Chapter 16: Dobby's Reward
For a moment there was silence as John, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Prue, Phoebe, Piper, and Lockhart stood in the doorway, covered in muck and slime and, in John's case, blood. Then there was a scream.
It was Mrs. Weasley, who had been sitting crying in front of the fire. She leapt to her feet, closely followed by Mr. Weasley, and both of them flung themselves on their daughter.
John however, was looking past them. 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 John's ear and settled on Dumbledore's shoulder, just as John found himself, Harry, and Ron being swept into Mrs. Weasley's tight embrace.
"You saved her! You saved her! How did you do it?"
"I think we'd all like to know that," said Professor McGonagall weakly.
Mrs. Weasley let go of John, who hesitated for a moment, then walked over to the desk and laid upon it the Sorting Hat, the ruby-encrusted sword, and what remained of Riddle's diary.
"That can't be all," Ron said to John, "What about 'it'?"
"No idea what you're talking about," John lied.
"It's okay, John," said Dumbledore, "You can tell us everything."
John saw the sincerity in Dumbledore's eyes and then saw that everyone was looking at him.
Reluctantly, he started telling them everything. For nearly a quarter of an hour he spoke into the rapt silence: He told them about he and Harry hearing the disembodied voice, how Hermione had finally realized that he was hearing a basilisk in the pipes; how he had followed the spiders into the forest, that Aragog had told them where the last victim of the basilisk had died; how he had guessed that Moaning Myrtle had been the victim, and that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets might be in her bathroom…
John had elected to leave out the part of the prophecy told to him by Aragog though, and Dumbledore noticed that.
"Very well," Professor McGonagall prompted him as he paused, "so you found out where the entrance was - breaking a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add - but how on earth did you all get out of there alive, Constantine?"
So John, his voice now growing hoarse from all this talking, told them about Fawkes's timely arrival and about the a hand throwing the sword to him from the pond in the cave, and the Halliwell sisters role. But then he faltered. He had so far avoided mentioning Riddle's diary - or Ginny. She was standing with her head against Mrs. Weasley's shoulder, and tears were still coursing silently down her cheeks. What if they expelled her? John thought with genuine worry. Riddle's diary didn't work anymore… How could they prove it had been he who'd made her do it all?
Instinctively, John looked at Dumbledore, who smiled faintly, the firelight glancing off his half-moon spectacles.
"What interests me most," said Dumbledore gently, "is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania."
"Not the fact that John is apparently the Heir of Gryffindor?" McGonagall asked.
"I had suspected it for some time," Dumbledore admitted, "but I figured it was a secret not for me to share."
Relief - warm, sweeping, glorious relief - swept over John. "W-what's that?" said Mr. Weasley in a stunned voice. "You-Know-Who? En-enchant Ginny? But Ginny's not… Ginny hasn't been… has she?"
"It was this diary," said John quickly, picking it up and showing it to Dumbledore. "Riddle wrote it when he was sixteen…"
Dumbledore took the diary from John and peered keenly down his long, crooked nose at its burnt and soggy pages.
"Brilliant," he said softly. "Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen." He turned around to the Weasleys, who were looking utterly bewildered.
"Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school… traveled far and wide… sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here."
"But, Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley. "What's our Ginny got to do with - with - him?"
"His d-diary" Ginny sobbed. "I've b-been writing in it, and he's been w-writing back all year-"
"Ginny!" said Mr. Weasley, flabbergasted. "Haven't I taught you anything. What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain? Why didn't you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was clearly full of Dark Magic!"
"She didn't know!" John shouted angrily, "Cut her some slack! I even tested it for dark magic, and all of my tests indicated there was none! For all I knew it was enchanted to record history!"
"Well," Arthur asked slowly and much kinder, "Can you tell us where you got it, Ginny?"
"I found it inside one of the books Mum got me," Ginny sobbed, "I th-thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it-"
"Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away," Dumbledore interrupted in a firm voice. "This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort."
He strode over to the door and opened it.
"Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate," Dumbledore continued, "I always find that cheers me up," he added, twinkling kindly down at her. "You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She's just giving out Mandrake juice - I daresay the basilisk's victims will be waking up any moment."
"So Hermione's okay!" said Ron brightly.
"There has been no lasting harm done, Ginny," said Dumbledore.
Mrs. Weasley led Ginny out, and Mr. Weasley followed, still looking deeply shaken.
"You know, Minerva," Professor Dumbledore said thoughtfully to Professor McGonagall, "I think all this merits a good feast. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens?"
"Right," said Professor McGonagall crisply, also moving to the door. "I'll leave you to deal with Potter, Weasley, Constantine, and the Halliwells shall I?"
"Certainly," said Dumbledore.
She left, and the group gazed uncertainly at Dumbledore. What exactly had Professor McGonagall meant, deal with them? Surely - surely - they weren't about to be punished?
"You will receive Special Awards for Services to the School and - let me see - yes, I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff respectively," Dumbledore smiled at them.
Ron went as brightly pink as Lockhart's valentine flowers and dropped his jaw.
"But one of us seems to be keeping mightily quiet about his part in this dangerous adventure," Dumbledore added. "Why so modest, Gilderoy?"
John gave a start. He had completely forgotten about Lockhart. He turned and saw that Lockhart was standing in a corner of the room, still wearing his vague smile. When Dumbledore addressed him, Lockhart looked over his shoulder to see who he was talking to.
"Professor Dumbledore," Ron said quickly, "there was an accident down in the Chamber of Secrets. Professor Lockhart-"
"Am I a professor?" said Lockhart in mild surprise. "Goodness. I expect I was hopeless, was I?"
"He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired," Ron explained quietly to Dumbledore.
"Dear me," said Dumbledore, shaking his head, his long silver mustache quivering. "Impaled upon your own sword, Gilderoy!"
"Sword?" said Lockhart dimly. "Haven't got a sword. That boy has, though." He pointed at John. "He'll lend you one."
"Would you mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the infirmary, too?" Dumbledore said to Ron.
"I'd like a few more words with Harry and John…"
Lockhart ambled out. Ron and the Halliwells cast a curious look back at Dumbledore, John, and Harry as he closed the door.
Dumbledore crossed to one of the chairs by the fire.
"Sit down, you two," he said, and both Harry and John sat, feeling unaccountably nervous.
"First of all, John, I want to thank you," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling again. "You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you."
"Does he or she have a sense of the future, or something?" John asked curious, "Fawkes appeared just in time to give me his healing tears."
"No," Dumbledore said, "but he does have a great sense of those in need. I once had a half-brother. For most of his life he was called Credence, and he was an obscurial till an old friend intervened. Fawkes was there for Credence when I wasn't, but should've been."
"Credence?!" Harry exclaimed.
"You act as if you've met him," Dumbledore said confused, "but that's impossible. He died at a young age."
"I had a dream of him," Harry explained, "back after the rogue bludger incident and I had to sleep the night in the Hospital wing."
"Interesting," Dumbledore said quietly.
"And so you met Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore to change the subject. "I imagine he was most interested in you…"
"It was actually Potter he was interested in meeting," John said, "still wanted me dead though."
"Professor," Harry said after a moment. "The Sorting Hat told me I'd - I'd have done well in Slytherin. Everyone thought I was Slytherin's heir for a while… because I can speak Parseltongue…"
"You can speak Parseltongue, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly, "because Lord Voldemort - who is the last remaining ancestor of Salazar Slytherin - can speak Parseltongue. Unless I'm much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I'm sure…"
"What about him though?" Harry asked with a gesture towards John.
"Basilisks are a sort of subspecies of dragons," Dumbledore explained, "or more accurately, they're a subspecies of Wyverns. Wyverns happen to be a subspecies of dragons."
"So," John said slowly, "since I could turn into a humanoid dragon-man I can speak their language?"
