Herbie and Gary were discovered by one of the search parties, sent to explore the burning trees; Gary was carried back, but Herbie insisted on returning under his own steam. Watching a ministry auror limp under Merlin's Gate, was a sobering sight for the enthusiastic crowd. Gary was taken to the hospital wing and kept under observation; while Herbie — accompanied by Professors Wanda Jepson and Leonard Wakenshaw — drew up a chair in Headmaster Dippet's study.

Due to uncertainty about the vampire's fate and Herbie's foggy recollection, the headmaster asked if he might review the auror's memory? Herbie agreed, presuming there was nothing to hide, but he remembered little of the event. In truth, he was dreading inspection by the headmaster. To the outside world, Herbie was a success; in reality he made mistakes often, but was better than most at covering them up. Three-quarters of his reputation was built on carefully managed bluff; however, the auror was far too tired to complain. Let them find out that I blew it.

Dippet extracted the memory, added it to his pewter pensieve and invited the other teachers to join him. Herbie watched and reflected on how well his visit had gone up to this point. They were probably witnessing the vampire ravaging a school child, while he lay nearby like an ornament. Herbie silently sighed and prepared to face the music.

Satisfied they'd experienced the true version of events, the sombre teaching staff turned to Herbie. Then broke into smiles and head shakes of disbelief; Dippet's eyes were bulging baubles of delight.

'Congratulations, sir. Truly remarkable!' Dippet looked to the others for confirmation and they echoed his sentiments.

'We're all greatly indebted to you, greatly indebted.' Herbie's hand was energetically pumped by each of the three, while his blank expression gave way to the more familiar, really-it-was-nothing smile. The one he kept standing by, in case events accidentally fell into place.

Herbie Peniakoff left the following Saturday in a blaze of triumphant glory. Hufflepuff made a banner and hung it over the main entrance. Ravenclaw composed a celebration song and assembled a ragtag choir to perform it. Slytherin bought and engraved a commemorative cup and Gryffindor presented a photograph of the school and pupils: waving, blowing kisses and cheering. All were dedicated to Hogwarts' Lord Protector and signed by the head boy and girl.

Herbie paused and thanked the crowd following him to Merlin's Gate. He felt completely at ease and his heart swelled with pride: both deeply-unfamiliar sensations. Somewhere in the dimmest corner of his mind, lurked a crumb of doubt. That at any moment he would wake from this blissful dream and discover that actually; he had blown it after all.

Gary recovered within a day and his classmates were happy to see him back in lessons. Even Dippet tried to overcome his distaste for Gary. Tried, but failed.

During the final weeks of March, just before the term ended, spring finally arrived. On the morning of their introductory lesson to care of magical creatures, a tent of blue sky greeted the first form and the scent of budding flowers drifted across the school lawns. Care of magical creatures was offered as an O.W.L. option for third formers at Hogwarts, but it was traditional to hold introductory lessons in earlier years. It prevented options being snap decisions, when the time came to choose, but they were also an opportunity to step outside after a long winter. Popular with staff and students alike, these lessons also signalled the winding-down process as the holidays approached.

Silvanus Kettleburn, was Hogwarts' resident care of magical creatures professor, but despite Tom's attempt to question older pupils about him, they just laughed.

'You'll find out,' 'I hope you've notified your next of kin,' or as Gary was promised: 'No, no, I'm sure you'll be fine.'

The first form waited nervously in front of the Firebolt Gate; high cloudlets were strewn above and the memory of winter was already beginning to fade.

Headmaster Dippet left the main teaching block, accompanied by Professor Kettleburn. Hands clasped behind his back, he was listening politely to Kettleburn's rambling, but his thoughts were firmly elsewhere. Vivian — standing behind Gary — whispered in his ear.

'Kettleburn's on probation for a fifth time. Seems a second form girl was bitten by a manticore, which he encouraged her to pet.'

Professor Kettleburn had a mechanical right foot from the mid-shin down and gripped his scrolls with a stump where his left hand used to be. He addressed the group.

