Rory Potter, the Girl Who Lived

Dobby's Reward

For a moment, we all just stand there in silence, our ragged and filthy group, and the Weasleys, eyes red with tears. And then the room fills with screams of joy and gasps of shock.
McGonagall sinks into a chair, gasping for breath. Dumbledore (When did he get here?) smiles proudly. Percy's mug of tea slips from his hand and smashes on the floor. Fred and George clap hands to their mouths. Mr Weasley's mouth is hanging open and his eyes are wide. But Mrs Weasley has by far the best reaction.
"GINNY!" she screeches, throwing herself at her pale and grimy, but whole daughter.
After about five minutes, Mrs Weasley releases her to wrap Harry and I into a bone-crushing hug, ignoring my wound and whispering, "You saved her, you saved her! How did you do it?"
"I think we'd all like to know that," says Professor McGonagall weakly.
So Harry sets down the sword with the rubies and I set down the diary, and then we talk. Right from the beginning, when we first heard the voice, and everything after that. Of course, we leave out the part about brewing a forbidden potion in the bathroom. We flow smoothly from him to me while recounting our story (I think its a twin thing) until, a half of an hour later, we're finished.
Mrs Weasley and Ginny are crying. Percy, Arthur, and the twins look numb with shock. Ron is sitting with his family, eyes wide. McGonagall looks astounded, but Dumbledore looks intrigued.
"What an interesting tale," he slowly ponders. "Well, there will be no punishment inflicted upon you, dear Miss Weasley, as it is not your fault Tom Riddle controlled you. However, I suggest you go down to the hospital wing to have Madam Pomphrey take a look at you."
And with that, all the Weasleys but Ron leave the room, ushered out by a wide-eyed McGonagall. And then Dumbledore's bright blue eyes turn to Ron, Harry, and I.
"So," he says softly, "I remember telling the three of you that if you broke any more school rules, I would have no choice but to expel you."
My heart sinks, and suddenly I can very intensely feel the pain of the gash in my shoulder that Fawkes never had time to heal. Next to me, Ron pales and grips the back of a chair hard, and Harry sways on the spot.
"Which goes to show . . . that even the best of us must eat our words sometimes. You three will not be expelled; instead you shall receive special awards for service to the school and - let's see - a hundred and fifty points apiece, I think."
And then, as fast as it had returned, my agony is gone again. Our faces split into huge grins as we all let out sighs and (in my case) squeals of relief.
"Now, why so modest, Gilderoy?" Dumbledore asks, revolving to look at the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.
I turn to see Lockhart, who I'd completely forgotten was still in the room. He's sitting cross-legged on the floor, grinning stupidly and looking totally enthralled by the tassels on the rug.
"Oh," Ron says, turning slightly pink, "you see sir, there was an accident down in the Chamber, and Professor Lockhart - "
"Goodness!" Lockhart interrupts. "I was a professor? I expect I was hopeless, wasn't I?"
"Well, he tried to cast a Memory Charm with my wand, and, uh, it backfired. It had broken, and I, um, couldn't replace it. He's lost all his memories, sir," Ron finishes, looking embarrassed.
"Dear me!" says Dumbledore. "Impaled on your own sword, Gilderoy!"
"Sword?" Lockhart asks. "I haven't got a sword. But that boy does. I'm sure he'd lend it to you if you asked him."
"Gilderoy, would you be so kind as to let Mr Weasley escort you to the hospital wing? As for you, Mr Weasley, will you go to the owlry send these letters to Azkaban for me after you leave Lockhart? I do believe we'll be needing our gamekeeper back. Mr and Miss Potter, a word, if you please."
After Ron hurries out of the room with a handful of papers and Lockhart in tow, Dumbledore's intense gaze turns to my brother and I. For a moment, he just regards us with calm interest, before he bends over and picks up the blood-covered sword.
"Have a seat, you two," Dumbledore says, then waits until we've settled into chairs to say anything more.
"First of all, I'd like to thank the two of you. You must have shown real loyalty to me down in that chamber. Nothing else but that could have called Fawkes to you."
"So you mean you didn't send him?" I ask in surprise, glancing at the scarlet bird, who flies over to land on the arm of my chair.
"No, I did not. He was called to you." Dumbledore looks at me over the rims of his glasses. "He seems rather fond of you, Rory."
I smile and touch the phoenix's smooth red and gold feathers lightly. Fawkes turns his golden eyes to stare at me. All of a sudden, I notice, that out of the corner of my eye, Harry is just sitting there. He looks horrible.
"Are you alright, Harry?" I ask. "I know that look; its like something is really bothering you. What's wrong?"
"Well, I'm just . . . not feeling well," Harry mumbles.
"That's a lie," I say.
"Oh, fine, Rory. I'll tell you. I've been thinking about the whole speaking-to-snakes thing, and its bothering me. You can understand them because of your magical necklace, but how can I? Everyone thought that I was the Heir of Slytherin, and even the Sorting Hat says I would have done well in Slytherin. Why?"
