddle’s, and Myrtle
was scared-”

“Let’s go, then,” Ron said.

- 921 -
“What?”

“We can’t ask Ginny,” Ron said. “If it’s not

her, she’ll be furious, and if it is, Riddle
will know that we know. So we ask Myr-
tle.” He didn’t look happy, but he’d stopped
telling Harry he was mad, at least.

“Let’s go,” Harry agreed, grimly.

They didn’t talk as they walked; Harry’s

mind was conjuring up other bits of evi-
dence to support it being Ginny, and he
was sure Ron was thinking hard as well.
The corridors were starting to quieten,
so Harry guessed it must be almost elev-
en, but they could always meet the rest of
the school downstairs and the house elves
would make sure their trunks made it to
the station. Harry would just have to go
without his rucksack for the train ride;
he’d left it on his bed.

- 922 -
Myrtle was crying loudly in a cubicle when
they arrived at the bathroom. Harry shut
the door, so she wouldn’t draw Lockhart’s
attention like she had last time, and Ron
called for her to come out.

“Oh, it’s you two again.” She glared at

them. “What do you want?”

“Do you know my sister?” Ron asked. “Her

name’s Ginny.”

“Oh, her.” Myrtle crossed her arms, and

asked rather stiffly, “Why do you ask?”

“How do you know her?” Ron asked.

“Not well,” Myrtle said. “But she’s always

in here, blasting me down the drain, or
telling me to get out… It’s my bathroom!”
Ron’s face was faintly green when he

- 923 -
looked at Harry. Harry doubted his own
face looked much better.

“We need to find her,” Ron said, starting

toward the door.

“I don’t know why you’d look for her out

there,” Myrtle said petulantly. “She was
in here maybe an hour ago, crying.”

- 924 -
Chapter 33:
Out of time

“Mr Lockhart?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

“Mr Lockhart, are you in?”

Gilderoy weighed his options for a few sec-

onds, and then replied, “Yes! Yes, I am,
one moment…” He pushed his half-packed
trunk under the desk, and went to open
the door. A young man, with awful, waxy
skin, freckles, and bags under his eyes
like Gilderoy had never seen, stood in the
doorway.

- 925 -
“Who are you?” Gilderoy asked blankly;
the man’s robes were simple but expen-
sive, but the man didn’t look expensive.
He had a terrible, slumped posture, and
his straw-coloured hair hung in uncombed
strings around his ears.

“Barty Crouch,” the young man said. “I’ve

got some questions for you; I’m a reporter
for Defenders Against the Dark Arts.”

“Never heard of it,” Gilderoy said.

“We’re a new magazine, Mr Lockhart.

I’m hoping to get interviews from Aurors,
and Hit Wizards, and other heroes with-
in our society, and given everything that’s
going on here at Hogwarts and your in-
volvement, I thought that you’d be a good
place to start.” Gilderoy smiled at that. A
notebook and quill appeared from inside

- 926 -
Crouch’s robes. “Do you have a few min-
utes?”

Gilderoy waved him inside, and offered

him a seat, which he took. Gilderoy took
the one behind his desk. “Did you say
Barty Crouch? I thought he was older.”
And much more influential; Crouch had
been Senior Undersecretary to the Minis-
ter, and had a lot of contacts in the Minis-
try besides. Gilderoy had met him once or
twice, but the other man had always been
rather disinterested.

“Barty Crouch Junior,” Crouch amended,

after a few moments.

“Your father?” The other man nodded.

“And you’re starting out, you said?” Gilde-
roy watched Crouch’s face slowly.

“Yes,” Crouch said. “I was hoping your sto-

- 927 -
ry could be the feature of my second edi-
tion-”

“I can see right through you, Mr Crouch,”

Gilderoy told him. Crouch stiffened in
his chair, and Gilderoy knew that he was
right about him. “You’re a new reporter
– and reporting is a very competitive oc-
cupation.” Crouch was very still. “I dare-
say your magazine’s first edition didn’t get
the response you wanted, so you’re plan-
ning to use my fame to get more attention
for your second one.” A slow, disbelieving
smile spread over Crouch’s face; obvious-
ly, he had underestimated Gilderoy, as
people were prone to doing.

“I’m afraid you’re right,” Crouch said. “I

hope you’re not mad-”

“Mad?” Gilderoy asked. “I’d do the same

thing, if I was in your position; I am, af-

- 928 -
ter all, one of the most notable wizarding
names of our time, and I have an estab-
lished fan-base. You’ll sell thousands of
copies!”

“You mean you’ll talk to me?” Crouch

asked, with something close to worship in
his eyes.

Gilderoy smiled the smile that had won

him so many awards, and asked, “What
was your first question?”

“Do you reckon we’ll ever come back?” Ron

asked, sitting down on his packed trunk.

“Dunno,” Harry said. He disappeared

into the bathroom and reappeared with
his toothbrush, which he threw into his
trunk. “Guess that depends if they catch

- 929 -
Riddle or not.” Ron sighed and kicked the
bed, and Harry jumped at the noise. His
hand went to his wand, and he looked at
Ron, wide-eyed.

“You all right?” Ron asked. “You’ve been

jumpy since breakfast.”

“Fine,” Harry said. He dropped to the floor

and pulled a pair of socks out from un-
der his bed. They went in his trunk too,
and Harry stayed sitting on the floor. He
stared at his trunk for a few long seconds,
and then said, “Or not. I- It doesn’t feel
right.”

“What do you mean?” Ron asked, warily.

“This,” Harry said, waving his hand at his

trunk. “Hogwarts closing. It’s not right.”

“Genius, Harry, really,” Ron said, rolling

- 930 -
his eyes. Harry jumped again, though, as
the door opened to admit Seamus, Dean
and Neville, all of whom were sooty from
a game of Exploding Snap.

“-plenty of time to pack, Neville,” Seamus

was saying. “You’ve still got a couple of
hours.”

“That might be enough for you,” Neville

said. “But I have to find everything I’ve
lost since September.” Ron cracked a smile
at that, but Harry was still looking edgy.

“What?” Ron asked in a low voice, prod-

ding him with his foot. “There’s nothing
we can do now, except leave. And Riddle
can’t get us at home, and the monster’s
not there either-”

“Exactly,” Harry sighed. Ron frowned at

him, confused. “We’re not entirely sure

- 931 -
what Riddle wants,” Harry said, watching
the other boys out of the corner of his eye,
“but if he wants to do Slytherin’s work, and
clear the school of muggleborns, or if he’s
following some other pattern with the at-
tacks, or if he wants me, or- or something
else, then he’s running out of time.”

Harry picked up a stack of school books,

glanced at the titles, and then tossed all
but his Charms and Transfiguration books
into his trunk. He opened the Transfigu-
ration one.

“What do you mean running out of time?”

“You said it, just before; we’re leaving, and

Riddle can’t get us there, and neither can
the monster.”

“He’s waited before,” Ron said. “Myrtle

was attacked years ago. And why are you

- 932 -
reading?”

“Myrtle was attacked when Riddle was

alive- or- well, not jumping around in peo-
ple’s heads. He’d have been caught even-
tually, I think, so he stopped to be safe.”
Harry looked up from the book. “But what’s
he got to lose this time, that he hasn’t al-
ready?”

“- I really don’t know!” he whimpered. “I

promise-” Barty snorted and flicked his
wand. Lockhart let out a thin scream and
sagged a little more in his chair.

“You told the Prophet you knew-”

“I lied,” Lockhart babbled, clutching his

chest. “I lied, I don’t know!”

- 933 -
“Tell me!” Barty snarled.

“I d-don’t know!” And Lockhart started to

cry. Disgusted, Barty jabbed his wand at
the other man again, with a non-verbal
Crucio.

“He really doesn’t!” one of the portraits of

Lockhart said from the wall.

“Leave him be!” another cried, while the

real Lockhart writhed and sobbed. Barty
blasted the painting off the wall. Lockhart
snivelled in his chair, and glanced at the
door, which was locked and warded with
a Silencing charm. He didn’t look so pret-
ty now; his hair was in disarray, his eyes
were red and puffy, and his white teeth
were bloody from biting his tongue.

“Crucio.” Lockhart wailed under the spell

as Barty sat down in his chair again. Barty

- 934 -
would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it;
there was something so… rewarding about
hearing Lockhart screaming and broken,
when he was usually so confident. Barty
had always thought that was the beauty
of torture; wealth or lineage or education
didn’t matter; under the Cruciatus curse,
everyone screamed the same.

“I’m only going to ask once more,” he said,

politely. “Where is the Dark Lord?”

Gilderoy ached and burned. He could

hardly keep himself upright in his seat.
His wand was on the floor bent at an odd
angle, and the door was locked. He could
only hope that one of the teachers would
need a hand escorting the students to the
train, and would come to fetch him.

- 935 -
As if summoned by the thought, McGona-
gall’s cat appeared in the room, glowing
and blue. Crouch trained his wand on it.

“Gilderoy, if you could escort the Gryffind-

ors to the train, I would appreciate it,” she
said. “Be at their common room at eleven.”
The cat vanished, and Gilderoy’s hopes of
help faded.

“Where is the Dark Lord?” Crouch repeat-

ed, eyes still fixed on the place the cat had
been.

It seemed Crouch hadn’t known the truth

when he’d heard it; Gilderoy didn’t know.
But when the truth wasn’t enough, there
was only one thing for it; to lie… and Gil-
deroy was a good storyteller.

“Okay,” Gilderoy said, and didn’t have to

manufacture the panting, or the tears. It

- 936 -
was embarrassing, but it would serve him
well. “Please, just- just stop.”

“You’ll tell me?” Crouch asked eagerly.

“Yes,” Gilderoy said, trying to think. “He’s-

been staying in the Chamber.”

“Which is where?”

“There’s a secret door, in the Slytherin

common room,” Gilderoy said. “You need
a password to open it, but I’ve never been
able to manage-”

“What is it?” Crouch demanded.

“I don’t know,” Gilderoy said. He gently

rubbed his side; even talking hurt. “Some-
thing in snake-language, I think-”

“Parseltongue?”

- 937 -
“That’s the one.” He would have nodded,
but it was too painful. Crouch considered
him for a long while.

“Show me,” he said. He stood, and walked

around the desk, to yank Gilderoy out
of his chair. Gilderoy eyed his wand. As
Crouch went to drag him around the desk,
Gilderoy let himself fall – and with his legs
feeling the way they did, it was no difficul-
ty at all.

Crouch cursed, and Gilderoy’s hand

wrapped around his wand. It felt like it
would snap at any moment, but it was
intact now, which was all that mattered,
and as Crouch bent to help Gilderoy up,
Gilderoy jabbed the wand up into his ribs.

His second year Transfiguration book

didn’t have what he wanted in it, so Har-

- 938 -
ry tried to get Padfoot through the mirror,
but all he got was darkness; he suspect-
ed the mirror was in a bag, or a drawer
and so he let his own mirror revert back to
normal; Harry stared at his own reflection
for a few seconds, and then slid it into his
rucksack, so that he’d have it on the train.

“Do you reckon we have time to go by the

hospital wing?” Ron asked. “It’s ten now…
so there’s only an hour, but-”

“We’ll have time if we’re quick,” Harry

said, hopping up. He patted his pocket,
to check for his wand, and then followed
Ron out of the dormitory. The corridors of
the school were busier than he’d expected;
people were hurrying around in groups of
three or four, fetching owls from the owl-
ery, or returning library books, or looking
for cats that had a tendency to wander the
school. There was a teacher on each floor,

- 939 -
as well, acting a general sort of supervisor;
since they couldn’t be with every student,
Harry assumed they’d decided to just split
up and try to cover as much of the castle
as possible.

Madam Pomfrey didn’t come to the hospital

wing door when Harry knocked, nor when
Ron called for her. Worried, Harry pushed
the heavy doors open, a little afraid to see
what might lie beyond. He needn’t have
worried; he could see Madam Pomfrey in
her office, talking to Snape about some-
thing, and the basilisk’s victims lay still
as ever on their beds… except for Draco’s
bed; something moved near him, and Har-
ry headed for it, as Ron headed to Percy.

“Dobby?” A pair of large, green eyes and

bat-like ears peered over the other side of
the bed. Harry saw Ron glance their way,
and start to come over, but Harry gestured

- 940 -
to him that it was all right.

“Harry Potter?” Dobby squeaked. He

looked miserable, and he had a sponge in
one hand; obviously, he’d been attempting
to tend to Draco. “Does Harry Potter see
now why Dobby told Harry Potter not to
come back to Hogwarts? Tis just sadness
for Harry Potter here, sir, and for Master
Draco too! Master Draco should have been
safe with Harry Potter and Weasley-” Ron
looked up at his name. “-but Dobby over-
heard that Master Draco wasn’t safe, that
Master Draco went for a walk.” Dobby
clutched his pillowcase, and sniffed.

“He was trying to get to Hydrus, so that he

could talk to you,” Harry said. “He wanted
to ask you how Riddle got to Hogwarts?”

“Dobby can’t say,” Dobby said, backing

away. “Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter, but

- 941 -
Dobby mustn’t- Dobby would be in such
trouble-”

“I’m not asking you, Dobby,” Harry said,

putting his hands up; he didn’t want to
scare Dobby into leaving. “I’m just saying
that Draco wanted to know. That’s why he
was walking, when he was attacked. He
just wanted all of this to stop… I mean,
Hermione’s been attacked-” Harry waved
at her bed. “And Ron’s brother Percy, and
Astoria Greengrass… I think Draco knows
her.” Dobby quivered. “Draco just wanted
everyone to be safe.” Harry let that sink
in for a moment, and then said, “Did Mr
Malfoy tell you they’re closing the school?”

“The school, Harry Potter?” Dobby asked.

“All the students have to go home,” Har-

ry said. “The teachers can’t find Riddle, so
everyone has to leave to be safe.” Dobby

- 942 -
wrung his hands, and Harry decided to
push his luck. “Without Riddle, though,
we won’t know what he did to Draco and
the others, and how to fix it. Colin’s been
like this for months.” Harry waved a hand
at Colin’s bed.

“Months?” Dobby squeaked. Harry nodded

sadly.

“I just want them to be better, Dobby. And

that’s what Draco wanted too, only now
he’s petrified as well, and without Riddle-”

Dobby’s eyes were wide and terrified, and

fixed on Draco. He swallowed noisily and
patted Draco’s hand.

“A book,” he said, a voice Harry wouldn’t

have heard without his animagus hear-
ing. “A- a diary.” Dobby let out a screech
and launched himself at the bedside table.

- 943 -
He connected, hard, before Harry could
stop him, bounced off, and then started to
hit his head on the stone floor. The bed-
side table crashed to the ground, narrowly
missing him. Harry dragged him upright,
trying to tell him to stop, but Dobby strug-
gled and kicked and shrieked and eventu-
ally, won free. With a teary look at Harry
and Draco, Dobby vanished. Harry felt ill,
and hoped Dobby wouldn’t hurt himself
too seriously.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on out

here?” Snape had swept out of Pomfrey’s
office – with her on his heels – and was
taking in the hospital wing; Draco’s fall-
en bedside table, Harry sitting on the floor
staring at where Dobby had been, and
Ron, frozen a few feet from Harry, obvi-
ously coming to help.

“A diary,” Harry said. “Riddle’s in a dia-

- 944 -
ry.” Whose diary, though? Hogwarts was
a boarding school; there were bound to be
a few around… but, if it was a horcrux,
then maybe it was Riddle’s diary, left from
when he was here. So maybe it had been
left in the library, or in the Slytherin com-
mon room. Or, perhaps it had been sent in
with Hydrus, since Mr Malfoy was some-
how involved.

Snape stared at him for a long time, and

then nodded once, curtly.

“I will inform Minerva as soon as I am

done here,” he said. Harry got to his feet,
and went to stand by Ron. “We’ll have stu-
dents turn out their bags before they leave
the school, and hopefully, that will be the
end of it.” Harry nodded, still trying to
think. “You ought to get back to your com-
mon room, or you’ll miss the train. I trust
the pair of you can make it back without

- 945 -
any drama or investigative detours?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry muttered, feeling his face

warm.

“Good.” Snape turned back toward Mad-

am Pomfrey’s office, while Madam Pom-
frey saw them out.

“A diary?” Ron asked, when they were out

in the corridor. Whose?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, thinking hard.

“I mean, it must have belonged to Riddle
at some point if he’s in it… so maybe they
found it, or bought it-” No. No, it couldn’t-
“-second hand.” Harry swallowed the lump
in his throat.

“Maybe,” Ron said. “So where do we look?”

Second hand. The words took Harry back

- 946 -
to last summer, where they’d met the Mal-
foys in Flourish and Blotts. Mr Malfoy had
taken one of Ginny’s books, and mocked
her for it. Second hand, he’d said, as if it
was a crime. And then Padfoot had come
over, and Malfoy had put the book back
and left.

Ginny had spent the summer writing in

a diary; Harry vaguely remembered Ron
telling him about it. And how often had he
seen it since? More often than not, it was
in her lap in the common room. Hadn’t
he found her asleep like that, before they
went down to dinner on Halloween, and
found Mrs Norris?

And just last week, Fred and George had

tried to take it from her, and Harry had
given it back… and then Riddle was in my
head at Quidditch that same night.

- 947 -
And Ginny hadn’t been herself lately;
she’d been quiet, and pale, and in and out
of the hospital wing with headaches and
exhaustion… Harry knew, with sick cer-
tainty, that he was on to something.

“Harry?”

“I know who Riddle’s with,” Harry said.

“You’re mad!” Ron said. “She’s eleven, and

she’s not evil!”

“She might not have had a choice,” Harry

said. “But she’s had a diary all year, she
hasn’t been looking well or acting properly
for the last few weeks-”

“I can’t be Ginny!” Ron looked upset, and

Harry couldn’t blame him, but he hoped

- 948 -
he’d listen at least. “It just- she wouldn’t-”

“She might not have had a choice,” Harry

said again, as gently as he could. “But she
wasn’t at dinner on Halloween; I found
her asleep in the common room, with the
diary in her lap, and she was- confused…”
And not feeling well, Harry remembered.
She hadn’t wanted to go to the feast at all,
but he’d talked her into it. “Myrtle.”

“What?”

“Myrtle attacked her. Percy told us about it,

remember? He said that Fred and George
must have upset Myrtle, so she went for
Ginny, except maybe it wasn’t the twins’
fault. Maybe it was Riddle’s, and Myrtle
was scared-”

“Let’s go, then,” Ron said.

- 949 -
“What?”

“We can’t ask Ginny,” Ron said. “If it’s not

her, she’ll be furious, and if it is, Riddle
will know that we know. So we ask Myr-
tle.” He didn’t look happy, but he’d stopped
telling Harry he was mad, at least.

“Let’s go,” Harry agreed, grimly.

They didn’t talk as they walked; Harry’s

mind was conjuring up other bits of evi-
dence to support it being Ginny, and he
was sure Ron was thinking hard as well.
The corridors were starting to quieten,
so Harry guessed it must be almost elev-
en, but they could always meet the rest of
the school downstairs and the house elves
would make sure their trunks made it to
the station. Harry would just have to go
without his rucksack for the train ride;
he’d left it on his bed.

- 950 -
Myrtle was crying loudly in a cubicle when
they arrived at the bathroom. Harry shut
the door, so she wouldn’t draw Lockhart’s
attention like she had last time, and Ron
called for her to come out.

“Oh, it’s you two again.” She glared at

them. “What do you want?”

“Do you know my sister?” Ron asked. “Her

name’s Ginny.”

“Oh, her.” Myrtle crossed her arms, and

asked rather stiffly, “Why do you ask?”

“How do you know her?” Ron asked.

“Not well,” Myrtle said. “But she’s always

in here, blasting me down the drain, or
telling me to get out… It’s my bathroom!”
Ron’s face was faintly green when he

- 951 -
looked at Harry. Harry doubted his own
face looked much better.

“We need to find her,” Ron said, starting

toward the door.

“I don’t know why you’d look for her out

there,” Myrtle said petulantly. “She was
in here maybe an hour ago, crying.”

- 952 -
Chapter 35:
An Ally

“Ron?” Harry’s voice came to him distort-

ed, as if through water. Ron couldn’t re-
spond, couldn’t even turn to look at him.
All he could see were Riddle’s shiny shoes,
wavering every now and then, as if they
weren’t quite there. He just had to Wait
quietly for the Dark Lord’s instructions.
“What have you done to him?” Harry de-
manded.

“Nothing,” Riddle said smugly. “Perhaps

- 953 -
your friends aren’t what you thought, Har-
ry.” Harry said nothing, and Ron hoped he
knew Ron couldn’t help it, that he wasn’t
really a traitor. “And put your wand away;
it’s not going to do you any good.” Ron
couldn’t see if Harry listened of not.

“Ron?” This time it was Ginny’s voice, tiny,

quavering, and confused. “No- Ron, you
couldn’t-” Ron wanted to say something,
do something, but wasn’t able to. Wait
quietly for the Dark Lord’s instructions.

Bugger off, he told the voice, for all the

good it did.

“Oh, she didn’t like that,” Riddle said,

sounding pleased. His shoes seemed to
become a little more solid, and Ron heard
movement from up where Harry and Gin-
ny were. “Just leave her there, so we can
have a chat-”

- 954 -
“Finite Incantatem!”

Riddle snorted and then said, “And what

was that supposed to do, Harry? Make her
better? Make me disappear?” He snort-
ed again. But the spell had cleared Ron’s
mind. The voice was gone, and he wrig-
gled his toes in his shoes - where Riddle
couldn’t see it - to be sure he was back in
control. Relieved, his first instinct was to
get to his feet and draw his wand, but he
smothered it.

Think, he told himself. Getting up and

causing a scene won’t fix anything now.
Better to wait. He stayed where he was,
kneeling, but was able to look up.

Harry wasn’t looking at him; likely as

not, he didn’t want to give them away,
but some of the tension in his expression

- 955 -
eased when Ron gave a slight nod. Gin-
ny was draped over the foot of Slytherin’s
statue, unmoving. Ron’s stomach twisted,
but he thought he managed to keep his
face blank.

“To think you ever beat me,” Riddle scoffed.

“And twice.” He made a revolted noise.
“Well, you’re out of luck, Harry. There
won’t be a third time.”

“I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?” Harry said

tersely.

“You, a particularly average twelve year

old, against me? I am the greatest wizard
Hogwarts has ever seen, and I have the
basilisk, who will come as soon as I call on
her, while you’re alone,” Riddle said. “Un-
less, of course, you count Ginny, who’s as
good as dead, or my new servant.” Ron felt
Riddle’s gaze on the side of his face.

