Arthur left the Headmaster's office with a casual wave. Neither he nor Dumbledore ntioned how to "deal with" the student who'd been bewitched.
Partly because no one knew who it was.
Partly because the child wasn't the mastermind.
Mostly because the crisis was over—and neither of them felt like chasing ghosts.
Back in the Gryffindor common room, Harry and the others were already waiting.
"Arthur, where did you go?" Harry asked.
"To the Headmaster's office," Arthur said. He lifted a battered, punctured diary. "To settle things with our dear 'Tom.'"
"What do you an?" Everyone stared, lost.
Arthur thought for a mont, then explained the basics of Horcruxes.
"You're saying this diary is a Horcrux?" Hermione asked.
"Mhm."
"So this Tom—"
"I told you, you all know him." Arthur flicked his wand; glowing letters ford in the air: TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE.
With a twist of his wand, the letters rearranged into: I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.
Harry's head rang. At once, it all clicked.
Fifty years ago, Voldemort opened the Chamber of Secrets, loosed the Basilisk, and killed Myrtle. He also made this diary.
Fifty years later, the shard of him in the book had co back.
And tried again.
"So the 'Heir of Slytherin' was Voldemort all along?" Harry asked, breathless.
"Yes," Arthur said.
"What about the Basilisk?" Harry blurted, rembering the other culprit.
"In truth, Professor Dumbledore and I handled it a while ago," Arthur said. "We kept it quiet to see if Voldemort would try to use the Chamber again."
"How did a book reopen the Chamber?" Ron scratched his head.
"As far as I know," Arthur said, "the diary lured a student into trusting it and… used them. I don't know who."
"No way. Who'd be daft enough to believe a talking book? Mum says never trust a magical object that talks back," Ron said, trying to laugh.
"That daft person was ."
Ginny's voice ca from right behind him.
Ron spun around, stunned. "Ginny? You? Why?"
"The diary told it could make better." Her eyes flicked toward Harry, then dropped. "When I tried, it started threatening —then controlling . It made do horrible things. When the Basilisk beca public, it decided to lay low. I took the chance to chuck the diary… and you lot picked it up. I didn't an to…"
She burst into tears and fell into Harry's arms.
And that was that—the truth behind the "Heir of Slytherin" was finally out.
Watching Ginny sob on Harry's shoulder, Arthur exchanged a glance with Hermione, then each took one of Ron's elbows and steered him out.
Only after the portrait hole swung shut did Ron realize sothing was… off.
Shouldn't his little sister be confiding in her brother right now?
Why Harry?
"Is Harry trying to chat up my sister?" Ron demanded.
"Or," Arthur said mildly, "consider the possibility that Ginny is trying to chat up Harry. Why do you think she wanted to 'be better' in the first place? People chase excellence to get noticed."
Arthur clapped his shoulder and headed out to walk the grounds with Hermione, leaving Ron frozen in the corridor.
Which ant his best mate might one day be his brother-in-law?
Absolutely not. This was major. He needed to alert the family.
Ron bolted off to find the twins and draft a letter ho.
When Christmas hols ended, the noticeboard sported an extra-long announcent.
The Heir of Slytherin has been neutralized by the Headmaster. To avoid panic, Dumbledore would not be publishing the Heir's true na.
The Basilisk has also been dealt with. The school would mount it as a specin and display it in the Entrance Hall for a ti.
A Special Award for Services to the School would be conferred on Arthur. He didn't want the spotlight, but Dumbledore insisted the school should show gratitude. The wording was carefully vague: assisting the Headmaster with the Basilisk. (Whether "assisting" ant doing everything or doing nothing… that depended on who was reading.)
Lastly, the Chamber of Secrets. The school had located it—but would not reveal where. Instead, Hogwarts would hold a Chamber Hunt. Whoever found and entered first and retrieved a trophy placed by the Headmaster inside would be exempt from final exams and earn 100 points for their House.
Which, frankly, was open favoritism for Gryffindor—since the door required Parseltongue, and only Harry could open it.
(Unless you were Arthur and preferred to… force the issue.)
The news that Hogwarts' crisis was over sent the castle into jubilant chaos. Only one person failed to smile: Lucius Malfoy, who had just arrived with Dumbledore's suspension in hand—only to find the noticeboard undercutting him, and Arthur's na printed in black and white.
