They were met with silence for a few moments as they stood there, covered in muck and slime and, in Hari’s case, a lot of blood. Then someone screamed.

Mrs. Weasley hurried over from her seat and pulled Ginny into her arms, crying loudly. Ron and Mr. Weasley joined the hug as well, a huddle of fiery red hair and relief.

“Hari!” Draco yelped, tearing across Dumbledore’s office and throwing his arms around Hari’s neck. It was testament to how much he had feared for Hari’s life that he didn’t mind being covered in blood as he half sobbed into Hari’s shoulder, squeezing him tightly with relief. “Oh, I was so worried, you idiot!” Hari grinned and hugged back just as tightly, shoving his face in the crook of Draco’s shoulder.

Their hug was short lived, however, as Mrs. Weasley bustled over to give Hari a hug. “You saved her! You saved Ginny!” she sang. “How did you do it?”

And so, Hari explained the entire ordeal from the start of the school year and onwards. He spoke for almost 20 minutes, explaining the disembodied voice in the walls, visiting Aragog in the forest and Hermione running off because she figured it out, but then got Petrified. He told them how Draco figured out it was Myrtle that was killed in the toilet and that Ron figured out where the entrance to the Chambers was and about the whole fight with the basilisk and his defeat of Tom Riddle. He was careful to leave out the diary and Ginny’s involvement, desperate not to get her expelled.

By the time he finished his story, his legs were sore from standing up so long and his throat was hoarse from talking endlessly without breaks. The blood from the basilisk was dry and itchy, matting his hair uncomfortably.

Minerva conjured up a chair for Hari to sit, finally, and he dropped into it gratefully. As Draco shuffled his chair to sit closer, Dumbledore gave Hari another one of his piercing, searching gazes from behind his spectacles and his broken nose. His fingers were steepled together as he tilted his head, still watching Hari. “What interests me most,” he said softly, turning the attention to Dumbledore and away from Hari, “is how exactly Ginny came to be enchanted by Lord Voldemort and his diary when, last I heard, he was in Albania?”

Arthur Weasley blinked rapidly, looking between his daughter and Dumbledore. “W-what’s that?” he spluttered in surprise, “Did you say that You-Know-Who did this? Enchant Ginny? But how?” He looked at his daughter with wide eyes, but Hari answered for her.

“It was this diary, sir,” he said, holding it up finally. He let Dumbledore take it to inspect it closely, adjusting his glasses on his crooked nose. “Riddle wrote in it during the events of the last time the Chamber was opened and he preserved his memory in the diary.”

“Fascinating,” muttered Dumbledore, turning the book over in his hands with clear wonder on his lined face. At the bewildered looks of the others, Dumbledore explained, “Very few know that, before he became known asi ooo9o9oh Lord Voldemort, he used to be named Tom Riddle. I taught him when he was a student here, fifty years ago. He was a brilliant, intelligent student, but he was seduced by the Dark Arts from early on and after he left school, he was almost unrecognizable from the witty, charming teenage Tom Riddle I once knew.”

“But what has he got to do with Ginny?” asked Mrs. Weasley.

“His d-diary!” Ginny burst out, looking terrified, covered in tears and muck. “I’ve been writing in it a-all year and it writes b-back!”

Mr. Weasley looked appalled. “Ginny! What have I told you about never trusting something that thinks for itself but you cannot find its brain? You could have at least showed it to me or your mother or—or anyone!”

Ginny sobbed harder, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I didn’t think! It was with the other books Mum got me, so I thought it was fine! I’m so sorry!” She buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with tears.

“Miss Weasley must get up to the hospital wing, I say,” interrupted Minerva firmly, staring Dumbledore down. “The poor girl has been through a dreadful series of events.”

Dumbledore nodded wisely, drumming his fingers on the desk in front of him. “I agree, Minerva,” he said. “And there will be no punishments necessary. I have seen wiser and older wizards than Ginny who were as hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort. You may, please, escort her up to the hospital wing where I suggest a good night’s rest.” As Mr. and Mrs. Weasley began to lead Ginny towards the door, he added, “I assume Madam Pomfrey will still be awake as our Petrified students have now been revived by the mandrake restorative solution.”

