Ron had been ecstatic when he'd seen Harry and Ginny and he hadn't batted an eyelid when the girl had held onto Harry as if her life depended on it as Fawkes carried them back up the pipe and led them to McGonagall's office, along with a very confused Professor Lockhart. It had been suffocating, getting engulfed in Mrs Weasley's hugs and Harry couldn't bring himself to feel anything other than betrayal now that he knew that their first meeting was a set up. It hurt all the more knowing that he would still have accepted them if they'd been honest, but all the lies were what hurt the most. The only upside of the hugs is that they allowed him to hide his face so he didn't accidentally end up glaring at the headmaster.
The man had been beaming at Harry when he opened the door, as if Harry had just achieved something momentous, although, in the man's eyes, he probably had, or would have if Harry hadn't ended up conspiring with Tom.
"You saved her!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed, "how did you do it?"
"I think we would all like to hear that," McGonagall huffed.
Harry extricated himself from Mrs Weasley and laid the sword, hat and wrecked book on his head of house's desk, explaining everything that had happened to him over the year, from the disembodied voice to the acromantula in the forest and figuring out that Myrtle had been the victim of the Basilisk in the past and that her bathroom might hold a clue to the entrance of the Chamber. All through the story, Harry was stealing glances at the headmaster, looking for any hint that the man was surprised by anything that he said: he wasn't. Admittedly there was a chance that the old coot might have been hiding his reactions but what was the point? It would make more sense for him to have been a little surprised at least but no, he just continued to smile enigmatically, as if he'd just completed a complicated chess move and victory was in sight.
"So you found out where the entrance was, breaking about 100 school rules in the process I might add," McGonagall scowled, "but how on earth did you all get out of there alive?"
So Harry regaled them with a fictitious story of how Fawkes had arrived and scratched out the Basilisk's eyes, the only reason he could come up with as to why he hadn't died or become petrified. He then claimed to have pulled the sword out of the sorting hat and had run down one of the tunnels, the snake giving chase and nearly eating him, how he'd frantically jabbed the sword into the top of its mouth and, by pure luck, killed the thing.
Harry looked up at Dumbledore to see if he believed the story and the old man smiled. "What interests me the most," he said, "is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny when my sources tell me he is currently hiding in the forests of Albania?"
Harry looked down at his feet, taking a deep breath as he fought not to scowl. Tom had been right about this as well: the old man had known all along that Ginny had been enchanted, and by whom, he just hadn't realised how it was happening and had allowed this whole charade to continue in order to test Harry and figure out the problem in one fell swoop. He didn't care about the safety of the students, any of them, just this grand game he had going on.
"Wh-what's that?" Mr Weasley stuttered. "You-know-who! Enchant Ginny! But Ginny's not, Ginny hasn't been, has she?"
Harry looked up and felt a wave of relief to see that the man seemed truly shocked by the thought. The same, unfortunately, could not be said for Mrs Weasley who was uncommonly quiet as she hid her face in her daughter's hair.
"It was the diary," Harry said, quickly picking it up before Dumbledore looked too closely, "Riddle wrote it when he was 16.".
Dumbledore took the diary and peered down at the pages that still held traces of the poison, the edges of the hole singed where it had started to burn the edges.
"Brilliant," he said. "Of course he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen."
Which is why he was able to see straight through you, Harry thought, suddenly regretting that he had never pushed himself harder, to be more than average, especially now that he was away from the Dursleys and didn't have to worry about 'showing Dudley up'.
Dumbledore looked to the Weasleys who all looked very confused at their conversation. "Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself 50 years ago at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving this school, travelled far and wide, sank so deeply into the dark arts, consorted the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous magical transformations that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort he was barely recognisable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy that was once head boy here."
Harry hoped he just looked thoughtful during Dumbledore's story, especially when it got to the point about 'hardly anyone recognising' Tom Riddle when he returned, willing to be Dumbledore was one of them.
"But Ginny," shrieked Mrs Weasley, "what's our Ginny got to do with him?" She seemed a little shocked and Harry mentally questioned whether she was that good of an actress or whether she was genuinely shocked to learn who the diary had actually belonged to.
"The d-diary," Ginny sobbed, "I've been writing in it, and he was writing back all year."
"Ginny!" shouted Mr Weasley. "Haven't I taught you anything! What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain. Why didn't you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was clearly full of dark magic."
Harry wasn't sure how sound that advice actually was but it did lend credibility to Tom's theory that Ginny knew all along what she was doing. After all, unlike Harry, she had always grown up in the magical world so, by the age of 11, should know to tell an adult if a book started talking back to her.
"I, I didn't know," Ginny wailed. "I found it inside one of the books mum got me, I thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it.