'Welcome, all of you on this beautiful morning, ah, students of the first form. I have a treat for you — a real rarity — which is on a diplomatic mission of cooperation between us and the United States. We have, ah, a griffin currently grazing in the Forbidden Forest.' Kettleburn punctuated his sentences with regular pauses, as if he was about to sneeze.

Dippet appeared serene on the surface, but inside his enthusiasm slumped. A griffin was not the kind of creature to be trifled with; antagonise it and you had a stone-cold killer on your hands. Despite this, Kettleburn appeared unfazed by the prospect. With fingers beating a rhythm on his generous pot belly and black beard quivering in the breeze; he couldn't have looked more at ease. The man wore a mortar board every day, tipped back at an angle, like an easy-going, academic adventurer. Kettleburn had no death wish, per se, just a poor appreciation of risk.

'Let's, ah, be off.' He pointed directly behind them, then stormed through their ranks towards the Forbidden Forest. Dippet would focus on other things this morning and worry about any mishaps when they returned.

Half a mile into the forest, two vast granite walls blocked their path. A stream tumbled overhead, where the two cliff faces formed a corner and dashed against the exposed rock. The drop pool below was lined with green moss, waist high bracken and silver birch saplings. Kettleburn picked his way around the pool and asked them to wait in silence; he expected the griffin to be close by, since they were known to enjoy bathing in drop pools. Twenty long minutes passed, before Kettleburn appeared on the brow of a hill to the south. He tossed a raw chicken carcass behind him and everyone waited, before there was spontaneous cooing from the students.

The body of a lion padded down the path behind Kettleburn. More than twice the height and length of a standard beast, it had the head of an eagle: with a sober expression, but alert and darting eyes. Its curved beak nipped at the chicken and after several sharp neck extensions, it swallowed the bird whole. The creature studied the group warily, but continued advancing, interested to see whether more chicken was available. Kettleburn motioned for the group to come closer and held another bird out to encourage the griffin. It snatched the carcass while he was facing the other way and Kettleburn was lucky to hang on to his remaining hand.

'The griffin is a majestic creature. One of the earliest to appear in magical texts and predating most of our, ah, accepted history. A combination of eagle and lion, their legendary strength is matched only by their keen intelligence. Often assumed to be sly and manipulative, I've always found them approachable and friendly.'

Distaste crossed the griffin's regal profile and its eyes narrowed. The creature was displeased with Kettleburn's patronising summary.

Its mantle feathers had the colour and lustre of polished wood, which lightened to tawny fur covering its flanks and rear paws. Its forelimbs were clawed, with talons the length of a wand and tucked flush along its back, was an enormous pair of wings.

'They're capable of flight over long distances, but never mistake the griffin for some docile workhorse. They, ah, do not carry passengers. The griffin is attracted to puzzles, riddles, mathematics and despite understanding many forms of communication, they don't indulge in conversation for the sake of it. They live to be challenged, but never take the challenge lightly. You will in all likelihood, lose and the price is a forfeit of their design. I myself, lost a hand to one, though I assure you, the fault was entirely mine.'

This pacified the griffin, which was diverted by their presence, rather than threatened.

'The griffin has an even greater passion than puzzling. Gold and treasure! It's not fully understood how they find treasure. Heightened senses, sight, smell, touch? No one knows. What we do know is that if something valuable is lost or hidden; they will find it. Then hoard and protect it against, ah, all threats.'

The griffin took a deep breath, turned its head majestically and unfurled its wings: flapping in display several times, before folding them back.

The beaten air took out half-a-dozen of the closest students, blowing them backwards off their feet.

'Careful now,' Kettleburn warned. Inappropriately amused by the sight of so many floored children.

Eudora was in heaven; the creature had looked at her several times and she felt an instant bond. She could spend all day staring at magical creatures. The down between its interlocked feathers floated away like dandelion seeds. Liquid black pupils, rimmed with speckled ochre, dilated and contracted as it surveyed the group. Eudora knew then — as she'd always suspected — that her future lay with animals; she wished the third form was starting right now, so that magical creatures would feature weekly. The griffin stepped forward and everyone shuffled back, except Tom and Eudora.