“So Hermione’s alright?” asked Ron hopefully.

Dumbledore nodded. “And with no lasting harm done.”

Ginny followed her parents out of the office and, at Dumbledore’s suggestion, Minerva left to prepare for a celebratory feast. That left only Dumbledore with Hari, Ron and Draco.

“You have all broken at least hundreds of school rules this whole year, nevermind this evening,” said Dumbledore. Hari and the other two frowned, looking at the floor in shame. “But you will each be receiving Special Awards for Services to the School and… 200 points to Gryffindor.”

Hari, Ron and Draco thanked Dumbledore profusely, Ron as red as his hair and Draco’s eyes wide with shock.

“Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy,” said Dumbledore, “I hope you two would not mind leaving Hari and I to speak alone? I daresay you might want to get cleaned up.”

Once Draco and Ron left, Dumbledore took one of the seats across from Hari.

“And so you met Tom Riddle,” he said, lacing his fingers together on his lap. “He must have been very interested in you, I presume.”

“He said I’m like him,” said Hari, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“And what do you think?”

“I’m not that like him, really. I mean, I’m a Gryffindor…” His voice trailed off, thinking back to his sorting when the hat had greatly considered putting him in Slytherin. Sure, Hari didn’t particularly mind some of them, but if it made him more like Voldemort…

He cleared his throat and Dumbledore tilted his head, waiting for Hari to continue. “Sir, last year, at my sorting, the Sorting Hat almost considered putting me in Slytherin. And all this year, everyone thought I was the heir of Slytherin because I can talk to snakes.”

“You can speak Parseltongue, like Lord Voldemort, because he was the heir of Slytherin and could talk to snakes,” said Dumbledore simply. “I believe, when his spell rebounded on you, he may have transferred some of his powers onto you.”

“So, I should be in Slytherin.”

“You may share a few traits with him, Hari, that is true,” said Dumbledore. “You are determined and resourceful and ambitious, yes, but you are also incredibly brave and loyal to those you care about.” Dumbledore gestured to the sword at Hari’s side. “Look closely at the sword which you pulled out of the hat tonight.”

Hari furrowed his brows and picked up the sword. Its silver blade was still covered in crimson blood, which seemed to alarmingly match the hilt encrusted with rubies. Engraved just below the hilt were the words:

Godric Gryffindor

“This was Gryffindor’s sword?” asked Hari, gaping at the sword in his hands.

Dumbledore nodded calmly. “Yes it was. Only a true Gryffindor could have produced Godric Gryffindor’s sword out of that hat, Hari,” said Dumbledore. “You may share a few simple traits with Slytherins, but you are a true Gryffindor through and through, Hari.”

Hari was left speechless, still gazing down at the silver and crimson sword, heavy in his hands. Dumbledore pulled out a bottle of ink, an eagle feather quill and a piece of parchment. “I have much to do, Hari,” said Dumbledore, dipping the quill in the ink. “I suggest you head down for the feast and I have some letters to send. We need our gameskeeper back, I daresay and, after Professor Lockhart’s departure this evening at the slightest sign of danger, we will need to find a new Defence teacher as well.”

“So, Lockhart really was a fraud this whole time?” asked Hari, trying to hide his grin. Ron would be ecstatic to hear he was right.

“Yes, it appears so,” said Dumbledore, giving Hari a knowing smile. “He confessed to me that he had made up those books. He simply obliviated the real heroes and took credit for their work.”

The next moment, the door suddenly burst open rather violently, slamming into the wall beside it. Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway with a fierce scowl and his blond hair tied back in a sleek, low ponytail. Behind him, Dobby stood cowering at his legs, his massive eyes watery with tears and clutching a rag in his trembling sides.

“So, I see you decided to come back, Albus Dumbledore,” said Lucius, striding across the room, shoving Hari to the side. Dobby scuttled behind him, trying to keep up.