He recognized the young man's fiancée at a glance. And rembered Draco's letter about "a way to power." Perhaps… worth a try.
"Lucius. What brings you here?" Dumbledore materialized from nowhere.
"Oh? Is that a suspension for ?" he added, plucking the envelope from Lucius's hand before he could answer.
Dumbledore scanned it, then smiled. "It is! 'Dereliction of duty during a crisis.' Except the crisis is over. Seems your little docunt has… expired."
He handed it back. Lucius snatched it, face like carved marble. "Splendid. I only care for the school's best interests, of course."
"But of course," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "I only hope all the Board signatures were freely given. If not… well, their feelings would be the ones that matter."
Lucius went silent; he had, in fact, leaned rather hard on certain Governors. With a cold snort, he swept out of Hogwarts.
The Great Chamber Hunt swept the school. Exemptions from finals and a hundred House points were hard to pass up.
Only a few didn't join in: Arthur—who already knew the entrance—and Ranni, who couldn't be bothered.
As for Hermione, the clever witch zeroed in on the crucial clue fast: the opening condition. She guessed—boldly—that it was tied to Parseltongue.
She brought her theory to Arthur.
This ti Arthur didn't hedge. "You're right."
"Then why not tell Harry?" she asked, curious.
"Because Dumbledore is testing him," Arthur said. "You've noticed Harry's deduction skills are… rubbish. He suspects innocent people—but he always sounds convincing when he does. It's good for him to practice real unraveling. And either way, only Parseltongue opens the door. Those hundred points are already Gryffindor's."
Satisfied, Hermione turned to a project that had been itching in her mind since term began:
A spell to talk to animals.
Ever since seeing Arthur converse with beasts, she'd been envious. If Harry could speak to snakes by birthright, surely magic could bridge the gap for others?
She'd already brewed a gender-switching potion with Arthur's help. Clearly she had so research talent.
And if she hit a wall, she could always ask her cousin again.
One month later, she trudged to Arthur in defeat.
She'd consulted Rya, Professor McGonagall, Harry, even Loris.
Rya told her hers was an innate gift.
Professor McGonagall said that even as a cat Animagus, she couldn't understand cats.
Harry had no idea why he could speak Parseltongue.
As for Loris, when Hermione opened her heart completely, she could feel it and communicate of a sort—but that didn't help her generalize a thod.
So she ca to Arthur, eyes pleading.
He smoothed her hair and explained, "Strictly speaking, humans and animals can't truly converse. Different minds, different languages."
"Harry and Rya communicate because of innate talents. Each talent is different—Harry only with snakes; Rya with Loris and even Errol."
"And you?" Hermione asked.
"I'm a different case. I form a ntal link. Through that, I grasp their thoughts and project mine."
"That's the path for your spell: establish a link."
With a direction, Hermione brightened. "How?"
"Simple in concept. Draw out a thread of your ntal power, guide it to brush an animal's mind. If it doesn't resist, you've got the first foothold. Stabilizing two-way communication… that's your thesis."
After all, a non-resistant mind only let you sense simple feelings. How to send your intent back—Arthur had never needed to learn. His ntal power could naturally reach outward.
"Er… how do I draw out ntal power?" Hermione admitted she'd done nearly zero research in that field.
Arthur produced a scroll and handed it over. "I made a spell for that—curiosity got the better of . Use it as a base for your animal-speech magic."
Hermione stared at him, speechless. She'd spent a month gathering references and hadn't even ford a prototype—yet Arthur, offhandedly following her idea, had already invented a new spell.
So much for her being the genius. The real one was standing in front of her.
Still, she was used to Arthur being ridiculous. She took the scroll, leaned in, and pecked his cheek.
Arthur hardly reacted; sneak-attacks happened often enough.
"But listen," he added, suddenly serious. "Do not circulate what's on that scroll."
Hermione didn't know why, but she nodded solemnly.
Arthur's reason was simple: the contents were too foundational—more technique than spell. In the wrong hands, it could seed an entire branch of ntal magic.
Black Friday Sale is Stil live! Get a flat 20% off on all mberships and collections. Don't miss it!
Visit my patreon for more chapters
patreon/WhiteDevil7554
User Comments
0 comments from readers