- 956 -
“My Lord,” he murmured. The words tast-
ed foul in his mouth, but seemed to please
Riddle, who smiled.

“You’re not,” Harry said quietly.

“Not what?” Riddle’s smile froze in place.

“Not the greatest wizard Hogwarts has

ever seen. What about Dumbledore-”

“Dumbledore’s been removed from the

school because he couldn’t stop me,” Rid-
dle said, with an ugly look on his face. “I
don’t think highly of you, Harry, but you
worked it out at least; you’re here, futile
though that may be. Dumbledore’s old,
useless, weak.”

“You’re one to talk about weak,” Harry

said. “You have to borrow bodies just to get

- 957 -
around. The other you’s in hiding, because
he lost last year, and even when you were
in power, you stayed well clear of Dumble-
dore. You’re afraid of him, that’s why you
had to wait until he was gone before you
came down here-”

“Afraid? Dumbledore’s old and senile, and

here I am, young and sharp. He couldn’t
even dream of accomplishing the things
I’ve accomplished, of taking the steps to
immortality that I have-”

“That’s because he knows better,” Har-

ry said quietly. Ron wasn’t entirely sure
what he meant by that, but Riddle seemed
to, and frowned.

“You’re one to talk,” Riddle said. “You’re

as involved as I am.” This time, Harry
didn’t seem to know what he meant either,
and Riddle’s smile reappeared. Harry just

- 958 -
stared at him, face blank. “Afraid,” Riddle
said again, and snorted. “Dumbledore’s
been driven out of the castle by the mere
memory of me-”

“He’s not gone though,” Harry said. “He’s

still keeping an eye on things-” And at that
moment, fire and music exploded over Har-
ry’s head. Ron lifted a hand to cover his
eyes, and Riddle took a step back, looking
startled. When the fire settled, there was a
Phoenix sitting on Harry’s shoulder. “See;
Dumbledore sends his regards,” Harry
said quietly, and Ron could have cheered,
but wisely kept his mouth shut.

“He’s sent a bird,” Riddle said, composing

himself. “And- the school Sorting hat.” He
was looking at a ragged bundle at Harry’s
feet, and then, abruptly, laughed. “Do you
feel safe now, Harry?” The bird on Harry’s
shoulder ruffled its feathers.

- 959 -
“Well, you haven’t tried to hurt me or Ron,
yet,” Harry said. “So I reckon we’re safe
enough, yeah.”

“Why you?” Riddle asked after a few mo-

ments. “You’re normal. Not particularly
good at anything, unless you count flying
and prying into other peoples’ business,
not particularly gifted when it comes to
magic, not related to anyone important…
Why? Why did I try to kill you?”

“Couldn’t say,” Harry said lightly, but his

expression was tight.

“That’s the one thing I can’t understand,”

Riddle said. “That, and how you survived,
of course.” He looked at Harry, perhaps
trying to invite an explanation, but Har-
ry was silent. “So we’re just going to wait
here in silence are we?” Riddle asked.

- 960 -
“How dull.”

“Wait?” Harry asked. “For what?” Riddle

gestured up at him, and Ron watched as
Harry’s eyes dropped to Ginny.

“It’s nearly complete,” Riddle said quietly.

“She’ll be dead in a few more minutes, and
I’ll have my body back.” He held his hand
up and turned it over with an expression
of interest, and then pulled a small leath-
er book out of the pocket of his robes. Ron
recognised it as Ginny’s diary. “All year,
she’s been pouring her soul into my diary,
letting me grow stronger on her fears and
anger. By the time she worked out who I
was, it was too late; she was mine.” Ron
wanted to punch the smug, possessive look
off of Riddle’s face, but forced himself to
stay still. “Not that she didn’t try to break
free; the last time I left her alone, she and
Percy tried to find Dumbledore, but you

- 961 -
both know how that ended.” Riddle smiled
again, and Ron clenched his fists, thinking
of Percy’s scared, frozen face. “I didn’t dare
leave her alone after that, but it doesn’t
matter now. She’s played her part, will-
ingly or not.”

“So what now, then?” Harry asked. “I sup-

pose you’re going to try to kill us?”

“You. Reluctant as I am to sabotage my

older self,” Riddle said, “I can’t see any
other alternative.” Harry gave Riddle an-
other blank look. Ron didn’t think he was
making sense either. “Stand.” It took Ron
a moment to realise Riddle was talking to
him, and another second or two to work out
what to do. Seeing no better option than
to listen, he stood, legs stiff, and followed
Riddle to the far left side of the Chamber to
the edge of the water. Ron glanced down,
nervously, and wondering at Riddle’s rea-

- 962 -
son for moving. “So what do you say, Har-
ry?” Riddle called, smiling broadly, diary
still in hand. “Are you ready to die?”

Harry lifted his wand in response, and the

Phoenix lifted its wings, apparently ready
to take to the air. Ron expected Riddle to
pull his own wand out, but he started to
hiss instead.

The basilisk will come when he calls her,

Ron remembered. Right, game’s up. Do
something… He looked around. His wand
was in his pocket, but he didn’t know any
spells that would be useful – either against
Riddle, or against the basilisk. There was
no way they’d be able to outrun it – not
with Ginny as she was – and even if they
could, Ron didn’t have the first clue about
how to help her.

So, Ron did the only thing he could think

- 963 -
to do; he shoved Riddle, as hard as he
could, and Riddle was solid enough that it
worked; Riddle’s hissing cut off as he fell
backward into the water. Ron heard the
splash, and Harry’s startled laugh, but
didn’t look back. He ran for the statue.

Fawkes launched into the air and went

to swoop at Riddle, who was struggling to
climb out of the water. Harry heard him
snarling, but he hadn’t yet tried to sum-
mon the basilisk, so that gave them some
time at least. Ron skidded to a stop at the
foot of the statue, and a new wave of relief
swept over Harry. He thought he’d fixed
whatever was wrong with him with his
earlier Finite but he hadn’t been certain.
Harry scooped Ginny up with some diffi-
culty, and managed to lower her down to
Ron.

- 964 -
“We need to get her out of here.” Ron
struggled under his sister’s weight, but
managed to keep hold of her, while Har-
ry jumped down. “Petfrificus totalus!” he
said, flicking his wand over Ron’s shoul-
der. A wet, and furious-looking Riddle
was fending Fawkes off with one hand,
and trying to pull himself up with the oth-
er, but was forced to duck underwater to
avoid Harry’s spell.

Climbing back up that tunnel’s not an op-

tion though, Harry thought, looking back
up the Chamber. They wouldn’t get back
up to the school in time to help Ginny if
they went that way. I can’t make a port-
key… I could probably Apparate – he
doubted, given that none of the teachers
knew where the Chamber was – that it
was as well warded as the rest of the cas-
tle, but he was out of practice and didn’t

- 965 -
trust himself to be able to Side-Along with
two people, and he wouldn’t know where
to take them; obviously the castle was too
well warded to be an option, and he wasn’t
sure where the next best place for Ginny
would be.

Fawkes swooped Riddle one last time, van-

ished, and then reappeared above Harry,
like he had the first time.

“Fawkes,” Harry breathed. “Ron, hold

Ginny and grab hold of Fawkes.” Under-
standing blossomed on Ron’s face, and he
reached up to grab one of Fawkes’ long
tail feathers. “Take us somewhere safe,”
Harry said, and looked over at Riddle,
who’d managed to pull himself out of the
water. By his hand, lying open where it
must have fallen when Ron pushed him,
was the diary. As the heat started to build
around them, Harry let go of Fawkes.

- 966 -
 §

Unlike the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, the

Ravenclaws arrived loudly. Sirius caught
snatches of their conversations.

“Who do you think it is?”

“No, it can’t be him, it said ‘her body’-”

“Still think it’s a bad idea to close the

school?”

An older man left them under Professor

Sprout’s eye, and Sirius watched him limp
over to where Snape and McGonagall
were talking. They spoke, briefly, and Sir-
ius couldn’t hear what was said over the
noise, but Snape swept up the staircase
leading to the dungeons, and the teacher
– presumably the Silvanus that McGona-
gall had mentioned earlier - limped back

- 967 -
to the students with McGonagall at his
side. Next to Sirius, Marlene was watch-
ing intently.

“Into year level groups within the Hous-

es, please!” Silvanus said in a gruff voice.
“And then look around; if there’s someone
from your classes, or your dormitory who’s
missing, I want to know!” Scared whis-
pers broke out amongst the students, and
Sprout and McGonagall walked through
them, apparently counting.

“No one,” McGonagall said, after a few

minutes, and swallowed audibly.

“Gryffindor, then,” Sprout said grimly,

putting her hand on McGonagall’s arm.

“What’s going on?” Sirius asked, approach-

ing them. Yaxley and Marlene shadowed
him, and he could smell their worry. But

- 968 -
before McGonagall answered, Robards
pulled out his Sidekick.

“Brown?” he asked, and then held the Side-

kick out so that everyone gathered would
be able to hear the response.

“Robards,” he said, and it sounded like

there was a lot of talking going on in the
background. “Lockhart isn’t here, and
there are students missing.” Sirius’ heart
decided it would rather live in his throat
that his chest, and his stomach decided to
migrate to his toes. He knew the name –
or at least one of the names – that Brown
was going to say.

He pulled his mirror out of his pocket and

managed to choke out Harry’s name, just
as McGonagall asked, “Who, Mr Brown?”

Brown didn’t answer right away, but Siri-

- 969 -
us could hear him talking to people – prob-
ably the other Gryffindors.

“Ron and Ginny Weasley,” he said a mo-

ment later, “and Harry Potter.” Marlene
stiffened beside Sirius, and scared chatter
broke out amongst the students and some
of the Aurors, but Sirius didn’t pay them
any mind; the only thing he could focus
on, was the dark emptiness in his mirror.

- 970 -
Chapter 36:
Those few minutes

Ron felt solid ground under his feet and the

heat on his face faded until a feeling akin
to sunburn. Fawkes’ bright, yellow-orange
light flared before his eyes, and Ron could
hear voices over the whoosh of the flames.
Ginny moved a little – and Ron took com-
fort from that - but her weight was still
solely on Ron. Then, it was gone – he as-
sumed Harry had her - and so was Fawkes’
light, though Ron could feel the bird on his
shoulder.

- 971 -
The Entrance Hall came into view, and
Ron was astounded to see just how many
people there were; all four Houses, from
the looks of it – Fred and George were
being kept at bay by McGonagall – most
of the teachers, and a whole heap of Au-
rors and other Ministry workers. To be
fair, they all looked just as astounded to
see him, Harry and Ginny, who had, Ron
supposed, just appeared with a Phoenix in
the middle of the school’s evacuation. He’d
probably stare too.

Ron turned to Harry, unable to help his

grin; they’d saved Ginny, hadn’t even seen
the basilisk, beaten Riddle for the time be-
ing, and made it out in one piece – except
for Ginny, who’d be fine once they got her
to Madam Pomfrey. It wasn’t Harry who’d
taken Ginny, and was beside him, though;
it was Sirius.

- 972 -
Ron spun on the spot, and Fawkes’ claws
dug into his shoulder as he tried to keep
himself steady. Harry was nowhere to be
seen. With a sinking heart, he turned back
to Sirius, who’d just passed Ginny off to
Marlene.

“Ron,” he said. “What- where’s Harry?”

Ron’s feeling of giddy relief faded entirely
with those words.

“He was- Fawkes got us out, and he was

right beside me- he- I didn’t leave him
there, I promise-” Sirius hand was firm on
Ron’s shoulder, despite the fact that his
voice and expression were shaky.

“There? The Chamber?” Ron nodded.

“With Riddle, but we didn’t see the basi-

lisk-”

- 973 -
Sirius looked him up and down and asked,
“Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Ron said. He had a bit of a head-

ache from what he was sure had been the
Imperius curse, and he was feeling rather
sick with guilt and worry for Harry, but
he could manage those. “We’ve got to help
Harry, though. He’s down there with Rid-
dle and the basilisk-” Ron hoped Harry
had let go of Fawkes for a reason, rath-
er than because he’d been attacked. But
what was down there that Harry could
possibly want? Both he and Sirius jumped
as Fawkes vanished in a ball of golden fire.

“Do you remember how to get down there?”

Sirius asked. Ron nodded, and Sirius’ ex-
pression flickered. Ron thought he was
relieved “We’ll need you then; better you
take us there than waste time describing

- 974 -
it. Wait here.” Sirius turned away, back
to the Aurors and teachers, presumably to
get a group together.

“Thank Merlin!” Professor Sprout said.

“Miss Weasley, are you hurt?” McGona-

gall said.

“Professor,” he heard Ginny say weakly,

“no, please, you don’t understand- Ron’s-
he’s helping Tom, he- and Harry-” She
sounded like she was getting more and
more worked up. Ron approached the
group, and was patted on the back by
George, who looked him over with con-
cern, and then relief once he realised he
wasn’t hurt. Ginny looked up at him with
huge eyes. He wondered, absently, if the
bags under them had always been that
bad, if her cheeks had always been that
hollow. While she was awake, it seemed

- 975 -
being away from Riddle hadn’t helped
much, and the sick feeling in Ron’s stom-
ach came back, stronger than ever. She’ll
be dead in a few more minutes, Riddle had
said.

“I’m here,” he said, swallowing. “And I’m

not- it was a spell- I wouldn’t-” Ginny’s lip
trembled, and for a moment, Ron thought
she might cry, but then her eyes flicked
to all of the people around her, and she
seemed to pull herself together. McGona-
gall sent a silvery cat up the staircase to
tell Madam Pomfrey to expect Ginny im-
mediately.

“And- and Harry?” she asked. It seemed to

be a huge struggle for her, but she man-
aged to get herself into a sitting position,
so she could look through the thicket of
legs around her. Ron didn’t like the way
her face paled, and Marlene moved to

- 976 -
catch her when she swayed. Ginny let her.
“Is he okay?” she asked weakly.

“He will be,” Sirius said, and Ron thought

the look in his face could send Riddle run-
ning. He had Snape and four Aurors be-
hind him, and he glanced at the older Au-
ror beside Fred. “Robards, I could use the
help.” The Auror nodded, and then Siri-
us put a hand on Marlene’s arm and she
stood as well, leaving Ginny in the care of
Professor Sprout.

“He didn’t come back with us?” Ginny

asked Ron, and he could have sworn that
her face had thinned in the past few sec-
onds. He shook his head at her, and she
sagged against Sprout, face very white.

Once the Aurors get down there, they can

make Riddle let her go, Ron told himself.
Down in the Chamber, Riddle had said

- 977 -
she had minutes, and that was- well, min-
utes ago. She was running out of time, and
Harry’d been alone down there for min-
utes now too. Riddle could have called the
basilisk, and then what would Harry do?

“Ron, let’s go,” Sirius said urgently, and

Ron turned away from Ginny. Ron hoped,
but didn’t really believe that Sirius would
let him go down to the Chamber again, but
he was just happy to be able to help at all.
He supposed – if nothing else – that showed
how worried everyone was, that they were
willing to let a not-quite-thirteen year old
lead them, and that no one had objected.
Ron stared at him for a few seconds, and
at the other Aurors, and even Snape, who
were all watching him, waiting.

“Right,” he said. “This way.” He started

toward the staircase, and they all followed
him without question.

- 978 -
“Wait,” a voice said weakly, and Ron turned
around to see Ginny on her feet, taking
small, unsteady steps toward them. Fred,
George and McGonagall were around her,
obviously ready to catch her if she stum-
bled. As Ron watched, she reached out to
steady herself on Fred. “I’m coming too.”

“The only place you’re going, Miss Weas-

ley,” McGonagall said, conjuring a stretch-
er, “is the hospital wing. You’re dead on
your feet.”

She saw Ron wince, and wondered if he too,

was thinking that McGonagall was closer
to being right than she probably knew. But
Ginny wasn’t dead yet, couldn’t die yet,
not when they still needed her. Her vision
dimmed, and she wobbled. Fred tried to

- 979 -
put her onto the stretcher, but she clung
to him, embarrassed and angry by how
hard it was to even keep herself upright.

“You can hardly stand, Ginny,” George

said, appearing on her other side to help
Fred get her onto the stretcher. She tried
to kick them, but she could hardly find the
strength to lift her leg. Her brothers lifted
her easily.

“No,” she said. “They need me-”

“Noble though your intentions are,” Mc-

Gonagall said, not unkindly, as she guid-
ed the stretcher forward with a wave of
her wand, “the Aurors are quite a capable
bunch and will certainly manage without
you.”

Did you hear that, Ginny? The voice was

Tom’s, and made her gasp as if she’d just

- 980 -
been doused with freezing water. They
don’t need you. No one needs you. In fact,
they’re better off without you. Ginny was
sure it wasn’t actually Tom, but rather
her own imagination, fuelled by, well, fu-
elled by Tom’s influence. Or at least she
hoped; the only good thing she could think
of about him having his own body was that
he wouldn’t need hers anymore. It would
kill her, if what he’d said was true, but
at least she’d die as herself and not with
Tom in her head, controlling her mouth
and limbs.

She wasn’t even scared anymore. Or, not

much.

The stretcher was soft, but firm under her,

and she was so tired. Fred’s sweaty hand
was in hers, and she could see George’s
worried face looking down at her as the
stretcher drifted along. It would be so

- 981 -
easy to just close her eyes and let every-
one else worry about it all. But Harry and
Ron had come for her, and Ron was okay,
but she could still help Harry, or at least,
help the Aurors help Harry. It might be
too late for her, but with help, Harry could
stop Tom, or the Aurors could, and Gin-
ny thought that was worth dying for. Her
vision dimmed again, and she struggled
against it.

Not yet, she thought, feeling dizzy.

“I have to go with them,” Ginny said, reach-

ing for McGonagall’s sleeve. McGonagall
only glared at her, but Ginny could see in
her eyes how worried she was. “Please,”
Ginny said weakly. She felt a little more
of her strength drain away, and her heart
pounded. Maybe it knew it was running
out of time. Ron and the Aurors were gone,
but they wouldn’t get far. “They can’t get

- 982 -
down there, otherwise.”

“Miss Weasley, you need the hospital

wing,” McGonagall said thickly.

“I have to help,” Ginny said. If she was

well, she’d probably have shouted that,
and stomped her foot for good measure. As
it was, she just lay her head back down,
and fought her heavy eyelids. Her tongue
was heavy too, like a plank of wood. “It’s-
parseltongue- they can’t- but I… can.”
She turned her head toward McGonagall,
whose face was a blur beneath a green hat.
“I have to… to help…”

“Parseltongue?” McGonagall asked. She

sounded worried, and a bit out of breath.
“How would you open it, Miss Weasley?”

“Tell it... Open,” Ginny sighed. She thought

she recognised the blurred outline of a

- 983 -
painting on the fourth floor. “We’re- this
is… wrong way…”

McGonagall said something that Ginny

didn’t quite hear, and there was a flash of
silvery light. Ginny couldn’t even muster
the strength to sit up and see what it was.

“Ginny,” George said. Ginny couldn’t see

him, so she assumed her eyes had closed.
She couldn’t quite remember how to open
them, but she managed to turn her head
toward the voice to show she could hear
him.

“Again, Miss Weasley,” McGonagall said,

from the other side of her. “What would
you say to open it?”

“Open,” Ginny said, to the darkness; she

still couldn’t work out how to open her
eyes. “You say open. Please… I have to

- 984 -
help…”

“Quickly,” McGonagall said – not to her,

she didn’t think - and then started to say
something else, but silence fell in Ginny’s
dark world.

“You haven’t saved her,” Riddle said, peel-

ing off his sodden robes, as he glared at
the spot where Fawkes had just vanished.
“Just bought her an extra few minutes.
Enough, maybe, for them to think she’s
got a chance. And then she’ll die.” Riddle’s
smile was cruel.

“Not if I stop you,” Harry said, bluffing. He

was here for the diary, and he’d get out as
soon as he had it. He just hoped Fawkes
came back for him, or he’d have no choice
but to Apparate, or try to outrun Riddle.

- 985 -
He didn’t look at the diary as he spoke;
the last thing he wanted was to draw Rid-
dle’s attention to it, because then it would
be that much harder to get.

“How noble,” Riddle said mockingly. “But

in case you haven’t noticed Harry, you’re
alone, and I’m getting stronger by the min-
ute.”

“At the strongest you’ve ever been, I beat

you,” Harry said. He took a step forward,
and felt something soft under his shoe. It
was the sorting hat; he picked it up, and
stuffed it into his pocket. Fawkes had a
reason from bringing it, he was sure, but
he didn’t know what that reason might
be. He thought it was safe to bet that it
wasn’t so that Riddle could have it, though.
“Didn’t even get out of my cot to do it, ei-
ther.” It was an effort to grin, but it was
worth it to see Riddle flush an ugly pink

- 986 -
colour. “And you’re alone as well. I rather
like my chances.” Though he’d liked them
a lot more, when Ron and Fawkes were
with him.

“Alone?” Riddle asked, with another smile.

“But I’m not, Harry; speak to me, Slyther-
in, greatest of the Hogwarts four!” A dull
grating noise made Harry look up at the
statue of Slytherin. Its mouth was open-
ing, and he could see movement inside it.

Harry ran. Not far, because he couldn’t

put too much space between him and the
diary, but far enough that he was able to
get himself behind a pillar by the time he
heard the snake hit the chamber floor.

“Kill him,” Riddle said, sounding almost

bored, and the snake replied with a hiss
that didn’t mean anything. Harry heard
its scales on the stone as it moved toward

- 987 -
him and heard the flick of its tongue as it
tasted the air. He patted his pockets, des-
perate, but all he had was his wand and
the hat.

“Leave me alone,” Harry called to the bas-

ilisk, “and I won’t hurt you.” He remem-
bered the kelpie at Malfoy Manor, and
how he’d been able to appeal to its sense
of self-preservation. He hoped the same
could work here, too.

“Hurt me?” the basilisk asked. It made an

odd hissing sound that might have been
laughter. “Why should I fear one that ss-
mellss asss sscared asss you do?” It made
the odd laughing sound again, and he
heard it come closer. It was in no hurry,
Harry realised; it was enjoying this. Not
that he blamed it; he didn’t have much
chance unless he thought of something,
and quickly.

- 988 -
He eyed the pillars, and wondered if he
could bring one of them down on top of it.
He knew Bombarda, but he didn’t think
that would be strong enough. And, what if
it didn’t fall the way he wanted it to? And
spells would bounce off the basilisk’s thick
scales…

Unless I don’t target the basilisk directly,

he thought. He drew his wand, shut his
eyes, and stuck his head around the side
of the pillar, hoping he’d judged right, and
that the basilisk wasn’t close enough to
strike. He couldn’t see the basilisk – and
therefore couldn’t be petrified – but he
could hear it, and could smell it. It made
the hiss-laugh sound again, and shivers
ran down Harry’s spine.