“I received an urgent Patronus message and a flood of letters telling me to come back, Lucius,” replied Dumbledore serenely. “Strangely, every one of the school governors had very similar stories accusing you of threatening their families if they did not agree to kick me out as Headmaster. Naturally, after news went around that young Ginny Weasley had been taken into the Chambers, I was ordered quite unanimously to return.”

Lucius’ lips curled cruelly, a vein popping in his temple. “How very lucky for you, Albus,” he said through gritted teeth. “Have you caught the culprit then? Stopped these dreadful attacks on Muggle-borns?”

“Oh, yes,” said Dumbledore. He gestured to Hari, standing to the side watching, covered in blood and muck and scowling up at the blond. “Hari was able to get to the Chamber and save Ginny Weasley. Do you know who opened the Chambers of Secrets this time, Lucius?”

Lucius stared at Hari, sneering venomously. He took in Hari’s appearance and turned up his nose with disgust, turning back to Dumbledore. “No.”

“Lord Voldemort,” replied Dumbledore. Lucius twitched at the name. “But this time, he was acting through the means of this diary. Had Hari not realised how the diary worked to possess Ginny, the Weasley family would have been in ruins. Imagine the horror of such a prominent Pure-blood family that has always strived for Muggle and Muggle-born rights when their youngest daughter is blamed for attacking Muggle-borns at her school.” Dumbledore placed the diary on the table in front of Lucius. His pale eyes narrowed on the book and Hari saw the faintest trace of fear in his eyes for a moment. “Any idea how she might have gotten her hands on the diary?”

Hari looked at Dobby. He was pointing at the diary and then at Lucius, back and forth, his huge eyes wider than ever.

Oblivious to the silent conversation between Hari and Dobby, Lucius replied in a drawl, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t know how the silly little girl got it.”

“You’re lying,” interrupted Hari. The other two adults turned to him. “You gave Ginny Weasley that diary that day you fought with her father in Diagon Alley. The day your son decided to leave with me instead of going home with you.”

Lucius Malfoy’s face contorted, his skin paper white and his fists clenched tightly together as he rounded on Hari, looking practically murderous. “You dare speak to me like that? How dare you accuse me of such an act, you stupid little boy! Prove it!” he hissed.

“I daresay it would be near impossible to do so, Lucius,” interrupted Dumbledore, “But, I would suggest you not go around giving any more children the Dark possessions of Lord Voldemort.”

Lucius looked affronted, his hand twitching towards his wand for a moment. Instead, he turned to Dobby, grabbing him by the scruff of his thin neck. “Come, Dobby. We’re leaving!” he snapped, dragging the wheezing house elf out of the room and slamming the door behind him so harshly that it rattled slightly.

Hari turned to Dumbledore, an idea popping into his head as he glanced at the diary. “Sir, do you think I could possibly return the diary to Mr. Malfoy?” he asked, smiling mischievously.

“Of course, Hari. I shall see you at the feast afterwards.”

Hari plucked the diary from the table, thanked Dumbledore and hurried out of the room and down the stairs in search of Lucius Malfoy and his poor house elf.

¤¤¤

Hari had been to many feasts at Hogwarts now after growing up there since he was only 5, but he had never been to one quite as unusual as this one. The entire school was packed inside the Great Hall, dressed in their pyjamas and dressing gowns, feasting mainly on sweets and sandwiches while the night sky glittered overhead. Hari entered the Great Hall after most people had arrived, freshly showered and dressed, so he no longer stank of the sewers or trailed blood and ink everywhere he went.

When he walked in, he felt the usual stares from all sides, but this time they were accompanied by grins and shouts of gratitude in his direction.

He gorged himself on cakes and Honeydukes sweets, recounting the conversation with Dumbledore and admitting to Draco that his family’s house elf Dobby had now been freed because of Hari. Hermione shrieked at his arrival, congratulating him on solving it and hugging him fiercely and the rest of the Weasley siblings all came over to Hari to thank him for saving their sister Ginny. Pansy, Millicent and Blaise even came over to congratulate Hari, Pansy proudly showing off her new Muggle charm bracelet Hermione got her.