"Not really sure," Dumbledore said, "after all, for the most part. The theory that Godric Gryffindor could transform into a dragon hadn't been proven till you."
"Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?" Harry blurted. He had been silent because he was doing his best to understand Dumbledore. Unfortunately, he stayed confused.
"It certainly seems so."
"So I should be in Slytherin," Harry said, looking desperately into Dumbledore's face. "The Sorting Hat could see Slytherin's power in me, and it-"
"Of course not, you dunce," John said rolling his eyes, "I'm apparently the Heir of Gryffindor and yet I fit better in either Slytherin or Ravenclaw. It sees your personality traits. You are not a good fit for Slytherin. You're just too good, and you desire to do good. Most importantly, you didn't want to be in Slytherin. You didn't want to go bad."
"Exactly," said Dumbledore calmly. "Listen to me, Harry. You happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his hand-picked students. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue - resourcefulness - determination - a certain disregard for rules," he added, his mustache quivering again. "Yet the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor. You know why that was. Think."
"It only put me in Gryffindor," said Harry in a defeated voice, "because I asked not to go in Slytherin…"
"There you go," said Dumbledore, beaming once more. "Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." Harry sat motionless in his chair, stunned. "If you want proof, Harry, that you belong in Gryffindor, I suggest you think on your past successes and your dislike for Malfoy. He's the poster boy for Slytherin."
For a minute, neither of them spoke. Then Dumbledore pulled open one of the drawers in Professor McGonagall's desk and took out a quill and a bottle of ink.
"What you need, Harry, is some food and sleep. I suggest you go down to the feast, while I write to Azkaban - we need our gamekeeper back. And I must draft an advertisement for the Daily Prophet, too," he added Thoughtfully. "We'll be needing a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher… Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don't we?"
Harry and John got up, but before they could move Dumbledore spoke.
"John," Dumbledore said, "I'd like to speak with you a moment more, if you don't mind."
With a shrug, John sat back down while Harry crossed to the door. He had just reached for the handle, however, when the door burst open so violently that it bounced back off the wall.
Lucius Malfoy stood there, fury in his face. And cowering behind his legs, heavily wrapped in bandages, was Dobby.
"Good evening, Lucius," said Dumbledore pleasantly.
Mr. Malfoy almost knocked Harry over as he swept into the room. Dobby went scurrying in after him, crouching at the hem of his cloak, a look of abject terror on his face.
The elf was carrying a stained rag with which he was attempting to finish cleaning Mr. Malfoy's shoes. Apparently Mr. Malfoy had set out in a great hurry, for not only were his shoes half-polished, but his usually sleek hair was disheveled. Ignoring the elf bobbing apologetically around his ankles, he fixed his cold eyes upon Dumbledore.
"So!" he said "You've come back. The governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts."
"Well, you see, Lucius," said Dumbledore, 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 Weasleys 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 tales they told me, too… Several of them seemed to think that you had threatened to curse their families if they didn't agree to suspend me in the first place."
Mr. Malfoy went even paler than usual, but his eyes were still slits of fury.
"So - have you stopped the attacks yet?" he sneered. "Have you caught the culprit?"
"We have," said Dumbledore, with a smile.
"Well?" said Mr. Malfoy sharply. "Who is it?"
"The same person as last time, Lucius," said Dumbledore. "But this time, Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else. By means of this diary."
He held up the small black book with the large hole through the center, watching Mr. Malfoy closely. Harry, however, was watching Dobby.
The elf was doing something very odd. His great eyes fixed meaningfully on Harry, he kept pointing at the diary, then at Mr. Malfoy, and then hitting himself hard on the head with his fist. John also saw that and forced himself from grabbing the sword of Gryffindor and beheading Lucius on the spot. Unlike Harry, he understood immediately what Dobby was trying to tell them.
"I see..." said Mr. Malfoy slowly to Dumbledore.
