Nearly

When the Slytherins ascend the stairs from the dungeons the next morning, all the windows are a dull white and when they step inside the Great Hall it becomes clear as to why; the enchanted ceiling is one gigantic white blur, mirroring the blizzard outside the castle. 

Despite all the stares and whispers, and Draco keeping a safe distance from him, Harry can’t help but feel a small jolt of joy at the sight all that snow! In just a week it will be Christmas and he gets to leave all this chaos behind him and go home to his dads!

Professor Snape strides down the aisle between the Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables and informs them that their Herbology lesson has been cancelled due to Professor Sprout needing to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a task she deems too tricky for the students to assist her with, especially now that the well-being of the mandrake roots is so important. 

”I suggest you use the time to go over your Potion essays an extra time”, Snape says curtly. ”I will not accept anything less than adequate, especially from the students of my own house.”

Harry hides his grin behind a goblet of pumpkin juice and nods dutifully when the professor turns to fix him with a narrowed glare. 

”Mr Potter…”

”Sir?”

”May I have a word with you — in private?”

Harry’s good mood deflates just as quickly as it had swelled and he slides out of his seat with a sigh and trails after his Head of House as he strides out of the Great Hall. 

Snape swirls around to face him once they reach the bottom of the marble staircase. 

”This isn’t about the potion essay, is it? Sir?” Harry mutters. 

Snape quirks an eyebrow, but pretends not to have heard his comment. Instead he makes a show of looking around to ensure no-one is within eavesdropping distance. 

”I am going to have to write to your fathers and inform them of the incident in Duelling Club”, he states once he’s satisfied himself of their privacy.  ”If you rather they hear it from you first, I suggest you send them an owl immediately.”

”But why”, Harry more or less whines. ”What’s the big deal? Just because I happen to be a Parselmouth doesn’t mean I’m related to Slytherin!”

”It’s a very rare —”

”I know”, Harry grouses, then quickly adds a Sir when the older man’s eyes narrow dangerously. 

”Kindly do not interrupt me, Mr Potter. Ever.”

”Sorry, Sir…” Harry mumbles. 

”I doubt very much that your newfound ability to speak parseltongue is any cause for alarm, but as your Head of House I am entrusted with your safetly and well-being whilst at Hogwarts and as such I am also obligated to inform your legal guardians of any abnormal incident involving yourself that might occur throughout the school year… Also, I rather they hear it from either of us, as opposed to through the Hogwarts grape vine.”

”Grape —?” Harry frowns in confusion. 

”Rumor mill.”

”Oh. Rumors. Yeah. You’re probably right, Sir… I’ll go write them a letter right now…”

”And don’t forget to look over your essay on the uses of Flobberworm Mucus in Potions. I don’t want you to leave to the last minute like you did with your last assignment.”

”How did you—?”

”Your handwriting was barely decipherable, it was clearly jotted down in a hurry — during breakfast, judging by the pumpkin juice droplet stains in the margins —”

”Okay, okay, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again!” Harry mumbles, ducking his head to hide his burning cheeks. 

Glancing up quickly, he catches the slight quirk of Snape’s lips before he schools his face into his usual stony mask again and gives Harry a small nod of acknowledgement before stalking off towards the dungeons without another word, his robes billowing dramatically behind him.

Harry considers going back into the Great Hall and finish his breakfast, but the thought of all those heads turning to stare at him… Hands pointing and covering whispering mouths… It was one thing entering with his group friends, but on his own… He rather go hungry! So instead he hoists his book bag onto his shoulder and makes his way towards the library. 

He finds a secluded corner and claims the only study table there for himself and spreads his books out. But first he grabs his quill and writes a short letter to his dads on a spare bit of parchment. Hedwig should come and find him when she realises he’s not in the Great Hall and he can give it to her then. While he waits, he gets his Potions essay out and gets to work re-writing it slowly and carefully, mindful of his handwriting. 

After half an hour, he can hear the library start to fill up with other students but the large row of bookcases that blocks him from view allows him the privacy to keep working without having to deal with looks or whispers. 

”… I told Justin to hide in our dormitory”, a boy’s voice pipes up on the other side of the bookcase and Harry pauses with his quill hovering over the parchment, listening. ”I mean to say, if Potter’s marked him down as his next victim, it’s best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin’s been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggle-born. Justin actually told him he’d been down for Eton. That’s not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin’s heir on the loose, is it?”

A big drop of ink falls from the tip of Harry’s quill and splatters onto his Potions essay and he swears quietly, moving the quill away from the parchment. His hands are trembling, he realises. For some reason that makes him even angrier, and he glares at the row of books separating him from the anonymous Hufflepuff running his mouth…

”You definitely think it is Potter, then, Ernie?” an anxious girl’s voice squeaks. 

”Hannah”, the boy Ernie says solemnly. ”He’s a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that’s the mark of a really Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? Come on… Also, don’t you think it’s weird that his real parents were both Gryffindors and he grew up with Gryffindor stepparents and yet he got sorted into Slytherin? Think about it…”

Harry’s quill snaps in two; he swears again and flings the pieces away from him. They skid over the table and fall over the edge.

”He seems kind of nice though, you know, for a Slytherin…” the girl, Hannah, says uncertainly. ”And I mean, he did make You-Know-Who disappear, didn’t he? So he can’t be all bad, right?”

”No-one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who”, Ernie says in a dramatically hushed voice. ”I mean to say, he was just a baby when it happened. He should have been blasted into smithereens… only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that… Think about it, that’s probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place! He wanted to get rid of the competition before Potter grew up —!”

Harry slams his books and parchments together and shoves them into his bag hurriedly. His hands are shaking and his chest feels tight. He pushes himself to his feet and stalks around the side of the bookcase. 

The sight that greets him on the other side would have made him laugh, if he wasn’t so angry. A small group of second year Hufflepuffs sit huddled together and all turn to stare at him in horror, the colour draining from their faces rapidly. He plasters a fake grin onto his face and fixes the boy sitting in the middle with an intense stare. 

”You Ernie?” he asks. 

The boy’s eyes widen further and he starts to stammer something about his family being at least nine generations of witches and warlocks. 

”I don’t care how pure your blood is!” Harry snaps angrily. 

”W-Well, I’m j-just l-letting you know, in case you g-get any ideas—!”

”I didn’t attack anyone!” Harry snarls. ”I’m not the Heir—!”

”We were all in the Duelling Club, we saw you attack Justin with our own eyes!”

”I didn’t attack him! I got the snake to back off!” Harry yells. ”You know what… Believe whatever you want!”

He spins around and, ignoring the stares from the other students and the disapproving glare from Madam Pince, he storms out of the library. Harry swings the book bag onto his shoulder and it knocks against the small of his back hard enough to brusie, but Harry doesn’t care. In fact, he almost welcomes the dull throbbing… It gives him something else to focus on, something other than the fury that’s coiling inside him like some aggravated snake getting ready to strike —

No! he thinks furiously. Don’t think about snakes! What’s wrong with you!

