Chapter 38: Maria Potter and the Chamber of Secrets 【End】

When I finally woke, the very first thought that crossed my mind was—I’m alive.

I felt a familiar warmth holding my hand; the owner of that hand seemed to be fast asleep, head resting face-down on the edge of my bed. That simple contact alone was enough to make the reality of being alive sink in.

I felt his messy black hair, thinking it seemed a bit stiff. Filled with relief, I tried to lift my arm to stroke his head—only for a white-hot flash of agony to bolt through my entire body. I recoiled, which only made the pain worse. Especially in my stomach. A vicious cycle.

"…Maria?"

My twin bolted upright just as suddenly. As I lay there, unable to even squeeze out a sound from the pain, he frantically summoned Madam Pomfrey. I could do nothing but wait like a prisoner on the scaffold as she approached, clutching a potion that looked like it would taste "delightful" in the worst way possible.

It was likely a Pain-Relief Potion… I knew that, but the taste alone was a form of torture.

I managed to drain the glass (Madam Pomfrey refused to budge until every drop was gone) and propped myself up. I opened my arms to the boy who looked like he was about to burst into tears again.

"Harry."

"Maria."

"…Come here."

Harry’s hands were hesitant, trembling with fear. So, I gathered every ounce of strength I had and pulled him into a firm embrace.

"Maria… Maria…"

"Yes. It’s your Maria. I’m sorry I worried you, Harry."

"I’ve never—never been so scared in my life. You were... you were covered in red... covered in blood... there was a hole in your stomach... it was like a pool of it..."

"I know."

"You didn’t… you didn’t look alive."

"But I am. A ghost wouldn't feel this warm, would they?"

"No… no!"

I held his small, shaking frame and stroked his back. The fact that my arms were heavy or my body felt sluggish didn't matter; seeing Harry’s heart so utterly shattered was far harder to endure.

I never intended to die—but it was a fact that I had come dangerously close.

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Harry."

"Don’t be reckless anymore. Don’t leave me alone. We’ve only got each other."

"…Right."

I am truly sorry. Because I probably won’t be able to keep that promise in the future, either.

And you likely won't forgive me for that lie.

"Hey, Harry? How long was I out?"

"Today is the eighth day."

"Wow. A new record for oversleeping."

To think my first meal in eight days was that vomit-flavored excuse for a potion.

While still holding him, I listened to Harry recount everything that had happened during my coma. How Draco had woken up the moment the Diary was pierced by the Sword. How it was Draco’s magic that carried my body out. How Dumbledore and Hagrid had safely returned, and how Harry had handled all the explanations to Dumbledore. (To think he understood everything just by overhearing my conversation with Riddle—my brother really is amazing.) He told me about Parseltongue being Voldemort’s power, and how we were to be awarded Special Awards for Services to the School. And that the Mandrake Restorative Draught would be ready by tomorrow.

"They said… Maria’s scar will remain. The venom is gone, but… the Basilisk venom spread too far. The skin… it's like it melted. They say it's become something like a curse…"

"Another curse? We really have a knack for those, don't we? Spoken like true wizards."

"It’s not a laughing matter!"

When I tried to joke while rubbing my stomach, he snapped at me crossly.

Based on the location, it was right where the burn scar from that "unfortunate collision" with Aunt Petunia used to be. I suppose the Basilisk venom just overwrote it. …That’s a bit of a shame.

"Everyone wanted to come visit. From every House! You’re popular, Maria."

"Not as popular as you, surely?"

"I’m not popular, I’m famous. There’s a difference."

He had a point. I nodded instinctively, which made things a little awkward.

"…Um, about Draco."

"Yeah?"

"I told you he woke up right after Riddle vanished, right? He saw you lying there in that pool of blood and—he really—I mean—"

"Did he lose it?"

"…………"

Harry shook his head vaguely, as if that wasn't quite the right description. It wasn't just being distraught. It was something… more.

"…Sorry, it’s not my place to say. I’ll just let Draco know you’re awake."

"Yeah, thanks."

I patted Harry’s head as he decided to keep his uncertainties to himself. I’d left my Communication Parchment back in the dormitory anyway. Harry, who lacked my brand of recklessness, was far more earnest and reliable than I was.

"Maria, remember. You are… a very important person."

"…Thank you."

Harry held my hand until Ron came to fetch him for dinner, as if constantly checking to make sure I was still breathing. Even Madam Pomfrey, who usually forbade long visits, couldn't bring herself to kick him out.

The next day, while I was deep in sleep, the Petrified students were successfully revived. Even those who weren't students, or weren't technically "alive," were restored. (Can you "revive" a ghost?)

Since I was in the Hospital Wing, I was quickly surrounded by people offering their thanks. Penelope Clearwater, the Prefect, awarded me fifteen House points. Ginny sobbed uncontrollably. Hermione, following suit, pinched my cheeks while crying. Mrs. Norris gave my wrist an affectionate nip, and Nearly Headless Nick gave me a deep, sweeping bow. His head tilted so far I could see the cross-section of his neck—I really wished he wouldn't. Colin reached for his camera but looked dejected when he remembered it had been melted by the Basilisk. For us, the fact that the data from those unauthorized photos was gone forever was a blessing.

"So, let's hear the real story then, shall we? You 'Sneaky Twins.' There’s two of you, so you never miss a trick."

"Didn't Harry tell you already?"

"I need to hear it from you too. Besides, Hermione was involved, she deserves to know what happened, right? Best friend?"