"A clever plan," said Dumbledore in a level voice, still staring Mr. Malfoy straight in the eye. "Because if Harry here -" Mr. Malfoy shot Harry a swift, sharp look "and his friend Ron hadn't discovered this book, why - Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn't acted of her own free will…"
Mr. Malfoy said nothing. His face was suddenly masklike.
"And imagine," Dumbledore went on, "what might have happened then… The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pure-blood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and - killing Muggle-borns… Very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Riddle's memories wiped from it. Who knows what the consequences might have been otherwise…"
Mr. Malfoy forced himself to speak.
"Very fortunate," he said stiffly.
And still, behind his back, Dobby was pointing, first to the diary, then to Lucius Malfoy, then punching himself in the head.
And Harry suddenly understood. He nodded at Dobby, and Dobby backed into a corner, now twisting his ears in punishment.
"Don't you want to know how Ginny got hold of that diary, Mr. Malfoy?" said Harry.
Lucius Malfoy rounded on him.
"How should I know how the stupid little girl got hold of it?" he said.
"Because you gave it to her," said Harry. "In Flourish and Blotts. You picked up her old Transfiguration book and slipped the diary inside it, didn't you?"
He saw Mr. Malfoy's white hands clench and unclench.
"Prove it," he hissed.
"Oh, no one will be able to do that," said Dumbledore, smiling at Harry. "Not now that Riddle has vanished from the book. On the other hand, I would advise you, Lucius, not to go giving out any more of Lord Voldemort's old school things. If any more of them find their way into innocent hands, I think Arthur Weasley, for one, will make sure they are traced back to you…"
Lucius Malfoy stood for a moment, and Harry distinctly saw his right hand twitch as though he was longing to reach for his wand. Instead, he turned to his house-elf. "We're going, Dobby!"
He wrenched open the door and as the elf came hurrying up to him, he kicked him right through it. They could hear Dobby squealing with pain all the way along the corridor. Harry stood for a moment, thinking hard. Then it came to him-
"Professor Dumbledore," he said hurriedly. "Can I give that diary back to Mr. Malfoy, please?"
"Certainly, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly. "But hurry. The feast, remember…"
Harry grabbed the diary and dashed out of the office. He could hear Dobby's squeals of pain receding around the corner. Quickly, wondering if this plan could possibly work, Harry took off one of his shoes, pulled off his slimy, filthy sock, and stuffed the diary into it. Then he ran down the dark corridor.
John immediately stood up and headed for the door.
"John," Dumbledore asked, "You forgetting something?"
"Come again?" John asked.
"You are the Heir of Gryffindor," Dumbledore explained, "and so, the sword is your birthright."
"I don't believe I'm worthy of that," John said as he eyed the blade.
"I asked you once why a wizard would need a sword," Dumbledore said, "can you think of any reason?"
"I…" John trailed off his mind unable to think of one.
"Pick up the sword," Dumbledore said.
"Last time I did that," John said as he hesitantly walked towards the sword, "I changed into a dragon-man."
"I believe that you'll be able to do that at will from now on," Dumbledore said, "pick it up."
John raised his hand towards the sword, but hesitated. However, at a glance at Dumbledore he grabbed the sword. Nothing happened.
"Okay," John said a little annoyed, "I picked it up. What was supposed to happen? Me look like a sword wielding murderer?"
"Hmm," Dumbledore frowned.
Suddenly, the sword glowed and a shrunk. John widened his eyes as, when the glow ceased, it had transformed into a fancy wand. A wand that looked like it belonged to a nobleman.
"Thought so," Dumbledore said.
"I don't… how… but," John said utterly baffled.
"A wizard doesn't need a sword," Dumbledore calmly explained, "Rather, their wands are their swords. In this case, literally."
"I thought the sword was given to King Arthur from a lake?" John asked with a raised eyebrow.
"It was," Dumbledore nodded, "but that doesn't mean it's not a sword and a wand."
"I don't understand," John said still confused.
"Neither do I," Dumbledore admitted, "then again, I don't know where the concept for a gun-sword came from. Yet, those still exist."
John blinked twice at dumbledore.
