The Hidden Hero

Harry slid down the pipe for a long time. He judged he was miles under the school, most probably under the lake. When he finally slid out of the end of the pipe, his feet crunched dead rat skulls. He could only pray that he wouldn’t find Ginny like this.

After walking down a long corridor, Harry came to a solid wall, into which intertwining stone serpents had been carved. Again, imagining them to be alive, Harry whispered “Open” in parseltongue. The wall parted and Harry walked into a huge chamber.

Expecting at any minute to be confronting a basilisk, Harry was shaking as he entered the chamber. At the far end, he saw a small, robed figure lying on the ground, at the feet of a large stone statue of a wizard. The red hair spilling onto the ground identified the unconscious form as Ginny before Harry was able to even see her face. Harry ran to her side and, falling to his knees, placed his wand on the ground so he could turn her over. He didn’t notice the wand rolling away. He was focused entirely on the young girl at his side.

Harry searched frantically for a pulse. “Ginny, please wake up!”

“She won’t wake,” said a soft voice.

Harry jumped and turned around. Tom Riddle was leaning against a column, twirling Harry’s wand in his hand. It was strange, but Harry felt as if he were seeing Tom through a haze. “Tom? Tom Riddle? How can you be here?”

“I am a memory.”

“I don’t understand.” But, without waiting for an answer, Harry continued, “Please help me. The basilisk may come at any minute and I’ve got to get Ginny out of here.”

“The basilisk won’t come until I call it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been wanting to speak with you, Mark Twist. Ginny told me all about how you killed Quirrell and defeated the Dark Lord last year. She admires you greatly. She poured her soul into my diary and I, in turn, poured my soul back into her. The soul of my sixteen year old self that I had preserved in the diary I had created while at Hogwarts, in order to protect the secret of how to open the Chamber of Secrets.”

Tom smirked. “Have you not guessed, Mark Twist? Ginny was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets. Of course, I was controlling her at the time. I made her write her farewell message on the wall. What a silly girl. How tiresome listening to her cry.”

Harry felt his temper rise but he held his tongue, knowing that he should learn as much as he could. He was all too aware that Tom was holding his wand. He should have been more careful – he had let his guard down for a brief moment and had lost his wand. If he and Ginny were to have any chance of escaping, he would need to be smarter from now on.

Tom continued, “She told me that you have been concerned about her all year; that you’ve been watching her. I brought Ginny here because I knew that you would follow her and I wanted to speak with you.”

“Why did you want to speak with me?” Harry asked, puzzled.

“A muggleborn! Yet, you speak parseltongue. Ginny told me how the whole school was buzzing with the news. She is angry that they think you might be the next Dark Lord. The powerful Mark Twist who defeated Voldemort last year. How did you do it?” Suddenly, Tom’s voice sharpened. He leaned forward and his eyes pierced Harry’s. “How did a muggleborn defeat the great Lord Voldemort?”

“Why do you care?” asked Harry. “Voldemort was after your time.”

“Voldemort is my past, present and future,” said Tom. He waved Harry’s wand and the name “Tom Marvolo Riddle” appeared, floating in the air. With another wave of the wand, the letters changed positions and formed the words “I am Lord Voldemort.”

“You see? I had no intention of keeping the name of my filthy muggle father. I have the noble blood of Salazar Slytherin in my veins, through my mother’s side. I fashioned a new name while I was at Hogwarts, a name that I knew wizards would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world. So, Mark Twist, before I kill you, and use Ginny’s soul to be reborn again as my sixteen year old self, tell me how you managed to defeat Voldemort.”

Harry knew that he didn’t have a chance of defeating Tom, but he must try. How? Tom was holding his wand. Even if he could retrieve it, Tom was a more accomplished wizard than Harry and would surely be able to overpower him. And time was running out. He could tell that Tom’s shape was becoming sharper, and that Ginny seemed to be turning whiter and more waxen.

I must keep calm, Harry told himself, and hope that Myrtle alerts Dumbledore quickly and that Dumbledore arrives in time to save us all. Relying on instinct, the younger boy decided to try to anger Tom. Angry people make mistakes, Harry thought.

“You want to know how I defeated Voldemort last year?” he asked. “It wasn’t hard. You were just a wreck. You were barely alive, ugly and foul. You had to live on the back of the head of a mediocre wizard. And, I was eleven. So, no problem. After all, you were killed by a baby when you were in your prime.”