"Harry, Rory," Dumbledore says in a tone that makes me thankful I'm sitting. "It's not her necklace. If she took it off, she would still be able to hear them. This I know. And how you ask? That night where Voldemort tried to kill you, his spell ripped him apart. And I think, that maybe, he accidentally transferred a bit of himself into the two of you when that spell was cast."
"Transferred a bit of him . . . into us?" Harry asks. "So I should be in Slytherin, then!"
"Harry, the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor. Even though you have many of the qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his handpicked students, the Hat put you in Gryffindor. I believe you know why."
"Because I asked it to," Harry whispers.
"Exactly," ​​​​​​Dumbledore exclaims. "That makes you very much a Gryffindor. It is our choices, Harry, that show who we truly are far more than our abilities." The headmaster holds the sword out to Harry. "If you wish to have proof, inspect this sword you pulled from the hat. "
Harry leans over the sword, squinting at it even with his glasses on. Then, turning it over in his hands, he sees something that makes him gasp.
"Rory, look!" he hisses, shoving the sword at me and pointing excitedly.
Engraved into the blade in beautiful lettering is: Godric Gryffindor
"Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that sword from the Sorting Hat," Dumbledore grins.
For a moment, we all stand there in silence, staring at the sword with intrigued eyes, and then Dumbledore sits once more.
"Alright. I suggest you two go down to the hospital wing - you especially, Rory, that gash is awful - and get cleaned up for the feast tonight. I must draft an advertisement for the Daily Prophet; we'll be needing an new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Dear me, we seem to run through them, don't we?"
I bite my lip to hold back a laugh as Harry and I cross towards the door, but as I reach for the knob, the door flies open with such force it slams into the wall and bounces back towards us.
"BLOODY HELL!" I screech, jumping back and knocking a chair over.
Lucius Malfoy stands there, looking positively furious. And standing at his feet, looking terrified and holding an oily rag, is none other than Dobby.
"Good evening, Lucius," says Dumbledore pleasantly.
Mr Malfoy knocks me backwards into Harry as he storms past us into the room. Dobby follows at his heels, casting an apologetic look in my direction as Harry steadies me once more.
"So!" he snarls, fixing his steel eyes on Dumbledore. "You've come back. The governors suspended you, but you have seen fit to return to Hogwarts."
Dumbledore regards the fuming man in front of him with uninterested calmness. His bright eyes stare at Lucius with a knowing aura.
"Well you see, Lucius," Dumbledore says, 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 Weasley's 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 stories they told me, too . . . Several of them seemed to think you threatened to curse their families if they didn't agree to suspend me in the first place."
I hold back a cheer for our headmaster as Lucius pales even more than he already is and his eyes narrow into tiny slits of fury.
"So - have you managed to stop the attacks yet?" he sneers. "Has the culprit been caught?"
"Yes, the culprit has been caught."
"Well? Who is it then?" Lucius demands.
"The same person as last time," Dumbledore says calmly. "But this time, Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else. By means" - he picks up the ink-covered diary - "of this very diary."
Dumbledore watches the blonde man very closely. My twin and I, however, focus our attention on Dobby. His green eyes are fixed intently on us, and he keeps pointing at the diary, Mr Malfoy, then punching himself on the head.
"I see . . . " Lucius hisses softly.
"And imagine," Dumbledore whispers, "what might have happened then . . . The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pure-blood families. Imagine how this could have hurt their family . . . Very fortunate that Rory here thought to destroy it before it was too late."
"Very fortunate . . . " Lucius echoes, glancing at me angrily.
And then I understand. I smack Harry on the arm repeatedly until he looks at me with questioning eyes. I gesture wildly at Lucius, forgetting about my necklace in my shock and excitement.
"Don't you want to know how Ginny got that diary, Mr Malfoy?" I ask, stepping forward. He rounds on me.
"How should I know how that stupid little girl got it?" he snaps.
"Because you gave it to her," I say simply. "That day in the bookshop; you slipped it into her cauldron. Don't think I'm stupid, Mr Malfoy, I'm on to you. Its not that hard."
He recoils, a flash of terror briefly lighting up his angry eyes. His hands clench and unclench.
"Prove it," he hisses.
"That's not possible. Rory already banished Riddle from the book," Harry says.
"Well, let's just hope the Potter twins are always around to save the day," Lucius says snarkily.
Harry and I stare right back at him, expressions dead serious and determined at the same time.
"Don't worry," we say in unison, "we will be."
Lucius looks at us in shock; he didn't expect that. Its kind of creepy, that we both managed to think up and say the exact same thing at the exact same time. It must be a twin thing. Then he huffs and straightens his cloak.
"Come, Dobby, we're leaving now," he says, and strides from the room.
Dobby hesitates, then runs off after Lucius. A second later, Harry grabs the diary and pokes me.
"Rory, can I have your sock?" he asks.
"My what!?" I ask.
"Just give me your sock and come with me," he orders.
I give him a quizzical look, but remove one of my bloody, ink covered socks and hand it to him. He runs from the room with me at his heels, shoving the sock into the heart of the diary as he does.
"Mr Malfoy! Mr Malfoy!" he calls.
