"Deceitful behavior! Filthy conduct! A pathetic performance—everyone at Hogwarts is a bunch of complete frauds."
In the latest issue of the Daily Prophet, Rita Skeeter raged against Hogwarts for its dishonesty, claiming that their promise to destroy the Chamber of Secrets had amounted to nothing more than a few pathetic fireworks in the castle.
As for why she was so furious, lashing out in rare open outrage in print—nobody really knew.
What made it even more amusing was that Fred and George had hidden their fireworks earlier that afternoon. For the grand finale, they had saved the largest Fire-Drake firework for the southern tower.
It was the best vantage point in all of Hogwarts—perfect for setting off the final display.
And, as it happened, a certain beetle thought so too.
It had perched itself right on top of the box hiding the Fire-Drake firework.
So, when the thirty-foot-long fiery dragon exploded in the sky above Hogwarts, that little beetle was launched right along with it.
The next morning, someone claimed to have seen Rita Skeeter looking… quite disheveled.
First, her clothes looked off. At a glance, they seemed fine—but up close, it was obvious the fabric was torn and full of tiny burn holes. The color was uneven too, like a first-year had attempted a repair charm and given up halfway. Or perhaps the damage was just too great for the charm to fix.
Her face was smudged with soot, and her famously glamorous golden curls had been tied up in a hasty knot, ends still smoking faintly, the scent of singed hair lingering.
Still, the article didn't make much of a splash and was buried in a quiet corner on page three.
The front page, after all, belonged to the Ministry of Magic's Auror investigation: they had determined that Gilderoy Lockhart had been attacked in Hogsmeade, after leaving the Hog's Head pub.
"Probably some petty thief looking for a payday," said a villager. "That Lockhart fellow always reeked of Galleons. He should've gone to the Three Broomsticks."
Since the attack hadn't even happened on Hogwarts grounds, the Chamber story began to lose credibility.
… ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭•𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦•𝘯𝘦𝘵
Meanwhile, the Hogwarts term had resumed. Students were back from Christmas break—except for Draco Malfoy, who had ended up back in the hospital wing.
When he was brought in, there wasn't a trace of color left in his face. He looked utterly drained.
"I heard you wanted to see me?"
Harold stood over the sickbed, watching Malfoy's anxious expression. "Better speak up quickly. Your father should be arriving soon."
Lucius Malfoy was on his way—probably in the Headmaster's office throwing a fit right now.
"C-Can you… not tell the Headmaster?" Malfoy asked quietly, looking up at Harold.
"Which part, exactly?" Harold chuckled. "That you tried to have a basilisk kill me? Or that you were involved in attacking Lockhart?"
He picked up the box of Chocolate Frogs from Malfoy's bedside, casually unwrapped it and slipped the collectible card into his pocket.
"After all, Lockhart did remove all the bones in your arm. Wanting revenge is perfectly understandable… and since the attack happened in Hogsmeade while everyone else was at Hogwarts, you were the only one who could've done it."
"I didn't!" Malfoy suddenly shouted, his voice hoarse. "I was at St. Mungo's! How could I possibly go to Hogsmeade from there?"
"Then how do you explain the writing on his body?" Harold narrowed his eyes. "Only Tom Riddle knew about the Chamber. And you had his diary."
"But I really was in St. Mungo's!" Malfoy insisted. "All the Healers can vouch for me. I couldn't possibly sneak away!"
"You couldn't get to Hogsmeade," Harold said.
"Exactly." Malfoy nodded.
"So…" Harold's tone shifted. "Are you admitting you tried to have the basilisk kill me?"
"I—I…" Malfoy wilted under the pressure, unable to speak.
"You tried to have me killed, and now you want me to keep your secret?"
"No, I didn't! I only wanted to teach Weasley a lesson!" Malfoy said desperately. "He hit me with that slug spell and made me a laughingstock in Slytherin. Even if they didn't say it to my face, I know what they were saying behind my back."
"So your idea of a 'lesson' was letting a basilisk kill him?" Harold asked, eyes sharp.
"Of course not! I didn't mean to kill him." Malfoy rushed to explain. "I just wanted to scare him a little. Then Tom—that Riddle—said he had a way to do it. He told me to trust him."
"So you let the basilisk out?"
"I don't know." Malfoy looked uncertain. "It's like I fell asleep… and when I woke up, I was soaked. But I really don't know what happened."
"Harold," Malfoy looked up and took a deep breath. "If you keep this a secret… I can give you a lot of Galleons."
"Tempting offer," Harold said with a shrug. "Too bad you didn't make it earlier. Sorry—I already told the Headmaster everything. Half an hour ago, in fact."
He had never intended to hide what happened the night before. With how long Riddle had screamed, there was no way a single door could've muffled all that sound. Someone would've heard. If not a student, then a ghost or portrait would have alerted Dumbledore.
So early that morning, Harold had gone to Professor McGonagall and asked her to escort him to the Headmaster's office. There, he told Dumbledore everything about the diary and Riddle's fragment of soul.
Well—almost everything.
He had left out the part about the Horcrux Grimoire, instead claiming the diary crumbled to ash after the soul was removed.
Dumbledore hadn't doubted him. In fact, he seemed oddly… satisfied.
Harold still remembered his words:
"Remarkable. Tom Riddle may have been the most brilliant student I ever taught. Few others could master such powerful magic by their fifth year."
Then Lucius Malfoy arrived—and immediately tried to throw Harold out of the office.
Which suited Harold just fine. He didn't want to linger too long and risk Dumbledore seeing through him.
After all, the word "Horcrux" was still in the name of the Grimoire. If Dumbledore found out, he'd confiscate it in a heartbeat—and Harold wasn't giving it up.
That's also why he'd asked Harry to keep the secret.
When Harold told Malfoy all of this, the boy visibly went pale.
"I'm probably going to be expelled…" he whispered to himself, lying back on the bed in a daze.
Harold didn't respond—certainly didn't offer comfort. He turned and walked briskly out of the hospital wing.
Even if Malfoy had been controlled by Riddle and didn't actually command the basilisk to attack him—he had still spent weeks stirring up rumors and calling for Harold to be expelled.
Riddle didn't make him do that.
So truthfully, just dropping him in the hospital wing and not making things worse was already generous.
Let his father console him—if he can.
Though now Harold was wondering… had Dumbledore told Lucius who Tom Riddle really was? And what that diary had contained?
If so… Lucius Malfoy's expression must have been priceless.