“What?” whispered Tom, in disbelief and fury.

“Yes,” taunted Harry. “Didn’t Ginny tell you the story of Harry Potter? Just a baby. You tried to kill him but your curse rebounded and hit you instead. You were destroyed and wandered without a body until you were able to find a wizard willing to let you stick out of the back of his head. What a joke! The greatest sorcerer in the world!”

“You lie!”

Harry just smirked. Furious, Tom yelled, “Avada Kedavra” and a green light shot toward Harry. Okay, maybe I made him too angry, Harry thought as he ducked and the spell hit the stone statue behind him.

A huge hole appeared in the right leg of the statue. Recalled to himself, Tom muttered, “Yes. I’ll teach you a little lesson. I will let my little pet show you the powers of Lord Voldemort, heir of Salazar Slytherin.” Looking into the stone face of Slytherin, Tom said in parseltongue, “Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.”

While Tom was speaking to the statue, Harry had bent down to Ginny’s prone figure again. He felt inside her robes and held his breath until he found what he was looking for: her wand.

From inside the statue came the sound of rustling and the basilisk slithered into sight. Harry closed his eyes tightly and, pointing the wand in the direction where he knew the basilisk was emerging from the statue, yelled the conjunctivitis hex. He heard a roaring of pain and, daring to open his eyes, saw that the basilisk – huge beyond belief – was waving its head in agony, as its lids closed over its inflamed eyes.

“Kill the boy,” Tom yelled. “Sniff - smell him!”

But, the basilisk was writhing in agony and was beyond listening to Tom. The beast was out of control and, when its tail came close to crushing him, Tom seemed to realize that he was in as much danger from the creature as Harry. Tom pointed Harry’s wand at the basilisk and yelled, “Avada Kedvara.” The monster fell to the ground, dead.

It had all happened so quickly. Tom seemed shocked at having had to kill his pet. Before Tom could recover, Harry pointed the wand at Tom, who was still staring in disbelief at the basilisk, and yelled, “Expelliarmus!” Harry’s wand flew from Tom’s hand and Harry caught it with his left hand.

Tom’s eyes flared, with a hint of red darting in and out. Not speaking, Tom strode to the basilisk. At first, Harry thought that Tom was just so upset at the creature’s death, that he was stroking it farewell. However, when Tom turned around, Harry realized that the older boy had reached inside the basilisk’s mouth to pull out a large fang. Before Harry could shout any spell, Tom had pulled back his arm and flung the fang like a sword at Harry. The fang sank deep into Harry’s arm, just above the elbow.

“I’m going to sit here and watch you die, Mark Twist. Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”

Harry felt dizzy and he collapsed next to Ginny. As he fell, he felt the edge of Tom Riddle’s diary, which had been poking out of a pocket in Ginny’s robes, dig into his leg. Without thinking, Harry pulled the fang from his arm and plunged it into the diary.

Tom gave a loud, shrill scream. Ink poured out of the diary, soaking Harry’s robes and dripping onto the floor next to him. Within moments, Tom was gone and Ginny stirred.
Harry felt his head become mushier and he felt himself start to lose consciousness. From a distance he heard a comforting trill. He recognized that sound. He had heard it before in Dumbledore’s office. Fawkes! Dumbledore must be coming.

Harry felt Fawkes land next to him and, then, strangely, the bird was crying and its tears landed on the wound left by the basilisk. Harry watched in amazement as the wound healed, leaving no scar.

“Mark! Ginny!”

It was Dumbledore’s voice.

“We’re here, Professor!” Harry called. And, smiling at Ginny, who was crying weakly and struggling to sit up, he waited for Dumbledore to arrive.

====
An exhausted Harry sat quietly in a chair in Professor McGonagall’s office as Dumbledore bade Mr. and Mrs. Weasley goodbye. Ginny’s parents had been called to the school when their daughter had been captured by the “monster” and had been with Professor McGonagall, the head of Ginny’s house, when Dumbledore had returned with the children from the Chamber of Secrets. The Weasleys had been beyond ecstatic at the safe return of their daughter and had thanked “Mark Twist” repeatedly. Ginny had thanked Harry too, but mostly she just cried.

Harry had explained that Ginny had been possessed by the spirit of Tom Riddle, somehow living within the diary. The Weasleys had been shocked to learn that Riddle was a young Lord Voldemort, but Dumbledore had confirmed that this was true.