Lucius stops and turns around with an annoyed expression as Harry and I sprint to catch up with him and Dobby. We finally reach him, and Harry shoves the diary into his hand.
"What is the meaning of this?" he hisses.
"I just though you would like to have that back," Harry shrugs.
Lucius looks ticked off. He slams the diary into poor Dobby's stomach. The little elf let's out a quiet groan and glances as Harry and I.
"Here, Dobby, hold that," he snarls, then starts off again.
And Dobby is left staring at Harry and I in confusion. I look at my twin, as confused as the house elf is.
"Open it," Harry whispers, just loud enough to hear.
Dobby let's the diary fall open on his outstretched hands. And, in the middle, is my sock. Dobby's eyes open wide and he looks up at my brother and I in wonder.
"Come, Dobby! Now is not the time to dally," Lucius snaps from halfway down the hallway, turning around to see us.
"Master has presented Dobby with clothes!" Dobby says in wonder.
The scowl drops from Mr Malfoy's face, and it's replaced with a look of total confusion. And that's when I get it. I gasp and smack a hand over my mouth, grabbing Harry's arm with the other.
"What are you talking about?" Lucius demands, blustering back over to us.
"Master has given Dobby a sock!" Dobby says. "Dobby is free!"
"Wha - what - how!?" he stutters.
His eyes sweep the scene, finally settling on my left foot. The place where the sock I gave Harry should have been.
"You!" Lucius thunders, pulling out his wand and brandishing it at Harry and I. "You bloody twins lost me my servant!"
"You shall not harm them!" Dobby squeaks, waving a hand.
A flash of white light throws Lucius away from us. He hits the floor hard, then tries to pull himself up with dignity, but it fails. He casts one last, loathing look at us, then swoops off.
"Harry and Rory Potter freed Dobby!" he squeals shrilly, hugging Harry and I around our knees. "How will I ever repay you, sir and miss?"
"Just promise me one thing," Harry says.
"Anything, sir and miss," Dobby says.
"Never try to save mine or my sister's life again," Harry says.
The three of us burst into laughter.

~~~~~~~~~~

I've been to several Hogwarts feasts, but this one is by far the best. We're all sitting in our pajamas in the Great Hall, talking and laughing with an upraor that could be heard from outside. Exams have been cancelled, and Gryffindor has won the house cup for the second year in a row.
And, to make it even better, Hermione appears halfway through.
"RORY!" she screams over the noise.
"HERMIONE!" I scream her name and leap to my feet.
And then we're both running down the aisle between the tables. In the middle, we run straight into each other's arms. We embrace tightly, laughing and grinning so hard it hurts. And then Harry and Ron join us.
"HARRY! RON!" Hermione squeals, throwing herself at them, too.
We all pull into a four-person hug, gripping each other hard and laughing loudly. When we finally pull away and take our seats, the door swings open once more.
The hall goes silent as Hagrid walks in.
"Sorry I'm late," he says gruffly. "The owl that delivered my release papers got all lost an' turned around. Some ruddy bird called Errol."
He looks in Ron's direction, and poor Ronald turns bright red and sinks into his seat. I smile as Hagrid walks up the aisle to stop behind us.
"Wanna thank you four," he whispers. "If it weren't fer you, I'd still be you know where, so . . . thanks."
I leap to my feet once more and throw my arms around Hagrid. Harry, Ron, and Hermione join me. And then I hear one person clapping. Its Dumbledore, applauding us. The rest of the teachers join in.
I pull away from Hagrid and start to clap as hard as I possibly can. I'm grinning so hard it hurts, and almost crying. Harry, Ron, and Hermione join me. The rest of the Gryffindors follow, and soon the entirety of the school is giving Hagrid a standing ovation that lasts for what seems like an hour.

~~~~~~~~~~

​​​​Then too soon, its time to return home. We load everything onto the train, and I sit with Harry, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Fred, and George on the train home. We pull into Platform Nine and Three Quarters too soon.
"Actually write to me this year, Harry?" I giggle teasingly.
"Of course, little 'sis. Every week if you want," he says.
I crush him into a hug.
"See you, Harry!" I call, then run off to say my goodbyes to Hermione.
"'Mione!" I squeal, hugging her.
"Rory!" she says, hugging me back.
"See you next year!" I say happily. "Hopefully nothing bad will happen."
"Hopefully," she says. "Bye, Rory!"
And then I running off to find the Weasleys. They're not hard to spot, what with the red hair and all. I hug each if them individually, and say my goodbyes. After exchanging a few words, I go to leave.
"Rory, wait!" Fred's voice calls. "I have a question!
"What is I, Freddie?" I ask turning around.
"Date me?" he asks.
"Okay," I say. His expression goes slack.
"I was joking," he says. "But if you want to . . ."
"Let's give it a shot," I say.
Then he leans in and pecks me on the lips.
A/n: Oh, my Godric. The end of year two! I can't say how satisfying this is, to finish another book in a story I put so much of my time and effort into. Thank you all for your support and for sticking with the story so far, it makes me so happy! I'll be taking a short break to aqquire ideas before I begin Rory's third year, in which her life in terms of relationships begins to get more . . . well, interesting.