“Colloshoo,” Harry shouted, and ducked

back behind the pillar again. He heard a

- 989 -
hiss of rage – though he wasn’t sure wheth-
er it was from Riddle or the snake – but he
took it as a sign that his spell had worked.
Harry wracked his brains for any other
spells that might help him, but the most
offensive spells he knew were Bombarda
and Incendio, and he didn’t think they’d
be particularly helpful. He just wished he
was good enough at Transfiguration to be
able to conjure a rooster. Harry was confi-
dent he could make a wolf, but he had no
idea where to even start with birds.

He could hear the basilisk thrashing

around on the other side of the pillar, try-
ing to get free of Harry’s spell.

“Fix it,” he heard it hiss at Riddle.

“I can’t,” Riddle sounded particularly sour

about that, and Harry felt a surge of re-
lief. If nothing else, it confirmed that Rid-

- 990 -
dle didn’t have a wand.

Right, Harry thought, the snake’s stuck,

but I’m dead if I look at it… my wolf isn’t
any help; Mrs Norris was petrified, just
like everyone else. He was glad about that,
because otherwise, he might have tried
it. And I don’t know where it’s stuck. If
its head was free, it might still be able to
strike at him. And I need the diary, but if
I get too close to Riddle, he might get my
wand, and then I’m dead as well.

He envied Padfoot then, who’d always been

able to summon things with magic. Harry
was yet to learn that particular skill. The
only thing he could summon was Kreacher
– and he cursed himself for not thinking of
that before, though with Fawkes there it
hadn’t mattered - but there was no way to
warn Kreacher and he couldn’t risk him
Apparating in to the basilisk’s line of sight.

- 991 -
Feeling rather desperate – but it was
Gryffindor’s old hat, so it was bound to
know something useful - Harry pulled out
the hat and jammed it onto his head. The
basilisk was still hissing madly, in frus-
tration.

I need to kill Slytherin’s basilisk, Harry

said to the hat. Do you know any spells,
or- or do you have any ideas-

And one hit him, rather hard, on the head.

- 992 -
Chapter 37:
Blood and ink

“Are you just going to hide there, Har-

ry?” Riddle taunted, as Harry clutched his
head with one hand, and pulled the hat off
with the other. “Poor Ginny’s running out
of time.”

Inside the hat, glistened a sword. Harry

drew it without hesitating, and stuffed
the hat back into his pocket. The sword
was silver, and heavy, but Harry tested
its weight and thought he’d be able to lift

- 993 -
it well enough to swing at or stab the bas-
ilisk. The problem was, what was he sup-
posed to do with it? Hacking blindly at the
snake’s body probably wouldn’t do much
more than make it angry, but getting to
the head would be tricky if he couldn’t look
at it. He could try to levitate the sword up
to cut at the basilisk, but he thought he’d
be more likely to lose it than do any dam-
age.

But Ginny’s running out of time, Harry

thought, tightening his grip on the sword.
Damn it, think, Harry, think-

Music flooded the chamber, and gold-

en light cast shadows on the walls. He
thought he could hear wings.

Fawkes, Harry thought, relieved. He

risked a look out from behind the pillar
through mostly closed eyes; all he could

- 994 -
see was swaying green and every now and
then, a streak of red. The basilisk made
a horrible, pained noise and Tom shouted
angrily. Without thinking, Harry opened
his eyes for a better look. Fawkes was hov-
ering above the basilisk’s head with bloody
claws, and the basilisk was snapping at
him, with long, deadly fangs to little avail;
it couldn’t rear properly, because Harry’s
sticking charm was still in place; the last
third of its body was stuck, only a few feet
from the base of Slytherin’s statue.

Perhaps drawn by the sound of his move-

ment, the basilisk turned its head in his
direction, and Harry found himself look-
ing at its eye. Myrtle had said they were
yellow, but now, they were red and bloody.

Fawkes.

He doubted it could see him at all. Harry

- 995 -
didn’t hesitate. He ran out from his hiding
spot, toward the snake, which was torn
between snapping at Fawkes, and trying
to work out where he was.

It snapped at him, but Harry dodged easily

and eyed its mouth. He could stab it there,
he thought, but he didn’t fancy getting in
the way of those teeth. Its tongue flicked
out, and Harry slashed at it, but missed.
It lunged at him in retaliation, and Harry
jumped back, out of reach.

He risked a look at Riddle, who was star-

ing at him, stunned; likely as not, he was
wondering where Harry had pulled a
sword from. Harry looked back at the bas-
ilisk, which was snapping at Fawkes.

Top of the head, he thought, heart pound-

ing. But how do I get up there? He eyed
the statue, and ran forward, taking care

- 996 -
to keep the sword between him and the
basilisk. He was glad he had; a moment
later, the basilisk lunged for him. It was
off-target – missing him with its teeth by a
good few feet – but the side of its head still
knocked him over. Harry hit it on the nose
with the sword, and it backed off, hissing.
Fawkes swooped down again, giving him
a chance to find his feet.

“Leave the bird! Kill Potter!” Riddle

snapped; he’d moved, to keep the basilisk
between himself and Harry. It occurred
to Harry that he was afraid. But, he was
looking more and more solid every time
Harry looked, and that didn’t bode well.
Harry scrambled up onto Slytherin’s stone
foot - which put him at the basilisk’s head
height – while the basilisk was distracted
by Fawkes. The basilisk’s tongue lashed
out, and it turned its head, clearly listen-
ing for him. Harry held his breath, and

- 997 -
pulled off his shoe, and when it didn’t ap-
pear to notice that, tossed his shoe down.

“ Kill Potter!”

As soon as the shoe hit the ground, the

basilisk’s head shot toward it, and Harry
stabbed the sword down into the top of its
head, as hard as he could. The snake jerk-
ed so violently that Harry was pulled off
the statue – he clung to the sword – and
then crashed to the floor of the Chamber.
Harry lost his grip on the sword and was
flung to the ground, bouncing a few times
before he rolled to a stop, several yards
from the basilisk.

Harry pushed himself into a sitting posi-

tion. He felt a bit bruised and battered, but
didn’t think he’d broken anything. Riddle,
stared at Harry with loathing, and ran
toward the basilisk, which was very still.

- 998 -
The sword was sticking out of the top of its
head, looking like some sort of gruesome,
silver and ruby crown. Fawkes, who’d
alighted on the statue, let out a warble.

Harry patted his pocket to be sure he still

had his wand, and went to fetch the diary,
which hadn’t moved. It was a plain thing –
much too plain to be responsible for all of
the trouble it had caused – bound in black
leather. The pages inside it were blank,
but Harry found Riddle’s name in the cov-
er. Riddle himself was walking around be-
hind Harry, but he was wandless, so Har-
ry ignored him and turned the diary over
in his hands. He wasn’t entirely sure what
to do with it, but getting it away from Rid-
dle seemed like a good start.

He was just about to put it into his pocket,

when Fawkes screeched, and pain lanced
through his back.

- 999 -
 §

Sirius didn’t see the spell coming. Luck

saved Ron, who was just short enough
that it flew over his head, and saved Siri-
us, who was just enough to the left that he
felt it pass his cheek. Luck wasn’t enough
for Yaxley, though, who was hit in the
throat and fell to the ground, convulsing,
in the doorway to Myrtle’s bathroom. An-
other spell hit Shacklebolt, knocking him
back into the wall, where he lay, still, and
a third spell would have hit Hemsley, but
he blocked it in time to be charged by a
man emerging from the bathroom.

Sirius shot a stunning spell at him, but he

deflected it with ease, though Snape’s cut-
ting charm got his side. Sirius heard his
hiss of pain. The man flicked his wand. The
hallway exploded around them. Sirius got
to Ron in time, shielding him with his own

- 1000 -
body, but Sirius just felt brief heat, and
was hit by a few chunks of stone; Robards
and Proudfoot had got their wands up in
time to shield them all from the worst of
it.

“Proudfoot,” Robards barked. “McKinnon,

Hemsley.” The three of them nodded and
took off after the man, who’d just disap-
peared around the corner at the end of the
corridor.

“You all right?” Sirius asked Ron, who

nodded, wide-eyed. Sirius crouched down
beside Yaxley, and after a few attempts,
managed to cancel the spell on her. She
rubbed her throat, and let Sirius pull her
to her feet, but she didn’t look well. Shack-
lebolt was up and about, thanks to Snape,
and Robards emerged from the bathroom
to tell them it was clear.

- 1001 -
“You’ll stay with Ron and Snape,” Sirius
told Yaxley, who didn’t even try to argue.
She nodded unsteadily, and Sirius helped
her into the bathroom, where Robards and
Ron were standing by the sinks. One was
covered in scorch marks, and the mirror
above it was cracked; obviously, the man
who’d been in here before had been trying
to access the Chamber as well.

“I forgot, I’m sorry,” Ron said, turning to

Sirius with an absolutely miserable ex-
pression. “Harry used parseltongue to get
us in, but he had to close it. I’m sorry, I-”
It went without saying that Harry was
not with them now, and that none of them
spoke parseltongue. Sirius felt his heart
drop, as he looked at the scorch marks on
the sink. Force didn’t work, it seemed. Sir-
ius drew his wand anyway, fully prepared
to tear the bathroom apart if that’s what it
took, though he had little hope of it work-

- 1002 -
ing.

“Stand back,” he told the other five. Ro-

bards guided Ron back, and Yaxley stag-
gered back into Kingsley. Snape watched
with his arms folded.

Then, a silvery cat trotted into the bath-

room, sat, right in front of them, and
hissed.

Riddle stepped away from Harry and

tossed the basilisk fang he’d just stabbed
him with to the ground. Harry sucked a
shaky breath in through his teeth. His
back – just below his left shoulder blade –
felt like it was on fire. Then, Riddle’s shiny
shoe entered Harry’s vision, and embed-
ded itself in his side. Harry’s vision went
white with pain for a few moments, and

- 1003 -
he thought he might have screamed.

When he was able to focus again, he was

lying on his back with Riddle was standing
over him, sneering. Fawkes was perched
on his knee, warbling softly, and kneading
Harry’s robes in his claws.

“Even the bird knows you’re dead,” Rid-

dle said. “Basilisk venom is extraordinari-
ly potent, Harry. You’ve got a minute at
most.” His eyes unfocused for a moment,
and then his smile widened. “Ginny will
be waiting for you, though, if you believe
in that sort of thing.” He tone made it ob-
vious that he didn’t. “She’s starting to slip
away.”

“No,” Harry groaned. Fawkes hopped up

to stand by his head, and nudged his left
shoulder, making Harry’s back twinge.
“Stop it,” he mumbled, trying to wave

- 1004 -
Fawkes away with his right hand. He
could feel the venom in him, feel burning
in his legs and chest, and a faint stinging
sensation in his fingertips and toes. Har-
ry used his right arm – the one he could
move without it being excruciating – to
reach for his wand, but Riddle kicked it
out of his hand and bent to pick it up.

“I think I’ll find better use for this than

you,” he said, twirling it in his long fin-
gers. “You’re beyond magic’s help anyway,
so I don’t know what you could possibly
want with it.”

“Beyond-” Harry’s vision swam, and he

could feel warm blood pooling under him.
“-magical repair?” he asked. Fawkes
nudged him again, a little more desper-
ately this time.

“Oh yes,” Riddle said smugly. Harry braced

- 1005 -
himself, and then, in one, swift, excruciat-
ing movement, rolled himself over onto his
front to grab the basilisk fang. Riddle only
laughed, and stepped out of Harry’s reach.

He was still laughing, in fact, when Har-

ry summoned what seemed like the last of
his strength, and drove the fang through
the leather of the diary, which had fallen
out of Harry’s hands when Riddle stabbed
him.

Ink burst out of the diary, Riddle dropped

Harry’s wand with a howl at the same
time as Fawkes attacked Harry; Harry
could feel his sharp claws and beak shred-
ding robes, but was too exhausted to do
anything about it. Then, Harry’s back re-
ally started to burn, and pain clouded his
vision. His head dropped forward, into the
ink that was steadily oozing from the dia-
ry.

- 1006 -
The last thing he noticed, before everything
went black, was that Riddle was gone.
Harry managed a weak smile through the
pain, and thought that was worth dying
for.

“I want to help,” Ron said, stepping after

Sirius; Robards and Shacklebolt had al-
ready disappeared down the tunnel lead-
ing into the Chamber. It looked steep, and
it occurred to Sirius that there probably
wasn’t – short of levitating themselves up
– an easy way back.

“I’ll need someone to fetch brooms, and

stay up here so that we can get out after-
ward,” Sirius said, looking at Snape and
Yaxley, who nodded, and then at Ron, who
didn’t.

- 1007 -
“Down there,” Ron said, looking down the
tunnel.

“Ron,” Sirius said, too desperate to get

down there and do something to bother be-
ing kind. “You’d be in the way. And even
if you were older, or knew more spells… I
don’t know what we’re going to find down
there, and if-” He swallowed. “-if it’s… bad,
if Harry’s- you don’t need to see that.” Ron
was very white under his freckles, but he
nodded and stepped back toward Snape.

Sirius jumped down the tunnel. Shack-

lebolt and Robards were waiting for him
in a small chamber. The floor seemed to
be comprised entirely of bones, and Siri-
us moved gingerly over them, through an
archway and into a tunnel.

“Shall we split up?” Robards asked, look-

ing to the left and right.

- 1008 -
“This way,” Sirius said, sniffing the air. He
could smell Harry and Ron clearly and be-
neath their scents was one that might have
been Ginny’s. Sirius gripped his wand, lis-
tening, but the tunnel was silent. He and
the other two made their way down quick-
ly but quietly, wands aloft.

Shacklebolt and Robards slowed when

they spotted the scaly outline up ahead,
but Sirius couldn’t hear it moving, or hear
a heartbeat or breathing, so he cast a
quick bludgeoning hex ahead. A section of
what turned out to be skin collapsed, and
he waved at the others to keep up.

Please be all right, he thought. This was

much, much worse than last year; last
year, when Harry’d gone after the Stone,
Sirius had been half-dead and hadn’t
known about it until Harry was safely in
the hospital wing. This time, though, Sir-

- 1009 -
ius was very much aware of the situation,
and was sure – if everything turned out
okay – that he’d have more than a few
grey hairs he hadn’t had that morning. If
it didn’t turn out okay- well, Sirius didn’t
want to think about that. Losing Lily and
James had broken him. Losing Harry, he
thought, would destroy him.

The tunnel opened up into a large cham-

ber, lined with pillars, and all sorts of oth-
er snake-adorned stonework. Sirius could
smell Harry and blood all through it.

“Homenum revelio,” Robards said softly,

as they entered. “One human, one non-hu-
man, up the end there.” Sirius squinted
ahead, but couldn’t see much. Then, the
sound of quiet footsteps caught Sirius’
ear, and someone said something in a low
voice.

- 1010 -
“Disillusionment Charm,” Sirius mur-
mured to Shacklebolt, who nodded.

He, Robards, and the invisible Shacklebolt

continued up the Chamber. A statue of
Slytherin loomed up ahead, staring down
on them with a rather stern expression,
and at its feet, lay the basilisk, unmoving.
Dumbledore’s Phoenix was perched on the
snake’s jaw, watching them, and a short,
black robed figure looked up as they ap-
proached.

“Harry,” Sirius called, and Harry looked

up, apparently startled to see them.

His front and face were covered in some

sort of black goo, though there was blood
on the collar of his shirt. In his hand, was a
bloodstained, silver sword, inlaid with ru-
bies, and in his other hand, was his wand.
He started to smile at the sight of Sirius,

- 1011 -
but then his eyes flicked to where Shack-
lebolt was, and he took a step back, wand
coming up. They were close enough that
Sirius could smell him, and how wary his
scent was. Sirius hesitated.

“Padfoot?” Sirius lifted his own wand,

swallowing. He wanted very much for it to
be Harry, but he wasn’t stupid enough to
discount the possibility of him being pos-
sessed. Harry eyed the wand in his hand.

“Where’s Riddle?” Sirius asked, looking

around.

“Gone,” Harry said. “Or- well, I think he

is.”

“You’re sure?” Sirius asked, arching an eye-

brow. Riddle had been using a horcrux, or
at least they’d thought so. So either they’d
been wrong or Harry’d worked out how

- 1012 -
to destroy it. Sirius glanced around, but
there was nothing unusual about, except
for the large black puddle on the Cham-
ber’s floor. Sirius was a little sickened to
see that it seemed to be mixed with blood.

“I think so,” Harry said again. “Is Ginny

all right?”

“I don’t know, kiddo,” Harry’s lip trem-

bled, and that was what convinced Sirius
that it was just Harry; Riddle wouldn’t
have even asked, he didn’t think, and cer-
tainly wouldn’t have responded with a
wobbly lip. “She wasn’t looking well when
I left, but she’d be with Pomfrey by now,
so-” Somehow, his response had convinced
Harry of whatever he needed to hear as
well; Robards and Shacklebolt both start-
ed as the sword dropped to the floor and
Harry rushed at Sirius.

- 1013 -
Sirius was ready, though, and had his
arms open and waiting by the time Harry
closed the distance between them. He hit
with considerable force for such a lanky
kid, but Sirius didn’t mind. Harry was
trembling, and his front was soaked with
whatever the black stuff was, and his back
was covered in blood. Sirius pulled away
and turned him around, worried, and Har-
ry stiffened, but obliged.

Harry’s robes were shredded and bloody,

and his back was covered in thin scratch-
es, but none looked life-threatening, nor
were they deep enough to account for all
the blood. Sirius fixed them with a quick
wave of his wand, and froze. Just below
Harry’s left shoulder blade, was a large,
round scar that he’d never noticed on Har-
ry before – and that would explain the
blood – but it looked to be a few weeks old,
and Harry wasn’t any good with healing

- 1014 -
spells yet…

“Later,” Harry muttered, fidgeting, when

Sirius touched the scar. Sirius arched an
eyebrow at him, but nodded. Shacklebolt
was visible again, and he and Robards
were examining the dead basilisk under
Fawkes’ watchful eye.

“It’s definitely dead,” Shacklebolt said.

“But fresh; the blood isn’t even dry yet.” He
looked curiously at Harry, who was staring
at his ruined trainers. Sirius picked up the
bloody sword Harry’d dropped, and then
glanced at his godson, who still wouldn’t
look at them. Harry smelled uncomfort-
able and overwhelmed, and Sirius knew
there were no answers to be had from him
at the moment.

Sirius put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and

said, “Let’s get you out of here.”

- 1015 -
Chapter 38:
Back on the outside

The cuts and bruises were hidden for the

moment, under a familiar but still foreign
skin, but they still stung. Barty adjusted
his robes and looked out over the sea, heart
pounding. Heavy rain beat down onto his
back.

The day had been an utter disaster. He’d

been duped by Lockhart – who he’d be-
lieved about the Slytherin common room
right up until he found Potter lurking in

- 1016 -
the bathroom – too slow to stop a pair of
twelve year olds from slipping through his
fingers, had lost the Imperius connection
with the other boy somehow, hadn’t been
able to re-open the Chamber, and had
nearly been taken by Aurors both at the
bathroom, and at his house after they’d
tracked him through the Floo.

One was dead, and another likely dying,

so it hadn’t been a complete loss, but he
hadn’t had a chance to think about what
he’d do with his father, and doubtless the
third Auror would have found him by now.
And he regretted not killing Winky, but
she’d always been good to him, though he
doubted she’d be so good when his father
had her tell the Aurors everything. The
boat rocked as a wave hit it, and Barty
ground his teeth together.

If they hadn’t already, they would soon

- 1017 -
work out who he was, and his most valu-
able disguise – his father’s face – would
be useless. Today could well be the last
time he wore it. He didn’t know what had
happened between Potter and his Lord, or
how his Lord had fared against the Au-
rors, once they arrived. Barty only knew
that he needed to be careful now, that he
would need help.

It was a pity he hadn’t been able to get

the Lestranges; they were exactly the sort
of people his Lord could have made good
use of, following his reappearance; they
were loyal, and powerful, and Barty and
Bellatrix had been His favourites. But
he’d blundered – they’d blundered – and
they would be under closer watch than
ever. And they were not people equipped
for dealing with uncertainty; they would
not take orders from him, they had no
patience, and rash behaviour would lose

- 1018 -
them everything if they weren’t careful.

No, Barty needed another Death Eater, a

careful one, a sneaky one.

The boat bumped against the slippery,

stony shore, and as a young Auror secured
it under the watchful eye of her mentor,
Barty stepped out with a quiet thank you,
and made his way up the cliff toward the
prison.

Dumbledore, dressed in bright pur-

ple robes, passed him on the way. Barty
tensed, wondering if he’d heard what was
going on at the school, but if he had, he
didn’t make the connection. Dumbledore
murmured a greeting in a vague, distract-
ed sort of voice, without slowing, and Barty
walked by, uncontested, with a curt hello
of his own.

- 1019 -
 §

Somehow, Harry couldn’t help but think,

he always ended up in the hospital wing.
This time, though, he wasn’t hurt too bad-
ly; a bit shaken, perhaps, and exhausted,
but Fawkes had healed the worst of the
damage. And Ron, trailing along beside
him with an expression that made Harry
certain Ron was not going to be left be-
hind – or rather, sent ahead – ever again,
wasn’t any the worse for wear either.

Ginny had been put into a bed beside Per-

cy’s, and was so still and pale when they
approached that Harry feared he might
have been too slow down in the Chamber.
McGonagall stood up, hand pressed to her
heart when she saw Harry standing there,
and Harry nodded awkwardly at her – she
looked suspiciously teary - and then craned
his neck to see more of Ginny; he saw her

- 1020 -
chest rise and fall as she breathed, and
felt relief course through him.

Ron tried to tug Harry forward, to where

Fred and George were waiting beside Gin-
ny’s bed, but Harry shook him off gently,
and Ron went alone, to join his brothers.
Harry stayed back to give them their time
together, and Padfoot came up behind him,
finally free; Madam Pomfrey had cornered
him at the doors, and demanded to know
what he thought he was doing, bringing a
sword into her hospital wing. The sword in
question was propped against the inside
wall of the hospital wing, and Harry won-
dered what exactly they were supposed to
do with it after this.