After the explanations had been given, the Weasleys left to take Ginny to the hospital wing for Madam Pomfrey to take a close look at her, and to tell their sons the news of Ginny’s safe return. At Dumbledore’s request, Professor McGonagall had left to tell the kitchens that a feast was to be held that night. When Harry started to leave the office as well, Dumbledore requested that Harry remain behind for a moment.

When Dumbledore sat back down in his chair and gazed quietly at Harry, Harry thought he felt a strange buzzing in his head, similar to the feeling he had experienced during the sorting ceremony when he had wondered whether the Ministry of Magic representative was trying to read his mind. Harry automatically shook his head and gave a sort of mental “push” to stop the sensation. The buzzing stopped and Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. Harry gazed back at the older man, suspiciously. The headmaster had been trying to read his mind. He was sure of it.

“Mark, the school owes you a debt of gratitude. You saved Ginny Weasley’s life and rid Hogwarts of the danger within the Chamber of Secrets. You will receive a Special Award for Services to the School.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Harry, cautiously. He would have liked to leave the office as quickly as possible, because he didn’t entirely trust the headmaster not to try to read his mind again. But, there was something he had to mention first. “Professor Dumbledore, Tom Riddle showed me how he made everyone believe that Hagrid had opened the Chamber of Secrets in the past, and that Hagrid was expelled because of this. Now we know that Hagrid was innocent!”

Dumbledore smiled, pleased. “Yes, Mark. We will make sure that Hagrid’s name is cleared. That is yet another debt that we owe you.”

Harry couldn’t wait to tell Hagrid the good news. Hoping to draw his meeting with Dumbledore to a close, he stood up to leave. Before he could say goodbye, the door to the chamber opened violently and Lucius Malfoy entered, simmering with fury. Huddled behind Mr. Malfoy was a strange little creature, cowering. Harry had never seen one before, but he recognized a house elf from pictures he had seen.

“Good evening, Lucius, “said Dumbledore in a calm voice.

The other man ignored the pleasantry. “I heard that a monster was loose in the school, placing our children in mortal peril and yet you have not seen fit to close the school and send the children home. I want to see my son immediately; I’ll be taking him home.”

“You are behind in the news, Lucius. The monster – a basilisk – has been killed and the school is completely safe.”

Mr. Malfoy was clearly taken aback by the news, but he regrouped quickly. “I am pleased, of course, to learn that the school is safe. I don’t understand how such a danger could have existed in the school without your having been aware of it,” he criticized.

“The basilisk was in…hibernation…for many years. It was released by Lord Voldemort, acting through somebody else: Arthur Weasley’s daughter, Ginny. By means of this diary.” Dumbledore held up the book, now rather the worse for wear after having been stabbed through its heart by the basilisk fang. “A clever plan,” continued Dumbledore, “because Arthur is known for his pro-Muggle stance. If it were learned that his daughter was attacking muggleborns, it would have destroyed his family and undermined legislation for muggle protection.”

The little elf caught Harry’s eye. It was a pathetic creature, battered and bruised. It was clear that he was not well treated by the Malfoys. The elf pointed to the diary and then to Lucius Malfoy. Strangely, the creature then punched himself in the head. He repeated this strange dance a few times and, finally, Harry understood. The elf was trying to tell him that his master was connected to the diary. Suddenly, Harry recalled that Mr. Malfoy had taken Ginny’s books from her in Diagon Alley, the day he and the Weasleys had purchased their school supplies. How easy it would have been for Mr. Malfoy to have placed the diary among Ginny’s books when he had returned them to her.

Harry nodded to the elf, showing that he understood his silent message. Harry was relieved to see the elf stop hurting himself.

Mr. Malfoy swallowed and said stiffly, “It is fortunate that the diary was obviously destroyed. By whom, may I ask?”

“By Mark Twist, here,” Dumbledore gestured toward Harry, standing off to the side.

Mr. Malfoy regarded Harry in silence, his eyes narrowed coldly. “Ah. Mark Twist. You are the muggleborn I met in Diagon Alley.”

“Yes, sir,” said Harry. “The day you gave the diary to Ginny Weasley.”

Mr. Malfoy clenched his hands into fists. “Prove it,” he hissed.

“Oh, no one will be able to do that,” said Dumbledore. “But, I would advise you, Lucius, not to give out any more of Lord Voldemort’s old school things.”