Relax, he tells himself sharply. They can’t read your mind, they’ll never know —

Harry stops abruptly. Great… Now I’m talking to myself. Maybe I am going mad…

He swallows down a yell of frustration and starts walking quickly again, barely even paying attention to where he’s going — it doesn’t matter, it just feels good to be moving — he just needs to get away somehow, as if he can outrun his own thoughts…

He turns a corner and walks straight into something big and solid. It knocks him backwards and he sits down heavily on the floor, his book bag slipping off his shoulder and regurgitating books all around him.

His bottom throbbing with another budding bruise, Harry feels his fury spike again but forces it back down and takes a deep breath and starts gathering up his books.

”Hello, Hagrid”, he mutters, as politely as he can manage under the circumstances. 

The half-giant’s face is entirely hidden behind a snow-caked balaclava, but it couldn’t possibly be anyone else…

”All righ’, Harry?” Hagrid says, his voice muffled until he pulls the balaclava up. ”Why aren’t yeh in class?”

”Cancelled”, Harry says shortly and gingerly gets to his feet again. 

”Cancelled, eh? So yeh’re enjoying some free time, eh?”

”Not exactly”, Harry mutters. 

He suddenly catches sight of a dead rooster dangling from one of Hagrid’s massive hands and recoils so suddenly he trips backwards and loses his footing again.

”Second one killed this term”, Hagrid says solemnly and holds up the thing so Harry can get a better look — as if I’d want to, Harry thinks incredulously and scrunches up his nose. ”It’s either foxes or a Blood-Suckin’ Bugbear, an’ I need the Headmaster’s permission ter put a charm round the hen-coop—”

I’m definitely going to bruise, Harry thinks sourly as he gets up for the second time.

”Hey, yeh sure yeh’re all righ’ Harry? Yeh look a little—”

”It’s nothing”, Harry says quickly. ”Look, I need to be going — erm — I need to get to the owlery before Transfiguration, but eh… Yeah… I’ll — eh — see you around, I guess…”

”Yeah, see yeh, Harry! Yeh be good now!” Hagrid’s booming voice follows Harry as he hurries off again. 

He can’t help but to wonder why Dumbledore has hired the half-giant if he doesn’t even trust him to put a protective spell on the hen house without checking with the headmaster first… Come to think of it, Harry has never seen the half-giant do any magic. He always just assumed that he was a squib, like Filch. But maybe he can do magic, he’s not allowed to… 

Frowning to himself, Harry wonders what it would take for a wizard to be forbidden to do magic, if he just didn’t pass his NEWTS or… Worse… 

Harry shakes his head. Whatever, who cares… Even though he had basically said the first thing he could think of, just to get away from the gamekeeper and that stinky rooster, he really does need to get to the owlery before class, so he sets off back towards the Entrance Hall with a sense of purpose.

Hedwig isn’t in the owlery, so Harry chooses one of the school owls instead and carefully ties the rolled up letter to his dads to its leg. 

”Sorry I don’t have a treat for you”, he tells the greying barn-owl. ”I’m sure my daddy will give you something though.”

The barn-owl blinks slowly at him, as if to say I don’t need incentive to do my job, thank you! 

Harry smirks to himself. I’m defintiely going insane. 

Looking at his watch, Harry realises he really will be late for Transfiguration despite the free period and swears loudly. He grabs his book bag and starts running down the stairs from the owlery, taking the steps two at a time and almost slipping on an icy patch. 

The corridors are empty and quiet. Everyone is in class already. Harry picks up his pace. He thunders up the marble stairs and skids sideways along the alcove as he’s turning, but manages to keep his momentum.

He hurtles along another corridor that is unusually dark — all the torches having been extinguised somehow — but it doesn’t matter, Harry has made his way from the Entrance Hall to the Transfiguration classroom countless of times, he could find his way blindfolded — 

Maybe not, he thinks as his right foot catches on something on the floor suddenly and sends him flying headfirst to the ground. The air is knocked out of his lungs and he gasps and coughs. What the Hell… He quickly sits up and looks around — 

No, he thinks faintly… Not that… Stomach plummeting, he can do nothing but stare… A body lies rigid and cold as though dead on the floor next to him. It’s Justin Finch-Fletchly, with a look of utter terror frozen on his face, similar to the one he’d had on his face the last time Harry saw him, when he was backing away from Harry in the Great Hall, convinced Harry had just set a snake on him… 

And even weirder than that, another shape is floating in mid-air next to him. Harry squints at it. It looks like that pompous gryffindor ghost Nearly-Headless Nick, except… Except he isn’t pearly white and transparent like a ghost should be. He’s solid and burned to a cinder. He’s even smoking slightly.  

Feeling sick to his stomach, Harry scrambles backwards on the floor and then gingerly gets to his feet, an unusually difficult task with his legs shaking so badly. He looks around in a panic. I should do something, he thinks — but then he looks over at Finch-Fletchly’s face again and knows there’s nothing he can do, and if anyone finds him here it will not look good at all… I need to get out of here… Someone else will find them… I need to get to Transfiguration — 

With a sudden bang, a classroom door flies open next to him and Peeves the Poltergeist comes soaring out into the corridor. Harry’s heart does a weird double-tap in his chest. A whooshing roar fills his head, as if there was a tiny gale inside it. 

”Why, it’s wee Potty!” Peeves cackles and zooms around him in a circle, then starts doing somersaults in midair. ”What’s Potty up to? Why’s Potty lurking —?”

When Peeves suddenly cuts himself off, Harry shuts his eyes and waits for the inevitable, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. 

”ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!”

A chorus of crashes and bangs drowns out Peeves hollering as every door in the corridor flies open and Harry hurriedly backs away from the sudden tumult until he’s pinned against the nearest wall. Students are screaming. Teachers are shouting for silence and order. For a moment, Harry feels a small jolt of hope that maybe no-one will have noticed that he was the first on the scene… If only Peeves keeps quiet —

”Caught in the act!” 

Harry’s stomach plummets again as he slowly turns his head to see a very ashen-faced Ernie point a trembling finger at him. 

”That will do, Macmillan!” Professor McGonagall says sharply as comes striding down the corridor with the second year gryffindors and slytherins trailing behind her like a row of ducklings.

A familiar white-blonde head appears at her elbow and Harry’s stomach churns when the boy’s grey eyes find the two bodies on the ground and quickly snaps up to lock with his. He can’t read the expression on his friend’s face, but there’s definitely a hint of fear in those eyes… Harry feels sick…

While Professor Flitwick levitates Finch-Fletchly’s lifeless body and starts guiding it towards the Hospital Wing, McGonagall instructs all the students back to their classes and then conjures up a large fan that she hands to Ernie Macmillan with the instruction to waft Nearly-Headless Nick up the stairs. When they’ve finally disappeared from view, Harry slowly starts inching away from the wall again. McGonagall turns to stare at him, her face sterner than he’s ever seen it (with the possible exception for when she walked in on Harry, Draco and Granger in the bathroom with the mountain troll in first year…)

”This way, Potter”, she says curtly. 

