The Reward
For a moment there was silence as Harry, Ron, Ginny, Lockhart, Leo, Raph, Donnie, and Mikey stood in the doorway, covered in muck and slime and (in Harry’s case) blood. Then there was a scream.
“Ginny!”
It was Mrs. Weasley, who had been sitting crying in front of the fire. She leapt to her feet, closely followed by Mr. Weasley, and both of them flung themselves on their daughter.
Harry and Leo, however, looked past them. Professor Dumbledore was standing by the mantlepiece, beaming, next to Professor McGonagall, who was taking great, steadying gasps, clutching her chest. Fawkes went whooshing past Harry’s ear and settled on Dumbledore’s shoulder, just as Mrs. Weasley somehow swept Harry, Ron, and the Hamato brothers into her tight embrace.
“You saved her! You saved her! How did you do it?”
“I think we’d all like to know that,” said Professor McGonagall weakly.
Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry, who walked over to the desk and laid upon it the Sorting Hat, the ruby-encrusted sword, and what remained of Riddle’s diary. Leo and his brothers tracked the latter intently, not for one second taking their eyes off of the leather-bound journal.
But then Harry began to speak. For over fifteen minutes he spoke into the rapt silence: He told them about hearing the disembodied voice; how Hermione had finally realized that he was hearing a Basilisk in the pipes; how he, Ron, and the Hamatos had followed the spiders into the forest, where Aragog had told them where the last victim of the Basilisk had died; how they had guessed that Moaning Myrtle had been the victim, and that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets might be in her bathroom…
“Very well,” Professor McGonagall prompted him as he paused, “so you found out where the entrance was—breaking a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add—but how on earth did you all get out of there alive, Potter?”
But Harry only locked eyes with the Hamatos, who were still staring blankly at the journal. “Ask them,” Harry said, his voice now growing hoarse from all the talking. “They showed up after we entered the Chamber.”
At this, Leo snapped his gaze from Riddle’s diary and turned toward Dumbledore and McGonagall, his brothers following suit. Leo cleared his throat. “Er—well, after Ron and Harry—and Lockhart, apparently—disappeared into the Chamber of Secrets, my brothers and I went into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, but it was too late. So then Raph had the idea of going to your office, Professor Dumbledore—you know, because you said that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it. Well, when we got there, we saw Fawkes hovering by the door with the Sorting Hat. It led us through the school until it found another entrance to the Chamber. We’re not exactly sure where it is, but Fawkes took us down there and we fought the Basilisk until—”
He cut himself off, ignoring their curious looks. “And then the Basilisk died, Harry destroyed the journal, and here we are.”
Dumbledore smiled. “What interests me most,” he said gently, “is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently hiding in the forests of Albania.”
Ginny’s shoulders slumped with relief, even while Mr. Weasley straightened.
“W-what’s that?” he said in a stunned voice. “You-Know-Who? En-enchant Ginny? But Ginny’s not… Ginny hasn’t been… has she?”
“It was this diary,” said Harry quickly, picking it up and showing it to Dumbledore. “Riddle wrote it when he was sixteen…”
Dumbledore took the diary from Harry and peered keenly down his long, crooked nose at its burnt and soggy pages.
“Brilliant,” he said softly. “Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen.” He turned around to the Weasleys, who were looking utterly bewildered.
“Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I’m sure that somewhere in the library, the answer is there. Not many people think to look—not many people know to look. I taught Riddle myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school… traveled far and wide… sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here.”
“But, Ginny,” said Mrs. Weasley. “What’s our Ginny got to do with—with—him?”
“His d-diary,” Ginny sobbed. “I’ve b-been writing in it, and he’s been w-writing back all year—”
“Ginny!” said Mr. Weasley, flabbergasted. “Haven’t I taught you anything? What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain! Why didn’t you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was clearly full of Dark Magic!”
“I d-didn’t know,” Ginny wept. “I found it inside one of the books Mum got me. I th-thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it—”
“Miss Weasley should go to the hospital wing right away,” Dumbledore interrupted. “This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort.” He strode over to the door and opened it. “Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate. I always find that cheers me up,” he added, twinkling kindly down at her. “You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She’s just giving out Mandrake juice—I daresay the Basilisk’s victims will be waking up any moment.”
“So Hermione’s okay!” said Ron brightly.
“There has been no lasting harm done, Ginny,” Dumbledore said.
Mrs. Weasley led Ginny out, and Mr. Weasley followed, still looking deeply shaken.
“You know, Minerva,” said Dumbledore thoughtfully to McGonagall, “I think this all merits a good feast. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens?”
