Memory-Harry’s voice was steady.
“Fraudhart then had us both at wandpoint and began bragging about how he was going to claim he would write a new book about this, claim he was unable to save Ginny from the basilisk, but had rescued the two of us.
Then he attempted to cast the only charm upon us he was quite the expert at—the Obliviation charm.
“The trouble for him was Ron’s wand was broken and held together with Spellotape.
The Obliviation charm backfired on him and threw him across the cave.
However, the attempt also managed to bring down the roof of the cave on us.
“After Ron and I dived in opposite directions to avoid all the falling rocks, we ended up on different sides of the cave-in that now filled the cave at that point.
“Only I could go on, while Ron would work at clearing some of the rocks away enough for me to get out once I got Ginny.
Fraudhart was barely lucid and didn’t even remember his own name, so he was no help.
“And that brings us to the next important memory.
This one is going to have quite a number of shocks.
If you have a poor constitution I suggest you quickly, but quietly, leave right now.
Once I start the memory I have no intention of stopping, restarting or pausing it.
If you miss anything, too bad.
You should have been paying attention in the first place.
“Right.
Here we go.”
Memory-Harry faded.
The projection showed twelve-year-old Harry approaching the massive stone doors of the Chamber of Secrets.
He whispered to the carved serpents.
The doors ground open.
He stepped inside, wand raised, and moved deeper into the vast, echoing space until he saw Ginny Weasley lying unconscious at the base of the enormous statue of Salazar Slytherin.
He dropped his wand in his rush to reach her and tried desperately to wake her.
A tall, handsome boy with dark hair stepped out of the shadows and picked up the fallen wand.
Real Harry felt the ripple of shock move through the stands.
He lowered his book, stood up, and roared across the arena.
“Who’s magic am I getting the Goblet to strip?”
The noise died instantly.
He glared at the audience for several long seconds, then sat back down and reopened his novel.
On the giant screen, Tom Riddle introduced himself.
He was Tom Marvolo Riddle.
With a casual flick of Harry’s wand he rearranged the letters in the air: I am Lord Voldemort.
Gasps and cries of disbelief rose again.
Real Harry did not stand this time.
The silence that followed was heavier than before.
Riddle bragged about the diary leaching Ginny’s life force to give him form.
Harry defied him.
Riddle smiled coldly and called the basilisk.
The scream that went up from the stands was raw and terrified.
Real Harry surged to his feet again, wand in hand this time, and the sound cut off as if someone had slammed a door.
The memory played on.
Harry ran.
Fawkes the phoenix arrived in a burst of flame, the Sorting Hat clutched in his claws.
He dropped the Hat into Harry’s arms and then attacked the basilisk’s eyes, blinding the massive serpent with his talons and beak.
Harry plunged his hand into the Hat and drew out the Sword of Gryffindor.
The fight was brutal and desperate.
Harry killed the basilisk, but not before the creature’s fang sank deep into his arm.
The serpent thrashed in its death throes and finally lay still.
Fawkes returned.
His tears healed the wound even as Riddle tried to blast the phoenix with Harry’s own wand.
Harry yanked the broken basilisk fang from his arm and drove it repeatedly into the diary.
Tom Riddle’s near-corporeal form screamed and dissolved.
Ginny woke.
Together they made their way out of the Chamber.
When the memory ended, Memory-Harry reappeared.
“I told you it would be shocking.”
He gave the audience a moment, then continued.
“Before I give you the highlights you should know that wasn’t the last time that evening my life was in peril.
“After I helped Ginny out of the Chamber we returned to the cave-in.
Ron had managed to clear away enough rocks for the two of us to scramble through.
Once on the other side, Ron and his sister had a heartfelt reunion while I checked on Lockhart.
He was still out of it and seemed to only have memories up to when he was a small child.
He thought he was still a small child.
“Fawkes returned to us and, using his flame-travel powers, soon had the four of us back up in the girls’ bathroom on the second floor.
“Now, instead of taking us direct to the Infirmary, Fawkes took us back to Minerva McGonagall’s office.
Inside were McGonagall, Dumbledore and the Weasley parents.
“At this point the adults should have thought to themselves, ‘They could be injured.
We should see to their health first.’ But no.
We started to get questions barked at us about everything, as if their getting information was more important than our health.
“For those who don’t yet understand, that’s known as child neglect and is a crime.
At least, it’s a crime in the Muggle world.
“By now I’d become pretty inured to just how stupid the magical-raised could be.
They just… don’t… think.
“More and more questions were being asked—more like demands for information.
Even when they learned I’d been bitten by a basilisk and showed them the healing wound, not one of these so-called responsible adults immediately dragged me off to the Infirmary.
No.
Them getting immediate answers was clearly more important than my health.
“Well, fuck you very much.
“I’ve well learned my lesson from that.
Both my Headmaster and Head of House truly don’t give a shit about me.
“However, Dumbledore, at his supposed magnanimous best, did decide to give both Ron and me two hundred points apiece and special awards for services to the school.
Whoop-de-friggin’-do!
“From what I’ve read up on what past holders of the Order of Merlin achieved to get them, it wasn’t hard to figure out slaying a thousand-year-old basilisk to save a young pre-teen witch’s life ranked pretty high up in comparison.
But was one even considered?
Fuck no!”
He let the disappointment settle.
“As I mentioned earlier, that wasn’t the only threat to my life that day.
Nor was it my health being ignored by the adults who should have known better.
No, the next direct threat came that evening in the Deputy Headmistress’s office and then immediately outside in the corridor.
Watch.”
The memory showed Harry still in McGonagall’s office with Dumbledore when the door slammed open.
Lucius Malfoy strode in as though he owned the castle, Dobby trailing at his heels.
The exchange of veiled threats and pleasantries between Malfoy and Dumbledore was brief and icy.
Malfoy stormed out.
Harry snatched the diary back from Dumbledore’s desk, pulled off one shoe, stripped off the sock, stuffed the sock inside the diary, and shoved his bare foot back into the shoe.
Real Harry closed his novel with a soft snap.
The dragon at the far end of the arena shifted, wings rustling against its chains.
In the judges’ box Amelia Bones watched everything with sharp, unblinking eyes.
Memory-Harry’s voice returned, quiet but edged.
“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how the evening ended.
With a freed house-elf, a dead basilisk, a destroyed Horcrux, and the certain knowledge that the adults who were supposed to protect us had once again chosen information and politics over the safety of children.
“Shall we see what came next?”