This is it, Harry thinks numbly as he trails after her. I’m done for. They’ll expel me. Maybe they’ll even send me to Azkaban…. Do they send underage wizards to Azkaban? Do they have maybe a designated section of the prison just for underage offenders… I wonder who the youngest person to ever be sent to Azkaban is —

Harry’s morbid train of thought is cut short when McGonagall suddenly stops in front of a massive, golden gargoyle. Harry studies it passively. What is that, an eagle? 

”Sherbet lemon”, McGonagall says and the gargoyle immediately springs to life, hopping to the side and revealing a doorway behind it through which a spiral staircase can be seen. 

Despite the dread filling Harry up to the brim, he can’t help but to feel slightly amazed at the sight because the staircase is slowly moving… He’s seen other moving staircases of course, the castle is full of them, but he’s never seen stairs moving upwards before… McGonagall gestures for him to step onto the staircase first and then they’re both rising up in circles, higher and higher up they go and they don’t even have to move their feet — This is genius, Harry thinks. 

Finally they come to a stop and Harry blinks, feeling a little dizzy. They’re standing in front of a large oak door. The dread slams back into him. McGonagall hasn’t told him anything, but she doesn’t need to. Harry knows what they’ll find on the other side of this door. This must be the Headmaster’s Office. 

McGonagall ushers Harry aside and raps on the door. It creaks open and she puts her hand on the back on his neck and gently nudges him forward. 

Harry takes a few steps inside, then stops and looks around in confusion when the professor doesn’t follow. 

”Wait here”, she says curtly and then turns around and disappears back down the moving staircase. 

Harry swallows thickly and turns back around. 

The sight that greets him is an incredible one and if he wasn’t so scared, Harry would have been thrilled at the opportunity to have a quick look around. The large circular office is filled with weird-looking instruments, some of them whirring and ticking, others letting out tiny puffs of smoke or different-coloured glows. In the middle of the room stands a large, claw-footed desk and a very comfortable-looking, puffy chair.

Harry takes a deep breath and ventures a little further inside the office, but a sudden gagging noise behind him makes him quickly wheel back around, his heart pounding and cold sweat breaking out on his brow. 

On a golden perch next to the door stands a large, red and gold bird. The first thing Harry notices is the beautiful plumage, but then a couple of feathers fall out of its tail and Harry frowns, realising the bird must be sickly, because its head is hanging and it’s drooping grey eyes are dull… Even as he thinks this, the bird lets out another gagging noise and a couple of more feathers fall out and flutters to the floor. 

That’s just what I need, Harry thinks bitterly. Dumbledore’s pet bird dying while I’m alone with—

The bird lets out a weak caw and suddenly bursts into flames — Harry stumbles backwards with a shocked yell, his heel catching on the edge of the carpet and he loses his balance and sits down heavily on the floor for the third time today, as his painfully throbbing buttock reminds him. He winces and flops around, pushing himself up on his hands and knees. 

The door opens again and Professor Dumbledore appears above Harry, peering down at him curiously. Harry quickly scrambles up to his feet, barely refraining from rubbing his sore bottom as he straightens up in front of the Headmaster. 

”P-Professor, S-Sir, I — your b-bird — I didn’t, I couldn’t do anything, I swear I didn’t —”

Dumbledore slowly turns to look at the smouldering pile of ashes, the only thing left of his pet bird, and Harry feels an absurd impulse to laugh, but thankfully manages to quench it. 

”It just… caught fire…” he finishes lamely. 

”About time, too”, the old man murmurs with a sad smile.

”E-Excuse me, Sir—?”

Dumbledore turns back to Harry and his smile widens kindly at the perplexed look on his face. 

”He’s been looking dreaful for days, I’ve been telling him to get a move on…”

Harry blinks, then looks over at the pile of ashes and notices a tiny little movement as some of its shifts. Oh… 

”Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry”, Dumbledore says, confirming what Harry has just realised. 

Cheeks burning, Harry ducks his head and stares down at his feet. I should have realised, he thinks. Why would a bird burst into flames. So stupid. Dumbledore is going to think I’m a complete —

”Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die”, Dumbledore continues. 

”I know”, Harry mutters quickly. ”I did know that. I just. It shocked me, I guess. That’s all.”

”Ah, yes. It’s not a pleasant sight… Shame you had to see him on a Burning Day. But on the upside, it is quite remarkable to witness a phoenix be reborn from its own ashes…”

Harry glances over at the pile of ashes, half of it having been shaken loose now as the tiny head of the newborn phoenix fights its way up… 

”Fascinating creatures, phoenixes”, Dumbledore continues as he strides past Harry and takes his seat behind his desk. ”They can carry immensely heavy loads and their tears have healing powers…”

Didn’t he hear me when I said I know about them? Harry thinks glumly and turns around to face the desk. 

Dumbledore’s intense, light-blue eyes are peering at him over the rim of his halfmoon glasses and Harry quickly schools his face in a look of polite interest. Dumbledore gives a small, knowing smile and nods to himself, his eyes twinkling. 

”Have a seat, won’t you, Harry?” he says and waves his hand. 

Another chair materialises in front of Harry, who blinks, startled. He cautiously approaches it and lowers himself down on the edge of the seat. 

”Lemon drop?” Dumbledore offers, holding out a small porcelaine bowl filled with gleaming yellow sweets. 

Harry shakes his head politely. 

Dumbledore shrugs and takes one himself, popping it into his mouth and sucking on it with a look of pure pleasure on his face. Harry frowns. He’s always thought the headmaster to be a little batty, but… 

Suddenly the door slams open behind Harry and he wheels around in his chair. 

Professor Snape comes striding into the office, a thunderous scowl on his face and robes billowing more than ever behind him. Harry feels a mix of dread and relief surge up inside him. Maybe Snape has come to help him, or maybe he’s come to kick him out himself —

”Headmaster”, Snape snaps coldly and the dread immediately gives way to relief as Harry realises that the scowl in not for him at all. 

”Ah, Severus”, Dumbledore says jovially. ”I was wondering when you would join us…”

”I would have been here sooner, had anyone told me —”

”And yet, here you are, exactly on time — what a fortunate coincidence!”

The scowl on Snape’s face deepens. 

”Have a seat, Severus… Lemon drop?… No?… I think I might have another actually, just one…”

”Headmaster”, Snape says through clenched teeth. ”Surely you can’t think that Harry —”

”No, Severus, I don’t…” Dumbledore says with a calming hand gesture. 

”You don’t think it was me, Sir?” Harry repeats hopefully. 

”No, Harry, I don’t think you attacked anyone”, Dumbledore confirms and fixes him with another intense stare. ”However, I still wanted to talk to you… I actually wanted to talk to you last year, after everything that happened, but your fathers were very anxious to get you home at the time…”

Harry thinks back to when he woke up in the hospital wing after his run-in with Quirrell and Voldemort last year. He does remember Dumbledore hinting at wanting a word with him, but his daddy had been very adament about not letting him. It wasn’t because they were leaving though, as Dumbledore just suggested… Harry glances over at Snape in the chair next to him. The man gives him a pinched little grimace, that is possibly meant to be a reassuring smile, but it’s hard to tell… Harry has never seen anything look less like a smile… But then again, this is Snape…

”Yes, Sir”, Harry says diplomatically as he turns back to Dumbledore. 