"I go out," Dumbledore said, "I don't stay in the wizarding world only. Most of the time, yes, but not all of the time. A pupil of mine had a muggle friend that was accidentally introduced into the wizarding world."
"What was his name?" John asked.
"Newt Scamander," dumbledore replied, "and I admired him a lot. He always acted on what he believed to be right, which it usually was."
"Right," John said as he pocketed his new wand, "Well, I'm going to make my uncle pay for all he's done."
"Don't do anything stupid, John," Dumbledore called as John headed towards the door.
He caught up with them at the top of the stairs.
"Mr. Malfoy," he gasped, skidding to a halt, "I've got something for you-"
And he forced the smelly sock into Lucius Malfoy's hand.
Mr. Malfoy ripped the sock off the diary, threw it aside, then looked furiously from the ruined book to Harry. "You'll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry Potter," he said softly. "They were meddlesome fools, too."
He turned to go.
"Come, Dobby. I said, come."
But Dobby didn't move. He was holding up Harry's disgusting, slimy sock, and looking at it as though it were a priceless treasure.
"Master has given a sock," said the elf in wonderment. "Master gave it to Dobby."
"What's that?" spat Mr. Malfoy. "What did you say?"
"Got a sock," said Dobby in disbelief. "Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby - Dobby is free."
Lucius Malfoy stood frozen, staring at the elf then he lunged at Harry.
"You've lost me my servant, boy!"
But Dobby shouted, "You shall not harm Harry Potter!"
Suddenly, he was stuck by a golden blast of energy. The blast sent him flying down the hallway. Harry and Dobby turned to see John standing there with a fancy wand in his hand.
"I've always wanted to do that," John said with genuine glee.
"What did you just do?" Harry asked amazed, "What kind of spell was that?"
"I dunno," John shrugged, "I just flicked my new wand when I saw him about to attack you."
Any chance for more conversation was stopped as they saw Lucius get back up and pull his wand out of his snake headed cane.
"Avada-" began Lucius but with a snap of Dobby's fingers his wand was knocked out of his hand.
"You shall go now," he said fiercely, pointing down at Mr. Malfoy. "You shall not touch Harry Potter. You shall go now."
Lucius Malfoy had no choice. With a last, incensed stare at the pair of them, he swung his cloak around him before he picked up his wand and hurried out of sight.
"Harry Potter freed Dobby!" said the elf shrilly, gazing up at Harry, moonlight from the nearest window reflected in his orb-like eyes. "Harry Potter set Dobby free!"
"Least I could do, Dobby," said Harry, grinning. "Just promise never to try and save my life again."
The elf's ugly brown face split suddenly into a wide, toothy smile.
"I've just got one question, Dobby," said Harry as Dobby pulled on Harry's sock with shaking hands. "You told me all this had nothing to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, remember? Well-"
"It was a clue, sir," said Dobby, his eyes widening, as though this was obvious. "Was giving you a clue. The Dark Lord, before he changed his name, could be freely named, you see?"
"Makes sense to me," John shrugged as he flipped his new wand in the air.
"Right," said Harry weakly. "Well, I'd better go. There's a feast, and my friend Hermione should be awake by now…"
Dobby threw his arms around Harry's middle and hugged him.
"Harry Potter is greater by far than Dobby knew!" he sobbed. "Farewell, Harry Potter!"
"Farewell, John constantine," Dobby added, "John constantine always treated Dobby like an equal as John Constantine was rude to everyone. Dobby can see that John Constantine has changed for the better. Dobby likes that."
And with a final loud crack, Dobby disappeared.