“Now,” Madam Pomfrey said, swooping

down on Harry. She too, looked suspi-
ciously red-eyed, but her tone was just as
brisk as ever. “Let’s see what you’ve done

- 1021 -
to yourself this time, shall we?” He let her
usher him onto one of the beds, and let her
poke and prod him with her wand, and
didn’t say anything when she clucked over
the new scar on his back. Padfoot watched
carefully all the while, and Harry, who’d
hoped not to have a big deal made of the
whole thing, sighed.

“Nothing wrong with him that I can see,”

she declared after a while, and Padfoot in-
clined his head. “That scar’s there to stay,
I’m afraid, but that’s probably the worst of
it.” She gave Harry a stern look, and then
swept off to check on Ginny.

“Does it hurt?” Padfoot asked. Harry

shook his head. He could see thousands
of questions in Padfoot’s eyes, but Padfoot
wouldn’t ask them here, he didn’t think.

“Are they still evacuating the school?”

- 1022 -
Harry asked.

“For the week.” McGonagall came to stand

by his bed, greeting Padfoot with a nod.
Her expression was unusually warm when
she turned to regard Harry. “After this or-
deal, we thought it best, but you will all be
expected back next week, for the resump-
tion of term.” A shadow of a smile crept
onto her face. “After all, exams are loom-
ing, and you and Mr Weasley both have
outstanding detentions.” Harry’s mouth
fell open, and McGonagall arched an eye-
brow. “I do hope you’re not about to pro-
test, Potter,” she said. “I made it clear at
the time that detention with me was the
kinder of the two options.”

“I know,” Harry muttered; it had been

that, or time with Lockhart. Padfoot made
a funny noise that might have been a
smothered laugh.

- 1023 -
“I’m- glad to see you in good health. You
had everyone quite- concerned.” Her eyes
lingered on Padfoot for a moment, and
Harry hoped he hadn’t caused a big scene.

“Ginny’ll be all right, won’t she?” he asked,

as she moved to turn away.

“For a moment- When we arrived, Poppy

couldn’t get her heart started, but then
it did start again, all on its own.” McGo-
nagall gave Harry a curious look, and he
wondered if she suspected how much he’d
had to do with that. It was almost enough
to make his own heart stop, knowing how
close Ginny had been to dying.

“But now?” he asked.

“Now, Poppy’s hopeful,” McGonagall said,

smiling slightly. “Molly and Arthur are

- 1024 -
due within the hour, but I suspect Poppy
will want to keep her here for the night.”
She glanced around and spied Snape. “If
you’ll excuse me…”

As she walked away, Padfoot jumped and

pulled out his Sidekick. He muttered the
opening phrase, and then stepped away
from Harry’s bed holding it to his ear. His
eyes, though, remained fixed on Harry,
as if daring him to move. Harry stared at
his hands, wondering why people seemed
to expect him to disappear now; Tom and
the basilisk were dealt with, so there was
nothing left to do.

Padfoot’s face drained of colour as he

spoke, and Harry made to get up and go
to him, but Padfoot lifted a shaky hand
and gestured to him to stay where he was.
Though Fred and George were talking
quietly, and Ron was being fussed over

- 1025 -
by Madam Pomfrey, the snap of Padfoot’s
Sidekick seemed loud.

“What happened?” Harry asked. Padfoot

pinched the bridge of his nose.

“There was a man in the bathroom that at-

tacked us when we were trying to get down
to you,” Padfoot said. “Marlene and a cou-
ple of others went after him while we went
down the Chamber, but it must have got
messy; Robards just said he’s dispatched a
handful of others to find out where they’ve
got to.” He was obviously worried; Harry
could tell from the way he was fiddling
with his Sidekick, and Harry could smell
annoyance… maybe that he hadn’t been
sent with the other group to track them,
or maybe that things had gone wrong at
all. The silent, brooding mood that settled
on him reminded Harry of how he’d been
after Azkaban, and again after the De-

- 1026 -
mentor’s Draught.

It was an uncomfortable ten minute wait,

until anything else happened, but eventu-
ally, the hospital wing doors opened and
Harry and Padfoot both turned in time to
see Dumbledore stride in, with Fawkes
perched on his shoulder and a grim-look-
ing Scrimgeour in his wake.

Dumbledore’s thunderous expression soft-

ened when he spied Harry and Padfoot,
and softened further when he’d been to
speak with the Weasleys, McGonagall and
Madam Pomfrey over by Ginny’s bedside.
Scrimgeour’s expression didn’t ease at all,
but he did lift his hand when he saw Har-
ry looking at him.

“Sir,” Padfoot said, starting toward him,

“I didn’t realise- when did you get-”

- 1027 -
“Not here,” Harry heard Scrimgeour reply.
“The Headmaster and I have some things
to discuss, and both have need of some an-
swers. Is your boy hurt?” But Harry didn’t
hear Padfoot’s reply, because his vision
was obscured by purple robes and a lot of
silvery beard.

“You have a habit, it would seem, of not

listening when you are told not to go run-
ning off alone to try to fix things,” Dumb-
ledore said, arching an eyebrow at him.
“And I cannot say I approve-”

“I had Ron. And we didn’t have a choice,

or time to get help,” Harry said. “If we’d
waited, Ginny would be dead, and-”

“And I cannot say I approve,” Dumbledore

continued, slightly louder this time, “how-
ever, I shudder to think what the conse-
quences would have been, had you acted

- 1028 -
any differently.” Dumbledore didn’t smile,
nor did his eyes twinkle, but Harry could
smell his sincerity. “Well done.” Praise
was the last thing Harry had expected.

“It wasn’t just me,” Harry said, uncom-

fortable. “-without Ron and Fawkes-” This
time, Dumbledore did smile, in a way that
made Harry think he was being predict-
able. He fell silent, confused, and Dumb-
ledore’s eyes twinkled.

“If you would, Harry, both Rufus and I

have an interest in hearing your version
of events. Much has transpired tonight-”
And at that, Dumbledore looked sad. “-and
your insight could help us piece together
the rest.” Harry glanced past Dumbledore,
to where Scrimgeour looked expectant,
and Padfoot looked patient. Harry nod-
ded slowly. “Excellent. My office should be
free.”

- 1029 -
 §

As soon as Dumbledore’s office door closed,

Scrimgeour turned to Sirius, though not
before he cast warning looks in Dumble-
dore’s direction, and in Harry’s. Dumb-
ledore offered Harry a sweet, and Harry
lay the sword on the desk before taking a
sweet and sitting down across from Dumb-
ledore.

“They came out in Barty Crouch’s house,”

Scrimgeour said. Sirius’ eyebrows shot up.
Though he had them, Sirius didn’t inter-
rupt with questions; Scrimgeour was di-
rect, and good at explaining things quick-
ly. “The man – whoever he was – was
expecting them. McKinnon’s- they think
she’ll pull through-” Sirius’ heart leapt
to his throat for just a moment, and then
sank back to its usual place, beating fast.
“-and Proudfoot’s a bit banged up, but our

- 1030 -
lot healed him when they got there. Hems-
ley’s dead.” Sirius’ heart stopped, and Har-
ry’s head snapped up, showing that he’d
been listening more carefully than he’d let
on.

“He-” But the words died in Sirius’ throat.

Hemsley had been his partner, been a
clever, rather brisk man, but a good man,
and a patient one; he had, after all, man-
aged to mentor Brown. And he’d had a bad
enough run the past few years anyway, af-
ter losing McDuff to the Kiss before Sirius’
trial…

Least he’s with her now, Sirius thought,

pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked
up at Scrimgeour.

“Blasting curse, messy business.” Scrim-

geour’s expression was impossible to read,
but his voice was particularly gruff. “When

- 1031 -
we’re done here, I’d like your help telling
Brown.”

“Sure,” Sirius managed, though he wasn’t

sure how that would go; Brown had grown
up a bit this past year – he’d had to – but
Sirius still thought he was a bit of a prat,
and was sure the feeling was mutual. “Did
they catch-”

“No. The man Apparated away with the

help of Crouch’s house elf, so I’ve got Mag-
ical Creatures tracing it, and it’ll either
lead us straight to him, or be able to tell
us where they went… They found Crouch
in the house, but he wasn’t making sense,
so they’ve taken him away to be looked at
by a Healer before he’s questioned… It’s a
mess.”

“I’ll say,” Sirius murmured. “If you ask

me, though, Crouch hasn’t been right for

- 1032 -
weeks. And he was there the other day,
when Lestrange-”

“We’ll get answers from him,” Scrimgeour

said firmly, and Sirius believed him. “Now-
” He turned and pointed to Harry. “You’d
likely have heard bits of this from Black
afterward anyway, so I didn’t see any point
in making a fuss to talk in private, but if
any of this gets out into ears it shouldn’t,
or if I hear a version going around that’s
not exactly what I tell the Prophet lat-
er, it will reflect poorly on you and on
Black.” Harry nodded vigorously. “As for
you, Dumbledore, I don’t want meddling;
we keep our distance at the school for the
most part – unless of course you need us
– and I expect the same courtesy from you
in my Department.”

Dumbledore’s only response was to wave a

hand at one of the empty chairs, but that

- 1033 -
seemed to appease Scrimgeour. He sat,
and Sirius sat beside him, next to Harry.

“At the beginning, Harry, I should think,”

Dumbledore said.

Harry – still inky-faced, and in his inky,

bloody, tattered robes – pulled a bundle
of faded black fabric, and a stained, leath-
er-bound book from his pocket, and tossed
them down beside the sword.

- 1034 -
Chapter 39:
In the office

“This is it?” Dumbledore asked, reaching

for the diary, as Padfoot glanced at the hat
and shot Dumbledore a bewildered look.
“Tom’s… hiding place?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said.

“And how-”

There was a sharp knock on the office

door, and Mr Malfoy strode in. He nodded

- 1035 -
at Scrimgeour, barely looked at Harry and
Padfoot, and turned to Dumbledore.

“It seems the rumours of your return were

true after all, Dumbledore,” he said, curl-
ing his lip. “Odd, that; I seem to recall you
being asked to leave.”

“I remember it as well,” Dumbledore said,

not seeming bothered. Mr Malfoy glanced
at Scrimgeour, who had his arms folded,
and seemed to realise he wouldn’t be get-
ting any help from him.

“Then might I ask what, precisely, you

think you’re doing here?”

“He’s here because he was helping me,”

Harry said, smiling at Mr Malfoy, who
wasn’t going to get away with being a git
today if Harry could help it. This was all
his fault – he, after all, had given Ginny

- 1036 -
the diary in the first place – but Harry
couldn’t say that; Draco wasn’t impressed
with his father at the moment, but Harry
didn’t think he’d like to wake up to his fa-
ther in Azkaban, no matter how much Mr
Malfoy might deserve it. Harry could feel
Padfoot’s eyes on him, and Scrimgeour’s.
“Even when he was away from the school,
he did more than the people that were
here,” Harry added, giving Mr Malfoy a
pointed look.

“I, like the staff and other Board and Min-

istry members, wasn’t aware of the sit-
uation until it was too late to help,” Mr
Malfoy said smoothly. “My thoughts were
with you, though-”

“Not being aware of the situation’s prob-

ably the problem,” Padfoot said arching
his eyebrows, and Mr Malfoy scowled at
him. “Thank goodness the Headmaster

- 1037 -
was.” This was followed by a curious look
at Dumbledore from Padfoot. Harry won-
dered what he was thinking.

“Indeed,” Mr Malfoy said curtly. His eyes

had landed on the sword on the desk.
“And might I ask what this little meeting
is about?”

“Potter’s filling us in on the last few hours.

Sit, if you want to hear,” Scrimgeour said.
Padfoot didn’t look pleased with that, and
Dumbledore didn’t look annoyed, but he
smelled it. Malfoy conjured himself a chair
and sat, while Scrimgeour waved a hand
at Harry. “Tell us about the book, Potter.”

“It’s a diary,” Harry said, lifting it up

again, and was pleased when Mr Malfoy
froze. His knuckles were very white on his
cane. “Riddle used it to possess Ginny-”

- 1038 -
“The Weasley girl?” Scrimgeour asked,
and Harry nodded.

“She didn’t know what was happening,”

Harry said, and looked at everyone’s faces
to make sure they believed him. They all
seemed to. “He made her open the Cham-
ber, and tell the monster which targets
to go for, and he was going to use her to
bring himself back, somehow.” He glanced
at Padfoot and Dumbledore, and both
seemed content with that as an expla-
nation; they knew about horcruxes, but
Scrimgeour didn’t need to and Mr Malfoy
might already, but if he didn’t know, Har-
ry wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.

“And how did you find this?” Dumbledore

asked, reaching forward to take the di-
ary from Harry. He turned it over, eyes
thoughtful behind his half-moon glasses.

- 1039 -
“It was down in the Chamber,” Harry
said. “Riddle said something that made
me think it was important so I-”

“Attacked it, apparently,” Scrimgeour

said, peering at the large hole in the dia-
ry’s cover.

“With the sword,” Harry lied. He caught

Padfoot’s eye for a moment, and Padfoot
inclined his head; Harry would explain
the rest to him and Dumbledore later.

“Before or after you dealt with the snake?”

Scrimgeour asked.

“After,” Harry said.

“Snake?” Mr Malfoy asked.

“Slytherin’s monster,” Harry said. Mr

Malfoy arched an eyebrow, but said noth-

- 1040 -
ing more.

“And the sword? Gryffindor’s sword?” This

time, it was Padfoot that spoke. “Where in
Merlin’s name did you pull that from?”

“The Hat,” Harry said. “Fawkes brought

it to me.” He nodded at the bird, who was
on his usual perch, looking quite pleased
with himself.

“And how did you find the Chamber?”

Dumbledore asked.

“Percy was in the bathroom,” Harry said,

shrugging. “It seemed odd, so we talked
to Myrtle. She died there, fifty years ago,
when the Chamber was opened the first
time. She showed us the sink that cov-
ered the entrance.” Based on what he’d
heard about Slytherin, Harry didn’t have
a very high opinion on the man. He felt

- 1041 -
bad, though, for being the one to give up a
secret that had been kept for thousands of
years.

“And the man?” Scrimgeour asked.

“He came in, just as we worked out how to

get in,” Harry said. “He- said ‘Dark Lord’,
so I thought- Ron and I jumped, and I
closed the entrance behind us.”

“He said Dark Lord?” Scrimgeour asked

sharply. He opened his mouth to say some-
thing to Padfoot – since that’s who he was
looking at – but then he glanced at Mr
Malfoy and pursed his lips. Harry – who
liked Scrimgeour reasonably well after all
he’d done for Padfoot during the trial – felt
his estimation of the man rise again. “Did
he say how he gained access to the school,
Potter?” Harry shook his head.

- 1042 -
“More to the point, do you know where Gin-
ny got the diary?” Padfoot asked. “Wheth-
er she was given it, or just found it-”

“If she was given it, our bathroom man

seems a likely candidate,” Scrimgeour
said.

“I quite agree,” Mr Malfoy said, and Har-

ry felt anger stir in his stomach. “I trust,
Auror Scrimgeour, that you’re doing your
best to find him?” Scrimgeour nodded curt-
ly.

“He’ll be sent straight to Azkaban if he’s

caught, won’t he?” Harry asked, looking
at Padfoot, wide-eyed. “I mean, whoever
gave Ginny the diary nearly got all of the
basilisk’s victims killed and Ginny as well.
And then Riddle would have been back.”
He held Mr Malfoy’s eyes for a long mo-
ment, and Mr Malfoy looked uncertain.

- 1043 -
Good.

Scrimgeour asked a few more questions,

and then excused himself to return to the
Ministry. Mr Malfoy stayed where he was,
but Dumbledore got rid of him, saying
that he wanted to talk to Harry about an
appropriate reward for his services to the
school.

“Perhaps, while we do that, you could call

together the Board,” Dumbledore said
pleasantly. Harry rather enjoyed the way
Mr Malfoy’s expression soured. “As Harry
has said, my aid through Fawkes played
a role that – whilst small – was more use
to Harry than that of anyone else here to-
night, at least until the Aurors arrived to
extract him.” He nodded at Padfoot. “I will
be down to join that meeting when I am
finished here, to discuss my return to the

- 1044 -
school.” His tone didn’t change, but there
was something hard in his expression.

Mr Malfoy, with no good excuse to stay,

was forced to leave. He gave Harry one
sharp, slightly nervous look as he left, and
Harry arched an eyebrow at him. As soon
as the door closed, Harry turned to Dumb-
ledore.

“I don’t want a reward, I don’t think-”

“I just needed to rid us of Lucius Malfoy,”

Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. “Now,
how did you know to use the sword on the
diary?”

“I didn’t,” Harry said. He pulled the basi-

lisk fang out of his pocket and unwrapped
the scrap of robe from it, so that Padfoot
and Dumbledore could see it. “I used this.”

- 1045 -
“Basilisk venom is highly potent,” Dumb-
ledore said, nodding slowly. “And very few
cures exist.”

“Phoenix tears work well enough,” Harry

said, and Padfoot gave him a very sharp
look. Harry cringed, just knowing there’d
be words about that later. “Riddle said
something about magic not being able to
fix it, so I thought I’d-”

“Take a stab at it?” Padfoot asked, mouth

twitching.

“Something like that.” Harry couldn’t help

his grin.

When Ginny awoke, she had no idea where

she was. It took her a moment to remem-
ber everything; bits and pieces from the

- 1046 -
Chamber, and Tom, and Ron and Harry,
and the Entrance Hall, and she thought
she’d been with McGonagall and Fred and
George, but she couldn’t be certain.

The next thing she noticed was that she

could wriggle her fingers and toes on her
own, and that her head was… hers. She
couldn’t feel Tom anywhere, and, though
she felt like she’d been hit by the Hog-
warts Express, she felt better… lighter…
than she had in weeks.

Was it possible? She sat up and looked

around the dark hospital wing. Fred was
asleep with his head on George’s shoulder
in a chair between her bed and Percy’s, and
Ron was slumped in a chair next to hers,
looking no worse for wear. She reached for
his arm, hesitated for a moment, and then
summoned her Gryffindor courage and
shook him awake.

- 1047 -
He’ll hate you, Tom’s voice whispered, but
it wasn’t actually Tom; Ginny couldn’t feel
him, anyway.

Ron blinked himself awake, and then his

eyes widened when he saw who it was that
had woken him. Before Ginny could really
start to worry about what he might think
of her, he’d wrapped her in a tight hug.

“Bloody hell, you had us all worried for a

bit there,” he said. “How do you feel? Do
you- I could wake Madam Pomfrey if you
want-” Ginny shook her head against his
shoulder, and Ron seemed to understand.
He pushed her over and came to sit by her
on the bed.

“I’m so sorry,” she said miserably. “I just-

he was so nice and then when he wasn’t, it
was too late. I tried, but then Percy-”

- 1048 -
“It’s not your fault,” Ron said, and Ginny
swallowed. Nice as it was to hear he didn’t
think that, she knew it wasn’t right. She
should have realised sooner, fought hard-
er, done something. If she had, then may-
be Ron and Harry wouldn’t have had to
risk everything to come and help-

“Harry?” she gasped. “Oh, Ron, is Harry-

Did the Aurors get there-?”

“He’s fine,” Ron said. “Killed the snake,

and Riddle. Sirius took him home a few
hours ago, to rest, but he was all right.
Said he’ll come over tomorrow night, when
we’re home too; Mum and Dad were here
before, and they’ll be back in the morning
to get us.”

“You didn’t go home?” Ginny asked. And

neither had Fred and George. Ron shook

- 1049 -
his head, and knocked his shoulder against
hers. Ginny gave him a tremulous smile.
“But you’ll come home tomorrow, right?”

“’Course,” Ron said gruffly.

Moony and Tonks arrived on the front

doorstep just after dinner, holding the old
cork that must have been their portkey.
Harry had insisted that he’d be all right
on his own, but Padfoot had needed to see
Marlene and said he’d feel better if Har-
ry had company, and Harry was secretly
glad they’d come.

“You’re here too?” he asked Tonks, as Moo-

ny steadied her; she’d tripped over the
doorstep.

“Of course I am,” she said, stepping for-

- 1050 -
ward to hug him. “Not every day you al-
most die, is it?” She was making light of
the situation, but Harry could smell how
worried she’d been, and watched how her
eyes skimmed over him in a way he was
getting very familiar with; people seemed
to do it to him all the time.

“Every second day,” Moony corrected,

pulling Harry into a hug. “How’s Marlene,
have you heard?”

“I talked to Padfoot about an hour ago,”

Harry said. “They’ve fixed her back, and
she woke up for a bit and was able to walk
around but she’s asleep again now.”

They made their way down to the kitchen,

where Kreacher was waiting with treacle
tart. Harry was reasonably distracted by
that, but even he couldn’t miss the looks
Moony and Tonks were exchanging.

- 1051 -
“What?” he asked, lowering his spoon.

Tonks, it seemed, had been waiting for

this; she positively beamed at him, and
held out her hand. On it, glimmered a sil-
ver ring, set with some sort of pearly blue
stone.

“It’s nice,” he said, and Moony’s mouth

twitched, but his cheeks were pink and he
wasn’t meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry sud-
denly got the impression he was missing
something. “What?” he asked again, and
watched Tonks’ smile widen.

- 1052 -
Chapter 40:
Doing fine

“Dora, please…” Moony begged from the

other side of the Evening Prophet as
Tonks told Padfoot about how Moony had
proposed.

“-been nervous the night before, but then

you showed up, Sirius, and then the next
day he barely talked to me, and I thought
he was just worried, but then-” Harry
wasn’t particularly interested in the sto-
ry, and rather wished Ron or Draco were

- 1053 -
there with him so they could pull faces at
each other about the whole thing. He was
happy for Moony and Tonks, of course, but
he didn’t need to hear ever sappy detail,
like Padfoot seemed to want to.

“-were sitting down to one dinner and he

started saying how much I mean to him,
and how happy he’s been this year, and
how big this year’s been for both of us, and
all sorts of other nice things about me and
how he doesn’t deserve me, so of course,
given our history, I figured he was trying
to break up with me…” Padfoot laughed,
while Moony shrank down behind the pa-
per. “So of course I’ve told him I don’t want
to hear it, and to stop talking because I
want to finish my dinner in peace-”

“And let me guess; Moony’s got that brood-

ing, unsurprised look because he can nev-
er be loved,” Padfoot said, grinning. Moo-

- 1054 -
ny pulled a face at him over the top of the
paper, and then Padfoot scowled, presum-
ably because Moony’d kicked him or some-
thing under the table. Harry grinned.

“Something like that,” Tonks laughed.

“And I felt a bit guilty, so then I said I’d
had a long day, and wasn’t really in the
mood to be broken up with tonight, and he
sort of blinked at me and then laughed and
said quite the opposite, and then- well-”
She lifted her hand and waggled her fin-
ger at Padfoot across the table.