”I must ask you, Harry”, Dumbledore says very seriously. ”Is there something… you wish to tell me?”

Harry frowns. Surely Snape must have told him about the Duelling Club? He wants to look over at his Head of House again, for direction, but for some reason he doesn’t feel like that’s an option somehow… He doesn’t want Dumbledore to think he’s hiding something, or lying… 

”Anything at all”, Dumbledore adds with a twinkle. 

A rush of images run through Harry’s mind: The message written in blood on the wall… Justin Finch-Fletchly’s horrified face as he backed away from him… and then later when Harry stumbled over his petrified body… Macmillan pointing an accusating finger at him — Caught in the act! — everyone staring, everywhere, all the time, pointing and whispering… Draco staring at him… Draco looking at him with fear in his eyes now as well… the thieving houseelf who almost got him killed on the Quidditch pitch… and that disembodied voice Harry heard those two times… Should I tell them that? Maybe now is the time to tell them about the voice — but then he remembers Draco telling him, ”Hearing voices no one else can hear isn’t exactly a good sign”

”Harry?” Dumbledore prods.

”No, nothing”, Harry says quickly before he can change his mind. ”There’s nothing… Sir…”

Dumbledore keeps staring at him for the longest and most tense second of Harry’s life, but then he finally nods with a small sigh. 

”Very well… You may go, Harry…”

Harry hardly needs telling twice. He jumps up from the chair as if burned and scampers over to the door, but then he hesitates, looking back over at Snape with a questioning look. Dumbledore’s eyes are twinkling again as he looks between Harry and Snape over the rim of his glasses. 

Snape gives a small huff and shoots Harry sideways glance, then pushes himself to his feet and follows Harry out of the office. 

”Sir…” Harry mumbles uncertainly as they ride the moving staircase down. ”There is something…”

Snape quirks his eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. 

”I didn’t want to tell the headmaster…”

”What is it, Harry?”

”Well… I heard this… Well, this voice, Sir…”

The staircase stops moving and Harry stumbles off it and turns around to face Snape as the gargoyle jumps back into its place in front of the concealed doorway. It’s a griffin, Harry realises suddenly.

”Voice?” Snape says sharply and Harry immediately snaps his attention back to him and nods. ”What kind of voice?”

”I… I don’t know, it was kind of… Wheezy? No, not wheezy, more like… Like hoarse…”

Snape’s chest swells as he takes great pain in swallowing a sigh and then he lets out a long breath and blinks a couple of times, forcing a calm onto his face… Harry wonders if he just counted backwards from ten in his head, like Harry’s dad has taught him to do when he gets angry…

”It doesn’t matter what the voice sounded like”, Snape says slowly. ”Who was talking? Where and when did you hear it? And what. Did. It. Say?”

”Oh…” Harry mumbles. ”I couldn’t see who was talking, it was like they were invisible, like a ghost or something — except not a ghost obviously, because they’re not completely invisible, are they — a-anyway — it was talking about killing, attacking, a-and — smelling b-blood —”

Snape is staring at Harry as if he’s never seen him before, his face whiter than ever. Harry feels his stomach sink… I shouldn’t have told him… The one person who still believed me, and I went and told him that — what the Hell is wrong with me?

”You should have told the Headmaster”, Snape murmurs finally. 

”I didn’t want him to think…” Harry trails off and swallowing thickly, blinking away the prickling sting in his eyes. 

Snape doesn’t ask him to continue or elaborate, just gives him a small nod. 

”Transfiguration is almost over by now”, he says instead. ”You might as well go back to the Common Room… And work on your essay—”

”I finished it already”, Harry hurries to say, feeling a surge of gratefulness for his Head of House and wanting to, maybe not make him proud, but at least please him somehow. 

Snape nods again, curtly, ”Nevertheless. I’ll walk you down.”

”Thanks”, Harry mumbles.

They walk to the dungeons in silence, but Harry finds himself keeping even steps with the professor and inching as close to his side as he dares. If Snape notices, he doesn’t let on. 

*

Harry has never been so excited to leave Hogwarts. As soon as tickets for the Hogwarts express become available, he rushes to secure one for himself. He’s not the only one though. It seems like the whole school is going home for the holidays. That’s probably a first, in the history of ever… There’s always at least a handful of students that stay behind during hols, for whatever reason. 

But even if his dads owled him and told him he couldn’t come home for Christmas, even if they were both called away unexpectedly or the house had exploded, there is no way Harry would be staying at Hogwarts one more day than absolutely necessary. He would rather spend the whole holiday camping out in his own garden and starve, then stay at Hogwarts. 

Things between himself and the other slytherins have been uncomfortably tense. Even Draco is avoiding him now. Harry tries not to think about it too much and focuses instead of getting through the last days before the holidays without breaking down in tears or throwing himself around the blonde’s legs and demanding to be forgiven for whatever he’s done wrong… 

Yet, at the same time, the thought of leaving Hogwarts on bad terms is particularly heartbreaking. Harry recalls how dreadful the summer had been when he thought Draco had forgotten about him, because that wretched house-elf had intercepted all his letters… It can’t be helped though. If Draco is scared of him, there’s nothing Harry can do about it now. He just has to hope that whomever is controlling Slytherin’s monster, if anyone, is finally caught and maybe then everything can go back to normal again…

On friday afternoon, he’s making his way down from his last Transfiguration lesson of the term when he suddenly hears Filch’s outraged voice from the floor above. Curiosity piqued, Harry turns around and hurries up the stairs. He slows down close to the top and hangs back just out of sight and listens closely… 

”…even more work for me!” Filch’s slightly hysterical voice cuts through the silence. ”Mopping all night, like I haven’t got better things to do! No, this is the final straw, I’m going to Dumbledore…”

Harry stays still, waiting for Filch’s hobbling footsteps to recede before he sneaks up from the staircase and peers down the corridor. He’s relieved to see that no-one else has been attacked, at least… But he can see why Filch had been in such a bad mood; a small flood of water stretches out across the corridor and from what Harry can see, more of it keeps coming from underneath one of the bathroom doors… He can hear wailing coming from inside as well… Is anyone hurt? he thinks uncertainly and creeps closer to the bathroom. 

An ’Out of Order’ sign is hanging lopsidedly on the door, but when Harry tries the handle it turns without trouble and the door slides open with a squeak to match the continued wailing coming from inside. Harry tip-toes through the rushing water and glances around the dim bathroom apprehensively. The wailing stops abruptly and he can hear an echoing hiccough coming from one of the bathroom stalls. 

”Who’s there?” a soft voice calls out. 

”Ehm… Harry… Harry Potter”, he says awkwardly and ventures further inside the bathroom. 

The ghost of a young girl suddenly soars up from the cubicle and hovers near the ceiling, staring down at him through tear-swollen eyes. 

”Have you come to throw something else at me?” she demands. 

”Why would I throw something at you?” Harry says, confused. 

”Don’t ask me!” the ghost wails miserably. ”Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it’s funny to throw a book at me…” she trails off and a fresh set of wracking sobs well up in her throat. 