Harry and John had been to several Hogwarts feasts, but never one quite like this. Everybody was in their pajamas, and the celebration lasted all night. Harry didn't know whether the best bit was Hermione running toward him, screaming "You solved it! You solved it!" or Justin hurrying over from the Hufflepuff table to wring his hand and apologize endlessly for suspecting him, or Hagrid turning up at half past three, cuffing Harry and Ron so hard on the shoulders that they were knocked into their plates of trifle, or his and Ron's four hundred points for Gryffindor securing the House Cup for the second year running, or Professor McGonagall standing up to tell them all that the exams had been canceled as a school treat ("Oh, no!" said Hermione), or Dumbledore announcing that, unfortunately, Professor Lockhart would be unable to return next year, owing to the fact that he needed to go away and get his memory back. Quite a few of the teachers joined in the cheering that greeted this news.
"Shame," said Ron, helping himself to a jam doughnut. "He has starting to grow on me."
"That makes one of us," John snorted as he had elected to sit at the Gryffindor table. He had changed into his Hogwarts robes, so he wouldn't have to bother hearing questions about what happened to his clothes.
The rest of the final term passed in a haze of blazing sunshine. Hogwarts was back to normal with only a few, small differences - Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were canceled ("but we've had plenty of practice at that anyway," Ron told a disgruntled Hermione) and Lucius Malfoy had been sacked as a school governor. Draco was no longer strutting around the school as though he owned the place. On the contrary, he looked resentful and sulky. On the other hand, Ginny Weasley was perfectly happy again.
Too soon, it was time for the journey home on the Hogwarts Express. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny got a compartment to themselves. They made the most of the last few hours in which they were allowed to do magic before the holidays. They played Exploding Snap, set off the very last of Fred and George's Filibuster fireworks, and practiced disarming each other by magic. Harry was getting very good at it.
They were almost at King's Cross when Harry remembered something.
"Ginny - what did you see Percy doing, that he didn't want you to tell anyone?"
"Oh, that," said Ginny, giggling. "Well - Percy's got a girlfriend."
Fred dropped a stack of books on George's head.
"It's that Ravenclaw prefect, Penelope Clearwater," said Ginny. "That's who he was writing to all last summer. He's been meeting her all over the school in secret. I walked in on them kissing in an empty classroom one day. You won't tease him, will you?" she added anxiously.
"Wouldn't dream of it," said Fred, who was looking like his birthday had come early.
"Definitely not," said George, sniggering.
The Hogwarts Express slowed and finally stopped.
Harry pulled out his quill and a bit of parchment and turned to Ron and Hermione.
"This is called a telephone number," he told Ron, scribbling it twice, tearing the parchment in two, and handing it to them. "I told your dad how to use a telephone last summer - he'll know. Call me at the Dursleys', okay? I can't stand another two months with only Dudley to talk to…"
Harry attempted to give one to John as well, but John declined. John was now in his usual clothes minus his raincoat. Harry guess that even if John had accepted the number, he wouldn't have called anyway.
"Your aunt and uncle will be proud, though, won't they?" said Hermione as they got off the train and joined the crowd thronging toward the enchanted barrier. "When they hear what you did this year?"
"Right," John snorted, "They hate magic, so what makes you think they'll be proud of Potter?"
"John was the hero this year," Harry said to the other three. Ron was walking with them. "I didn't do much at all."
"You going to stay with us again, John?" Ron asked with a hopeful tone.
"You know what?" John said, "Why not. It was interesting last summer. I wonder if it'll be as interesting this summer or not. Besides, I don't have anywhere else to stay… yet. Not exactly looking forward to seeing my dad or living on the streets again."
"Plus," John said as he patted his pocket, "I have got to familiarize myself with my new wand."
"How is a wand both a sword and a wand?" Ron asked, "i still don't get it."
"It's magic," John shrugged, "and magic isn't meant to be understood. At least, not all of it."
And together they walked back through the gateway to the Muggle world.
Looks like this' story's finale is here sooner than i thought. Stay tuned for book 3. It'll be called Hellblazer and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I'll see you guys then. May start soon, and it may not. I know, I didn't do the full story that involving John's visions. However, they'll return in the next story. As to how many he'll have? I have yet to decide. I'm unsure if I'll do any exorcism scenes in the next one, but if I do i'll have to find a way to make it different from this story's exorcism scene. As always, if you have any questions please ask them.