“Right,” said Professor McGonagall crisply, also moving to the door. “I’ll leave you to deal with those six, shall I?”
“Certainly,” said Dumbledore.
She left, and Harry and Ron gazed uncertainly at Dumbledore. What exactly had Professor McGonagall meant, deal with them? Surely—surely—they weren’t about to be punished?
But the Hamatos’ minds were blank, still stuck on the fight down in the Chamber.
“I seem to remember telling you all that I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules,” Dumbledore said.
Ron opened his mouth in terror.
The Hamatos couldn’t find it in themselves to care.
“Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words,” Dumbledore went on, smiling. “You will all receive Special Awards for Services to the School and—let me see—yes, I think two hundred points to each of your Houses apiece.”
Ron went as brightly pink as Lockhart’s valentine flowers and closed his mouth again.
“But one of us seems to be keeping unusually quiet about his part in this dangerous adventure,” Dumbledore added, glancing only quickly at the Hamatos as he turned. “Why so modest, Gilderoy?”
That seemed to jolt Leo and his brothers out of their stunned stupors. They had forgotten about Lockhart, and they turned to see that Lockhart was standing in a corner of the room, still wearing his vague smile. When Dumbledore addressed him, Lockhart looked over his shoulder to see who he was talking to.
“Professor Dumbledore,” Ron said quickly, “there was an accident down in the Chamber of Secrets. Professor Lockhart—”
“Am I a professor?” said Lockhart in mild surprise. “Goodness. I expect I was hopeless, was I?”
“He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired,” Ron quietly explained to Dumbledore.
“Dear me,” said Dumbledore, shaking his head, his long silver mustache quivering. “Impaled upon your own sword, Gilderoy!”
“Sword?” said Lockhart dimly. “Haven’t got a sword. That boy has, though. And that one.” He pointed at Harry and Leo. “They’ll lend you one.”
“Would you mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the infirmary, too?” Dumbledore said to Ron. “I’d like a few more words with the others.”
Lockhart ambled out. Ron cast a curious look back at them as he closed the door.
Dumbledore turned to the Hamatos, frowning slightly. “You four had better go with him for now,” he said. “Return when you are done, though, please. I should think we must have a talk, as well.”
Each of the Hamatos nodded numbly, following Ron and their old teacher out the door.
Leo and his brothers returned to the corridor outside of McGonagall’s office to a strange sight. Harry was handing Riddle’s diary to none other than Lucius Malfoy, practically shoving it at Mr. Malfoy’s chest. But there was something off about the diary—
And then they realized.
Donnie saw it first. He chuckled quietly, Leo following suit. Mikey and Raph were quick to notice it, as well.
“What the—?”
Mr. Malfoy ripped Harry’s disgusting, slimy sock off the diary, threw it aside, then looked furiously from the ruined book to Harry. The Hamatos watched on, slight grins dawning on their faces, even as Mr. Malfoy said, “You’ll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry Potter. They were meddlesome fools, too.”
He turned to go.
“Come, Dobby. I said, come.”
But Dobby—who had been standing in the corner—didn’t move. He was holding up Harry’s sock and looking at it as though it were a priceless treasure.
“Master has given a sock,” said the elf in wonderment. “Master gave it to Dobby.”
“What’s that?” spat Mr. Malfoy. “What did you say?”
“Got a sock,” said Dobby in disbelief. “Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby—Dobby is free.”
Lucius Malfoy stood frozen, staring at the elf. Mikey surged forward just as he lunged at Harry.
“You’ve lost me my servant, boy!”
But before Mikey or any of his brothers could reach Harry, Dobby shouted, “You shall not harm Harry Potter!”
There was a loud bang, and Mr. Malfoy was thrown backward. He crashed down the stairs at the end of the corridor, three at a time and landing in a crumpled heap on the landing below. He got up, face livid, and pulled out his wand, but Dobby raised a long, threatening finger.
“You shall go now,” he said fiercely, pointing down at Mr. Malfoy. “You shall not touch Harry Potter. You shall go now.”
Lucius Malfoy had no choice. With a last, incensed stare at the pair of them, he swung his cloak around him and hurried out of sight.
“Harry Potter freed Dobby!” said the elf shrilly, gazing up at Harry, moonlight from the nearest window reflected in his orb-like eyes. “Harry Potter set Dobby free!”
“Least I could do, Dobby,” said Harry, grinning. “Just promise to never try and save my life again.”
The elf’s ugly brown face split suddenly into a wide, toothy smile.
