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Yes, I Did It All
It was Christmas Day, and the snow had been falling heavily since early morning. Owls, exhausted from delivering gifts all night, could only rest briefly after dawn.
When Robert woke, he found a gift‑delivering owl fast asleep in his dormitory, clutching a long package in its talons.
He glanced at the mailing label. It was a Christmas gift from his grandfather in Romania.
Considering the long journey through the heavy snow, no wonder the owl was so tired.
Robert found an empty box, placed water and some of Tom's snacks inside it, and set it beside the owl so it could eat when it woke. Then he retrieved the package and opened it. Inside were several dragon‑blood tree branches of varying lengths.
Just as he'd expected—straight from Romania. He tucked them away happily.
Earlier, Hagrid had gifted him a massive bag of homemade treacle toffee. It tasted great—just overly sweet and a little sticky to bite through.
In the common room, Robert spotted Hermione and Harry unwrapping their presents by the fireplace.
"Merry Christmas," Hermione greeted, handing him a beautifully wrapped gift. Inside was a book titled Object Transfiguration: Risks and Responses.
"You've been reading about Transfiguration, and Flourish and Blotts recommended this one."
Ron's gift was a Quidditch picture book with moving images. On opening the first page, Robert saw someone diving on a broom, then pulling up just before hitting the ground. A golden caption appeared:
"The Wronski Feint, used to trick the opposing Seeker, creating a false impression to gain an advantage."
It was a mini Quidditch highlight reel.
Harry gifted him a set of carving tools—knives, drills, and the like.
"Thanks," Robert said. Then he passed out his own gifts: wand‑stickers featuring Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Each set had seven stickers made from their photos, and they were magically enchanted to stay affixed to wands for two months.
"These are brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed, immediately sticking one onto her wand beside the original Gilderoy Lockhart golden sticker—another favorite of hers.
Harry and Ron also admired the stickers.
They were all the rage at school—professors and magical creatures, chocolate‑frog‑style. But a personalized sticker? That felt special.
"If you sign them, maybe Ginny or Colin would pay a lot," Robert teased Harry.
"No way," Harry replied, looking at his sticker. "Was that from the Dueling Club?"
"Yeah," Robert confirmed. "I borrowed Colin Creevey's camera while Lockhart was being carried out."
"Colin never asked for his sticker," Harry mused. "He must've realized I'm a fake 'Chosen One.'"
"Fake?" Ron disputed. "You defeated You‑Know‑Who—everyone knows that."
"I know," Harry replied, "but I don't understand how I did it..."
"Don't say that name!" Ron snapped, nearly dropping his wand.
"Sorry," Harry said quickly, unused to Ron's strong reaction.
"If you knew what he'd done…" Ron said to Hermione.
Hermione frowned thoughtfully, choosing not to argue.
Many wizards—students and even some professors—refused to name Lord Voldemort. Only a few, like Harry and Robert, could speak it calmly.
Robert glanced across the room. "Where are Fred and George?"
"They're preparing a surprise for tonight's dinner," Ron said, pulling out Wizard's Chess. "Wanna play?"
"No thanks," Robert declined and sat in another armchair. He began shaping the dragon‑blood wood into wand shafts.
By evening, he'd completed the initial shaping of all the branches. The castle was half‑empty—students and professors had gone home for the holiday—but Christmas spirit remained.
In the Great Hall, a dozen frost‑covered Christmas trees glowed, mistletoe and holly garlands hung from the ceiling, and enchanted snow gently fell—warm, dry, and festive.
Because so few were present, Hagrid, too, sat at the teachers' table, his gaze anxiously fixed on Robert.
When Headmaster Dumbledore entered, everyone stood. Hagrid blurted out, "Headmaster, that newspaper is lying. Robert is a Gryffindor—how could he be the Heir of Slytherin?"
"Calm down, Hagrid. Of course I trust Mr. Ollivander," Dumbledore said, gesturing for him to sit. He gave Robert a meaningful glance.
But Robert paid no attention. He was studying The Daily Prophet on the table. The front page featured Lockhart, bruised and battered, and a sensational headline:
"Chamber of Secrets Discovered at Hogwarts—What Is Dumbledore Hiding?"
The article began: strange happenings had escalated at Hogwarts. Lockhart had "discovered the truth" but was mysteriously attacked afterward, his body left with ominous words written on it.
According to unnamed insiders, debris from Slytherin's Chamber—a "secret weapon" to purge the school of Muggle‑born wizards—had been deployed. Hogwarts, they claimed, was covering it up.
Hermione had brought the issue earlier and marked key sections with quill strokes:
"According to insiders, the attack is related to a boy. That child from a wand‑making family seems to have intricate ties to the legendary Chamber of Secrets."
Another quote read:
"We don't dare go back to school," a young wizard cried. "He threatened to take our wands away forever."
A parent was quoted:
"Dumbledore knows but does nothing. He's unfit as headmaster!"
Robert stared at the byline—it was Rita Skeeter, recently banished by Tom. How did she even get this info? And now she was accusing him.
Hermione leaned in. "We need to help you clear your name. You're a Gryffindor—of course you didn't open Slytherin's Chamber."
Harry chimed in: "You were the first one attacked. Professors and students know you wouldn't hurt yourself."
Ron stabbed at his pudding. "Saying the Chamber existed to eliminate Muggle‑born wizards is utter nonsense. If Ollivander is 'unworthy,' Hogwarts should close down!"
No one believed Robert could be responsible. The newspaper was pure sensationalism.
Robert remained quiet, staring at the photo—taken at precisely the angle to show every word on his body. Someone at Hogwarts must have taken it and leaked it to the Prophet during the holidays.
Hermione finally spoke: "Robert, should we publish a rebuttal? I can write to the Daily Prophet right now."
"No need," Robert said softly, his finger tracing the photograph.
Hermione paused.
"Why not?" she asked.
"Maybe I can open Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets," he said coolly.
"What?" Hermione scowled. "Now's not the time for jokes."
"A Gryffindor opening Slytherin's Chamber?" Fred burst out laughing.
"It's hilarious," George added.
"Then why not let everyone hear it?" Robert smiled. "Alright, I admit it: I am the Heir of Slytherin."
Fred and George laughed louder, drawing attention across the Great Hall.
"Do you know where the Chamber is?" George teased jokingly.
"Of course," Robert replied. "I know the method to enter; only Salazar Slytherin and his Heir can."
"What ability?" Fred asked mock‑seriously.
"That's not important," Robert said. "Salazar was wrong. Every wizard deserves magic—pureblood or not. So, before the next term, as the Heir, I'll destroy the Chamber myself."
"As the Heir of Gryffindor…" Fred and George tried to compose serious faces.
"We'll help," they said in unison.
"If you're serious," Robert invited, "help me write a letter to the Daily Prophet."
"Consider it done!" the twins replied, grabbing parchment and quills between pudding bites.
Hermione intervened. "Wait, are you serious?"
"Why not?" Robert shrugged. "The Daily Prophet is a joke. I'm just playing along."
"Joke magazine?" Ron asked, confused.
"Yes," Robert replied casually. "Joke magazine."
Fred and George, excited, shoved aside their desserts and scurried out to plot how to craft their "insider scoop."
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