Harry winces, ”I’m — eh — sorry to hear that… Did you see you who did it?”

”No”, the ghost whines with a pout. ”I was sitting in the U-bend — thinking about death, you know?”

”Sure”, Harry mutters wryly. 

”And it fell right through the top of my head… It’s over there, it got washed out.”

She glares over at one of the sinks and Harry sees a soggy book lying underneath it. He walks over and bends down to pick it up. He can tell it’s a diary, because it’s got a faded date printed on the front — it’s fifty years old, he realises and opens it eagerly —but the pages inside are empty, save for the smudged name ’T. M. Riddle’ on the very first page. He keeps peeling the wet pages apart, but there is not a trace of writing on any of them… Disappointed, Harry shuts the diary again. Wonder why anyone would want to get rid of it, though? 

Deciding to hang on to it, just in case there’s something hidden inside it, Harry pockets the book. He looks over at the ghost again and gives her a polite smile. 

”What’s your name, anyway?” he asks. 

The ghost’s face becomes a little less transparent. If Harry didn’t know better, he would say she was blushing. 

”M-Myrtle…” she answers, with a childish giggle. 

”Well, it was nice to meet you, Myrtle”, Harry says kindly. ”I’m sorry someone threw this at you. I’ll get rid of it for you, okay?”

”Okay, Harry…” she giggles. 

Harry starts packing his trunk as soon as he gets back to the dorm, instead of leaving it to the last minute like he usually does. Something about going through the motions of packing up everything, it just makes him feel like the moment when he gets to leave is getting closer, like he can actually speed up time somehow just by reminding himself that he’ll be leaving soon… soon, soon, soon…

”Harry?” 

He startles and fumbles with the Herbology book he’s holding. It tumbles out of his hand and lands heavily on his foot. He swears loudly and bends down to squeeze his throbbing toes. As he does, he looks up through his fringe and sees Draco’s slightly blurred form framed in the doorway to the dormitory… Harry blinks the tears away and straightens up again. 

”You okay?” 

”Yep”, Harry lies through gritted teeth. ”Fine.”

Draco takes a couple of steps inside the room. Harry stays where he is, watching him appraisingly… Wouldn’t want to scare him away with any sudden movements, now would I… And still the other boy stops at a safe distance from him. He’s also avoiding eye contact, Harry notices with a twinge. 

”I don’t know what… what’s happened…” Draco says in a small voice. 

Harry frowns. Draco quickly glances up at him, but then looks down again and stares intently at his own feet instead, the toe of his shoe scuffing against the silver and green carpet… He’s crying, Harry realises then. Or trying not to anyway…

”I —” Draco’s voice breaks and he quickly clears his throat. ”I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry.”

”What?”

”I’m sorry.”

”You’re sorry?”

”Y-Yeah…” Draco croaks and then turns away completely, finally having lost his battle against his tears. 

”I thought… I…” Harry trails off uncertainly. ”You’ve been avoiding me, I didn’t think… I mean, I thought…”

Draco quickly brings up his arm to wipe his face on his sleeve, then turns back around to face Harry. 

”I thought you were angry with me”, Harry says earnestly.  

”No, why would I be — I thought after the Duelling Club — when I…”

”When you what?”

”You know, when I didn’t want anyone to know about us, I thought you got angry with me—”

”—Wait, what—?”

”—and later when I tried to apologise, when I — well, you know —” Draco blushes and glances over at Harry’s bed. ”You didn’t — You — You were still angry with me then, so I thought…”

Harry just blinks. His mind is reeling. Is it possible that he and Draco have been having two completely different fights for the past week? Could it really be possible that Draco isn’t scared of him at all? 

He lets out a shaky chuckle and just shakes his head. Draco frowns. 

”I… I’m not angry with you”, Harry says simply and shrugs. ”Far from it… In fact, I — I’ve missed you, Draco… Like, a lot.”

Another couple of tears spill over Draco’s lashes and splashes over his milky-white skin, but he smiles happily and kills the distance between them in three quick strides. 

Before Harry knows what’s happened, there are arms around him and lips pressed firmly against his own. He blinks stupidly, his hands twitching uselessly at his sides and his lips trembling — and how has he never noticed how dry and chapped they are until now? — he instinctively jerks his head back a fraction and quickly wets them —

Suddenly, Draco’s tongue dabs against his own and it sends a jolt throughout his entire body — 

Draco’s tongue retreats again and without thinking about it, Harry chases after it, wanting to feel that sensation again, and again and again and again… He licks his way in between the other boy’s lips, then captures his lower lip between his own and sucks —

A tiny moan escapes Draco and Harry smiles against his mouth… He feels impossibly light, like he might soar away at any moment… He puts both arms around Draco’s waist and holds on tight, just in case. 

When they finally break the kiss again, they’re both breathing heavily and when Harry blinks his eyes open, Draco’s eyes are heavy-lidded and unfocused… But they’re also glittering like silver, like when he’s been flying… 

”You’re beautiful”, Harry murmurs before he even knows what he’s about to say. 

On Sunday evening, a large end of term feast is served in the Great Hall at dinner before the Hogwarts Express is due take them all home for the holidays in the morning, and you would think it’s the last meal of their lives judging by the subdued mood that hangs heavily over the Hall.

Harry is getting really sick and tired of all the surreptious looks he’s receiving, but even that isn’t enough to dampen his own good mood after he and Draco made up. 

He keeps glancing over at the blonde next to him and every time they accidentally lock eyes, they both blush and smile secretively at each other — until finally Blaise tells them in a carryingly loud and clear voice to knock it out before he chucks up his christmas pudding… 

Harry and Draco quickly look down at their plates, but the grins on their faces stay stubbornly plastered to their bright red faces. 

*

Harry heaves the trunk off the Hogwarts Express and it almost lands on his foot, but he just manages to move it in time. He straightens up and wipes his forehead with his sleeve. You don’t appreciate magic until you’re not allowed to use it anymore…

”Harry! Harry!” 

He spins around happily and beams as he sees his dad weave his way through the crowd, waving enthusiastically. Harry grabs his trunk again and starts pulling it, walking as quickly as he can towards Sirius. When they finally reach each other, the older man wraps his arms around him and lifts him off the ground and spins him around. Harry wraps his legs around the man’s waist and clambers onto him, laughing happily into his neck… The familiar scent of Sirius hits him and he almost feels like crying… But he laughs harder instead. 

”Oh, it’s good to see you”, Sirius murmurs thickly and cards his fingers through the hair on the back of Harry’s head. ”Oh my goodness… You’ve got so big, too!”

”Have I?” Harry says hopefully. 

”Very!” Sirius says and puts him down on the ground again. ”And heavy! I won’t be able to lift you for much longer…”

”With a little help from magic you will”, Harry says with a grin. 

Sirius laughs and ruffles his hair fondly, ”Yeah, you’re right. We’ll find a way…”

”Where’s daddy?” Harry asks, looking around Sirius hopefully. 

”He’s waiting at home… Said he wanted to take the opportunity to get the house thoroughly cleaned. Don’t worry, though. We saved the tree for when you’re home!”

”Good”, Harry smiles. 