“Oh!” Harry said suddenly, spotting the Hamatos standing off to the side. “Dobby, these are my friends. Leo, Raph, Donnie, and Mikey, this is Dobby.”
Raph nodded curtly at the elf, but Mikey saluted. Donnie and Leo merely waved.
“I’ve just got one question, Dobby,” said Harry as Dobby pulled on Harry’s sock with shaking hands. “You told me all this had nothing to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, remember? Well—”
“It was a clue, sir,” said Dobby, his eyes widening as though this were obvious. “Was giving you a clue. The Dark Lord, sir, before he changed his name, could be freely named, you see?”
“Right,” said Harry weakly. “Well, I’d better go. There’s a feast, and my friend Hermione should be awake by now…”
Dobby hugged Harry, sobbing, and with a final loud crack, he disappeared.
Harry nodded at the Hamatos as he passed them. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but Leo only said, “We’ll talk in a minute.”
Another nod, and then Harry was disappearing down the steps.
“Well,” Raph said, sighing heavily. “Let’s get this over with.”
“We’re telling him?” Mikey confirmed.
Leo glanced at Donnie and nodded. “We’re telling him.”
And so they did.
They entered Professor McGonagall’s office—both she and Professor Dumbledore were standing in there now—and answered their questions as best they could. And when the teachers told them to explain what, exactly, their situation was, Leo took a deep breath and spoke.
“I guess we should get something out of the way first,” he said. He and his brothers exchanged uneasy glances. “Our father—well—he’s not really in Japan.”
Professor Dumbledore only raised a brow, remaining silent.
“Then where is he?” McGonagall asked.
“He’s dead,” Raph said bluntly. His brothers all flinched, and Mikey clenched his hands into fists while Donnie fiddled with his bo staff, which was now little more than a charm necklace.
McGonagall’s angry expression turned into one of horror.
“Ah,” was Dumbledore’s response. “And your mother?”
“Never had one,” Raph continued.
Dumbledore’s brows furrowed. “But you’re not staying at any orphanages, are you? You’re staying in London—”
“In an apartment, yes,” Donnie said. “We’re not exactly sure how that whole living arrangement’s been working—we woke up there about two years ago, and we haven’t gotten any bills for rent or water or electricity at all.”
“What do you mean, ‘woke up there’?” McGonagall asked. Her face seemed to have paled, but she was quickly pushing aside her horror to make way for morbid curiosity.
“That’s sort of the reason we have to talk to you,” Leo said quietly. “We’re not… from this world, exactly.”
A deafening silence filled the room.
Leo continued, “In—in our old world, we lived in New York. We—and a few others—were the last surviving members of the Hamato clan. Another clan—the Foot—were trying to extinguish our clan, on account that our father and the leader of the Foot were enemies.”
And so Leo told the story of his and his brothers’ old lives, going over the most important battles and discoveries. Occasionally, Raph, Donnie, and Mikey would jump in to explain something that Leo couldn’t, or to add something that had slipped Leo’s mind. None of them, however, mentioned the fact that they had been mutant turtles—McGonagall looked shocked enough already, and Dumbledore’s brows rose higher and higher with each word they spoke. They didn’t think the teachers, however accustomed to “weird” they were, would be able to handle that bit of information. They left out the Kraang, too—there had been no hint of the pink aliens, and they were all holding out hope that it would stay that way.
“And that brings us to the diary,” Leo finished. He and his brothers exchanged another glance. “We don’t know how we got to this world.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “But we know how we left our last one.”
And then he told them the story of their final fight.
He couldn’t stop the tears when he reached the point where Mikey died, and they only seemed to roll harder down his face as he described Donnie’s death and then Raph’s. His brothers were also crying silently, he noticed, and through sniffs, he told the professors exactly who had killed them—and how Leo had killed him.
“He’s here,” Leo said finally, blinking back some of his tears. “But… not in the same way we are. He was in the journal, and when came out, he wasn’t exactly like Riddle. I don’t—I don’t know how to describe it. He could fight. He did fight.”
“Is he still in the Chamber?” McGonagall asked, her voice quiet, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
Donnie answered. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “He disappeared the same way Riddle did when Harry destroyed it.”
The room was silent for a few moments. None of the Hamatos were quite eager to talk, and neither of the teachers seemed to know what to say.
Eventually, Dumbledore cleared his throat. “This is disturbing,” he said. “But I don’t think you have to worry about this… Oroku Saki. At least, not for a while.”
“What do you mean?” Raph said.