“It’s not silver, is it?” Padfoot asked, looking

at the ring with interest. Moony emerged
from behind the paper to give him a flat
look. “White gold?” Moony bobbed his head.
“And the stone? Not an opal, but sort of
similar, isn’t it?” He turned Tonks’ hand
over, curious. She – looking like she was
about to burst from trying not to laugh –

- 1055 -
caught Moony’s eye.

“Not an opal,” she agreed. Harry thought

Padfoot might have let the matter drop,
had she not sounded that way, and, had
Moony not seemed so determined to hide
again.

“Should have left you at home,” Moony

muttered, and Tonk poked her tongue out
at the paper.

“Spit it out,” Padfoot said, amused. Ex-

pectant silence hung in the kitchen, bro-
ken only by Tonks’ sniggers; Moony was
still holding her hand, though, so he
couldn’t have been too annoyed, even if he
kept scowling at her. Finally, he mumbled
something so incoherently that neither
Harry or Padfoot understood him. “Missed
that, sorry.”

- 1056 -
“I said it’s a moonstone,” Moony mum-
bled. Padfoot stared at him for a long mo-
ment and then burst out laughing. Har-
ry laughed too, and for a moment, safe in
the kitchen at Grimmauld with his fam-
ily, Riddle, the basilisk and the diary all
seemed like distant memories.

Then, Padfoot frowned and pulled out

his Sidekick. He murmured the opening
phrase, and set it on the table.

“This is Black,” he said, and Harry could

tell from the way he’d said it, that he hadn’t
been expecting to be contacted. Moony
glanced at Tonks, then at Harry.

“Scrimgeour,” Scrimgeour’s voice said

tersely, and the amusement on Padfoot’s
face from before had well and truly van-
ished. “Are you still at St Mungo’s?”

- 1057 -
“At home,” Padfoot said. “What’s- Did
Crouch give us a lead?”

“Peter Pettigrew’s out of Azkaban,” Scrim-

geour’s voice said. Harry froze, and met
Tonks’ eye, not sure exactly what to feel;
chances were, Peter would keep away
from them – keep away from everyone, be-
cause the world knew he was guilty – but
Peter was a murderer, Peter had framed
Padfoot, and would have killed Moony and
Harry if Padfoot hadn’t got to him first.
Then, Tonks put a hand on Moony’s arm
and rubbed gently; his expression had
shut down completely, but Harry could
smell how upset he was by the news. Pad-
foot just looked stunned. Scrimgeour talk-
ed on, oblivious. “The guards found his cell
empty when they did the dinner rounds
tonight, and he hasn’t been located on the
island.”

- 1058 -
“How?” Padfoot managed. “His cell was
warded against him transforming, and he
hasn’t got a wand-”

“It seems likely he had help,” Scrimgeour

said. “There are a few options, and we’ll
call in the day’s visitor list for questioning
tomorrow, but my money’s on Crouch.”

“He got out of Ministry custody?” Padfoot

asked.

“No,” Scrimgeour said. “But somehow he

was on a boat to Azkaban at the same
time as he was admitted to a supervised
ward at St Mungo’s.” Padfoot leaned back
on the bench and let out a gusty breath.
Harry knew how he felt. “How soon can
you get here?” Scrimgeour continued.
“With Hemsley-” There was an uncomfort-
able pause, and then Scrimgeour cleared
his throat. “And McKinnon’s not in any fit

- 1059 -
shape-”

“No, she isn’t. I can be there in ten min-

utes,” Padfoot said, getting to his feet.
He grimaced, as if to apologise, to Harry,
Moony and Tonks, but Moony just waved
a hand at him and Harry nodded. Padfoot
snatched up the Sidekick, gave Harry’s
shoulder a squeeze, and then was on the
stairs, taking them two at a time. A few
seconds later, the front door slammed.

The week that followed was a long one.

Scrimgeour hadn’t recruited him to help
track Peter, feeling that Sirius might be
too emotionally involved, and had instead
set him to guarding Crouch and Crouch’s
house elf, who’d somehow escaped mention
in all of the reports Sirius had had so far.
Crouch was in bad shape, and when Wel-

- 1060 -
lington and Yaxley showed up to relieve
him and Finch at five the next morning,
Crouch still hadn’t woken, and his house
elf hadn’t been of any help either; she’d
just sat at his bedside sobbing all night.

Tired, Sirius had paid a very brief visit to

Marlene – who was looking a bit better
than the night before – and then Apparat-
ed home to find Remus – who hadn’t slept
– waiting with a pot of tea in the kitch-
en. It had been a subdued breakfast to say
the least; with no progress made on either
the Peter front or the Crouch front, Siri-
us didn’t have any information to share to
make him feel any better, nor Harry when
he woke and came to join them.

Harry’d been supposed to go to visit the

Weasleys, but with Peter out and in the
company of Merlin-knew-who, and both of
them Merlin-knew-where, Sirius wasn’t

- 1061 -
ready to let Harry out of the Fidelius
Charm. He didn’t think Peter would come
after Harry, but he was forced to concede
that he really didn’t know Peter as well
as he’d once thought, and that he also had
no idea what Peter would be like away
from the Dementors’ influence. That, and
Peter had a thing for killing Potters. Har-
ry hadn’t been at all impressed with that,
and might have argued except Remus had
stepped in and vetoed the idea.

Sirius suspected that was why Harry

hadn’t been receptive to the idea of going
to France for the week, until things set-
tled. In fact, he’d reminded them all, well
and truly that he was Lily’s son – Sirius
hadn’t been shouted at like that for quite
some time – and also that he was young
but not entirely helpless. He had - as he
quite pointedly reminded them – managed
to do all right against a basilisk and a bit

- 1062 -
of Voldemort less than a day before. If he
could have his time again, Sirius would
not have then told his godson that that
was exactly why they were trying to get
him to a safe place until they knew more,
so that he could stay well and truly out of
it; Harry had said his goodbyes to Remus
and Dora, and shut himself in his room
without another word.

FOLLY OF THE FATHER

By Benedict Heron

Disgraced Head of the Department of

International Coorperation Bartemius
Crouch Snr was today convicted to twen-
ty five years in Azkaban, for the use of
an Unforgivable curse, breaking a known
criminal out of Azkaban prison, and also

- 1063 -
harbouring said criminal in his own home.

Crouch’s son Barty Crouch Jnr – who was

sentenced to life in Azkaban in 1981 for
his crimes during the war with He-Who-
Must-Not-Be-Named, and was until re-
cently, believed dead - is now on the run
from Aurors, and is believed to have aid-
ed Peter Pettigrew in his escape from Az-
kaban earlier in the week. Both men are
considered dangerous, and should not be
approached by members of the public.

Crouch will be succeeded by Damaris

Sprottle, who was unavailable for com-
ment on her appointment, however-

Mum folded her paper shut as Dad switched

off the car’s engine, and Ginny sighed and
reached for her bag. Outside, people were
rushing about in the rain to get into the
station, and Ginny found she had little in-

- 1064 -
terest in joining them. Hogwarts was going
to be- different for her now. How could she
walk the halls, knowing what she’d dan-
ger she’d put everyone in? How could she
look her teachers in the eye? Even if they
hadn’t worked out her involvement from
her and Ron’s appearance in the Entrance
Hall during the evacuation, even if they
were all still oblivious, she’d still know.

And then there were the ones that did

know; Harry’d said in his letter to Ron
that he wasn’t allowed to visit, but Gin-
ny thought, privately, it was because he
knew that she would be there and didn’t
want to see her. And when Percy and Col-
in and Draco and Hermione woke up, how
was she supposed to talk to any of them
without remembering that she’d almost
killed them, and – in Colin’s case – that
she’d taken away months of their lives
that they’d never get back?

- 1065 -
“Now, Ginny dear, are you sure this is a
good idea?” Mum asked.

Ginny nodded and slid across the seat,

then past Mum, who was holding the door
open for her. No matter how much she was
dreading her return to school, it couldn’t
be worse than the week she’d had, stuck
at home with everyone treating her like
she was made of glass, or, alternately, like
nothing at all had happened. The twins
had settled for the latter, joking around,
and forcing her to come for walks, or to
watch them degnome the garden. Ron had
kept his distance, by not forcing her to
talk or spend time with him, but had nev-
er been more than a room away from her,
except for overnight. Mum and Dad had
sat her down on the first night and asked
her questions, like, she hadn’t meant to
hurt those people, had she? And had Tom

- 1066 -
touched her when he got his body back?
And why hadn’t she known better than to
listen to words written on a page?

She’d told them no, no and she was sor-

ry; she hadn’t told them that she and Tom
hadn’t just written, that she’d visited him
in the diary, and that he’d visited her, and
eventually, that he’d been part of her, that
he’d been in her head. She’d told them that
she was all right, that she could hardly re-
member the things she’d done under his
influence, but that was a lie; she remem-
bered his voice, his smile, his common
room, remembered the feeling of helpless-
ness and betrayal when he’d completely
taken her over.

And she remembered other things too;

not much, and not always when she ex-
pected to, but she remembered things that
Tom must have remembered from before

- 1067 -
he put himself in the diary. Sometimes,
in her dreams this past week, Ginny had
been Tom, sitting through a Charms les-
son, or sitting with other Slytherin boys
in the common room talking about class-
es, or teachers or students, or she’d been
Tom, patrolling the halls of an older Hog-
warts in the middle of the night on Prefect
rounds.

“Now, Ginny, are you sure you’re all

right?” Ginny looked up, startled, and saw
they’d reached the barrier; Ron was just
disappearing through it, and Dad and the
twins were gone. Mum’s hand was gentle
but firm on her elbow, and she was watch-
ing Ginny intently.

“I’m fine,” Ginny said, pulling her arm

free. She glanced around, but no one was
watching her, so she strode through to the
platform. Mum appeared behind her and

- 1068 -
looked like she might say more, so Gin-
ny gave her a hasty hug and then went to
get her trunk from Dad, who’d waited for
them. She hugged him as well, and Dad
helped her lift her trunk onto the train.
“I’ll see you in June,” she said, forcing a
smile, and then dragged her trunk fur-
ther into the train, in search of an empty
compartment. She wasn’t in the mood for
company, nor did she think anyone would
particularly want hers.

A pair of Slytherin boys from her Potions

and Defence classes hissed at her, like
snakes, as she passed their compartment,
and Ginny felt her face redden. A group of
Hufflepuffs from Ron’s year ushered one
of their friends away from her, muttering
about the Heir. Harry passed right by her,
and seemed not to see her, though she saw
him stop out of the corner of her eye, when
Malfoy and the other second year Slyther-

- 1069 -
ins asked if she wanted to sit with them;
they shared some of the same views, ap-
parently. Ginny bit back insults and tears
all at once, and both wished her brothers
were here to help her, and was glad they
weren’t; they’d be sure to get a detention
for fighting on the train.

“What do you say, Weasley?” Malfoy pat-

ted the seat next to him, and the pug faced
girl on his other side giggled.

“Ginny!” Then, Harry was there, and Gin-

ny didn’t know whether she wanted to
sink through the floor, or be grateful he
was there. He’d take her back to Ron at
the very least – he was too nice not to.

Harry the hero, Tom’s voice said. Not that

you deserve saving. And he was right;
she didn’t. But Harry was there any-
way, though she couldn’t work out why;

- 1070 -
she was fairly sure he hated her and she
couldn’t blame him for that in the least.
Harry didn’t look at the Slytherins, but
they jeered at him, particularly the blonde
one that was Astoria and Vivienne’s older
sister.

“I just wanted to say- you know-” Harry

looked a bit embarrassed. “-that I’m sor-
ry.”

“What?” she asked, genuinely confused.

“Riddle took you last week to get to me,”

he said. “After Hermione and Draco were
attacked, it was only really you and Ron
left, and Ron was with me, so- I- I’m sor-
ry you had to go through all that. It’s my
fault you were ever involved, and all be-
cause Riddle- I just- don’t want you to-”

“You’re sorry?” she asked, stunned, and a

- 1071 -
little angry. She took a step closer to him,
and was pleased to see he didn’t flinch
away from her. She was less pleased that
they seemed to have gathered an audience
of curious students both in the corridor,
or obviously listening from inside nearby
compartments. “You didn’t make me-”

“I know it was Riddle,” Harry said quietly,

eyes boring into hers, and Ginny frowned.
“But he only did it because of me. Sorry
you were involved.”

And then Ginny realised what he was

doing, and a quick glance around at the
students in the corridor showed that it
seemed to be working; everyone knew
Harry had been involved too, and had no
reason not to believe him; no longer did
those gathered look at her with hostili-
ty. Pity – which made Ginny equally un-
comfortable – seemed to be the dominant

- 1072 -
expression. But if they felt sorry for her,
then maybe they’d leave her alone, and
that, Ginny thought, was a priceless gift.
She turned to Harry, but before she could
say anything, Malfoy spoke.

“Your fault, Potter?” he snorted. “My fa-

ther said she did it. That Weasley at-
tacked everyone.” Hydrus lifted a thin fin-
ger to point a Ginny, looking particularly
pleased with himself, and Ginny felt her
heart sink.

“Then your father obviously doesn’t know

what he’s talking about,” Harry snapped.
“Not that that’s anything new.” Malfoy
flushed an ugly red colour. “Riddle’s bas-
ilisk’s what was attacking everyone, not
Ginny, and Riddle was giving it instruc-
tions… unless you’re suggesting Ginny
can speak parseltongue?” Ginny kept her
eyes firmly on her shoes.

- 1073 -
“But Father-”

“-was too busy getting you out of the school

after Draco was petrified, and trying to get
Dumbledore sacked, to have much idea of
anything else,” Harry said.

“He was at the school when she went down

to meet the Dark-”

“I don’t remember seeing him,” Harry said,

arching an eyebrow.

“Well, obviously he wasn’t actually down-”

“Obviously,” Harry said pointedly. It went

without saying that Harry had been. He
watched Malfoy for a moment longer,
and when he – and the other Slytherins
– looked as if they’d stay quiet, turned to
Ginny and offered her a half-smile.

- 1074 -
He really doesn’t hate me, she thought,
and felt her throat close over. No, don’t
cry, don’t cry-

“I really am sorry he went after you,” he

said.

“It’s- I- It’s all right,” Ginny said, and Har-

ry’s expression eased; not because she’d
accepted his apology, but because she was
finally playing along.

“Ginny!”

Then Fred was there, with George and

Ron and Lee in tow, and Ginny was saved.
Harry too, looked relieved. Fred took Gin-
ny’s trunk from her, and Ron helped Har-
ry with Hedwig’s cage.

“Wondered where you’d got to,” George

- 1075 -
said, giving Malfoy a dirty look, before
turning to Ginny. “We’ve got a compart-
ment down the back.” Ginny nodded and
followed them, falling into line beside Har-
ry.

“You all right?” he asked.

She nodded and added, “Thanks. Looks

like I owe you my reputation, as well as
my life.” She smiled, but she wasn’t joking.
She owed him everything. Harry seemed
to realise that, and looked uncomfortable.

“I don’t know if they believed me,” he said,

waving that hand that wasn’t pulling his
trunk back down the corridor. “I tried, but
it might not help-”

“You still tried,” she said. He nodded.

“I wasn’t- I- er- didn’t mean about Malfoy

- 1076 -
though, when I asked-”

“Oh,” Ginny said.

“Sorry, I’m not very good at this- stuff.

What I meant is- are you- how are you?”
Ginny’s reflexive answer of ‘I’m fine’, didn’t
seem able to come out.

“I’m alive,” she said instead, and gave him

a half-hearted smile to try to make light of
the situation. Harry didn’t smile.

“I see,” he said, and she thought that may-

be he did.

- 1077 -
Chapter 41:
Angry and alone

“Welcome back,” Dumbledore said, smil-

ing around the hall.

“You too, sir!” Fred called, and a smatter-

ing of applause broke out.

“Thank you, Mr Weasley,” Dumbledore

said, nodding at him. Ron nudged Harry.

“Where’s Lockhart?” Ron asked, frowning

up at the staff table. There was an emp-

- 1078 -
ty chair between Snape’s and Sinistra’s,
and the lack of brightly coloured robes
between the two stood out, because both
of them were wearing black. Harry didn’t
particularly mind, though Hagrid’s chair
was still empty and he didn’t much like
that. Surely he’d been released?

“Probably having trouble getting a crease

out of his robes,” Harry said, shrugging,
and Ron snorted. Harry grinned, but
missed the snigger that Draco would have
made at his comment about Lockhart, and
the way Hermione would have pursed her
lips. The benches on either side of him
suddenly felt very empty.

“First and foremost,” Dumbledore said, “it

is with great pleasure that I am able to in-
form you that the Chamber of Secrets has
been closed, and Slytherin’s monster dealt
with. You may feel safe within the school

- 1079 -
again, and not need to worry about your-
self, or your friends and family, just your
studies, and, in a few weeks, your end of
year examinations.” A few nervous chuck-
les echoed through the hall, but mostly
the chatter seemed relieved. “Those that
were attacked by Slytherin’s monster be-
fore last week’s impromptu break remain
in Madam Pomfrey’s capable hands, and
may be visited before curfew. Professor
Sprout is hopeful the mandrake restor-
ative will be ready sometime between the
Easter break and the end of term.” Harry
looked at Ron and grimaced; Easter was
still over a month away.

“Secondly,” Dumbledore said, “it is with

great regret that I announce Professor
Lockhart’s resignation.” Harry had ex-
pected the staff – or at least Snape and
McGonagall – to look pleased, but they all
looked grim enough to unsettle him. “The

- 1080 -
Ministry is in the process of finding us a
temporary replacement, and they are ex-
pected to arrive by the end of the week.
Until they do, students from first to fourth
year will have a free period in the place
of their Defence lessons, while I will take
the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. Defence lessons
myself.” Eager murmurs raced around
the hall in response to that, and Harry
couldn’t help but wish Dumbledore hadn’t
cancelled second year Defence; he’d have
liked to learn from the Headmaster…
Still, no lessons were probably better than
lessons with Lockhart.

“And,” Dumbledore continued, “on the top-

ic of staff, I am pleased to announce Ha-
grid’s return to the position of gamekeep-
er. He’s due back at Hogwarts tomorrow.”
Harry grinned at Ron. “And with those
announcements done, I think it’s time to
tuck in!”

- 1081 -
 §

“Ruddy awful place,” Hagrid said, pouring

Ron an enormous cup of tea. “Glad ter be
rid of it, I tell yeh.”

“We’re glad to have you back,” Harry said.

Ron nodded.

“Sorry it took us so long to get down here

for a visit, too,” Ron added. “Thought it’d
take them longer to find someone to teach
Defence.” The Ministry’d found a witch
that had recognised Ron’s name on the
class list and said she’d been the year be-
low Charlie, in Hufflepuff. Apparently
she’d travelled for two years, then tried
to get into the Auror program but failed
the testing and had instead taken a posi-
tion doing odd jobs in another part of the
DMLE.

- 1082 -
At first, she’d looked like she’d be just
as bad as Lockhart; Daphne Greengrass
had made her cry in their first lesson, and
hadn’t managed to call anyone but Harry
or Ron by their first names; Ron because
of his hair and Charlie, and Harry be-
cause- well, who didn’t know Harry? Un-
fortunately, it meant she’d picked on them
a lot for answers to her questions, but at
least she didn’t have them up there act-
ing out scenes from Lockhart’s books, like
Lockhart had. And, in their second lesson,
she’d recapped on the disarming charm
they’d learned in Lockhart’s duelling club,
and then moved onto the Knockback jinx,
which Ron had enjoyed a lot.

“Unlucky job, tha’ one,” Hagrid observed.

Harry, who’d been patting Fang, looked
up at that.

“Hagrid,” he said curiously, “what exactly

- 1083 -
did happen to Lockhart? All the teachers’ll
say about it is that he was hurt during the
evacuation and wasn’t fit to come back-”

“Students aren’ meant ter know,” Hagrid

said uneasily.

“Oh, go on, Hagrid,” Ron said, equally cu-

rious; he and Harry had talked about it
a lot the past week, and come up with all
sorts of wild theories. “We won’t tell any-
one, promise.”

“Yeh’re not ter go spreadin’ this,” Hagrid

warned, and Ron nodded. Across the table
from him, Harry did the same. “Dumble-
dore said he must’ve bumped inter Crouch.
He was tortured – maybe fer information
about you, Harry, maybe fer information
about the Chamber.” Hagrid shrugged his
massive shoulders. Harry, who’d looked
interested, now looked faintly ill; his skin

- 1084 -
was a funny grey colour, but Hagrid didn’t
seem to have noticed.

“He’s not- dead?” Ron asked tentatively.

“Is he?”

“No, no!” Hagrid waved a hand. “Looks like

he tried ter defend himself, but his wand
backfired. Professor Snape found him the
next day, all shaky and battered, with no
idea who he was! He’s in St Mungo’s now,”
Hagrid said. “Trying ter get his memo-
ry back, but memory charms are tricky
things…” He took a long sip of tea, and
then looked at Ron. “And how’s yer sister
doing?”

“She’s… all right, I think,” Ron said. His

stomach churned angrily, the way it al-
ways did lately, when Ginny was men-
tioned “At least, she always says she is
when I ask, and she hasn’t said anything

- 1085 -
to anyone else, so…” Ron shrugged and
took a sip of his tea, but it didn’t help; he
was still angry; angry with how Riddle
had treated Ginny, for what he’d nearly
done to her, anger at himself for not notic-
ing – she was his little sister, how could he
have not noticed she was being possessed
by Voldemort’s younger self? – anger at
Fred, George and Percy for not noticing
either, and anger at Ginny for not telling
anyone sooner.

Then, there was more anger at himself for

even being angry with her, because he’d
seen enough of Riddle in the Chamber to
know how awful her year must have been,
and didn’t know if she’d even been able to
tell anyone. And angry with himself be-
cause he hadn’t been able to notice she’d
been possessed, so would he really be able
to tell if she was all right or not now?

- 1086 -
 §

Since term resumed two weeks ago, Ginny

found she had a new appreciation what it
must be like to be Luna. Harry’s perfor-
mance on the train had had the desired
effect, or at least had settled some of the
darker rumours about Ginny that had
spread through the school; rather than
being outrightly hostile, people seemed to
view her with a mix of sympathy for the
little of her ordeal that they knew about,
and wariness, that maybe there was some
fact to the rumours and she might sudden-
ly start petrifying them all, or summoning
snakes. Or maybe they’d heard about her
nightmares from Demelza and Georgina
– her roommates – and just thought she
was odd.