”So”, Sirius says and grabs the trunk for him. ”What’s new? Discover any more awesome powers lately?”

”No, not since last week”, Harry laughs. 

He hadn’t realised he was worried about his dads reaction to him being a Parselmouth until Sirius made a joke about it, but now he feels completely fine about the whole thing. If Sirius isn’t worried, then there’s definitely no need for Harry to be. 

He’s thrilled to see his dad’s motorcycle parked outside King’s Cross station and whoops excitedly, jumping into the side car. Sirius throws a quick look around him to make sure no muggles are around before shrinking Harry’s trunk and handing it to him. 

”Where’s Hedwig?” he asks after he’s mounted the bike. 

”I dunno, I haven’t seen her in a couple of days… I’m sure she’ll head straight home once she’s done hunting…”

Sirius kick starts the bike and they roar off down the street. 

Harry is barely out of the side car before Remus comes running out of the house and envelops him in a massive bear hug. Harry hugs him back eagerly, burrowing into his warm chest greedily and nuzzling his soft christmas jumper. 

”Oh, I see”, Sirius says good-naturedly. ”Someone’s got a favourite…”

”Shut up”, Harry and Remus says in unison, still hugging each other tightly and Sirius laughs.

”Meow…” 

Harry feels something small and soft brush against his ankles and peers down to see Selina rub her face happily against him and purring. 

”Hedwig arrived half an hour ago, as well”, Remus says and finally releases him. 

Harry immediately scoops up Selina and cradles her to his chest. 

”The whole family together again!” Sirius says happily. 

*

As the snow melts away around the castle and more and more time passes without any more attacks taking place, the dark mood of the previous school term finally starts to lift. Professor Sprout proudly informs everyone that the Mandrakes had started to become both moody and secretive, a sure sign that they were leaving childhood and entering into adolescence… And apparantly, as soon as their acne has cleared, they’d be ready to be repotted for the last time before they could be cut up and stewed, and all those who have been petrified will be able to be cured again. 

As they leave January behind and enter into February, Harry starts to seriously agonise about Valentine’s Day… He’s not sure if he should give Draco a card or something… Maybe a gift? That’s what you do, isn’t it? When you’re… Well, whatever we are… That’s the problem, isn’t it? Harry doesn’t know what they are. They haven’t talked about their relationship at all, and apart from a quick peck when they saw each other again on the Hogwarts Express heading back to school after the Christmas holidays, they haven’t repeated that kiss either… That doesn’t mean Harry hasn’t been thinking about it though. 

In fact, some might say he’s been obsessing over it ever since it happened… His first real kiss, his first snog… And it had been amazing! He really wants to do it again, but he’s too scared to initiate it… What if Draco doesn’t want to kiss him again? What if he leans in and the blonde recoils or pushes him away or slaps him across the face —

”Harry?” 

”Yeah?” Harry says quickly and spins around, discretely trying to get his arm through the twisted sleeve of his pyjamas without looking like a prat. 

Draco’s gaze flicker down to his arm and his lips twitch with amusement, but he doesn’t comment. Instead he removes his robes and reaches for his own pyjamas that lie impeccably folded on top of his pillow. He turns away before pulling his shirt off, but Harry manages to steal a look at his naked back at least before the pyjama top hides it from view again. Harry blushes and looks away again.

”Yeah, what?” he repeats. 

”Nothing… You were muttering under your breath”, Draco says with a smirk, tying the waistband of his pyjama bottoms and getting under the covers on his bed. 

”I was?” Harry says numbly, cheeks burning. ”W-What did I say…?”

”I couldn’t hear, but you were muttering… It was cute…”

”Yeah, right, cute”, Harry repeats, clearing his suddenly dry throat. 

”It was”, Draco insists, resting his head on his hand and smirking at him. 

Harry is hit with an overwhelming urge to walk over and kiss that smirk off his face… He swallows thickly and climbs into his own bed instead. 

On the morning of February fourteenth, they walk into the Great Hall for breakfast and the vision that greets them makes Harry stop dead in his tracks — it’s like being smacked in the face with a giant Valentine’s Day Card — there are pink hearts and red roses everywhere, and heart-shaped confetti keeps raining from the ceiling and getting into people’s porridge and drinks… 

Harry gapes as a heart-shaped pink cloud comes zooming towards him and explodes in a hundred little glittering red hearts, all squeaking ’Happy Valentine’s Day’  before they pop out of existance all around his head like so many soap bubbles. 

He forces his feet to start moving again and walks in a trance over to his usual spot at the Slytherin table and sinks down next to Draco. 

At the Head Table, Lockhart stands up and waves his arms to get everyone’s attention. He is wearing bright pink robes to mark the occasion. 

”Look at Snape’s face”, Draco snickers quietly. 

Harry finds their Head of House amongst the teachers and smirks. The man looks particularly stony this morning, his eyes flicking back to Lockhart repeatedly and darkening a little more each time. Indeed, all the teachers, with the exception of Dumbledore, look like they would rather be anywhere else right now. 

”Happy Valentine’s Day!” Lockhart exclaims happily. ”And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards!”

Harry huffs incredulously. Forty-six people actually sent Lockhart valentines? What’s wrong with people?  

”Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn’t end here!”

Lockhart claps his hands twice and a sidedoor opens next to the Head Table, through which a dozen dwarves walk in, all of them wearing golden wings and carrying little harps… Harry gapes. This isn’t real… Can he do that? 

”My friendly, card-carrying cupids!” Lockhart exclaims excitedly. ”They will be roving around the school today, delivering everyone’s Valentines!” 

”No-one better send me one!” Harry says hastily to the table at large. 

”Yeah right!” Seamus snickers. ”And risk incurring the wrath of a Malfoy scourned? I think you’re safe—!”

”Shut up!” Draco hisses and tosses a cupcake at the Irish boy’s head; it bounces off him, but not before smearing pink frosting all over his sandy-blonde hair.

”Oi—!” Seamus protests loudly, grabbing lumps of frosting from his head and flicking it on the ground.

”And the fun doesn’t stop here!” Lockhart is shouting from the Head Table. ”I’m sure my esteemed colleagues would love to get into the spirit of the holiday! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion, for example—?”

Snape shoots the Hall a glare that definitely says, Ask me and I will force-feed you poison!

”What was that supposed to mean?” Pansy asks Seamus, looking suspiciously between him and Draco.

”Nothing!” Draco says immediately, still glaring at Seamus. ”Just Finnigan being an idiot. As usual—!”

”Oh, shove off Malfoy! Can’t you take a joke? Merlin’s beard…”

”—and while you’re at it”, Lockhart continues. ”Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, the sly dog!”

Professor Flitwick buries his face in his hands. Harry chuckles. 

All day, the cupid-costumed dwarves keeps barging into classrooms to deliver messages, much to the teachers annoyance and, gradually, the students’ as well. The first couple of times it happens, it’s funny… but after the eleventh or so time, Harry starts getting bored… 

”Oy, you! ’Arry Potter!” a particularly gruff dwarf hollers suddenly, as Harry and his friends are making their way from the Charms classroom to Transfiiguration and Harry spins around in horror to see him elbow his way through the crowd to get to him. 