“It seems that he and Lord Voldemort are connected somehow,” Dumbledore mused. “If he disappeared at the same time Voldemort’s memory did…” He trailed off for a moment, then continued, “I do not think he will truly return until Voldemort does.”
“You think Voldemort’s going to return?” Mikey asked softly.
“We can only hope that he does not,” Dumbledore said. He sighed heavily. “When you mentioned your apartment, you said nothing of groceries.” He tilted his head to the side, studying them. “You haven’t been stealing, have you?”
“No, Professor,” Leo said quickly. “We help out a store owner—she gives us food.”
“And how were you able to get your school supplies?” McGonagall said finally. It was the first time she’d spoken in a while.
“We work,” Donnie explained. “Raph works overtime with Beatrice—that’s who runs the store. Mikey, of course, works at a pizza place—”
“I’m the best busboy there,” he said proudly.
“Leo works in a flower shop, and I work in a bakery,” Donnie finished. “We saved our money all summer, and then we exchanged our money in Diagon Alley.”
Dumbledore sighed again. “We can’t have that,” he said. “Hogwarts will supply you with ample money to get your school supplies at the start of each year—there’s no need to have to work for it.”
“Though perhaps you should start paying Ms. Beatrice for your food,” McGonagall added.
Relief washed over the four of them, so hard that if they hadn’t been sitting, their knees would have buckled. “Thank you,” Leo said.
Just then, a loud grumble filled the room.
“Uh…” Mikey chuckled awkwardly, patting his stomach. “I’m starving, dudes.”
“Yes, yes,” Dumbledore said wearily, waving a hand. “Go to the feast. I’m sure your friends have many questions. Next year will be different from this one.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Raph said.
“At least in terms of us protecting Harry and the others,” Donnie specified.
“Yeah, we did fine this year,” Mikey added.
“We just thought it was important that you knew… everything,” Leo said. Or most of it, at least, was what he didn’t.
“I will discuss this matter with Professor McGonagall and a few others,” said Dumbledore after a moment. “But for now, enjoy your food.”
Smiling gratefully at the two professors, the Hamatos bowed and left the room.
They were all quiet as they walked down the hallway, thinking over what had happened in the last few hours. Shredder was back, and Dumbledore said he was somehow tied to Voldemort’s soul. The implications of that were enough to make anyone’s stomach turn. But the headmaster had also said that next year would be different, that maybe, just maybe, the four of them didn’t have to do everything alone.
And despite the horrors they had faced, despite the terrifying realization of what was to come, they didn’t feel… afraid.
The four of them had been to several Hogwarts feasts, but never one quite like this. Everybody was in their pajamas—the Hamatos hadn’t realized how much time they’d been in the Chamber for—and the celebration lasted all night. They returned to find many new changes: Albert, Kristoff, and Floyd rushed up to Leo and his brothers, apparently relieved that they were all alive; Dumbledore (who made his way down to the feast just a few moments after the Hamatos did) announced that exams would be canceled as a school treat; the teachers all looked remarkably happy when he then explained that Lockhart would not be returning next year, as he needed to get his memory back; and, at half-past-three, Hagrid returned to loud cheers and a few pat on the backs.
The Hamatos walked over to where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting at the Gryffindor table, talking and laughing amongst themselves.
“Good to see you’re not dead, Hermione,” Raph said by way of greeting.
The three of them turned, and Hermione’s face lit up when she saw them. She beamed at the four of them and motioned for them to sit, and surprisingly, the Gryffindors around them made room for the Hamatos. When you’ve saved the school, apparently, the House you were in didn’t matter.
“You four,” Ron said, his face stuffed with a chicken wing, “have some explaining to do.”
Raph chuckled as Mikey reached for some food, and he himself took a bit of turkey.
“That we do,” he said. “We can’t tell you everything—we don’t even know everything.”
“But you’re allowed one question each,” Donnie said.
The three of them narrowed their eyes. Ron went first.
“How long have you been fighting for?”
The four of them froze.
Mikey bit out a laugh. “A lot longer than you’d expect, dude.”
“But how long?”
“I’m not sure. It’s… confusing. At least twelve years.”
Ron’s brows furrowed. “But… aren’t you twelve years old?”
“You’ve already used up your one question, I’m afraid,” Raph said.
“How long have you been studying magic?” Hermione asked.
“Only for about two years,” Donnie said thoughtfully. “I mean, we’ve had some dabbles with it in the past, sure, but we haven’t really studied it until we got to Hogwarts.”
“My turn,” Harry cut in, even as Hermione opened her mouth to question him further. “Who was that man? The one from the journal?”
