Clara Black and the Hidden Chamber

Kiss the School Year Goodbye

For a good, long moment, it was silent as Harry, Ron, Ginny, Lockhart, and I stood in the doorway, covered in muck and slime and (in Harry and I's case) blood. Ten somebody screamed.

"Ginny!"

It was Mrs. Weasley who screamed; she had been sitting in front of the fire, crying. She jumped up, closely followed by Mr. Weasley, and both of them flung themselves on their daughter.

I smiled at the sweet scene before looking past them. Dumbledore was standing by the mantle, beaming, next to McGonagall, who was breathing deeply, clutching her chest. I suppose we started her. 

Fawkes whooshed away from us to land on Dumbledore's shoulder, just in time for Mrs. Weasley to attack Ron, Harry, and I with a tight hug.

"You saved her! You saved her! How did you do it?"

"I think we'd all like to know that," Minnie said weakly.

"I can't breathe Mrs. Weasley." I said in a strangled voice. She quickly released Harry and I, and we shared a look before walking to the desk and laying the Sorting Hat, the ruby-encrusted sword, and the last reminiscent of Tom Riddle's diary onto it.

Harry and I took turns telling the story. For a good quarter hour we spoke to the silent adults: Harry told them about hearing the Basilisk's disembodied voice, I told how we met Aragog and he told us where the girl died, Harry told them about Emma and Hermione being able to tell us, even though they're Petrified, about the Basilisk, Harry finished it off by saying how we went to Lockhart, found out he was about to pull a runner, and entered the Chamber of Secrets. . . .

"Very well," Minnie prompted when we paused, "so you found out where the entrance was-breaking a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add-but how on earth did you get out of there alive, Potter and Black?"

Harry, who knew better about what went on there, told them about Fawkes arriving and the Sorting Hat gave the sword. I told them about taking on Riddle, before pausing. So far Harry and I avoided mentioning Ginny and the diary. Ginny was standing with her head against Mrs. Weasley's shoulder, and she was still, crying silently. What if they expel her? I can't let that happen, but the diary doesn't work anymore. We can't prove it wasn't her.

I looked at Dumbledore, who smiled faintly, the firelight glancing off his half-moon spectacles. 

"What interests me most," said Dumbledore gently. "is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently hiding in the forests of Albania."

Thank God-Dumbledore understands it's not her. If Dumbledore believes us, so will everyone else.

"What's that?" said Mrs. Weasley in a stunned voice. "You-Know-Who? En-enchant Ginny? But Ginny's not. . .Ginny hasn't been. . .has she?"

"It was the diary," I said quickly, picking it up and showing it to Dumbledore. "Riddle made it when he was sixteen. . . ."

Dumbledore took the diary from me and peered keenly down his long, crooked nose at the charred and soggy pages.

"Brilliant," he said softly. "Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen." He turned around to the Weasleys, who were all utterly confused.

"Very few people know Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving school. . .traveled far and wide. . .sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, hardly anyone reconciled him with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here."