The Heirs of Gryffindor and The Aftermath

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Dateline: May 30th, 1993

For a moment, there was silence as Hermione, Harry, and Lockhart stood in the doorway, covered in muck and slime and (in Harry and Hermione's case) blood.

Professor Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece, beaming, next to Professor McGonagall, who was taking great, steadying gasps, clutching her chest. Fawkes went whooshing past Harry's ear and settled on Dumbledore's shoulder.

"You both realize, of course, that in the past few hours, you have broken, perhaps, a dozen school rules, and there is sufficient evidence to have you both expelled," said Dumbledore, as Harry and Hermione's mouths opened with terror. "Therefore, it is only fitting that you both receive Special Awards for Services to the School and -- let me see -- yes, I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor." Such a powerful wave just went through them as they both smiled at each other. "And now, Harry, if you would, have your owl deliver these papers to Azkaban. I believe we want our gamekeeper back."

"Right away," said Harry, now whistling Hedwig into Dumbledore's office.

The snowy-white owl came soaring out of the back window of his office and landed on his shoulder. He gave her the release papers and told Lockhart to follow the owl. Once he left the office, Dumbledore looked at the two students as he sat by his desk.

"I want to thank you two for showing me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could've called Fawkes to you two," said Dumbledore. "Also, I sense something is troubling you. Am I right, kids?"

"You see, sir. We couldn't help but notice certain things... certain similarities between Tom Riddle and us," said Harry, feeling unaccountably nervous.

"I see," said Dumbledore. "Well, you can speak Parseltongue, kids. Why? Because Lord Voldemort can speak Parseltongue. If I'm not mistaken, he transferred some of his powers to you the night he gave you two those scars."

"Voldemort transferred some of his powers to us?" said Hermione, thunderstruck.

"Not intentionally, but yes."

"So, the Sorting Hat was right; we should be in Slytherin."

"It's true, kids. You possess many of the qualities that Voldemort himself prizes: Determination, resourcefulness, and if I may so, a certain disregard for the rules. So why then did the Sorting Hat place you in Gryffindor?"

"Because we asked it to," said Harry in a defeated voice.

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, beaming once more. "Which makes you two very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices that show who we truly are, far more than our abilities. If you want proof why you two belong in Gryffindor, then I suggest you look more closely at this."

Dumbledore reached across from his desk, picked up the blood-stained silver sword, and handed it to Harry. He turned it over, the rubies blazing in the firelight. And then he and Hermione saw the name engraved below the hilt.

Godric Gryffindor.

"It would take a true Gryffindor to pull that out of the hat," said Dumbledore simply.

"Harry, I think I might have an idea on who was Dobby's master," said Hermione.

"Who?" said Harry, already forgotten that Dobby's case was yet to be solved.

"The Malfoys,"

Harry just stood there shocked as Hermione went on with her story.

"As soon as I was walking down to see if someone opened the Chamber last week, I heard Malfoy bragging to some Gryffindor. I think he was saying that he has a better house elf than her."

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