Leo sighed. “That was someone from our past,” he said. “And much like how Voldemort” —Ron and Hermione flinched at the name— “wants Harry dead, he wants us dead.”
“But who is he?” Harry said. “What’s his name?”
“His real name is Oroku Saki,” Raph said. “But most people just call him the Shredder.”
The three of them slumped back in their seats. “And we’re not allowed to ask you any more questions?” Hermione confirmed.
“Nope!” Mikey said cheerfully. “But we can eat this delicious dessert!”
Indeed, there was now dessert covering the tables—everything from cake to pudding to tarts now sat in front of them all.
Ron shrugged. “Works for me,” he said, helping himself to a jam donut. “Did you hear?” he said between bites. “Gryffindor’s set to win the House Cup again.”
“Shocker,” Leo said, grinning.
The rest of the final term passed in a haze of blazing sunshine. Hogwarts was back to normal with only a few, small changes—Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were canceled (“But we’ve had plenty of practice at that anyway,” Ron told a disgruntled Hermione) and Lucius Malfoy had been sacked as a school governor. Draco was no longer strutting around the school as though he owned the place; on the contrary, he looked resentful and sulky. Ginny Weasley, on the other hand, was perfectly happy again.
The school, however, was set for one last surprise.
It was the last meal of the school year. It, for the most part, went smoothly. The food was delicious, and everyone had a blast.
But then, just as the last of the dessert was cleared away, the sky exploded in orange, purple, red, blue, and green.
Students screeched, finding themselves covered in multi-colored powder that stained their robes, their shoes. The teachers were spared from the explosions—though the bottom of Snape’s robe was a dark shade of orange, no matter how hard he tried to hide it—and so they didn’t look too hard for the perpetrators, especially not when the powder faded after a few moments.
Mikey, Fred, and George all grinned at each other.
“Oh yeah,” Mikey said under his breath. “Payback.” He hadn’t forgotten how the school had treated Harry in the height of the attacks.
Too soon, it was time for the journey home on the Hogwarts Express. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the Hamatos all got a compartment to themselves. They sat chatting amongst one another, and at one point, Fred, George, and Ginny squeezed in as well, setting off the very last of Fred and George’s Filibuster fireworks and playing Exploding Snap.
“Our offer still stands, you know,” Mikey said quietly to Harry at one point. “You’re welcome to come stay with me and my brothers for the summer.”
A lump formed in Harry’s throat, but he shook his head. “I’ve got to get my uncle to sign my Hogsmead papers,” he said. “Somehow.”
“Well, then, we’ll come and get you,” Raph said. “A few weeks into summer—you can’t be that far from London, we can make the trip, can’t we, Leo?”
Leo nodded.
“I’ll look up some bus routes when we get home,” Donnie said. “Harry, write your address here, so we know where to find you.”
He handed Harry a spare piece of parchment, and Harry quickly jotted down the Dursleys’ address, as well as scribbling a telephone number on it. Donnie took the parchment back and smiled, nodding at Harry as he handed him another piece. Harry grinned, and wrote out the number two more times before handing it to Ron and Hermione. He quickly explained to Ron how to use a phone (“I’ll figure it out,” Ron promised) before turning.
“Ginny,” he said curiously, “what did you see Percy doing, that he didn’t want you to tell anyone?”
“Oh, that,” said Ginny, giggling. “Well—Percy’s got a girlfriend.” Fred dropped a stack of books on George’s head.
“What?”
“It’s that Ravenclaw Prefect, Penelope Clearwater,” said Ginny. “That’s who he was writing to all last summer. He’s been meeting her all over the school in secret. I walked in on them kissing in an empty classroom one day. He was so upset when she was—you now—attacked. You won’t tease him, will you?” she added anxiously.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Fred, who was looking like his birthday had come early.
“Definitely not,” said George, snickering.
Harry glanced over at Raph, who was smiling faintly.
Finally, the Hogwarts Express came to a stop in King’s Cross station.
“Make sure you all call,” Harry said, turning to Ron, Hermione, and the Hamatos. “I can’t stand another two months with only Dudley to talk to…”
“Your aunt and uncle will be proud, though, won’t they?” said Hermione as they got off the train and joined the crowd filing through the enchanted barrier. “When they hear what you did this year?”
“Proud?” said Harry. “Are you crazy? All those times I could've died, and I didn’t manage it? They’ll be furious…”
“Then they’re idiots,” Mikey said.
Harry only laughed, and together, they all walked back through the gateway to the Muggle world.