The dawn after the Chamber of Secrets was opened and closed again came quietly. The storm that had loomed over Hogwarts for weeks seemed to lift with the sunrise. Word spread faster than any owl ever could: Ginny Weasley was safe, the Heir of Slytherin had been defeated, and the monster that haunted the castle's halls was gone.
The Great Hall buzzed with tension and anticipation when the students gathered for breakfast. For the first time in what felt like forever, the House tables were full. Even the Petrified students had been restored, and Hermione Granger returned to her place beside Harry, Ron, and Lennon, holding back tears and grinning ear to ear.
Fred and George ran circles around Ginny at the Gryffindor table, firing off jokes to mask their overwhelming relief. Percy kept dabbing his eyes behind a napkin. Ron looked both exhausted and exhilarated. Harry was quiet but alert, like someone still listening for the last echo of a war.
Lennon, however, sat slightly apart.
Not because she wasn't happy Ginny was safe. She was. But her mind spun with the revelations from the night before. The diary. Tom Riddle. The basilisk. And Mattheo's voice, quiet and haunted, telling her the truth about the Horcrux.
Mattheo had known.
And more than that, he had told her his father was the one pulling the strings from the shadows of the Chamber. That the diary wasn't just cursed but a vessel. A fragment of a soul.
Now, Lennon sat at the edge of the Gryffindor table, a mug of untouched tea between her hands. She hadn't slept. Across the hall, Mattheo sat with Lorenzo and Theodore. He hadn't touched his food either.
Lorenzo leaned toward him. "You alright, mate?"
"Yeah," Mattheo replied, eyes flicking to the Gryffindor table. "Just... waiting."
Theodore raised an eyebrow. "Did you know? About Potter going into the Chamber?"
Mattheo nodded slowly. "Yeah. And Lennon knew too. That's why I didn't tell her. Because she already understood."
Theodore exchanged a look with Lorenzo, who whistled low. "You two really are becoming one of those silent-communication pairs, huh?"
Before Mattheo could answer, the doors to the Great Hall banged open.
Gasps erupted across the room.
Hagrid stood in the doorway, wild-bearded and larger than life, tears already forming in his beetle-black eyes.
"I'M BACK!" he bellowed.
Dumbledore stood as students rushed from their benches. Even the Slytherin table looked on with a sense of awe as Hagrid made his way up the center aisle like a war hero returning from exile.
Harry leapt from his seat and threw his arms around Hagrid, followed immediately by Ron and Hermione. Lennon stood as well, walking with quiet reverence toward the giant man who had once carried her out of a cage of fear years ago.
"We missed yeh, Hagrid," she said, her voice low.
Hagrid looked down at her, emotion strangling his words. "Did yeh keep 'em safe, Lennon?"
She smiled faintly. "Tried to."
He placed one massive hand on her shoulder, a silent thank-you passing between them.
As the crowd parted, Dumbledore stepped forward and clasped Hagrid's hand. "Welcome home, old friend."
Mattheo stood slowly from the Slytherin table, his eyes still on Lennon. He watched the way she smiled gently at Hagrid, how she carried the weight of the truth even now without flinching.
Later, when the crowd had dispersed and classes were suspended for the day in celebration, Lennon wandered to the courtyard. She needed air. Space. Time to think.
Mattheo found her there, leaning against one of the snow-frosted stone columns, her scarf fluttering in the breeze.
"You didn't eat," she said softly.
"Neither did you."
They stood together for a while before Mattheo spoke again.
"You saw it, didn't you? In the Chamber. The truth about what the diary was."
Lennon nodded. "It was like a memory that wanted to become real again."
Mattheo exhaled. "That's what he does. Twists the past until it breaks the present."
"Tom Riddle," she said. "Your father."
Mattheo flinched slightly, but didn't look away. "He's not just my past, Lennon. He's everyone's future if we don't stop him."
She turned to face him, her voice barely above a whisper. "Then we stop him. Together."
For the first time in days, Mattheo let out a breath that almost resembled relief. He offered her a hand, not as a Slytherin or a Riddle, but simply as Mattheo.
She took it.
Above them, the sky cleared.
Below, in the ancient corridors of Hogwarts, a darkness had retreated—but not vanished. Not entirely.
The battle was over.
But the war had just begun.