People weren’t dodging her, or hiding

their friends from her like on the train,

- 1087 -
but Luna and the two Andrews were the
only ones who’d sit next to her in classes
or talk to her between classes, and it was
always her family and Harry she sat with
at meals. When people saw her in the cor-
ridors, they’d stare at her, and walk just a
bit further away than they might have if
she was someone else.

Ginny had never been nobody – people had

always known her because she was a girl,
or because of her enormous family – and
she’d never minded until now, when she
was known for being a victim. She knew,
on some level that she had been – but vic-
tim or not, and willing or not, she’d been
involved in some awful things and wasn’t-
couldn’t be blameless - but having every-
one else acknowledge it seemed to make it
more real. Now, Ginny wished she was no-
body, that she was just another first year
that no one knew, that no one noticed.

- 1088 -
Often, to her complete shame she caught
herself missing Tom – or the Tom she’d
known to begin with, the Tom that she
could always talk to about anything, the
Tom that always had time for her, the
Tom that had never, once, let her feel like
she was alone. It wasn’t something she’d
dared confess to anyone, not to her parents
in letters, or to her brothers, or Luna, or to
McGonagall – who’d invited her to her of-
fice several times since term resumed, for
a ginger newt and a chat.

How could they hope to understand? How

could anyone? If she did say something,
they’d all think she really was danger-
ous, or that Tom had unhinged her and
she’d be carted off to the mind healers at
St Mungo’s.

Unhinged is a kind word for what I did,

- 1089 -
Ginny, Tom’s voice said cruelly. And St
Mungo’s? Really? Tell them you miss me –
and I’m flattered, by the way – and you’ll
be off to Azkaban.

Ginny’s hand wobbled, and ink blobbed

all over her parchment. Embarrassingly,
it nearly made her cry; that she could still
hear Tom, that she couldn’t write, that
she was in this situation in the first place
because she’d trusted him and he’d used
her all along and never cared. She threw
her quill down, fuming.

“You all right?” a voice asked, and Gin-

ny looked up, closing the book she’d been
reading as she did so. Harry’s eyes followed
the movement, and she wished it had been
anyone but him; if it had been a random
student, she could have snapped at them
to leave her alone, and if – better yet – it
had been Ron or the twins she could have

- 1090 -
really had a go at them. Not because they’d
done something, but because Ginny need-
ed to shout or get angry or hex something.
She’d been quiet for so long, and maybe, if
she shouted loud enough, she wouldn’t be
able to hear Tom anymore.

You wish, he murmured.

Yes, she said, relenting – which she rarely

did – to talk back to the voice. She knew it
wasn’t Tom, after all, that it was just her
imagination, and that therefore she was
talking to herself. I do.

“I’m fine,” she said stiffly. She could feel

her face turning red, and that just made
her angrier. Harry put his hands up – one
of them had a heavy book in it – and took
a step back, looking bewildered.

“Sorry, I-”

- 1091 -
“What are you apologising for?” she asked,
rolling her eyes. Harry opened his mouth
and closed it again, still looking confused.

“You looked- er- I didn’t mean to bother-”

“You’re not bothering me,” Ginny said.

“Did you want something?”

“I just… came for a book?” he said, wav-

ing the book in his hand at her. It sounded
like a question, and he hadn’t made any
further move to approach the table. “Then
I heard you, so I thought I’d say hello…”
He seemed uncertain now, about whether
that had been a good idea.

“Hello,” Ginny said dully, and Harry

grinned. Ginny smiled back, just a bit.
“What’s the book for?”

- 1092 -
“Potions essay.”

“Sounds fun,” she said. He pulled a face,

and his eyes flicked to her book.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and took

a step closer. Ginny felt her smile fade,
and moved her arm over the parchment
she’d been writing on, as much to hide the
embarrassingly shaky scrawl that was her
attempt at writing left-handed as to hide
the words themselves. She didn’t like the
look of her normal handwriting, not after
she’d last seen it on the page of Tom’s di-
ary. She was thankful the book’s title –
Advanced Charms - didn’t give anything
away. She felt the ink start to soak through
her sleeve though, and scowled. Scowled at
the ink, and at Harry for choosing now to
want to take an interest in what she was
doing, instead of any of the other times in
the past two weeks that she’d been doing

- 1093 -
homework or just writing letters.

“None of your business.”

“Just asking,” he said, putting his hands

up again, but she could tell he was curi-
ous.

“Just asking if I’m trying to resurrect Tom

or something, you mean?” And then she
watched him, daring him with her eyes to
snap or flinch, or just leave. He didn’t.

Instead, looking hesitant, he said, “Still…

erm… alive, then.” It seemed like an odd
thing to say – maybe even rude – until
she remembered back to the conversation
they’d had on the train.

“Obviously,” she said, with a little less

heat than before.

- 1094 -
“I’ll go,” Harry said, after a few seconds of
silence, and turned to leave.

“Wait,” Ginny said, without thinking, and

Harry turned to look at her, confused. Gin-
ny wasn’t sure what she looked like, but
Harry did wait. “I didn’t mean- You don’t
have to-”

“I’m not offended,” Harry said. “You’re al-

lowed to want to be alone for a bit-”

“But I don’t,” Ginny said in a small voice. I

want Tom. My friend Tom, not the stupid,
awful Tom he turned into. Or always was,
but pretended not to be. She also really,
really didn’t want Tom.

“Come back to the common room with me,

then,” Harry said, looking uncertain.

“I can’t.” Ginny gestured at Advanced

- 1095 -
Charms. “If I borrow it, Madam Pince
might tell someone, or Fred or George or
Ron might see it and tell Mum and Dad,
or-” She’d said a bit much, and so she
looked away from Harry. “Thanks for the
offer,” she said, genuinely, “but I can’t. I’ll
see you later.” Harry stood there for an-
other few seconds, and then nodded.

“Hopefully you find what you’re looking

for,” he said, nodding at her book. She
didn’t apologise or thank him, just nod-
ded. Harry left, and Ginny, for all that she
didn’t want to be alone, was relieved; the
alternative was that he would stay with
her, but then she wouldn’t be able to read
her book, and that would defeat the point
of her visit to the library anyway. She
thought he’d known that, and stared hard
at his retreating figure for a few seconds.

Then, she heaved Advanced Charms open

- 1096 -
again, and flicked through the contents
for Sound-Proofing Charms. She couldn’t
just magically fix everyone’s opinion of
her, but she thought she’d be able to at
least improve what Demelza and Georgi-
na thought of her if she stopped keeping
them up at night with her hissing and
talking and laughing. That was if – Ginny
thought, looking down at the spell’s page
in dismay – she could manage the charm.

- 1097 -
Chapter 42:
Misadventures

Ginny glanced around the room to make

sure the doors were shut, and that it still
sounded like Demelza was in the shower.
Then, she pulled her curtains closed, and
drew her wand. It had been two weeks
since she’d found the Sound-Proofing
charm in the library, but – though she’d
tried whenever she could – she was yet to
cast it properly.

The first time, both Georgina and Demel-

- 1098 -
za had been in the room, drifting off to
sleep, and Ginny had set her bed hangings
on fire. Since then, she’d been more care-
ful about only trying when she was alone,
and that had been markedly easier these
past few days, because Georgina had gone
home over Easter.

“Mollescum,” Ginny said quietly, trying

to get the awkward intonation right, and
not neglect her wand movement while do-
ing so. There was a bright flash of orange
light, but it didn’t hit the hangings like
it should have. In fact, it didn’t seem to
have hit anything. Ginny scratched her
nose absently, and inspected the curtains,
but they weren’t glowing ever so faintly
yellow, like they should have been. Ginny
rubbed her nose again, which was start-
ing to really bother her.

She re-read the page she’d copied out of

- 1099 -
Advanced Charms, practiced what she
thought the wand movement ought to
have been – but, despite having copied the
sketch pretty well, it was a lot harder to
learn from a picture than a person – and
then lifted her wand ready to start again.
Then, something sticky hit her chin, and
when Ginny looked down, all she could see
was a lot of green.

Ginny slid off the bed, wand still in hand,

and crossed the room to the large mirror
that hung by the bathroom door. Her other
hand kept coming up to her nose, wanting
to scratch it – it was unbearably uncom-
fortable – but she refrained from actual-
ly touching it, or the- whatever the green
thing was.

If Ginny wasn’t Ginny, she might have

screamed at the sight that met her eyes;
hanging from a strand from her nose was a

- 1100 -
large bogey the size of her fist. Tom started
to howl with laughter in her head. Ginny
had a bad feeling this would end with her
in the hospital wing, and that would lead
to awkward questions about what she’d
been doing, and that would convince Mum
and Dad and McGonagall even more that
she needed to see someone. Ginny didn’t
want to see anyone.

“Finite Incantatem,” she said, though it

came out muffled thanks to her partially
blocked nose. Nothing happened though.
If anything, the bogey seemed to swell.
Her hands fluttered uselessly around her
nose as the bogey got heavier and made
her nose ache and itch more than ever –
and then she spied the tissue box on De-
melza’s bedside table.

Can’t hurt, she thought, turning away

from the mirror. The bogey started to

- 1101 -
move, first gently, and then more violent-
ly, as if there was something alive inside
of it. Tom laughed away, and Ginny awk-
wardly cupped her face with one hand, and
reached for a tissue with another. As soon
as the tissue touched the bogey, it van-
ished – Ginny knew, because she ran back
to the mirror to check. What in Godric’s
name…?

She sat down on her bed again, and awk-

wardly picked up her quill; while she’d been
at it since the Chamber, she was making
slow progress writing with her left hand.

Bogeys, she wrote. Professor Flitwick had

warned them all about the importance
of pronunciation at the beginning of the
school year with his Wizard Baruffio sto-
ry. Ginny thought she’d got off lightly,
and, though her mucked up Sound-Proof-
ing charm wouldn’t solve her nightmare

- 1102 -
issue for her dormmates, she was sure it
would come in handy at some point. Per-
haps next time Fred or George annoyed
her… not that they’d done an awful lot of
that, lately. And Bill liked weird magic, so
he was sure to appreciate it, though there
was no way of knowing how long it would
be until Ginny saw him, or even when he’d
write back next; Bill’s work tended to take
him to remote places for weeks at a time.

Ginny jumped, startled, as the bathroom

door opened and Demelza walked out,
towelling her hair dry. She stopped short
at the sight of Ginny, who’d stuffed her
parchment out of sight and was now just
holding her wand.

“Did you want the bathroom?” Demelza

asked, rather warily, eyeing the wand in
Ginny’s hand. Ginny could tell she was
uncomfortable – maybe even scared – and

- 1103 -
that annoyed her almost as much as it
made her feel like rubbish.

“I was just-” But Ginny was saved from

having to explain – or pretend to explain
– anything, because there was a yell, and
then a thump, and then raucous laugh-
ter. Demelza hurried over to the door, and
wrenched it open. Ginny followed her, cu-
rious. The pair of them peered over the
railing that overlooked the common room
to see Ron in a rather undignified heap at
the bottom of the girl’s staircase. The stair-
case, which had been smooth, reformed
into stairs even as Ginny watched.

“It’s not that you’re not allowed up there,

Ron-”

“Although you’re not,” George added.

“-it’s that you’re not able to get up there,”

- 1104 -
Fred continued. Ginny’d heard from De-
melza – back before Demelza thought she
was a lunatic – who’d heard from the older
girls, about the staircase, and was able to
work out what had happened fairly quick-
ly.

“Did you know?” Ron was demanding of

Harry, as he picked himself up off the floor.
Harry was standing by Neville Longbot-
tom, laughing, but shook his head when
Ron addressed him. “’You’re her brother,”
Ron continued, rubbing his backside, as he
glared at Harry, “no one will mind, Ron,
I’m sure it’ll be all right’.”

“I thought,” Harry managed through his

laughter, “it would be.” Ginny couldn’t
help the laugh that slipped out at that,
and at Ron’s disgruntled expression. Har-
ry’s head snapped up to look at her, and
Ron’s eyes followed.

- 1105 -
“Oh, brilliant,” Ron muttered. “Did every-
one see, then?”

“I didn’t actually see you fall, but I heard

you squeal from my room,” she said, head-
ing down the stairs towards them.

“I didn’t squeal!” Ron said, ears turning

red, while Fred and George howled with
laughter and Harry struggled nobly to
keep a straight face for Ron’s sake. Gin-
ny just arched an eyebrow at her youngest
older brother, and then reached forward to
pat him arm. Ron pulled it away. “What-
ever Ginny,” he said, scowling. “Next time
we’ll just go to dinner without you. Won’t
we Harry?”

“Sure, Ron,” Harry said; he’d lost the fight

for a neutral expression, and was grinning
openly now.

- 1106 -
“I miss Hermione and Malfoy,” Ron told
him. “They’re much better friends than
you are.”

“Draco?” Harry asked him, still grinning,

though Ginny thought something had
changed in his expression at the mention
of their other two friends. “Who would
have laughed himself silly at what you
just did?”

“Hermione then,” Ron said.

“Now, Ron,” Harry said, in a rather good

imitation of Hermione’s bossy voice, “if
you’d read-”

“-Hogwarts: A History,” Ron said, in a

high pitched voice, “you’d know that some
stuffy old warlock enchanted that stair-
case-” Harry laughed, and Ron shook his

- 1107 -
head, grinning. “Do you reckon I should
read it? As a happy-unpetrification pres-
ent for Hermione?”

“No,” Harry said, “because then she’ll want

me to read it-”

Kiddo,

Tried to get you this afternoon through

the mirror to respond to your letter, but
couldn’t, so I decided to write back to you
instead. Look at us; writing. Guess it’s
a sign of how busy things are at the mo-
ment. It’s odd not having you around for
Easter, though to be fair, I haven’t been
around much either. I think we made the
right call in having you stay at Hogwarts
for the break; this way, at least you’ve had
someone to talk to other than Kreacher.

- 1108 -
Speaking of, did you get the eggs from me
and Kreacher? Hope they were all right –
it’s been warm lately, so I hope they didn’t
melt on the way. I should’ve put a cooling
charm on the package, but I didn’t think
of that.

Your last letter made me laugh at Ron! I

hope his pride wasn’t too damaged. If it
was, feel free to tell him James made an
even bigger mess of it; first year, he was
trying to get upstairs to pester Lily or leave
her a flower or something – back then,
pestering and presents were one and the
same anyway! – and broke his wrist when
he landed. Silly git. At least Ron sound-
ed like he ended up all in one piece. And
yes, you’re right that we do have stories of
pranks we pulled up in the girls’ dormito-
ries. No, we didn’t have any of the girls in
on it, before you ask. I won’t tell you how
we managed, because you’re twelve so

- 1109 -
there’s nothing of interest to you up there
at the moment. When you’re a bit older…
well, you’ll either find a way or make one.
All I’ll tell you is that you’ll have a bet-
ter chance than Ron – or any of the other
boys, likely as not – of managing it. And
that’s all I’ll say; Moony would be horri-
fied to know I’ve hinted even this much.

Crouch Snr is well and truly settled in Az-

kaban, but there’s been no news of either
Crouch or Peter. I reckon they’ll have gone
abroad to keep out of reach, but there’s re-
ally no way of knowing. What we do know
is that they’ll be trying to find their way
back to Voldemort, though whether they’re
after him, or the necklace, or after more
information about the diary, I couldn’t
say. There’s been a lot of talk here at the
Ministry about making sure the school’s
safe from them – and by school, I mean
you and Ron, and the others that were in-

- 1110 -
volved with the Chamber (because there’s
no way of knowing how much, exactly,
Crouch knew about the Chamber). I heard
Fudge prattling on about Dementors the
other day, but I’m hoping Scrimgeour can
talk him out of it; he seemed to think it was
a stupid idea too, thankfully. I suppose I’ll
keep you posted on that, though thankful-
ly there’s only another month or so left,
and then you’ll be home for the summer.

In the meantime – and Merlin this gets

repetitive to have to say – keep your wits
about you, and let me or Dumbledore know
if you see any rats or anything else suspi-
cious. Keeping an eye on the Map’s proba-
bly not a bad idea, either.

Talk to you soon,

Padfoot.

- 1111 -
 §

“Did you want something Potter?” Snape

asked, without looking up from his desk.
Harry, who’d packed his potions kit up as
slowly as possible so that he might have a
chance to talk to Snape, slung his bag over
his shoulder and took a step forward.

“I was wondering if there’s been any news

on the mandrakes-”

“No,” Snape said. “Not since Monday, or

last week when you and Weasley asked
three times apiece, or the week before-”

“Right,” Harry said, flushing. “Sorry, I

just- At the beginning of term, Dumble-
dore said around Easter, and- well, Eas-
ter’s been, so-”

“You are not the only person concerned for

- 1112 -
the victims,” Snape told him. “I assure you,
the restorative will be brewed the moment
the mandrakes are ready, but until that
time comes there is very little to be done
for them.”

“You’ll- could you let us-”

“You will be informed,” Snape said impa-

tiently, looking up for the first time. “Did
you need anything else?”

“Er, no, I don’t think-”

“Then kindly remove yourself from my

classroom,” Snape said, looking down
again. “I’ve just spent a double lesson
with the lot of you, and have no intention
of spending my lunch hour in your compa-
ny.”

“Right, sorry- thanks for-”

- 1113 -
“Get out, Potter,” he said pointedly. Harry
left, and re-joined Ron, who’d waited for
him in the corridor outside.

“How’d it go?” Ron asked.

“I reckon he might have thrown something

at me if I’d stayed much longer,” Harry
said thoughtfully. “You can ask next time.”

“Professor Sprout never seems to mind,”

Ron said. “But Snape likes me less than
he does you, so it makes sense that you
should be the one to talk to him.” Harry
couldn’t dispute that, at least not today;
Crabbe had shoved Ron in the storage
cupboard and Ron had knocked a jar of
expensive toadstools off the shelf and ru-
ined them. He’d lost twenty points on the
spot, and been given detention, and Harry
thought he’d mark their potion down as

- 1114 -
further compensation. “So he didn’t give
you a time frame?”

Harry shook his head and said, “Just that

we’ll be ‘informed’.”

- 1115 -
Chapter 43:
Hearing things

May passed without incident, but with

June came exams. More than ever, Ron felt
Hermione’s absence. He missed Malfoy too
– Ron wanted someone other than Harry
to play at chess, and joke with - but there
was just something about exam time that
made him think of Hermione. Last year,
her nagging had frustrated him, but after
several months without her, Ron was re-
ally missing her spontaneous lectures and
random quizzes.

- 1116 -
He and Harry had agreed not to tell Her-
mione that it was exam time – on the off
chance that she was able to hear them de-
spite her petrification – but Ron did spend
an hour each day reading her his notes from
class. If she could hear him, he thought
she’d like that, and if she couldn’t… well,
it was the thought that counted and it was
a good way for Ron to revise anyway. He
thought Hermione would be proud.

He also spent time reading to Percy. Usu-

ally it was just the main story from the
Prophet, because Percy read the paper ev-
ery day – always had – and was always in-
terested in the goings on at the Ministry.
While it was now mostly settled – with
Crouch Snr in Azkaban, and Crouch Jnr
(and Pettigrew) gone without a trace – the
whole Crouch scandal was exactly the sort
of thing Percy would have been interested

- 1117 -
in. Ron just hoped Percy had been able to
hear him, so that he’d have had time to
adjust to it all by the time he woke up.

Which, hopefully, would be soon. The man-

drakes had been harvested at the end of
May, and Snape was currently in the pro-
cess of brewing the restorative, and Mad-
am Pomfrey had told Ron last time he vis-
ited that everyone should be awake by the
end of the week. They’d miss exams en-
tirely, and Ron reckoned that was for the
best; Hermione and Percy would have fits
if they woke up and had to study… and
would probably have fits anyway when
they found out they’d missed exams en-
tirely. Malfoy would be happy, though.

Even though he’s smarter than me, Ron

thought. He wouldn’t have minded borrow-
ing Malfoy’s brain for their Potions exam,
or for History of Magic one. Potions hadn’t

- 1118 -
been too bad. He’d managed not to muck
up the practical too badly – and thought
he’d been close enough to red with his
burnt orange potion – and the theory had
been all right too. Ron, at least, had got all
twelve uses for dragon’s blood, when Har-
ry only got nine and Neville thought he’d
only got seven.

“It was Glumble the Grim, wasn’t it?” Ron

asked, as he and Harry headed to lunch
after History of Magic.

“Glumble the Gruesome?” Harry suggest-

ed, adjusting his bag.

“No, it’s Glyfrid the Gruesome,” Ron said.

“I definitely know that one-” Harry swore
quietly, and Ron’s mouth twitched. “Bill
used to tell us the story before bed. Reckon
I’ve learned more from him as a kid with-
out meaning to, than I have in two years

- 1119 -
with Binns.”

“I reckon I learned more last night than I

have in two years with Binns,” Harry said,
lifting his glasses so he could rub his eyes.
“And now that it’s done, I can forget it all
again.”

“I’ve already forgotten,” Ron said, grin-

ning. “Wrote down enough to pass, with
luck-”

“When are we ever lucky, though?” Harry

asked. He wasn’t smiling, and had actual-
ly gone rather grey.

“True,” Ron conceded, unrolling his jump-

er sleeves; it was cold, and he was sudden-
ly feeling a bit ill. “Maybe we’re due for a
bit of luck, then.”

“Or maybe we’ll fail and have to repeat,”

- 1120 -
Harry said.

“Maybe Hermione and Malfoy’ll repeat

with us,” Ron suggested. He shoved his
hands into his pockets, suddenly a bit cold.

“Or- What?” Harry’s head jerked around

to Lavender and Parvati.

“I didn’t say anything,” Parvati said,

frowning. Harry’s gaze slid past her to the
other girls, some of whom were staring at
him now. It didn’t look to Ron, though, like
any of them wanted to speak with him, the
way Harry seemed to think.

“Mate?” Ron asked. Harry turned to look

at him, eyes wild, and… afraid. That made
Ron feel sad, made his stomach churn a
bit.

“Ron-” Was all Harry said, alarmed, and

- 1121 -
fainted dead away. Ron caught him, just
before he would have cracked his head
on the stone floor. Behind Ron, Laven-
der burst into tears, and Seamus yelped
as Neville slumped sideways onto Dean,
still conscious, but very pale and barely
upright.

If the commotion on the stairs behind them

was any indication, Harry, Lavender and
Neville weren’t the only ones affected. Ron
himself was feeling a bit… off. Sick, may-
be. Maybe Fred and George had put some-
thing in Ron’s pumpkin juice at breakfast.
Seamus came forward to help Ron with
Harry, and the pair of them managed to
get him upright again and turn him back
up the stairs. Parvati dragged Lavender
off to the nearest bathroom, probably to
talk, and a lanky third year Hufflepuff boy
slid down a wall, face in his hands, while
his classmates asked anxious questions.