Harry had to bite his lip to keep from scoffing at her bare-faced lie. Her father had literally just said that he'd taught her to be wary of sentient objects, especially one of unknown origins, since the only book shop they'd gone into had been Flourish and Blotts which even Harry knew didn't stock anything like that diary. He almost wondered how she was going to try and weasel her way out of that one since Mr Weasley seemed to be gearing up for a massive rant.
"Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing straight away," Dumbledore interrupted, and Harry couldn't help but think that the old coot was coming to the girl's rescue before she dug herself any deeper with her lies. "This has been a terrible ordeal for her, there will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort." He strolled over to the door and opened it. "Bed rest and perhaps a steaming mug of hot chocolate, I always find that cheers me up."How convenient, thought Harry, same as last year, ferret those involved out of the way so no one asks questions. Harry also noticed how Mrs Weasley had been conspicuously quiet given that this is the same woman who had sent Ron a howler when they had driven the car to Hogwarts. Perhaps she had an extra soft spot for her only daughter but even that kind of favouritism was worrying.
"You will find Madame Pomfrey is still awake," Dumbledore continued, "you will find she is just giving out mandrake juice. I daresay the Basilisk's victims will be waking up any moment."
"So Hermione's ok," exclaimed Ron.
"There's been no lasting harm done," said Dumbledore. Except for losing half a year of school, thought Harry, luckily for him.
Mrs Weasley led them out, looking surprisingly composed, especially compared to her husband who was pale and shaking, even more suspicious now Harry thought about it.
"You know Minerva," the headmaster said once the Weasley, sans Ron, had left, "I think all this metits a good feast. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens."
"Right," said McGonagall crisply, moving to the door, clearly realising she was being dismissed from her own office. "I'll leave you to deal with Potter and Weasley, shall I?"
"Certainly," Dumbledore smiled and Harry had the feeling of being prey, caught in a trap and he really wanted to run.
"I seem to remember telling you that I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules," they both stared at him dumbfounded, although likely for different reasons since Harry was wondering what the old coot might try and leverage out of him with that threat. "Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words."
Harry dropped his head to look at the floor and took a deep breath to prevent himself from screaming at the manipulative bastard. He had obviously told them that to stop them going to him for help, almost pushing them to go to Lockhart, the fraud that he was, knowing full well that it was an empty threat as he would never risk Harry slipping from his grasp like that.
"You will both receive special awards for services to the school and, oh yes, I think 200 points a piece for Gryffindor," Dumbledore added and Harry stared agog. No wonder some of the other houses hated them when Gryffindor could suddenly jump that far ahead, almost making everyone else's contributions pointless, especially if they didn't really realise why they were getting the points since Harry could hardly see Dumbledore copping to the fact Voldemort had somehow managed to get passed his prev schools walls.
"But someone seems to be keeping mightily quiet about his part in this dangerous adventure, why so modest Gilderoy?" Harry could have sworn he'd seen a flash of glee in the headmaster's eyes when he asked that question, as if he was genuinely looking forward to finding out what awful thing had happened to the man.
Turning around, Harry saw that Lockhart was standing in the corner of the room with a vague smile still on his face, the same as in the chamber, only moving to look over his shoulder when Dumbledore addressed him, still unaware of his own name.
"Professor Dumbledore," Ron interjected, "there was an accident in the chamber of secrets. Professor Lockhart."
"Am I a professor?" Lockhart interrupted. "Goodness, I expect I was hopeless was I?"
"He tried to do a memory charm and it backfired," Ron quietly explained to Dumbledore.
"Dear me," sighed Dumbledore, shaking his head, although Harry couldn't help noticing that he didn't actually sound particularly concerned. "Impaled upon your own sword Gilderoy."
"Sword?" questioned Lockhart, "I haven't got a sword. That boy has one though," he pointed at Harry, "he'll lend you one."
"Would you mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the hospital wing too," Dumbledore said to Ron, "I'd like a few more words with Harry."
Ron led Lockhart out and Harry couldn't help but wonder how he hadn't realised how strange it was that the headmaster of the school would want so many private words with him, especially as they apparently had no connection outside of his education. Although maybe Ron did if the curious look Ron flashed them as he left was anything to go by. Then again, knowing Ron, it could equally be jealousy at Harry getting all of the attention again.
Dumbledore motioned to the chairs by the fire. "Sit down Harry," he directed and Harry reluctantly followed, unfortunately not having any reason not to. "First of all, Harry, I want to thank you. You must have shown me real loyalty down in the chamber, nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you." Harry nodded, simply for something to do to stop him from blurting out something that would screw up their plans. "And so you met Tom Riddle. I imagine he was most interested in you."