Harry is seized by an irrational fear of having an embarrassing love note recited to him by an angry dwarf in paper wings, and spins on his heel and starts to run away… Unfortunately, the dwarf is much more adapt at weaving his way through the crowd and manages to overtake Harry next to a long queue of giggling first-years. 

”I’ve got a musical message to deliver to ’Arry Potter in person”, the dwarf proclaims and starts plucking at his harp. 

”Not here!” Harry hisses and tries to shove his way past him, but the dwarf grabs a hold of his bag and holds him back. ”Let me go!”

”Hey”, Draco says. ”Let go of—!”

Harry gives the bag a hard tug, but instead of pulling the dwarf off his feet as Harry had hoped, his entire bag rips open and all his books sprawl out around him on the floor and his ink bottle breaks and splatters ink all over them. 

Harry takes a deep breath, counting backwards from ten to resist the urge to kicksthe dwarf in the head… He quickly starts gathering up all his books, getting ink all over his hands… Draco watches him worriedly, looking torn and Harry realises he probably wants to help but he doesn’t want to get ink on his sensitive skin… 

”Can you get rid of him”, Harry grumbles, providing the blonde with an alternative way to help him. 

Draco immediately grabs his wand and gives the dwarf a threatening glare. But the dwarf seems completely unfazed and starts plucking at his harp again. Harry spins around, still on his hands and knees and grabs the last of his books — it’s the diary he found just before Christmas — and looking up, he finds himself staring into the horrified eyes of one Ginny Weasley. 

Just at that moment, the dwarf starts singing at the top of his voice:

”His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a blackboard…”

Ginny Weasley’s face goes beet red and Harry groans, sure he can guess who the author of the song is.

”…I wish he was mine, he’s really divine,

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.”

Harry pushes himself to his feet and gives the laughing crowd a strained smile before bolting, Draco close on his heels. 

”Harry wait —!”

Harry finally slows down in the corridor of the Transfiguration classroom and Draco catches up to him. 

”It wasn’t that bad…” the blonde says, breathing heavily. 

”Just — don’t — never mention it — ever!” Harry begs.

”Alright…” 

”Hey, Harry —!” Pansy Parkinson shrieks from behind them, her voice trembling with repressed giggles. 

Harry turns to glare at her and she snickers. 

”Oh yeah”, she tells the other girls. ”I can see it now… they really are as green as a fresh pickled toad!”

The girls howl with laughter. 

”Ha-ha…” Harry says sourly and gives the girl a fake grin, when she winks at him before ducking inside the Transfiguration classroom. ”Merlin, I hate her…”

Draco gives him an uneasy look, but doesn’t say anything. 

”Come on…” Harry mutters heavily and leads the way inside the classroom. 

Later that night, Harry excuses himself and heads to the dormitory before everyone else, not wishing to hear yet another rendition of  ”His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad” by either Pansy or Seamus… Draco gives him a worried look from his spot in the sofa, but Harry just shakes his head. 

When he’s changed into his pyjamas, Harry decides to get all his books out to assess the damage… That’s when he notices… Riddle’s diary, unlike all the other books, is completely clean. There’s not so much as a dot of ink anywhere on the covers or inside on any of the pages. 

Struck with a sudden idea, Harry grabs a new ink bottle from his trunk and then climbs onto his four-poster bed and sits cross-legged on top of the covers. Opening up the diary to a random page, he grabs one of his quills and lets a drop of ink blot the page. No sooner has the ink landed on the page than it gets soaked up by the paper and vanishes. 

Feeling a surge of excitement, Harry scrawls out the words, ’My name is Harry Potter’ on the pages and holds his breath as they shine for a second, then sinks into the paper… Then suddenly, the ink comes oozing out of the paper again, except this time the words are different…

”Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?”

The words gleam up at Harry for a second, before they too vanish… Harry lets out an excited breath and hurries to dip his quill in the ink bottle again and scribbles out the reply; I found it. Someone tried to flush it down the toilet.

”Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not wish the content of this diary read…”

What do you mean? Harry scrawls quickly. 

”I mean… This diary holds memories of terrible things that happened in this castle many years ago. Things that were covered up…”

Terrible things have been happening here now too, Harry scribbles. Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?

Riddle’s answer comes even faster this time and his handwriting becomes sloppier, as if he’s writing in a hurry, just like Harry… 

”Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets. In my day, it was told that the Chamber was merely a legend, that it did not really exist but they were wrong… In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students until finally, it killed a girl… I caught the person who’d opened the Chamber and he was expelled from the school, but the Headmaster, Professor Dippet, felt ashamed that such a thing would have happened at his school and forbade me to speak the truth about what I had seen… Instead, the story went that the girl had died in a freak accident. I was given a trophy for my troubles and told to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again, that the monster lived on, hidden inside the Chamber and that he who had the power to release it was not imprisoned…”

It’s happening again now! Harry scrawls. Who was it that opened the Chamber last time?

”I can show you if you like… You don’t have to take my word for it. I can take you inside my memory of the night when I caught him.”

Harry hesitates and looks over at the door to the dormitory. He knows it won’t be much longer before Draco decides to follow him up here to make sure he’s alright… Glancing down at the diary again, the words have been replaced with new ones, Let me show you… 

Harry takes a deep breath and jots down, OK

The pages of the diary starts flipping of their own accord, as it disturb by a heavy breeze, then finally stops on a particular page and the words June 13th appears in the top-right corner…

Before he knows what’s happening, Harry feels himself tip over and leave the bed and then he’s falling… There is a blur of shapes and colours around him… 

Then his feet hit solid ground and he finds himself standing in the middle of a circular room that is vaguely familiar… Looking around, Harry realises he’s standing inside the Headmaster’s Office, but it’s not Professor Dumbledore sitting behind the desk this time, but another wizard… Professor Dippet, Harry realises. The Headmaster at Hogwarts fifty years ago. 

Feeling strangely out of place, Harry starts to inch his way backwards towards the door before the wizard notices his presence, but before he reaches the door, there is a knock from the other side of it and Harry jumps back. 

”Enter”, the old wizard mutters. 

The door swings open and a very handsome boy of about sixteen years enter. Harry stares up at him, feeling oddly starstruck… The boy ignores him and walks right past him. They can’t see me, Harry thinks. I’m not actually here, it’s just a memory. 

”Ah, Riddle”, the old wizard says, looking up from the letter he’d been reading. 

”You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?” the boy, or rather young man, says in a velvety voice that makes something flutter in Harry’s belly and he feels a small twinge of guilt, thinking of Draco back in the Common Room, probably worrying about him right now…

”Sir down… I’ve just been reading the letter you sent me… My dear boy, I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?”

”No”, Riddle says at once. ”I’d much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that — that —”

”You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?” Professor Dippet says peering at Riddle curiously. 

”Yes, Sir”, Riddle mumbles. 

”You are Muggle-born?”

”Half-blood, Sir”, Riddle says, his cheeks reddening. ”Muggle father, witch mother.”

”And are both your parents —?”