- 1122 -
Harry was a dead weight, and reminded
Ron uncomfortably of the last time he’d
had to support someone like this; it had
been Ginny, after her ordeal in the Cham-
ber. This time, the hospital wing seemed
even further away, and for a moment, Ron
couldn’t be bothered with stairs, or carry-
ing Harry, or bothered with anything at
all. His grip on Harry loosened.

“Ron, I can’t carry him on me own,” Sea-

mus said, kicking Ron’s leg, and Ron shook
himself and pushed past the sudden wea-
riness.

Weird, he thought, and adjusted Harry so

that Seamus wasn’t supporting all of him.
“You feel all right?” he asked.

“Cold,” Dean said, from behind then; he

was shuffling along with Neville, whose
eyes were open, but not really focused

- 1123 -
on anything. He was crying quietly. Ron
pinched the arm slung over his shoulder to
see if Harry might wake up, but his head
only lolled to the side.

“Bit off,” Seamus said. “But I reckon that’s

just the exams, right?”

“Right,” Ron muttered, not really con-

vinced.

He had himself under control again by the

time they reached the hospital wing. Mad-
am Pomfrey didn’t seem at all surprised
to see them, either; the basilisk’s victims
were curtained off as usual, but most of
the other beds were occupied, and a row
of chairs had been set up against the far
wall for people that were affected but still
conscious.

“Of course,” Pomfrey sighed, when she

- 1124 -
saw Harry, and waved at one of the spare
beds, before directing Dean and Neville to
the chairs. “Clearwater, Finch- er Finch-
es?”

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey!” A pair of Raven-

claw Prefects and one from Slytherin hur-
ried over to Pomfrey’s office, while Madam
Pomfrey went to admit the lanky Huf-
flepuff boy (and what appeared to be most
of Hufflepuff accompanying him) and Za-
bini, who’d been escorted up by Bulstrode
and Davis.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked the Slyther-

in Prefect, as she returned with a slim,
foiled block of something, and passed it to
Seamus.

“Give that to him when he wakes,” she said

to him and then turned to Ron. “The Min-
istry’s happened,” she said to Ron, pursing

- 1125 -
her lips, and waved a hand at the window.

You were a fool, Tom said to her, in the

same vicious tone he’d started to use once
she’d learned who he was. Do you really
think that Harry Potter could have defeat-
ed me? Me? I’ve just had to disappear for a
bit, make sure no one suspected… but I’m
back now, sweet Ginny, and you’re mine-

“Go away, go away, go away,” Ginny

mumbled, pressing her hands to her ears,
though she knew it would do little good.
Frost crept up the grass toward her shoes
even as she watched, and her breath mist-
ed in front of her. She knew something was
up; Tom had popped into her head just to-
ward the end of her Herbology practical
exam and started raving about bringing
an end to her classmates, and the grounds

- 1126 -
had got very cold all at once, even though
it had been warm all morning.

Has it, though? Tom asked her. Or did I

just let you think that? How do you know
anything you’re seeing is real, Ginny? How
do you know you’re not just living in that
little box in your head, while I run things
in the real world?

You’re gone, Ginny told him, though he

was very obviously not. He’d been grow-
ing progressively quieter as time passed –
at least until that morning. Oh, she’d still
had him in her head, still dreamed about
him, or about being him, but she’d been-
adjusting, or something. Learning to man-
age it, learning not to let on as much. But
now, he was back and it all seemed it had
been for nothing.

Am I? She could hear the smile in his voice,

- 1127 -
and see it in her head; see his straight
white teeth and smug mouth, and the cru-
el glint in his dark eyes. I think you’ll find
I’m very much here. The oddest part was
she couldn’t feel him. She’d checked her
head again and again, and braced herself
to keep him out, to keep him from taking
over again. But she hadn’t been able to find
him, nor had she been able to silence him.
Ginny wriggled her toes inside her shoes,
and then her fingers, and then opened and
closed her mouth a few times, just to be
sure she could.

You’re not, she told him.

Why don’t we go for a walk? Tom suggest-

ed. Get away from this forest, and back to
the castle?

You’d like that, wouldn’t you? she said.

Very much, Tom said. Once, you would have

- 1128 -
liked to make me happy, Ginny- Ginny re-
plied with a very rude word she’d heard
Charlie say once, but Tom only laughed.
No? Well, I think we should go back to
the castle. And then he seized her, like he
had months ago. Her limbs felt tight, her
tongue stiff, and despair swirled around
inside her. You’re mine, Ginny. It was just
as she remembered.

Ginny let out a furious sob, and froze

when it echoed through the edge of the
forest. She opened her mouth, wiggled her
toes. She was distantly aware of Tom still
talking, but she ignored him in favour of
raising her trembling hand, nodding her
head.

What…? she wondered, scared, but re-

lieved.

And then a shadow loomed over her, and

- 1129 -
she looked up to see Hagrid, looking ner-
vous but kind. The rough bark of the tree
behind her pulled her hair as she looked
up. Hagrid glanced over both of his shoul-
ders, and wrung his hands – one of which
was holding his battered umbrella – be-
fore speaking.

“Saw yeh from me hut,” he said. “Hard not

ter with that hair. What are ye doing out
here?”

“Hagrid,” Ginny said, astounded that she

still had a voice. Tom babbled on in her
head about oafs and halfbreeds, but she
wasn’t really listening. “I- was-” How was
she supposed to explain it without sound-
ing insane?

I came to the forest after Herbology be-

cause Tom was back and I didn’t want to
attack anyone else?

- 1130 -
“Forest calms me as well,” Hagrid said,
looking over her and into the dark trees.
“But outside s’not the best place ter be at
the moment. Can yeh walk, do yeh think?”
He offered her a massive hand and she
reached up to take it, and let him help her
up. “Best get yeh back to the school.”

“I don’t think that’s-”

“Dementors can’t get ter yeh there,” Ha-

grid assured her. He glanced over his
shoulders again, still looking uncomfort-
able, but kept his gentle hold on her hand.

“Dementors?” Ginny asked. Hagrid nod-

ded his massive head.

“Fudge brought them in this morning,”

Hagrid said, “ter keep the school safe from
Crouch and Pettigrew.” She still felt dizzy
and cold and sick and scared, but better,

- 1131 -
somehow; Dementors would explain why
she was hearing Tom, why she felt like
she had while she’d had Tom in her head,
but why she couldn’t feel him. He was in
her head, but just as a memory and from
her imagination. He wasn’t really there.

Hagrid noticed her unsteadiness and

said, “Daresay yeh’re not the only one
feeling it.” He squeezed her hand gen-
tly. “Professor McGonagall was out here
this morning giving the Minister a piece
of her mind.” Hagrid chuckled and Gin-
ny managed a grin with some effort. Ha-
grid sobered. “Ruddy awful idea if yeh ask
me. They’re bad enough at the prison, let
alone at Hogwarts. Kids don’t need that.”
He glanced over his shoulder again, and
Ginny remembered he’d been in Azkaban
for a while during the Chamber debacle.
And that, despite his obvious fear of De-
mentors, he’d left the safety of his hut to

- 1132 -
come and fetch her. Gratitude welled in
Ginny’s chest.

They rounded the corner of the castle and

almost walked right into Minister Fudge,
who was accompanied by three tall De-
mentors. They turned to look at Ginny
and Hagrid, who stopped; Ginny, because
Tom had started to cackle in her head,
and Ginny herself felt very drained all of a
sudden, and Hagrid because he’d obvious-
ly felt her sag, and had steadied her with
a hand on her back – her whole back, give
the size of his hands.

“Minister,” Hagrid said gruffly. “Didn’t

realise they-” He nodded at Fudge’s com-
panions. “-were allowed so close ter the
school.”

“They’re not,” said a deep, angry voice,

and Dumbledore strode through the front

- 1133 -
doors with his wand in his hand and Mc-
Gonagall behind him. His eyes swept over
Ginny and Hagrid and his expression
darkened. He wasn’t angry at her, though,
she didn’t think. Fudge, though, seemed
to shrink under Dumbledore’s hard stare.
“Cornelius,” he said, overly politely, “I be-
lieve Minerva asked you to wait for me at
the gates.”

“She did, yes, but it really ought to have

been you there to meet me, Dumbledore-”

“Had you told me you were coming, I’d

have arranged to,” Dumbledore said, still
politely, but there was something sharp
in his tone now. “I also would have told
my students about the new-” Ginny hadn’t
imagined Dumbledore’s lip could curl, but
it did now. “-security measures. As it was,
and with such short notice, I was unable
to do either.”

- 1134 -
“I spoke with Minerva almost two hours
ago,” Fudge said. “Surely it didn’t take
you that long to hear from her that I’d ar-
rived? I should have been your priority-”

“My priority,” Dumbledore said curtly,

“has been and will remain to be, my stu-
dents. A number of them have been admit-
ted to the hospital wing for having fainted,
or for feeling suddenly dizzy or ill or cold.”

“Yes, well,” Fudge said, almost guiltily,

“Dementors can be hard to be around, but
it’s for the best… have to keep them safe
from-”

“Pettigrew and Crouch, yes,” Dumbledore

said. “However neither of those two have
caused as much damage to my students as
your attempt to protect them, Cornelius.”
Dumbledore turned to address the Demen-
tors. “You will patrol the outermost bor-

- 1135 -
ders of the school and not interfere with
the students at all. You will not target the
students. Those you would be interested in
have suffered enough.” Ginny could have
sworn Dumbledore looked at her again. “If
I find any Dementors on the grounds, I or
my staff will remove them back to the pe-
rimeter.” Fudge swelled, but Dumbledore
continued to speak. “If there are numer-
ous breaches, I will remove them from the
premises entirely.”

“But-”

Then, however, McGonagall reached Gin-

ny’s side and put a warm hand on her
shoulder. Ginny nodded to let her know
she was okay – mostly – and let herself be
guided back into the school, with a mur-
mured thank you to Hagrid.

- 1136 -
Chapter 44:
The waking world

“You don’t suppose we ought to help him,

do you?” Albus asked, as he cut a slice of
roast beef and dipped it in gravy. Minerva
was both pleased and amused to notice he
seemed to have no intention of getting up
to help Fudge, despite his suggestion.

“No,” Minerva said, glancing through the

ajar doors into the Great Hall. There, she
could see Fudge and his awful pink Un-
dersecretary – Senior Undersecretary,

- 1137 -
now that Crouch was in prison – attempt-
ing to allay the hoarde of parents that had
shown up about an hour earlier. Sirius
Black was near the front, doubtless mak-
ing his displeasure known.

“Sirius seems to have a lot to say,” Albus

observed cheerfully. He too, was watching
Sirius, it seemed, and Minerva thought he
must be pleased to not be on the receiving
end, as he often was.

“Doesn’t he always?” Severus drawled,

leaning over to snag a Yorkshire pudding
off the nearest platter. As he moved, Min-
erva got a whiff of him; he smelled like po-
tions ingredients, and smoke, and of the
dampness in the dungeons. It was for a
good cause, though; Severus was just days
off finishing the restorative for Riddle’s
victims. “Particularly when precious Pot-
ter is involved.”

- 1138 -
Minerva glanced at the boy in question. He
was looking much better than when she’d
seen him in the hospital wing, though
perhaps still a bit pale. Ginny Weasley
and Neville Longbottom both looked like
they’d seen better days too, though the
other Weasley boys seemed just as bois-
terous as usual. Ron Weasley was perhaps
a bit more sympathetic to his sister and
friends than the other two; it seemed not
even Dementors could temper the Weas-
ley twins.

Nor could they dampen Hydrus Malfoy;

he and some of his little gang had fin-
ished their dinners and were approaching
the Gryffindor table, making silly, jeering
noises. Potter, Longbottom and the Weas-
leys had all noticed and were looking dis-
tinctly unimpressed. Minerva saw Ron
Weasley reach for his wand, and saw sev-
eral other Gryffindors – namely Wood and

- 1139 -
the rest of the Quidditch team – start to
pay attention. Albus was looking on with
a faint frown.

“Heard that you were crying, Longbot-

tom,” Malfoy said. Minerva didn’t think
he’d meant for her to hear, but students
had a habit of forgetting about her Anima-
gus hearing. She didn’t think Severus was
able to hear what had been said, but Mal-
foy’s body language, and that of Crabbe,
Goyle and Parkinson made it obvious that
they were looking to pick a fight. “And that
you fainted, Potter.” Parkinson laughed,
and a few others around the Hall tittered.
Most just looked on, either interested or
uncomfortable. “Were you scared, Potter?”

“Shall you deal with it, or shall I?” Sever-

us sighed, lowering his fork.

“You can,” Minerva said. “And I suggest

- 1140 -
you do it quickly, before someone gets
hexed, or before Sirius hears Potter’s name
and comes to investigate.”

“ Where’s the baby? Where’s baby Nev-

ille?” Neville looked up at the ceiling of his
dark hideaway, interested by the muffled
sound of his name.

“ He’s not here,” Daddy panted. Then

Daddy screamed and then he stopped and
coughed weakly. Neville shifted on the
floor, scared. He tried to stand up, with
the intention of finding Daddy and giv-
ing him a hug because Daddy liked hugs,
but it was dark and the floor was bumpy
and Neville fell over again. It hurt, but he
didn’t cry. “He’s not here.”

“ Liar!” someone said loudly. Mummy

- 1141 -
sobbed.

“ Mummy,” Neville tried to say, but he

couldn’t hear himself. He tried to call Dad-
dy but he couldn’t hear that either. He lift-
ed a chubby had to feel his mouth. Maybe
it was broken.

“ I like the name Neville, by the way,” a

woman’s voice said – this one was sweet-
er, richer, but Neville didn’t like it. “Nev-
ille Longbottom… yes, has a nice ring to
it.”

“ I think it’ll look nice on a gravestone.”

That was a man’s voice, followed by his
laugh. He didn’t sound very old, but Nev-
ille didn’t like the way he sounded either.
The floorboards creaked above him, and
someone moved with heavy footsteps. Nev-
ille knew it wasn’t Mummy; Mummy was
very quiet when she walked, and liked to

- 1142 -
play surprises with him.

“ Crucio,” the woman said, and there was

silence for several long seconds. Then,
Mummy gasped and Daddy made a fun-
ny coughing sound, like he was being sick.
Neville hoped he wasn’t sick. “Crucio!”

Neville gasped and his eyelids flew open.

He felt sticky and cold and rather ill.

“Neville?” Harry’s voice was quiet but it

still made him jump. Neville glanced over
at Harry’s bed before realising he wasn’t
in it; his voice had come from over by the
window, where Harry was sitting with his
owl on his knee. They stared at each other
for a few long moments – while Seamus
mumbled sleepily in the next bed – and
Harry opened his mouth and closed it.

“What?” Neville asked.

- 1143 -
“I was going to ask if you’re okay,” Harry
said. “But- Well, not much point, is there?
I know you’re not.” He shrugged in a help-
less, apologetic sort of way. “Want a choc-
olate frog? Padfoot brought them.”

Neville pushed back his covers and slid

out of bed to join Harry by the window.
The owl stared at him with big golden
eyes, and Neville worried she might peck
him, but she didn’t; after a few seconds,
she decided she’d looked at him for long
enough, and looked back to Harry, then
put her head under her wing. Neville felt
a pang of jealousy; Trevor wasn’t any good
for comfort… in fact, Neville wasn’t even
sure where Trevor was at the moment.
Probably swimming in the lake, or terror-
ising the girls’ loos again.

Harry stroked his owl’s back absently;

he was staring out the window, maybe at

- 1144 -
the stars, or maybe at something only he
could see. Maybe he was looking at the
tiny, drifting black shapes doing patrols
around the edge of the grounds.

“You’re not okay either, are you?” Neville

mumbled, after a few minutes of silence.
Harry’s eyes flicked to Neville and away
again. “Do you hear yours?” Harry gave
a curt nod, and his lip quivered. Neville
took a bite of his frog and felt a bit bet-
ter, partially because of the chocolate, but
also, partially, because someone under-
stood. Neville didn’t want to talk about
it, and didn’t want to listen to Harry talk
about what he felt when Dementors were
around, but it was enough to know that
someone else felt the same, that he wasn’t
the only one.

They finished their chocolate in silence,

and then Neville stood and went back to

- 1145 -
bed.

“Night,” Harry said, as Ron let out a loud

snore, and Dean kicked around until his
feet were free from the covers.

“Night.”

Hermione awoke in a dark, unfamiliar

place, and struggled to shake off the rem-
nants of her dreams. Harry and Ron’s
voices – sometimes directed to her, some-
times not – talking about everything from
Quidditch to what they’d learned in class.
She remembered – oddly enough – being
back at primary school, before Harry had
come along and befriended her, remem-
bered how lonely she’d been, how bored. It
had been an awful feeling. She didn’t feel
that way now though; in fact, more than

- 1146 -
anything, she felt rather ill and stiff and
tired.

The last thing she remembered was the

basilisk’s reflection in the library win-
dow, that night she’d gone to do some ex-
tra reading about the Chamber and its
monster. She’d been petrified, then; that
would explain why she felt- well, why she
felt the way she did. And, knowing that…
yes, another look around made her think
that this must be the hospital wing. A dif-
ferent bed than the one she’d used after
her injuries from protecting the stone last
year, but she could see Madam Pomfrey’s
office, and-

“Professor!” Hermione didn’t have the

same loathing for Professor Snape that
Ron did, but she still didn’t think she’d
ever been happier to see him. He swept
over at once, dark eyes flicking over the

- 1147 -
beds around hers. Hermione spied Ron’s
bother Percy, lying very still in the bed be-
side hers, and then- “Draco?”

“Ought to be awake soon as well,” Profes-

sor Snape said calmly. He raised his voice
just a little to call for Madam Pomfrey,
and she was at Hermione’s bedside almost
instantly. Hermione quickly scanned the
others beds to make sure that neither Ron
or Harry occupied them. She was relieved
to see that they weren’t there, and went
back to watching Draco. Draco wasn’t
quite as animated as Harry or Ron could
be, or as chatty, but it was still odd to see
him so still. She wondered if she’d been as
odd to look at.

“Was he-” Hermione struggled to think

of the right questions to ask, and then
stopped, horrified. “My bag!” she ex-
claimed. “Did- It’s a basilisk in the Cham-

- 1148 -
ber of Secrets, that’s what Slytherin’s
monster is! That’s-”

“You’re a bit behind the times, dear,” Mad-

am Pomfrey said kindly, waving her wand
over Hermione, as Snape moved off to look
at a girl Hermione vaguely recognised as
a girl Ginny sometimes ate dinner with.
Greengrass, though Hermione couldn’t re-
member which of the twins she was.

“Behind- How long was I-?” Hermione

looked at the hospital wing window, hop-
ing for a clue from the weather as to how
long she’d been indisposed, but it was too
dark to see anything.

“You were attacked back in February,”

Madam Pomfrey said, clicking her tongue
at whatever readings her diagnostic
charms had given her, “and we’re a week
into June now, so what’s that…?”

- 1149 -
“Four months,” Hermione whispered.

“A bit less,” Madam Pomfrey said brisk-

ly. Hermione couldn’t quite wrap her head
around it.

“And the Heir, and the basilisk-”

“Not putting anyone else in danger,” Mad-

am Pomfrey said, to Hermione’s chagrin;
was she being deliberately vague? “Now,
how do you feel, a bit stiff?” Hermione nod-
ded reluctantly; it was obvious that ask-
ing more questions wouldn’t get her any-
where. “Can you lift your arm, like this?”
Hermione winced, but was able to. Mad-
am Pomfrey had her try to move her arms
and legs and head in all sorts of different
ways, and then, when she’d managed all
that, had her try to stand.

“I can’t,” Hermione said, clinging to the

- 1150 -
side of the bed, miserable, after her third
try. “My legs just won’t- hold-”

“Not to worry,” Madam Pomfrey said gen-

tly. “We did the best we could for you these
last few months, but it’s to be expected
that you’ll be a bit weak and stiff.”

“Poppy!”

“I’ll be back later with something for you

to eat,” Madam Pomfrey said, “but for
now, there’s juice and water on the ta-
ble. Excuse me.” And she hurried off to-
ward Snape, who was trying to deal Colin
Creevey’s rapid, confused questions.

“Is Ginny okay?” Colin asked. “She was

with me when it all happened-” Hermione
watched the glance that passed between
Snape and Madam Pomfrey with inter-
est, but they didn’t say anything other

- 1151 -
than that Ginny was fine, and then Snape
went back to prowling between the beds
and Madam Pomfrey started to take Colin
through the same exercises as Hermione
had just done.

Hermione heaved herself back into bed

with difficulty, and tried - yet again - to
wrap her head around the fact that she’d
been in bed, oblivious, for months.

“Madam Pomfrey!” she said, suddenly

aghast. The matron came rushing back
over, looking alarmed, and Snape had
looked up, wary.

“Miss Granger, what’s the matter?”

“Exams!” Hermione exclaimed. “If it’s

June- I’ve missed them!”

“It’s been dealt with,” Madam Pomfrey as-

- 1152 -
sured her. “And you needn’t worry.” She
gave Hermione a pointed look, as if to say,
Now behave yourself and went back to
Colin’s bedside.

Hermione flopped back into her pillows.

She didn’t feel particularly well rested,
and thought she might be able to sleep if
she tried, but she didn’t particularly want
to; she’d spent enough time unconscious
as it was, she thought. She folded her
arms and settled in to wait; either for Dra-
co to wake up – because she had no idea
how long he’d been petrified for, and so he
might be able to fill her in on the past few
months – or for Harry and Ron to arrive.

“And- were we right?” Draco asked. He

wasn’t particularly sure that he wanted to
know.

- 1153 -
“Hermione,” Weasley said suddenly, “you
should come and see these papers I’ve
brought up for Percy-” Prefect Weasley
was propped up in his bed, reading an old
copy of the Prophet, while Weasley One
and Weasley Two chattered away at him.
She-Weasley was nowhere to be seen.

“I’m trying to listen to Harry, Ron,” Grang-

er said, frowning at him. Draco’d woken up
hours later than Granger, and so – while
she was now able to hobble around with
someone’s support – he still had trouble
rolling over and twisting his neck over-
ly much. As such, he didn’t see whatev-
er look it was that Weasley gave her, but
next thing he knew, Granger was letting
Weasley help her over to a chair by Prefect
Weasley’s bed. That left Draco and Potter
alone.