As soon as the previously Petrified students left the wing, Ron—who had pushed past Madam Pomfrey to see Hermione—insisted on hearing the tale. Harry stayed by my side like a sentry as we walked Hermione through the climax. She gasped and teared up throughout the story.

"So the Monster of Salazar Slytherin is truly defeated? Oh, Harry, you were so brave. And Maria… to duel the past version of 'You-Know-Who'! You can barely wave a wand properly normally! It was reckless—but I respect that you fought to live. Even if I really, really want to scold you right now."

"Maria, want me to guess what you’re thinking? —God, I hope Hermione’s lecture isn't a long one."

"Oh, if you'd like, Ron Weasley, I can lecture you all day long."

I nudged Ron with my elbow for his big mouth. Even so, Ron, who had been without Hermione for so long, couldn't hide his joy at their bickering. It was a heartwarming sight.

"Still… to think all this happened. Merlin’s beard."

"Merlin? What does the great wizard Merlin have to do with anything?"

"Wait, you guys don't say that? When you're surprised? 'Merlin’s beard!' or 'Merlin’s pants!'"

"What’s wrong with Merlin’s pants?"

As I laughed at Ron trying to explain wizarding idioms to two Muggle-borns, I noticed a pair of mischievous blue eyes twinkling at us.

"Professor Dumbledore."

Dumbledore, who had been smiling like a grandfather watching his grandchildren play, stroked his beard as the children spun around in surprise.

"Personally, I think 'Dumbledore’s beard' has quite a nice ring to it. Or perhaps 'Dumbledore’s nose'? This magnificently broken nose of mine deserves some appreciation."

He hadn't changed a bit. Honestly, how long had he been standing there?

"Is there something you need, Professor Dumbledore?"

"Maria won't even laugh at an old man’s jokes… how lonely."

"Professor."

After feigning a sob, his gentle eyes swept over the children's faces.

"Maria, you have a visitor. Would the rest of you mind giving us a moment? Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger… Harry."

The three of them blinked in surprise. Especially Harry. He had barely left Maria’s side.

"Can’t I stay, sir?"

"Harry."

Dumbledore’s eyes, twinkling like stars yet quiet and firm, urged him to be sensible.

"It’s okay, Harry. I’m starting to crave solid food anyway. I’d be really happy if you could bring me a sandwich or something."

"But, Maria…"

"Is there anyone in the wizarding world who would dare cause trouble right in front of Dumbledore?"

"…Maybe not."

I beckoned a sulking Harry over and dropped a kiss on his forehead. It’s okay. I won’t die the moment you look away. …He really was traumatized, though. He’d become protectively clingy.

"Fine. Then, take this."

Harry pressed a folded piece of parchment into my hand. It was the Communication Parchment.

"…Harry?"

"I’m keeping an eye on you, you know."

He looked triumphant. That smug grin—he looked exactly like me.

Dumbledore and I watched the trio leave. I looked up at the man who never stopped smiling.

"Professor, please."

"Quite. If I keep you much longer, I shall earn Madam Pomfrey’s eternal wrath. Allow me to introduce him—Mr. Lucius Malfoy. He wishes to thank you regarding young Draco, whom you saved."

The door to the Hospital Wing opened again, and a man with the frozen, silver-blonde beauty of a winter morning entered.

He looked just like Draco. Especially that gaze—the way he cut off his heart when looking at an enemy. And the slight tremor in his composure when forced to make a choice. Draco had certainly inherited that from him.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Malfoy."

"…Miss Potter," Lucius replied curtly, taking the seat Harry had just vacated. He looked entirely out of place in a hospital ward.

"Well then, I shall take my leave," Dumbledore announced.

"Wait—Professor, you aren't staying?"

"It seems Lucius wishes to have a private word with you."

Wink. A spark flew from those starry eyes.

Dumbledore vanished behind the door, leaving an awkward silence between the two of us now that our mediator was gone.

"…First, I shall offer my thanks. For saving my son… you have my deepest gratitude."

Lucius spoke with a cold arrogance. He reminded me so much of the Draco from before—the one I used to fight with and call 'Malfoy'—that I was almost moved. Like father, like son.

"It’s fine. I never intended for him to get caught up in this. …Do you know who was behind this, this time?"

"…………"

Lucius fell silent. A flicker of agitation crossed his shallow eyes. So, this was the heart of the matter.

"Why did you become a Death Eater?"

Lucius snapped his head up so fast his long hair danced.

"Why…?"

"—To protect your family, wasn't it?"

I continued without waiting for him to answer his own question.

"Even if people whispered behind your back, even if you were accused of playing both sides, you chose with a classic Slytherin cunning. You chose the path that would best protect your family. You always stayed in the shadow of the winning side."

The slander must have been constant. Even from his own "allies." To them, he must have looked like a cowardly turncoat who always kept an exit strategy ready. Even though he was such a brave and loving man.

"But look at the reality. Your son was put in danger—he was nearly killed. He was faced with death. By your Master."

Your judgment, your failure—that is what cornered Draco that day.

"Your Master—Voldemort—will not protect your family. He will not cherish the things you hold dear. He does not know love."

I took Lucius’s hand. I placed mine over the mark hidden beneath his elegant sleeve.

"Is this worth carving into your skin, even if it means throwing away what you want to protect? Who is it that you really want to save?"

Lucius didn't answer.

He, too, was just a normal human being—agonizing, regretting, suffering, and struggling through mistakes for the sake of one thing. He was simply a father and a husband.

"Please, fight for what you truly want to protect."

Lucius didn't give me a single word in response—but the wavering in his grey eyes had vanished.