For a brief moment Harry panicked and he felt an urge to look into the headmaster's eyes but he fought it. He was clearly fishing for something and the old Harry would have wanted to ask questions about the things that Tom had told him, looking for some reassurance from the old man. Racking his brain for something to ask that wouldn't be incriminating. "Professor Dumbledore, Riddle said I'm like him," technically it was the sorting hat but who cared. It was vague enough not to incriminate him and it might also give him some insight into Dumbledore's thought process.
"Did he now?" Dumbledore probed, "and what do you think Harry?"
Harry scowled. More tests, only now he felt like he had to get this right or he might not leave the room alive. "I don't think I'm like him," Harry said forcefully, hoping to use volume to counter the lack of conviction in his words. "I mean I'm in Gryffindor I," he floundered, realising how true it was, with the exception, maybe, that Tom had studied hard to become an excellent student whereas Harry was simply coasting through his lessons. Dumbledore was still watching Harry so he decided to try a different track. "Professor, the sorting hat said I'd have done well in Slytherin: everyone thought I was Slytherin's heir for a while because I can speak to snakes."
"You can speak parseltongue, Harry, because Lord Voldemort, the last remaining descendant of Salazar Slytherin can speak parseltongue. Unless I'm much mistaken, he transferred some of his powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do I'm sure."
"Voldemort put a bit of himself in me!" Harry exclaimed in disbelief at Dumbledore's blatant lies.
"It certainly seems so," Dumbledore nodded, seemingly misunderstanding what was causing Harry's shock.
"So I should be in Slytherin," Harry pushed, wondering if he could get that man to trip up.
"No, the hat chose to put you in Gryffindor. Yes you have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized: parseltongue, resourcefulness, determination, a certain disregard for rules," Dumbledore grinned and Harry had to wonder if that last one was actually true or just the old man's bias against the house of snakes, since it only seemed to be him and his friends breaking the rules these days. "Yet the sorting hat still placed you in Gryffindor. You know why that was. Think!"
Because you told it to, was all Harry could think of so he decided to reword it. "The sorting hat put me in Gryffindor because I asked it not to put me in Slytherin," Harry said.
"Exactly," Dumbledore beamed, "which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are far more than our abilities."
Harry sat motionless in his chair as he tried to process the audacity of Dumbledore's words: that Harry wasn't evil because he didn't want to go into Slytherin. He was almost grateful for Malfoys attitude before the sorting as he'd have hated to find out what would have happened if he'd have gone with his heritage.
"If you want proof that you belong in Gryffindor, Harry," Dumbledore continued, "then I suggest you look more closely at this." Dumbledore reached across McGonagall's desk and grabbed the sword and passed it to Harry. Harry worried briefly that Dumbledore was going to comment on how clean it was when he noticed the name engraved just below the hilt: Godric Gryffindor. "Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat Harry," and Harry was suddenly glad that he hadn't had to risk trying.
After a minute of sitting in silence Dumbledore pulled a quill and ink out of McGonagall's desk. "What you need, Harry, is food and sleep. I suggest you go to the feast while I write to Azkaban, we need our gamekeeper back, and I must draft an advertisement for the daily Prophet too." Harry was once again shocked with how casually Dumbledore mentioned freeing Hagrid, as if his word was all it would take as it wasn't like he seemed to have any plans to provide further evidence. If it was that easy then why hadn't he done it sooner since even Harry knew that acromantula couldn't pertify people and were more interested in eating people than leaving perfectly intact corpses. "We'll be needing a new defence against the dark arts teacher," Dumbledore continued, "dear me we do go through them." It was said so casually that Harry almost forgot all the talk about the curse on the position that had apparently been there for decades.
Harry nodded and got up, wanting to make the most of his chances to leave without facing too many probing questions. He'd just gotten to the door when it burst open revealing a furious Lucius Malfoy and a cowering Dobby, heavily wrapped in bandages. Harry tried to care for the creature's plight but the sorting hat's announcement that Dobby was Dumbledore's spy was still ringing in his ears and Harry struggled to muster up any sympathy.
"Good evening Lucius," Dumbledore smiled, although it felt oily, even to Harry.
Lucius continued to storm into the room with Dobby scurrying behind him, cowering at the hem of his so-called master's cloak and making a thoroughly pathetic sight.
"So you've come back," Lucius sneered at Dumbledore. "The governors suspended you but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts."
"Well you see Lucius," Dumbledore crowed, "the other 11 governors contacted me today, it was something like getting caught in a hailstorm of owls to tell the truth. They'd heard that Arthur Weasleys daughter had been killed and wanted me here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all." Harry listened quietly, wondering how the governors learned about Ginny's predicament so quickly and why they thought Dumbledore would be able to do anything when he hadn't before. "Some very strange tales as well. Several governors even seemed to think you would curse their families if you didn't agree to suspend me in the first place."