At half past three, Hagrid arrived from his stay at Azkaban, looking shaken but relieved as Hari, Ron, Draco and Hermione sprinted across the hall to hug him and thank him for his help in finding out the truth.

As the party continued to roar on, Hari excused himself from the table, feeling enormously exhausted from all the excitement of the last few hours. All he wanted was to fall into bed for the next ten years, his limbs heavy and his eyes burning with exhaustion.

As he traipsed up one of the many flights of stairs on the way to Gryffindor tower, he heard quick footsteps hurrying up behind him. He turned and saw Draco hurrying after him, looking breathless and flushed.

“You look exhausted,” Draco breathed, falling into step beside Hari and linking their elbows together like when they were little.

Hari huffed a laugh, bobbing his head. “I am. As much as I enjoy eating a pile of sweets and celebrating everyone being okay again, I really just want to get away from the excitement, you know?”

“I get what you mean,” said Draco, steering him around a corner. “I have some good news, by the way.”

“Really? What is it?”

“Well, remember when I left to go to the toilet earlier?”

“You better not be telling me about you going to a toilet, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco scoffed, elbowing him in the side. “As if!” he exclaimed. “No, I ran into Dobby on my way and he told me all about you freeing me. And he said that, since he was now free, he didn’t have any trouble with telling me that Mother is actually okay with me being a Gryffindor. She tried sending me letters all year, but Father made Dobby get rid of them.”

“Wait, seriously? She’s not mad anymore?”

Draco shook his head. They had reached the portrait of the Pink Lady, who was celebrating with another painting. She opened the portrait hole and let them inside, giggling over a glass of wine.

Hari and Draco made their way up to the dormitory together, both yawning. Hari pulled off his shoes, preparing to go and get a shower, but as soon as he touched the bed, he fell asleep right on top of the covers.

¤¤¤

The last few days of term flew by with ease, exams having been cancelled for most of the school. With Defence Against the Dark Arts classes being stopped after Lockhart’s fall from glory, they were free to spend their time doing whatever. Hari and his friends spent much of their free time lazing about the grounds, throwing rocks into the lake and racing each other on their brooms and visiting Hagrid for cups of tea.

Finally, it was time for the long journey back to Kings Cross Station. Hari, Ron, Hermione, Draco, Ginny, George and Fred all packed together in one of the larger compartments for the journey. They played Exploding Snap and traded Chocolate Frog cards and set off Fred and George’s last Zonko’s fireworks, much to Hermione’s dismay. As the rolling hills and valleys of Scotland turned into the suburbs of England, Hari remembered something suddenly.

“Hey, Ginny? What was it that Percy thought you were going to tell us?” he asked. Everyone looked up at his question, turning excitedly to Ginny.

“Oh that?” she replied, giggling. “I accidentally walked in on him and Oliver Wood kissing in an empty classroom. They’ve been secretly dating since the end of last year. You won’t make fun of him, will you?”

Fred and George shared grins. “Oh, we won’t make fun of him for having a boyfriend,” Fred replied, snickering.

“Course not. But he and Oliver won’t be hearing the end of it,” added George. He plucked a bit of Cauldron Cake from the pile and took a bite, grinning. “Now that I think about it, they’re perfect for each other. They’re both uptight and too passionate for their own nosy good. No wonder!”

A little while later, the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station and they all began to gather up their rubbish and head outside the train.

Remus was standing on the platform, looking exhausted as ever, waving to Hari as he dragged his trunk and Hedwig’s cage off the train. Hari saw Narcissa Malfoy nearby as well, holding a trolley and looking vaguely amused about something.

“We’ve got to see each other this summer,” Hari said to Draco, Ron and Hermione. “And we haven’t got anymore house elves to block your letters, so you better write!”

As they all made their way across the platform towards their families, Ron asked, “Do you guys think we’ll ever have a normal school year?”

Hari snorted. “At Hogwarts? Godric, no.”