- 1154 -
Potter, who’d apparently slain Slytherin’s
basilisk with none other than the sword
of Gryffindor – if Dumbledore was to be
believed - managed to destroy the diary
– and through it, somehow, destroy Rid-
dle – and in doing so, saved She-Weasley’s
life, since he and Draco had last spoken,
remained seated. He was currently scowl-
ing at Weasley’s back, as if to wonder why
he’d been left with Draco. And that was
when Draco knew he was about to recieve
bad news.

“We were, weren’t we?” Draco asked, con-

vinced by the awful, sinking feeling in his
chest. “Father-”

“Gave Ginny the diary,” Potter said, reluc-

tantly. He kept his voice low. “I think at
Diagon Alley, when we were in the book-
shop…” He didn’t look at Draco, and Dra-
co appreciated that, because it gave him

- 1155 -
time to get his expression under control.

“How did you find out?” Draco was im-

pressed with himself for keeping his voice
so steady.

“Dobby told me,” Potter said ruefully.

Then, he grinned. “He was here with a
sponge, you know.”

“He was not,” Draco said, aghast, but he

could tell from Potter’s expression that he
was telling the truth. Draco wasn’t sure
whether to find Dobby’s behaviour endear-
ing or disturbing. Then he shook his head.
“You’re just trying to distract me.” Potter’s
grin faded, and he didn’t say anything,
which Draco was grateful for. “So- He’s
in Azkaban, then? Is that why he hasn’t
come to visit? And Mother must be- she’d
be struggling-”

- 1156 -
“Actually,” Potter said, “I expect he’s strut-
ting about the Manor like normal.” Potter’s
expression was distasteful. In the past,
he’d always tried not to show what he re-
ally thought of Father – though Draco had
a fair idea – but he either hadn’t bothered
this time, or he was having a harder time
hiding it.

“He’s not…?” Draco wasn’t sure wheth-

er to be pleased or horrified. “But- Surely
Weasley’s family-”

“No one knows,” Potter said quietly. “Well-

me and Ron, and now you, and I’m sure
Hermione will hear about it eventually,
but-”

“Black?” Potter shook his head.

“He’d have Mr Malfoy on the first boat to

Azkaban,” Potter said, almost wistfully.

- 1157 -
And he’d deserve it, Draco thought, feel-
ing ill.

“She-Weasel?” Potter shook his head

again. “But she could have died- you said
she nearly did!”

“She’s got enough to deal with at the mo-

ment,” Potter said, not looking at him
again. “Besides, unless he’s actually pun-
ished, it’s not going to make her feel any
better, is it?” But Potter sounded unhap-
py, and this was obviously something he’d
argued with himself – or maybe Weasley
– about. “I mean, if we told her, she’d have
to look at him, free, and just-”

“Exactly; free? I don’t understand-”

“Draco,” Potter hissed, scowling at him,

“good to see you’re finally awake. No, not

- 1158 -
to worry, you haven’t missed much- Oh,
hang on, actually, your dad’s in prison for
setting Voldemort and a giant, murderous
snake on the school, and for almost kill-
ing Ginny Weasley… but other than that,
yeah, things have been pretty quiet…”
Draco aimed a weak kick at Potter’s knee –
as that was the only thing of a height with
the bed – but Potter avoided it, and Draco
huffed at him. “Besides, he’s your father.
Might be a right-” Potter glanced at Draco
and swallowed whatever he’d been about
to say. “You can’t want him in Azkaban?”

“Of course not!” Draco snapped. And that

was true; he didn’t want Father locked
away with the Dementors, no matter how
much he apparently deserved it. He knew
Father had some- closed-minded views
about blood and magic and all that, but
to have given a first year something that
would unleash Riddle and open the Cham-

- 1159 -
ber… Yes, Draco was definitely feeling
ill. Potter apparently thought so too; he
looked around, panicked, and managed to
shove the empty water pitcher at Draco,
just before he emptied his stomach into it.

Potter scooted his chair back to make

room for Madam Pomfrey, who’d rushed
over at the sound of Draco retching. Dra-
co was vaguely aware of her fussing over
him, but was more aware of the pitcher in
his hands, and the horrible, bitter taste in
his mouth.

“-something to settle your stomach.” And

then Pomfrey was gone again, and Potter
was watching on with a wrinkled nose and
sympathetic expression.

“I want to see her,” Draco gasped.

“She-Weasley.”

- 1160 -
Chapter 45:
Things needed

Ginny pushed gently against the doors

to the hospital wing and glanced inside.
It was quiet, and dark; even the lights in
Madam Pomfrey’s office were out. Ginny
lit her wand with a murmur, and glanced
around; Draco’s silhouette – which had
moved when the door opened – materi-
alised into his usual, pale, pointy faced
self, blinking in the light. Everyone else
seemed to be asleep; Percy could have
been petrified again, he was that still and

- 1161 -
silent, but he’d always slept that way. Col-
in’s deep breathing was coming from his
bed, and Hermione was fully cocooned in
her blankets, with the only real identifier
being her bushy hair, splayed over the pil-
low. Professor Flitwick was squeaking in
his sleep.

Ginny slipped into the room and closed the

door with a quiet click, then padded over to
Draco’s bed, a little unnerved by his stare.
She wasn’t sure what he could possibly
want with her; they were friendly enough
– or had been before she’d been possessed
and loosed Tom on him – but she wouldn’t
have thought he’d expect her to visit. And
Harry had said it was important – what-
ever it was that he wanted to talk about or
see her for – but Ginny was still at a loss,
unless he wanted to blame her for every-
thing. Which, was possible, she supposed;
Harry and Ron didn’t keep things from

- 1162 -
each other, or their friends, and she was
sure Draco and Hermione would know all
about her and Tom and the Chamber.

Ginny didn’t say anything to him as she

approached; he’d asked her to be here, so
she figured he could start. He didn’t speak
though, not straight away. He waved a
hand at the chair beside his bed, and Gin-
ny sat reluctantly; being on her feet meant
she could make a quicker getaway if she
needed to.

“It was my father,” Draco said, without

looking at her. His eyes, which were al-
most silver in the faint wandlight, were
fixed on his blanket.

“What was?” Ginny asked, frowning. She

wasn’t sure what he was talking about,
but she knew from his tone it couldn’t be
anything good. She pulled her knees up

- 1163 -
against her chest.

“That day in Diagon Alley, in the book-

shop is my best guess… he must have put
it into your cauldron-”

He kept talking, but Ginny didn’t hear

the rest; she’d heard quite enough now, to
know what he was talking about. The di-
ary. Mr Malfoy had slipped her the diary
that day in Diagon Alley, because- because
he could, because he was a monster. She’d
never thought she could hate anyone as
much as Tom, but she’d been wrong. Mr
Malfoy now held close second, if not equal
first, and she was so angry, and so- well,
hurt. What had she ever done to him to
deserve what he’d put her through? Why
her? Was it just because of her family, or
was it just that he’d happened across her
and decided she’d do? She’d thought one
of her parents must have picked it up sec-

- 1164 -
ond hand as a little present for her, with-
out knowing what it was, but the fact that
someone had actively chosen to do so, that
someone had deliberately unleashed Tom
on Ginny and on the school…

And all the grief Malfoy had given her

since term had started up again, pointing
out muggleborns in a low voice, or asking
if she needed help fixing up the Chamber
after Potter’d wrecked it, only to learn now
that it was his father, and Draco’s father
behind all of it- Had he known? Or was he
making those comments without knowing
what had really happened?

“She-Weasel?” Draco’s hand on her knee

made her start. Ginny became aware of an
odd, gasping-sobbing sort of sound, and re-
alised, after a few confused seconds, that
it was her. She jerked her knee to dislodge
Draco’s hand, and looked up at him, furi-

- 1165 -
ous. He looked so much like his brother
and father- except for his eyes; oh, they
were the same colour as Mr Malfoy’s, but
softer, kinder. And worried, at the mo-
ment. Ginny wondered what she looked
like, and felt herself calm down a little. It
wasn’t Draco she was angry with, though
he seemed to be afraid that she was.

His father, though… Mr Malfoy wasn’t

there for her to- well, she didn’t really
know what she’d do if he was there. May-
be search through Tom’s vague memories
to try to find something nasty enough to
hex him with; the only spells Ginny real-
ly knew were all first year ones, with the
exception of a few household charms she’d
seen Mum do, her bogey spell – which she
was yet to test on anyone else – and the si-
lencing charm that she’d finally managed
about a week ago. Or maybe Ginny could
forgo spells and magic altogether and just

- 1166 -
punch him- but he was too tall for her to
reach his stupid pointy nose just yet…
maybe she’d just wallop him with Char-
lie’s oldest, heaviest broomstick.

And then Ginny’s stomach twisted un-

pleasantly, as she struggled to grasp, yet
again, that Mr Malfoy had deliberately in-
flicted this upon her, possibly for no oth-
er reason than he’d wanted to, or that he
could. Tom’s voice was silent in her head,
perhaps realising that there wasn’t any-
thing he could say to make her feel worse
than she already did.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, in a low, quiet

voice. “It’s- it’s an awful thing he did- that
he’s done-” His mouth was a thin, unhap-
py line, and he dropped his gaze.

“Yes,” Ginny said stiffly. “It really is. To

the school, and everyone in it.” To me.

- 1167 -
Draco wouldn’t look at her; instead, he
nodded at his knees. Ginny had nothing
more to say to him, not at the moment, and
thought that he might be done speaking
too. She unfolded herself from the chair.

“I thought you needed to know,” Draco

croaked.

Ginny gave a sharp nod, not trusting her-

self to talk. She wasn’t sure whether she
did need to know – knowing wouldn’t fix
her, wouldn’t change what had happened
– but it did give her an answer as to how
she’d got the diary… and why, to a degree,
though she didn’t think she’d ever truly
know if it had been as simple as Mr Mal-
foy not liking her for her family, or if there
had been some other, more sinister rea-
son, or no reason at all.

- 1168 -
She didn’t say anything, and Draco didn’t
either, as she left.

Ginny didn’t return to her bed, though,

or to Gryffindor tower. It was to Myrtle’s
thankfully empty bathroom she went, to
sit against the wall beside the sinks, and
cry, silently.

“Good morning.” Draco wasn’t really sur-

prised that it was Severus that had come
to see him. He lifted a hand in a sort of
wave, as his godfather swept over to the
chair She-Weasley had occupied just a few
hours earlier, and took a seat. “I take it
you’re aware that everyone’s leaving this
morning?”

“Obviously,” Draco said. His bed was the

only one still occupied; the rest of the bas-

- 1169 -
ilisk’s victims had left earlier that morn-
ing to pack, or had been collected direct-
ly by their families. Draco, with no word
on whether he was to catch the train, or
whether Mother or Father or Dobby would
be by to pick him up, had stayed. Sever-
us’ presence meant he’d made the right
choice, he thought.

“Do you wish to leave with them?”

Draco, torn from thoughts about his Fa-

ther, glanced up and asked, “I have a
choice?” Severus inclined his head, and
clasped his hands in his lap.

“Should you feel you need more time to re-

cover from your ordeal, or, should Madam
Pomfrey not see fit to discharge you just
yet, you would of course be required to re-
main at the school.”

- 1170 -
“I walked to the bathroom this morning,”
Draco said. “Astoria couldn’t yet, but they
still took her home.”

“Black has agreed to have you stay, should

you require some… time,” Severus said
quietly. “And you are, of course, always
welcome to stay with me.”

“Why?” Draco asked, suspicious; did Sever-

us know about what Father had done, was
that why he was offering to delay Draco’s
return to the Manor?

“The last time you saw your father, the pair

of you had words,” Severus said, in that
same quiet voice. “And as he has yet to vis-
it you, I doubt you have had the chance to
make reparations.” There was a moment
of silence, and then Severus made a soft,
snorting sound. “Judging by your expres-
sion, my guess is correct.” Draco forced his

- 1171 -
expression to clear, and met Severus’ eye,
daring him to say anything else. He stayed
silent, waiting for Draco to speak.

“He’s afraid,” Draco said finally.

“Pardon?”

“Father,” Draco said, struggling to keep

his voice even on that single word. “That’s
why he hasn’t come to see me.” He knows
Potter knows or suspects, but he doesn’t
know what I’ve been told since waking
up. Draco wasn’t sure how he was going
to handle that, wasn’t sure if he wanted
to scream at Father for everything he’d
done, for all the people he’d almost killed,
or whether he wanted to never look at him
or speak to him again. He clenched his
teeth together so his jaw wouldn’t wobble.

“Do you blame him?” Severus asked, frown-

- 1172 -
ing. Draco swallowed and bobbed his head.
“I agree that he should have closed the
school after Granger and the others were
attacked,” Severus said carefully, “but he
did truly believe that you would be safe. It
was idiocy, but not malicious-”

Lie, Draco thought dully, though Severus

didn’t know that.

“If it had been anyone else, he wouldn’t

have cared,” Draco said curtly. And the
only reason he thought I would be safe, is
because he was in on it. Not that he could
say that to Severus. Draco would never
know, he didn’t think, whether or not Fa-
ther had been communicating with Riddle
throughout the year. Draco didn’t think he
had been, but there was no way of know-
ing for certain.

Severus didn’t say anything, and Draco

- 1173 -
knew that meant he agreed.

“Tell me about She-Weasley,” Draco said,

after a moment. “I saw her in here last
night, and she was- different.” He’d bare-
ly recognised the nervous, angry creature
that had come to see him. Obviously her
ordeal had changed her, and while he’d ex-
pected her confidence to have slipped, and
for her to be a bit quieter, he hadn’t ex-
pected it to strip her of her good humour.
Some of her temper had been there, brief-
ly, but it hadn’t been the quick-to-irritate,
quick-to-shout-and-retaliate temper he’d
seen at the Burrow or around the common
room. It had been a darker, cooler anger.

“Potter hasn’t spoken with you about it?”

Severus asked.

“A bit,” Draco said. And Potter had. But

Potter was also oblivious, and Draco

- 1174 -
wanted another opinion. Severus’ take on
it was sure to be accurate. “But he said
it’s hers to deal with, so he didn’t want to
say much.” Potter hadn’t outrightly said
that, but that was the impression Draco
had got. That, and Potter didn’t want to
say how bad she was, because he probably
thought Draco would blame himself and
Father.

“Perhaps he’s not wrong,” Severus said.

“Have you asked her?”

“I might be a Gryffindor, but I have some

tact,” Draco said irritably. Severus in-
clined his head slightly, looking amused.
“I want to know.”

“Possession rarely leaves a mind the way

it was, and the mind of a child is far more
fragile than that of an adult. Her mental
faculties appear to be in order, based on

- 1175 -
her ability to walk and talk, and her in-
formational processing is also functioning
– or, at least as well as it ever did - based
on her performance in class and her exam
results.”

“Yes, but how is she?” Draco asked. What

did my father do?

“I’ve never had any real conversation with

the girl, nor have I ever paid her any par-
ticular attention,” Severus said, looking
down his long nose at Draco. “She is re-
ceiving help from other sources, and is not,
therefore, my problem. She is my student-
and not even that until September.” Draco
scowled at Severus, who didn’t seem both-
ered. If anything, he seemed curious. Dra-
co thought he might have wanted to ask
something, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood
and smoothed his robes. “Now, would you
like to return to your home, or would you

- 1176 -
like a few extra days here or with Potter
or Weasley?”

“I’m going to see my family,” Draco said

decisively.

Severus hid it well, but Draco knew he

was surprised. In truth, Draco would have
loved a few extra days to not have to deal
with Father – and he didn’t even want to
think about whether Mother had known –
but he’d have to see them eventually, and
he had things to do at the Manor. Father
needed to be punished.

“I’ll buy you an icecream as soon as this

is over,” Padfoot said out of the side of his
mouth. He was standing on the podium
beside Harry’s, arms outstretched, and
the same pained expression on his face

- 1177 -
as Harry thought he must be wearing.
“Promise.”

“I don’t think an icecream makes up for

this, Sirius,” Matt said, straightening for
the tape measure. “I’d ask for a new broom,
Harry.”

“The Firebolt’s out next month,” Harry

said, grinning at Padfoot.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with

your Nimbus,” Padfoot retorted, and then
scowled at Matt. “And stop giving him
ideas.”

“I’m with Matt,” Marlene growled, stalking

into the room, in a pair of mustard co-
loured robes. “I want a racing broom for
this, Sirius.”

“You look- er-”

- 1178 -
“Like a banana,” Marlene said, blowing
hair out of her face. “I might just take my
leave from work, and come back on the
morning of-”

“Now,” Andromeda said, sweeping back

into the room, “I think black for you, Har-
ry, and perhaps navy for you, Sirius, to
match Marlene-”

“Navy?” Matt mouthed at Harry, who

shrugged; he couldn’t see navy anywhere.

“Not a nice mustard?” Padfoot asked,

mouth twitching.

“Don’t be silly, that’s an awful colour,” An-

dromeda said. “They’re just to check the
cut and size.” Marlene seemed mollified
by this.

- 1179 -
“You said it’s in August, though?” An-
dromeda turned her attention to Madam
Malkin, who’d just come in with a box of
fabrics, and nodded. “Wouldn’t go black
for the boy, then, might be a bit warm.”

“Black’s traditional,” Andromeda said.

“Because Dora’s so traditional,” Padfoot

muttered. Matt coughed to hide a laugh,
and Harry grinned, but none of the wom-
en seemed to have heard.

Icecream, then the Burrow, Harry told

himself, as Andromeda and Madam
Malkin started rifling through the box of
fabrics and holding them up to him. Ice-
cream, then the Burrow…

Molly waved her wand at the sink to start

- 1180 -
the dishes, and glanced out the window.
Her boys and Harry were just specks in
the sky over the orchard, but she could
hear them carrying on from where she
was. She smiled fondly, and glanced at
the clock. Her smile withered, then, Molly
heard Ginny’s door open, and heard foot-
steps on the landing. The mind healer,
a thin, grey-haired woman with square
spectacles appeared on the stairs.

“Tea?” Molly asked.

“No, thank you, Mrs Weasley, I should be

going.”

“How’d it go? Is she- getting better?”

“Obviously there’s not much I can do for

her physically, what with the laws about
Legillimency on children,” Healer Merber-
ry said, with a sad smile. “And she’s still

- 1181 -
not comfortable talking about it… trust
issues, obviously.” Molly nodded, swallow-
ing to make sure her voice wouldn’t shake
before she spoke.

“Did she say anything at all?”

“We talked about how she’s not to blame

for what happened, and I tried to make
sure that she knows that, but- well, it’s
hard to tell. I think she’d certainly benefit
from additional sessions, but that’s really
up to her, and you…”

“I’ll talk it over with Arthur,” Molly said,

nodding. “And with Ginny, of course.”
Though she didn’t think Ginny would be
any more receptive to the idea than she
had been before Healer Merberry’s visit.

“I’ll expect your owl,” the healer said, and

let Molly show her to the door.

- 1182 -
Once she was gone, Molly leant against
the counter and sighed, trying to decide
whether to go upstairs and check on her
daughter, or give her space. The dishes
were done, which was a bit of a shame;
she could have used the distraction of do-
ing them by hand. Instead, she settled for
checking the oven – and taking her tea-
cakes out to cool – and going to check on
the laundry.

When she returned, full laundry basket in

hand, Ginny was in the kitchen, easing a
steaming teacake out of the pan. She looked
up when Molly entered, expression impos-
sible to read. Molly had always thought
having a daughter would be easy, but she’d
learned that – while Ginny was very sim-
ilar to her in some ways (she’d inherited
Molly’s temper, and ability to make her-
self heard when she had an opinion) they

- 1183 -
were also very different, and that Ginny
was often a lot harder to handle than her
brothers. And, while they were close, they
didn’t have the same tight bond that Mol-
ly had had with her own mother, where
there were no secrets, where everything
was shared. That was painfully obvious,
particularly since school had finished.

“Jam or butter, dear?” Molly asked, ges-

turing to the cake in her daughter’s hand.

“Butter,” Ginny said hesitantly, and sat

at the table while Molly fetched it for her.
“Please.”

“How was- did seeing Healer Merberry

help?” Ginny just shrugged and reached
for a butter knife. Molly still couldn’t read
her expression. “Did you want her to come
and visit again?”

- 1184 -
“No,” Ginny said.

“Why not?” Molly sat down in the chair

opposite her daughter, and Ginny’s shoul-
ders slumped; obviously, she realised Mol-
ly wouldn’t rest until they’d spoken about
this.

“Because I’m fine,” Ginny said, staring at

her cake.

“Are you?”

“Aren’t I?” Ginny challenged, looking up.

“I don’t know, Ginny, that’s why I asked,”

Molly sighed. “You’ve barely spoken to
your father or me about it-”

“I told you, I don’t remember much,” Gin-

ny said quietly.

- 1185 -
“-Professor McGonagall said you didn’t
say much to her either, and Healer Mer-
berry-”

“Isn’t worth the money you’re paying,”

Ginny said flatly. “I don’t want to talk to
her.”

“She’s- affordable,” Molly said, and Ginny

snorted.

“She’s not.”

“Ginny-”

“I asked her,” Ginny said. “We can’t afford

her.”

“If you want her, Ginny, we’ll manage,”

Molly said briskly. “I can bake things to
sell at the Sunday morning market in
town, if need be, and we might have to

- 1186 -
rely more on the garden for vegetables for
a bit, but don’t you let that deter you, if
that’s what you need.” It hadn’t always
been easy, but Molly and Arthur had never
let any of their children go without things
they needed, and she certainly wasn’t go-
ing to start now. If Ginny needed to see a
mind-healer, they’d make it work. Molly
had even forgone her latest Witch Weekly
magazine and used the money for that to
enter the Ministry’s lottery.

“I don’t remember much,” Ginny said firm-

ly. “And what I do remember doesn’t need
talking about. T- The diary made me do
some awful things, but it wasn’t me and it
wasn’t my fault, and it’s over now.” There
was nothing in Ginny’s voice or expression
that made Molly think she was lying, but
her motherly intuition said not to trust
her. “Thanks for the cake,” Ginny said.

- 1187 -
“Not a problem, dear,” Molly heard herself
say. “Did you want another one?”

She shook her head and ducked out the

back door, probably to go and see what the
boys were up to. Molly supposed that was
good, at least, that Ginny wouldn’t be sit-
ting upstairs alone. The door swung shut,
and Molly helped herself to a cake, eyes
drifting back to the clock.

Arthur’s hand pointed to Work, as did

Bill and Charlie’s; Percy’s, Fred, George’s,
Ron’s and her own were Home. Ginny’s
hand - as it had since February - Ginny’s
rested on Lost.

- 1188 -