Mr. Malfoy glared at Dumbledore and then turned to his house elf and said, “We’re going, Dobby!” He kicked the elf through the door, and they could hear Dobby cry out in pain as Mr. Malfoy’s footsteps faded down the corridor.

“Professor Dumbledore!” cried Harry. “He kicked that elf. How can he do that? Why didn’t you stop him?”

Dumbledore sighed, sadly. “It’s a terrible crime how wizards treat our magical brethren. A house elf like Dobby is basically enslaved to the family he serves. That family can treat him any way they please. Many wizards are kind to their elves but, unfortunately, the Malfoys are not.”

Harry was appalled. “Can nothing be done? How can he be freed?”

“The only way for a house elf to be freed is for his master to give him clothes. I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do.”

Harry couldn’t believe it. He recalled all too vividly how his uncle and cousin would hit him and how no one intervened. It was the same thing! He couldn’t stand by and let someone else be hurt and just shrug his shoulders and say he couldn’t do anything! Harry’s eyes fell on the diary and he had an idea.

“Professor Dumbledore, can I give that diary back to Mr. Malfoy, please?”

“Certainly,” said the headmaster, somewhat surprised.

Harry grabbed the diary and, rushing out of the office, ran to catch up with Mr. Malfoy. Right before he caught up with him, Harry pulled off his sock, stuffed it into the diary, and put his shoe back on. “Mr. Malfoy,” he called.

The older man turned at his name. With his nose curled in a sneer, he waited for Harry to approach him. “You forgot this,” Harry gasped, and he shoved the book into Mr. Malfoy’s hand.

Mr. Malfoy opened the book, saw the sock, threw it away, and stared in anger at the diary. He raised his eyes to Harry and said softly, “You had better watch your step, Mr. Twist. Not everyone is as fond of muggleborns as the Weasleys or Dumbledore.”

He turned to leave and called, “Come, Dobby!”

But, the house elf didn’t obey. “Master has given Dobby a sock,” the elf uttered in amazement, staring at the sock he had caught. “Dobby is free!”

Mr. Malfoy stared in disbelief at his elf. Then, turning to Harry, he shouted, “You’ve lost me my servant, boy!” He strode toward Harry with his hands curled in anticipation of throttling the boy, but Dobby thrust himself in front of the furious man.

“You shall not harm Mark Twist!” Dobby pointed his finger at Mr. Malfoy and, with some sort of elf magic, tossed his former master into the air. “You shall go now!” demanded Dobby.

With no choice, Mr. Malfoy left, casting a burning stare at Harry, which promised retribution. Harry shivered.

“You freed Dobby!” cried the elf.

“I wish I could free all elves,” said Harry. “No one should ever be abused. And I won’t stand by and watch it happen.”

“You are a great wizard. Dobby will not forget your kindness.” Dobby hugged Harry tightly.

Unsure what to do, Harry patted the elf awkwardly. Sobbing, the elf bade goodbye, and disappeared with a loud crack.

Harry stared in surprise at the place where the elf had been. He had thought that no one could apparate within Hogwarts walls but, obviously, elf magic was different from wizard magic. With a tired yawn, Harry wondered whether he had enough energy to enjoy the feast. It had been a very long day. Oh, well, he could sleep another time! He made his way toward the Great Hall, to join his friends.

*

Dumbledore watched the young boy leave the office to run after Lucius Malfoy, to attempt to free the house elf, if he were not mistaken. What an interesting child, the headmaster thought. The boy cares about house elves and he obviously risked his life to save the Weasley girl. So, kind and brave. But, one could not overlook the odd fact (coincidence?) that, of all the students at Hogwarts, the Riddle diary had found its way into Mark Twist’s hands. A boy who had confronted Voldemort just the year before. Why was Voldemort drawn to the boy? A boy who spoke parseltongue.

While the headmaster didn’t necessarily believe that all parselmouths were dark wizards, it was true that this talent was very rare. He would bet that the last parselmouth at Hogwarts had been Tom Riddle himself, a descendant of Slytherin. Could Mark Twist unknowingly be a descendant of Slytherin, as well? Was he a relative of Voldemort’s? It might make sense to make some inquiries into the boy’s parentage. A muggleborn? Perhaps, there was a witch or wizard a generation or two in the past. He would look into it.

However, before Dumbledore took any steps to look into Mark Twist’s background, something occurred to drive all thought of the boy’s parentage out of his mind. Harry Potter was found.