here."
"But, Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley. "What's our Ginny got to do with -
with -- him?"
"His d-diaryl" Ginny sobbed. "I've b-been writing in it, and he's been
w-writing back all year --"
"tinny!" 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 ='
*329*
"I d-didn't know," sobbed Ginny. "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 up to the hospital wing right away,"
Dumbledore interrupted in a firm voice. "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," said Dumbledore.
Mrs. Weasley led Ginny out, and Mr. Weasley followed, still looking
deeply shaken.
283
"You know, Minerva," Professor Dumbledore said thoughtfully to
Professor McGonagall, "I think all this 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 Potter and Weasley, 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?
"I seem to remember telling you both that I would have to expel you if
you broke any more school rules, said Dumbledore.
*%30*
Ron opened his mouth in horror.
"Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our
words," Dumbledore went on, smiling. "You will both receive Special
Awards for Services to the School and -- let me see - yes, I think two
hundred points apiece for Gryffindor."
Ron went as briglitly pink as Lockhart's valentine flowers and closed
his mouth again.
"But one of us seems to be keeping mightily quiet about his part in this
dangerous adventure," Dumbledore added. "Why so modest,
Gilderoy?"
Harry gave a start. He had completely forgotten about Lockhart. He
turned and saw 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?"
284
"He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired," Ron
explained quietly 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." He pointed at Harry. "He'll lend you one."
"Would you mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the infirmary, too?"
Dumbledore said to Ron. "Id like a few more words with Harry .....
Lockhart ambled out. Ron cast a curious look back at Dumbledore and
Harry as he closed the door.
Dumbledore crossed to one of the chairs by the fire.
"Sit down, Harry," he said, and Harry sat, feeling unaccountably
nervous.
"First of all, Harry, I want to thank you," said Dumbledore, eyes
twinkling again. "You must have shown me real loyalty down in the
Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you."
He stroked the phoenix, which had fluttered down onto his knee.
Harry grinned awkwardly as Dumbledore watched him.
"And so you met Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "I
imagine he was most interested in you . . . . "
Suddenly, something that was nagging at Harry came tumbling out of
his mouth.
"Professor Dumbledore ... Riddle said I'm like him. Strange likenesses,
he said ......
"Did he, now?" said Dumbledore, looking thoughtfully at Harry from
under his thick silver eyebrows. "And what do you think, Harry?"
"I don't think I'm like him!" said Harry, more loudly than he'd intended.
"I mean, I'm -- I'm in Gryffindor, I'm . . ."
285
But he fell silent, a lurking doubt resurfacing in his mind.
"Professor," he started again after a moment. "The Sorting Hat told me
Id -- Id have done well in Slytherin. Everyone thought I was Slytherin's
heir for a while ... because I can speak Parseltongue ....
"You can speak Parseltongue, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly,
"because Lord Voldemort -- who is the last remaining ancestor
*$32*
of Salazar Slytherin -- can speak Parseltongue. Unless I'm much
mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he
gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I'm sure ....
"Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?" Harry said, thunderstruck.
"It certainly seems so."
"So I should be in Slytherin," Harry said, looking desperately into
Dumbledore's face. "The Sorting Hat could see Slytherin's power in
me, and it --"
"Put you in Gryffindor," said Dumbledore calmly. "Listen to me, Harry.
You happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his handpicked
students. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue -
resourcefulness - determination -- a certain disregard for rules," he
added, his mustache quivering again. "Yet the Sorting Hat placed you
in Gryffindor. You know why that was. Think."
"It only put me in Gryffindor," said Harry in a defeated voice, "because
I asked not to go in Slytherin . . . ."
'Exactly, "said Dumbledore, beaming once more. "Which makes you
very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what
we truly are, far more than our abilities." Harry sat motionless in his
chair, stunned. "If you want proof, Harry, that you belong in
Gryffindor, I suggest you look more closely at this."
Dumbledore reached across to Professor McGonagall's desk, picked
up the blood-stained silver sword, and handed it to Harry. Dully, Harry
286
turned it over, the rubies blazing in the firelight. And then he saw the
name engraved just below the hilt.
Godric Gryffindor
*333*
"Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat, Harry,"
said Dumbledore simply.
For a minute, neither of them spoke. Then Dumbledore pulled open
one of the drawers in Professor McGonagall's desk and took out a quill
and a bottle of ink.
What you need, Harry, is some food and sleep. I suggest you go down
to the feast, while I write to Azkaban -- we need our gamekeeper
back. And I must draft an advertisement for the Daily Prophet, too," he
added thoughtfully. "We'll be needing a new Defense Against the
Dark Arts teacher... Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don't
we?"
Harry got up and crossed to the door. He had just reached for the
handle, however, when the door burst open so violently that it bounced
back off the wall.
Lucius Malfoy stood there, fury in his face. And cowering behind his
legs, heavily wrapped in bandages, was Dobby.
"Good evening, Lucius," said Dumbledore pleasantly.
Mr. Malfoy almost knocked Harry over as he swept into the room.
Dobby went scurrying in after him, crouching at the hem of his cloak,
a look of abject terror on his face.
The elf was carrying a stained rag with which he was attempting to
finish cleaning Mr. Malfoys shoes. Apparently Mr. Malfoy had set out
in a great hurry, for not only were his shoes half-polished, but his
usually sleek hair was disheveled. Ignoring the elf bobbing
apologetically around his ankles, he fixed his cold eyes upon
Dumbledore.
"So!" he said "You've come back. The governors suspended you, but
287
you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts."
*%$4*
"Well, you see, Lucius," said Dumbledore, smiling serenely, "the
other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like
being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They'd heard that
Arthur Weasleys daughter had been killed and wanted me back here
at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after
all. Very strange tales they told me, too .... Several of them seemed
to think that you had threatened to curse their families if they didn't
agree to suspend me in the first place."
Mr. Malfoy went even paler than usual, but his eyes were still slits of
fury.
"So -- have you stopped the attacks yet?" he sneered. "Have you
caught the culprit?"
"We have," said Dumbledore, with a smile.
"Well?"said Mr. Malfoy sharply. "Who is it?"
"The same person as last time, Lucius," said Dumbledore. "But this
time, Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else. By means
of this diary."
He held up the small black book with the large hole through the
center, watching Mr. Malfoy closely. Harry, however, was watching
Dobby.
The elf was doing something very odd. His great eyes fixed
meaningfully on Harry, he kept pointing at the diary, then at Mr.
Malfoy, and then hitting himself hard on the head with his fist.
"I see. . . " said Mr. Malfoy slowly to Dumbledore.
"A clever plan," said Dumbledore in a level voice, still staring Mr.
Malfoy straight in the eye. "Because if Harry here" --Mr. Malfoy shot
Harry a swift, sharp look -- "and his friend Ron hadn't discovered
this book, why -- Ginny Weasley might have taken all
288
*335*
the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn't
acted of her own free will ......
Mr. Malfoy said nothing. His face was suddenly masklike.
"And imagine," Dumbledore went on, "what might h