Tom maintained eye contact and the griffin was intrigued. It stood proudly before him, neck extended; increasing its height and drawing in Tom's scent. Eudora remained alongside and now the creature's presence could be fully appreciated; it was the size of an elephant she'd once seen at Dublin City Zoo. The griffin's hot breath surrounded them as the beast snorted, then it turned and cantered over the hill.

The griffin was out of sight for a minute or so, before it returned: alarming the students with a thundering gallop. Was it charging the group? Thankfully, no. The griffin drew up in front of Tom, opened its beak and dropped a single galleon at his feet. Tom picked the galleon up and retreated, putting it in his pocket. They stared at one another for an uncomfortable period of time, before finally, the griffin unfurled its colossal wings and took flight. Its talons brushing several pupils' heads, as it swept into the canopy. Several more boys and girls, went down like ninepins in the backdraught, before Kettleburn joined Tom and Eudora.

'You two have the makings of a talented pair of magical carers. I'd, ah, stake my reputation on it.'

The class returned to Hogwarts, thrilled by their encounter. Gary was chatting to Vivian about Tom

'...and what a surprise. Tom Riddle's a natural at care of magical creatures too.' He spoke with no trace of bitterness; the class was proud of Tom and Eudora, plus they were grateful too. Grateful Kettleburn was delivering them back to school, with all their limbs intact. ...ah...

As the end of term approached, lessons became less formal and some were replaced by library periods. Gary was lurking in the cloisters surrounding the clock courtyard. Watching the sun warming the rocks below. He was thinking about lunch, Hogwarts and home; with both hands buried deep in his pockets.

Eudora had also missed the library period, which was unusual; the morning sun had stirred something inside her. School work was now complete and soon she would be home. A new thought had bubbled to the surface too: that she would miss Hogwarts over the holidays. This term had been so different to her first. She'd felt nothing but relief, trudging through snow to the Hogwarts Express at Christmas. Now she had friends and good ones too. Eudora was certain she knew what to do with her life; too early for firm decisions, but the future held promise, rather than anxiety. This morning was an opportunity to breathe in the crisp, Highland air and for once, allow herself a degree of satisfaction. Then she saw Gary Box.

He heard footsteps, turned and saw Eudora before she could take another route.

'Eudora. Not like you to miss a library period.'

'My work's all done and I thought the sunshine, you know. It's so beautiful.'

'Me also, except the part about work being done. Park up.' He nodded at the space beside him. 'Pretty. All this.'

'It is,' Eudora replied, touching her hair. Briefly thinking it was a compliment; before she lowered her hand without drawing attention to it.

'Looking forward to home?'

Eudora said what she was thinking.

'Yes, but I'm going to miss being here.'

'Exactly what I was thinking before you came along.'

Eudora smiled, Gary had this way of surprising her. You thought he was all talk and show, then he said things that set him apart.

'Tom's the same I think.'

Eudora stiffened at the mention of Tom.

'I shouldn't say so, but he sleep talks. Not loudly, but he's in the next bed to me. Tom thinks of Hogwarts as home. Had a rough childhood y'know, but you've not heard that from me.'

'Rough how?' Eudora couldn't help herself.

'Grew up in an orphanage, a muggle orphanage and never met his parents. They left him when he were a baby. Tough place too.'

Eudora was shocked. Tom was clever — brilliant in fact — charming and all this time, he'd had no support or encouragement. You'd never know to meet him.

'He wants to know where he came from, now he's here. Tom never says it, but like I said, he talks in his sleep. I keep an eye out, because few others have in the past. I tell you though, he lives in that library. Plus he writes a diary every night.'

Surprise swept across Eudora's face and she was relieved they were both looking in the same direction.