Lucius paled at the accusation. "So, have you stopped the attacks, have you caught the culprit," he sneered.
"We have," Dumbledore smiled enigmatically.
"Well, who is it?" Lucius demanded, seeming genuinely curious which made Harry believe he didn't know what the diary would do.
"It was the same person as last time Lucius, but this time Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else by means of this diary." Dumbledore held up the book and Harry looked to Malfoy so that Dumbledore wouldn't see his sudden flash of panic. As he was looking at Malfoy, however, Dobby caught his eye, motioning between the book and Lucius then smashing his head with his fist.
"I see," said Lucius, who was eyeing Dumbledore warily.
"A clever plan," Dumbledore added, still staring at Lucius, "because if Harry here," Lucius flipped round to stare at Harry at Dumbledore's words. "and his friend Ron hadn't discovered this book why Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would have been able to prove she hadn't acted of her own free will and imagine what might have happened then." The man was obviously gloating now but Harry didn't care, seemingly locked in a staring contest with Malfoy. The funny thing was that neither of them felt particularly malicious, more cursory, watching the other's reaction to the old man's words.
"The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pureblood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his muggle protection act if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing Muggleborn," Dumbledore continued. "Very fortunate that the diary was discovered and Riddle's memories wiped from it or who knows what the consequences might have been."
"Very fortunate," Malfoy said stiffly although Harry thought he looked a little awkward which confused Harry, although not as much as Dobby's actions until it suddenly clicked although Harry wondered why Dumbledore hadn't said anything as surely he would have figured out Dobby's clues sooner. Harry nodded at the elf to say he understood and Dobby backed himself into a corner.
"Did you know what that diary would do?" Harry asked Lucius.
"How would I know anything about it?" Lucius sneered, rounding on Harry.
"Because you're the one who gave it to her," Harry countered, "when we bumped into you in Flourish and Blotts last summer. You picked up Ginny's books and slipped the diary in then." Harry didn't really mean to antagonise the man but it was important to know whether he knew there was a bit of Tom's soul in the book when he gave it away.Prove it," Malfoy hissed, and Harry couldn't help but think that Tom was right, that Lucius couldn't have known that little detail, or he would have realised that Harry had spoken to him.
"Oh no one will be able to do that, not now Riddle has vanished from the book," Dumbledore smiled, and Harry thought he looked as relieved as Malfoy at that fact. "On the other hand I would advise you, Lucius, not to go giving out any more of Lord Voldemort's old school things. If any more of them find their way into innocent hands, I think Arthur Weasley, for one, will make sure it traces back to you."
Lucius's hand twitched on his cane and Harry couldn't blame him in the face of a threat like that. Taking a breath to compose himself, Lucius turned to the door and called, "we're going Dobby," before wrenching open the door and kicking Dobby through it as the elf approached him. Harry assumed that was because Lucius had caught the elf's unsubtle actions, in which case the kick was likely deserved for daring to throw his master under the bus like that.
The only problem for Harry now was what to do about the book. He dared not leave it with Dumbledore as it wouldn't take much looking to know it had nothing to do with Tom Riddle. Dumbledore was looking at Harry expectantly and it suddenly came to Harry. "Professor Dumbledore, can I give that diary back to Mr Malfoy please."
"Certainly Harry," Dumbledore smiled, "but hurry, the feast, remember."
Harry didn't hesitate to grab the diary and dash out of the office. He knew what Dumbledore expected of him, what the old Harry would do, too blinded by his bleeding heart to see the manipulations. The problem was he didn't really want to so he would just have to hope his acting skills were up to snuff.
"Mr Malfoy, I've got something for you," Harry panted, running up to the man and shoving the 'diary' into his hand.
"I don't know what you're talking about," huffed Lucius, shoving the book at Dobby. Dobby opened the book and flicked through the pages, his face falling as he realised there was nothing there.
"Are you looking for something, elf?" Lucius asked.
"Oh damn, I meant to put my sock in there but forgot," Harry huffed as if he was disappointed in himself. "Hang on Dobby, I'll give it to you now."
"That won't work," Lucius laughed, "if it did people would be freeing other people's house elves all the time."
"Damn it, sorry Dobby," Harry sighed, acting crestfallen, "I meant to help."
"Don't worry Mr Potter, you've helped young Dobby greatly," Lucius leered, causing the elf to whimper. Harry had to hide his glee at the thought of the traitorous elf getting punished as he made his way down to the Great Hall for the feast that Dumbledore had suddenly forced on the poor kitchen staff and wondered when he would get the chance to visit Snape and see if he could actually help with getting Tom a body again.