A Pretended Ending
The cold stone of the Chamber echoed around Harry as he carefully placed the diary back where it belonged. The diary, now silent, waited for Harry's touch. Harry, his heart heavy but his resolve unwavering, gripped the handle of the knife he had taken from a nearby table, the sharp blade gleaming in the dim light. With one swift motion, he drove the knife deep into the pages of the diary, pretending to destroy it. The book reacted with a faint, almost imperceptible shudder, but the magic was already at work, pulling Tom Riddle back into its pages.
Harry let out a silent breath as he glanced at the Basilisk, still coiled in its lair. He stroked its sleek, powerful form gently before turning to Ginny. Her pale face was still flushed with unconsciousness, her limp form unresponsive as he carefully picked her up.
“You’ll be okay,” Harry murmured, his voice betraying the smallest hint of tenderness as he adjusted his grip on Ginny. She was just a girl—a pawn in a much larger game, but Harry had never been one to leave people behind, even if it meant walking through the darkness to get them out. His feet moved swiftly, carrying him out of the chamber.
Back in the castle, the bustling of students had quieted, as the day was nearing its end. Harry, now carrying Ginny in his arms, moved through the halls with a strange sense of finality. This was not the end, but it was the beginning of something much bigger. Something that could change the course of everything.
The staff room was eerily silent, the weight of grief hanging heavily in the air. The usually bustling meeting was now filled with hushed voices and tense faces. The professors sat in their seats, their attention focused on Dumbledore, who stood at the head of the table, his expression somber.
The words on the wall had struck fear into the very heart of the school. “Her skeleton will lay in the Chamber forevermore.” The message, scrawled in blood, had shaken the entire student body to its core. The horror had been palpable as Ginny Weasley went missing, and every teacher feared the worst. Where was she? Was she still alive?
Molly Weasley had not taken the news well. Her sobs echoed in the quiet room as she clutched her hands together, her eyes puffy from crying. The usually strong, caring woman was utterly shattered by the disappearance of her daughter. The room was thick with a sense of helplessness, a helplessness that only grew with each passing second.
And then, just as the silence seemed unbearable, the door to the staff room creaked open. The room turned toward the entrance, and there, standing in the doorway, was Harry Potter. His face was unreadable, but his expression was detached, as always, as though he were far removed from the chaos that had consumed the school.
In his arms, Harry carried Ginny Weasley, pale and unconscious but breathing. The room fell even quieter. Molly gasped, her hands trembling as she rose from her seat, tears continuing to fall freely down her cheeks. Her eyes locked on her daughter, and in an instant, she was rushing toward Harry.
“Ginny!” Molly’s voice cracked, her hand outstretched as she reached for her daughter. “What happened to her? Where—where did you find her? Is she—”
Harry didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he walked toward Molly and carefully placed Ginny in her mother’s arms. Molly cradled her daughter, her sobs intensifying as she held Ginny close, pressing her face to her child’s pale cheek. The message on the wall—the one that had so violently shaken the school—it seemed to come back to life in that moment. Was Ginny to be the one to lay in the Chamber forevermore?
Harry stood in the doorway, watching them, his expression still unreadable. He could feel the eyes of every professor on him, their silent questions hanging in the air. He felt the tension in the room, the way every breath was held as they waited for him to speak.
Finally, Dumbledore’s voice cut through the quiet, calm but concerned. “Harry… What happened? How did you find her?”
Harry’s gaze met Dumbledore’s, but he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he glanced at the other professors, each of them looking at him with a mix of suspicion and concern.
“It’s over,” Harry said flatly, his tone emotionless. “She’s safe. The Chamber is closed.”
The words were simple, and yet they carried weight. The entire room seemed to hold its breath, unsure of what exactly Harry meant.
“Closed?” Professor McGonagall echoed, her voice sharp. “You mean… you’ve stopped the monster?”
Harry gave a single nod, his expression never changing. “Yes. It’s done. Ginny’s safe.”
Molly, still holding her daughter close, finally spoke, her voice broken with grief and relief. “But… the message on the wall… ‘Her skeleton will lay in the Chamber forevermore.’ Who… who wrote that? Was it…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the question, her voice trembling as she stroked Ginny’s hair, trying to will her daughter back to consciousness.
Harry said nothing at first. The room waited, the tension suffocating. He was aware of every gaze on him, every unspoken question hanging in the air. But he didn’t care for the theatrics of it all.
“It doesn’t matter,” Harry replied flatly. “The monster is gone. Ginny will wake up.”
Dumbledore stepped forward, his gaze never leaving Harry’s. “And the Chamber? What happened there?”
Harry’s eyes flickered for just a moment, before he gave another brief nod. “It’s sealed. There’s nothing to worry about.”
But the weight of the words was still in the air, like a cloud of uncertainty. Molly clutched Ginny tighter, her sobs now quiet but steady. She was relieved that her daughter was back, but the image of those bloodstained words on the wall—the horrible prophecy of the Chamber—was still fresh in her mind.
The room was still thick with unspoken tension, every professor uncertain of what exactly had happened. Harry, ever the enigma, gave them nothing more. He turned to leave, the staff room door closing behind him with a soft click. The silence in the room was deafening.
Dumbledore looked at the remaining teachers. “We must ensure the truth remains hidden,” he said softly. “We cannot risk the panic spreading. But Harry… we need to understand more of what transpired in that Chamber.”
No one replied, but the concern in their eyes was evident. Harry had become a mystery, one they didn’t fully understand yet, but one they feared to unravel.