'I keep a diary,' Eudora admitted, 'I've never told anyone that before.' Empathy for Tom, produced a physical, burning sensation in her chest.

'Something he's talked about recently in his sleep — don't mention it to the others — but I can trust you. A place called The Chamber of Secrets. I know nothing of it, or where it's found, but I get the feeling it holds a key to who his parents are, or were. I owe him, he looks out for me: more than people know.'

Eudora's eyes scanned back and forth. It held some kind of meaning, but she didn't know Tom well enough to make sense of it.

'Helping Tom trace his parents, would go some way to repaying the debt.' Gary continued to stare at the distant peaks.

'I've got an auntie in Ireland, a research fellow at Trinity's Phoenix Institute, in Dublin. I can send her an owl and ask about The Chamber of Secrets: say it's a class project?'

Gary turned to her. 'Would you?'

'Of course.' Eudora nodded enthusiastically.

'You're a good person, Eudora. Do you know that?'

'No... I probably don't.'

They continued to stare at the landscape, comfortable, despite the awkwardness of being so frank.

Eudora returned to her dorm after Gary left, composed a quick note to her aunt, then hurried to the owlery. After attaching the scroll just above Faust's claw, she took the communal leather glove on a chain and encouraged the heavy bird onto it. Faust scanned the horizon to find his bearings, then launched himself through an unglazed window, disappearing into the mist flooding the loch's surface. Eudora breathed deeply, satisfied she was helping Tom and that one day, he might learn of her assistance.

* * * * *

On the final Monday of term, Eudora rose early. Unused to behaving covertly, she was convinced that her every move was being watched. She'd checked the owlery each morning since sending her message, wanting to avoid delivery during breakfast. Questions might be asked. It was a mild, overcast morning, without a breath of wind, as if time were standing still across the surrounding hills. Her pulse raced when she reached the topmost stair and saw her owl grooming his feathers. She removed the note and hurried back to Ravenclaw, since it was still too early for breakfast.

The writing was tiny, but thorough; typical of her auntie. She summarised in paragraphs, when a sentence would do. Finola had identified a book which might help: Legend Regulation in Academia: Separating Fact from Fiction, by Percy Benwell LeJeune. Her aunt had then checked with the portrait of Lady Kathleen Freeth, who divided her time between the Grand Staircase at Eudora's school and the library at Trinity. Hogwarts has a copy of the book. Lucky us! Hope the class project's a rip-roaring success. Don't forget my haggis! Miss you and kiss kiss, Auntie Nola xxx.

Eudora had concocted no plan, other than to spend every free moment in the library until the end of term. By Wednesday she was calculating how late to stay on Friday, before joining the Hogwarts Express. Emotionally, Eudora was approaching the quietly-desperate stage.

She was staring out of the window, at groups wandering across the school grounds and came to the conclusion that it had all been a stupid idea from the start. Then Tom entered the library, so she sat upright and rehearsed what to say.

Tom tipped a dozen scrolls onto his usual desk, then returned with several book she was keen to rule out. Much of his time was spent this way: ruling information out, rather than in. He was used to the disappointment it brought and refused to be dragged down; Tom was planning to be here for at least seven years, so it was a matter of persistence. Success would come in small measures, when you least expected it. Then a shadow cast over the desk, interrupting his train of thought.

Eudora appeared startled, rather than the casual I happened to be walking past look she was aiming for. Tom's eyes were piercing and momentarily, her plan flew out the window.

'Eudora?'

He remembered her name and she relaxed.

'I'm doing reading. I'm reading something.' Oh, he hasn't asked. So why am I telling him?

'Me too, what are you reading?'

'My Auntie Finola is a research fellow at The Phoenix Institute and she asked me to look over a book here at Hogwarts.' Eudora showed him the outsized edition, cloth bound with a leather spine.

He nodded indifferently.

'She's working on a paper about legends in academia and wanted me to check on this place called...' Eudora pretended it was so unimportant, she'd already forgotten. '...The Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts.' Even though it was said matter-of-factly, Tom's guard went up.