"…I seem to recall telling you two that if you broke school rules again, I'd have no choice but to expel you."
Dumbledore turned back to Harry and Ron.
Ron's jaw dropped in horror.
"That only proves that even the very best of us sometimes have to go back on our word."
Dumbledore went on cheerfully,
"You both will receive Awards for Special Services to the School and—let me think—yes, each of you has earned one hundred points for Gryffindor.
"And you, Miss Granger, have earned fifty points for Gryffindor as well."
Ron's face turned a brilliant shade of pink, and his mouth finally snapped shut.
"Now then, you should all be in bed resting. Perhaps after another large mug of hot chocolate—I always find it does wonders for one's spirits."
The Headmaster finished by giving them a kindly little wink.
The diary was dealt with.
But its impact didn't end there.
Harry and Ron were called aside by Dumbledore. They told him exactly how they had used Sean's basilisk fang to destroy the diary. Harry instinctively skipped over the dream part; he had a feeling the Headmaster already knew enough about the 'spirit of Hogwarts.'
But what Dumbledore said next made his eyes go wide.
In the Hope Nook,
Hermione stared at the returning Harry and asked,
"So who is Tom Riddle, then? Did you ask Professor Dumbledore?"
Harry sat down by the fire, looking dazed.
"He's Voldemort."
That sent a jolt through everyone.
Everyone except Sean—because he was already at Hagrid's hut.
With the diary gone, Hogwarts would finally enter a truly peaceful stretch.
Sean needed to quickly finish developing the basilisk cookie—his alchemy progress deserved a big leap.
Aside from that, there was a very particular 'someone' waiting to be dealt with… a very particular, sneaking, surviving… rat.
For now, though, he could at least help clear Hagrid's name.
All these years, Hagrid had lived as the supposed killer of Moaning Myrtle.
Granted, he did have his own problems: raising werewolf pups under the bed, secretly keeping an Acromantula…
Hard to imagine what his roommates must have felt.
"Sean, come in—"
Hagrid was outside the hut, hauling pumpkins out of the earth. Soon Professor Flitwick would be carving his gigantic pumpkins into lanterns for the Halloween feast, something Hagrid was very proud of.
"No, Hagrid,"
Sean said. He flicked his wand, and a rock rolled over and turned into a table and chairs.
"Take a look at this…"
Sean handed him a copy of the diary.
Hagrid took it, confused—and then just froze there in the mud.
"The Daily Prophet is sending a reporter. They've found the basilisk's shed skin. Myrtle will testify that the killer was the basilisk…
"You're innocent, Hagrid. Everyone is going to know that."
Sean said quietly.
"Ah… ah…"
Huge tears seeped into Hagrid's beard.
…
In the days leading up to Halloween, Hogwarts was buzzing with rumors.
Rain lashed the windows outside; the Great Hall became the perfect place to trade gossip.
"Have you heard about the Chamber of Secrets? And Slytherin's heir?"
a Hufflepuff whispered.
"Of course I have!"
Short Ernie started to add something but was promptly clamped by the mouth.
Because a group of Slytherins happened to be passing by.
"…Of course I know. My father won't tell me anything about what happened when the Chamber was opened.
"Mind you, that was fifty years ago, before he was even born, but he knows everything.
"He says it's all classified; only a few people know the truth."
Malfoy paused, as if waiting for something.
Sure enough, someone started flattering him.
Even a few older Slytherins listened in with interest.
"All right, I'll tell you this: the Chamber was opened. Last time, a Mudblood died.
"So if it's opened again, I dare say another Mudblood will die—it's just a matter of time… I hope it's Granger."
he said with relish.
"And what about Slytherin's heir, Malfoy?" someone asked.
"Heh—"
Malfoy tilted his chin up, saying nothing, but everyone knew what he meant.
Pansy stared at him adoringly; Crabbe and Goyle puffed up like toads.
They walked past a corner fireplace. Normally they avoided this spot; somehow they'd forgotten why.
"Only those of noble blood can… as for the filthy—"
Theodore began, meaningfully.
"Shut up! Theodore!"
Malfoy hurriedly cut off his provocation.
When Sean looked up from his copy of the Daily Prophet, Malfoy and his entourage had already bolted.
"I hope their skulls are harder than the basilisk's."
Ron snorted. If they knew Sean had marched down alone with a sword and beaten a fifteen-metre basilisk, they'd probably be too scared to even make eye contact with him.
At dinner,
Harry, Ron, and Hermione still tried to casually ask Sean how to fight a basilisk.
"I used some Transfiguration…"
Sean had barely begun when the three of them gave up listening.
Right, they should have expected this: even if Sean called a meteor down from the sky, he'd probably just say:
"I used a Summoning Charm."
That left Sean slightly puzzled, but he let it go.
Rita Skeeter was coming to Hogwarts the next day to write a new article on Hagrid: he'd been unjustly imprisoned and expelled. Now he needed to be cleared.
It wouldn't be easy.
The Ministry of Magic didn't often bother with thankless, labor-intensive jobs.
Sean didn't care much about that part. What mattered was that people should know Hagrid had been framed.
Even if he didn't think Hagrid's private menagerie of wolf cubs and Acromantula was a good idea, Tom's crimes clearly shouldn't be dumped on him.
…
Night.
The Library.
The Restricted Section lay at the back. Sean slipped past the rope that separated those books from the rest of the shelves, entering with a faint sense of excitement.
Maybe he'd find something on basilisks…
There were countless books in the Restricted Section. Some had faded, peeling gold letters that formed strange, obscure titles;
some had no title at all. One had a dark stain on the cover that looked suspiciously like dried blood.
Sean could hear faint whispering coming from inside some of them.
Soon, his eye was drawn to a particular book. As he stepped closer, it gave off a thin, evil-smelling wisp of smoke and let out a series of eerie screams.
It was a small book bound in black and silver.
On its cover were the words: The Magick Moste Evile.
~~~
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