”Yes”, Riddle says shortly. ”Well, my mother died shortly after I was born. They told me at the orphanage that she lived long enough to name me — Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather, her father… I don’t know my father.”

”Yes…” Professor Dippet murmurs with a sympathetic grimace. ”But you see, the thing is, Tom… Although special arrangements might have been made for you, but under the circumstances —”

”You mean the attacks, Sir?”

”Precisely. It simply wouldn’t be safe for you here… As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is already talking about closing the school entirely, after what happened to that poor girl…”

”But — Sir — if the person responsible was caught — if it all stopped —?”

”What do you mean?” Professor Dippet says hoarsely. ”Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?”

”No, Sir”, Riddle says quickly, but Harry feels sure he’s lying. 

”You may go, Tom…” Professor Dippet dismisses him and sinks back in his seat, looking disappointed and extremely old. 

Harry hurries to follow Riddle out of the office. They make their way through the castle, following the all-too-familiar path down to the dungeosn… Harry glances up into the other boy’s face every so often, still struck by his handsome features but also the tense look of determination on his face… He definitely knows something, Harry thinks excitedly. 

They enter a small, dim room and Riddle slides the door almost shut then stands stock still, staring out the tiny crack left between the door and the frame… Harry watches his back tensely for a long moment, but after a while, with nothing happening, he starts to get bored and restless, wanting to return to the present and his bed… 

But then suddenly he hears something… Footsteps on the other side of the door… Riddle waits for another tense moment, until the person on the other side of the door has walked past, and then he carefully sneaks the door open again and follows… Harry tip-toes after him, and even though there is no way they’ll be able to hear him, he finds himself holding his breath so as not to make too much noise.

Suddenly, Riddle stops dead in his tracks and inclines his head, listening… Harry strains his ears and listens as well, and that’s when he hears it, a voice that sounds vaguely familiar… 

”C’mon now… gotta get yeh outta here… c’mon, in the box with yeh…”

”Evening, Rubeus”, Riddle says sharply and jumps out from behind the corner. 

Harry steps out from behind him and sees a huge boy quickly slam a door shut behind him, but before it shuts, Harry catches a glimpse of a very large wooden box. 

”What yer doin’ down here, Tom?”

”It’s all over”, Riddle says and steps closer to the other boy. ”I’m going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They’re talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don’t stop, and I can’t let that happen, Hogwarts is my home—”

”What d’yeh —?”

”I don’t think you meant it to kill anyone, but monsters don’t make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for a bit of exercise and —”

”It never killed no-one!” the large boy bellows angrily, backing up against the door as if to protect it. 

”Come on, Rubeus”, Riddle murmurs, moving closer still. ”The dead girl’s parents will be here tomorrow… The least we can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered…”

”It wasn’ him! He wouldn’! He never!”

”Stand aside”, Riddle says quietly and draws his wand. 

Everything happens incredibly fast after that. Riddle swirls his wand, hissing a spell and the door flies open with such force that it sends the other, larger boy flying into the opposite wall and a bright light explodes in the dark corridor… Harry stumbles back and lets out a piercing scream as something huge and hairy comes scuttling towards him at great speed —

Riddle, having been bowled aside, scrambles to his feet quickly and takes aim at the creature tearing down the corridor, but before he can send a curse after it, the large boy has thrown himself on top of his back with a howling ”NOOOO!”

Riddle lands heavily on the floor, his wand clattering out of his hand and rolling away. 

The entire corridor starts whirling around them and Harry grips the flagstones next to him to steady himself, but before he knows it, he’s sitting corss-legged on top of his four-poster bed again… He gasps and heaves a great big breath, just as the door to the dormitory slides open and Draco appears. 

”Harry, are you sure you’re —?” 

Harry quickly wipes the cold sweat from his forehead and slams the diary shut and stows it under his pillow. His hands are shaking and his breathing is still laboured. 

”Harry? What’s wrong?”

”It was Hagrid”, Harry gasps. ”Hagrid opened the Chamber last time.”

”The gamekeeper?” 

”Yeah… I just saw… I saw it…”

”Wait, what? You saw—?”

It all makes, Harry thinks feverishly. Hagrid always did get the most absurd pets. Like that time he attempted to raise his own dragon… Not to mention the three-headed dog that guarded the Philosopher’s Stone! Hagrid even named it Fluffy, of all things! If anyone heard about a monster hidden at the castle and decided to find and befriend it, it would be the half-giant…

”What should we do?” he asks Draco. ”Should we tell someone? Snape, maybe?”

Draco just shakes his head, ”I… I don’t know… What do you mean you saw it happen?”

Taking a deep breath, Harry tells Draco everything — skipping over the part where he more or less swooned over Riddle’s good looks, obviously — and by the end of the story, Draco’s eyes are round as saucers and his breathing shallow… 

”What was it, the monster?”

”It was like… Like a spider, I guess… But massive!”

”And Hagrid kept it in a box, like a — a — pet?”

”That’s the part that surprises you? That Hagrid would try and house-train the monster? Do you not remember Fluffy? Or Norbert? Look, I don’t want to believe that Hagrid would wilfully set that thing on the students, I mean, he’s a bit of an oaf, but he’s nice enough… I’m just saying, it makes sense… We know he likes dangerous creatures. We know he can do magic but he’s not allowed to, which means he must have been expelled from Hogwarts.”

”Okay”, Draco says and nods. ”Okay. Yeah, it makes sense.”

”So…”

”One question… What about that house-elf?”

”What?” Harry frowns. ”What about it?”

”That house-elf said there was a plot, so whomever opened the Chamber and set the monster loose, was planning to do it last summer and somehow this elf found out about it and decided to go warn you of all people, because it has some weird crush on you or something… Hagrid definitely doesn’t own a house-elf. So how did the elf find out about the plot, if Hagrid’s the one who keeps opening the Chamber?”

”…I don’t know”, Harry admits. 

”Look, maybe it’s better not to get involved.”

”Not get involved?” Harry splutters. 

”There hasn’t been an attack for months! Maybe the monster has gone back into hibernation or something…”

Harry nibbles his lip and thinks hard about the whole situation for a moment. Part of him wants to contact his dads and ask their opinon. Or even Professor Snape would do, in a pinch. But maybe Draco is right. There hasn’t been another attack since Finch-Fletchly and the Gryffindor ghost. Maybe it’s all over… 

”Okay”, he says decisively. ”We wait and see what happens, but if there’s another attack, we go to Professor Dumbledore and tell him everything!”

Draco worries his lip anxiously, but finally relents and nods in agreement. 

As the days pass by without another incident and no more disembodied voices stalking through the hallways, Harry starts to relax about the whole thing. 

He has taken to flipping through the pages of Riddle’s diary, but he doesn’t write anything in it. It is tempting to contact the memory of the boy again, and maybe even dive into one of his memories and see him again… Harry blushes and hides the diary under his pillow again, throwing a guilty glance over at Draco’s still sleeping form in the next bed… It’s a good thing Harry is worried about Riddle getting disappointed with him if he were to find out Harry hasn’t done anything with the important information he gave him, or Harry might give in to the temptation… And then he’d feel really awful afterwards…