Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated with it in any way.

Author Note: My Girl Who Lived series is based upon myself at Harry's age, and progresses along a slightly different path from the books. I strongly encourage you to read the first installment before reading this one, since there are several differences from JKR's original works.

I had a number of people request for me to write a sequel to WPPS, so here it is. Thank you so much to all of my wonderful readers who have supported me. I will try to post as often as I am able to write, but Chamber of Secrets is possibly my favorite book, so I'm going to try to make it extra special. Enjoy this, the christening chapter, and as always, please review.

/-wujy

Chapter One – What the Next Year Holds

It was one o'clock in the morning, and Whitney was sitting on her bed, staring at her hand. Her palm was upturned and a single bobby pin lay on top of it. She looked from the bobby pin to the lock on Lily's cage and back to the bobby pin again. "Fred said it would work," she said to Lily, who was staring at the girl with an owl's wide, discerning eyes. "He said that locks have got pens in them, or something, and that you just have to click them the right way."

Lily looked doubtful, and so did Whitney. Nevertheless, Whitney crept closer to the cage, careful to skip over the creaky board in her floor, under which she'd hidden several of her favorite things from the magical world. She took the lock in hand and turned it over as far as she could, inspecting it.

"I don't know any reason there would be pens in a lock," Whitney said to the owl. "I prefer quills anyway."

She sighed and held the bobby pin aloft, sticking one end into the lock. She wiggled it around for a moment, trying to feel the individual "pens," but it all felt like a mess of metal to her untrained hand. Whitney bit her bottom lip as she tried to concentrate on finding some hidden nook where the bobby pin would simply fit, so she could turn the lock and let Lily out into the night, but there was no such lock. Letting go of the lock and leaving the bobby pin sticking out of it, Whitney sat down on the floor behind her and crossed her arms over her chest.

"This is stupid," she declared to Lily, who turned her head ninety degrees clockwise in agreement. "If we were at school, I'd just spell it off."

School for Whitney, as of a year ago, was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where a flick of her wand and the proper word would have popped the lock open easily. Somehow, magic was a much simpler concept to the girl than the pins of a Muggle lock, which was a comforting thought in that Whitney knew she truly belonged in the world of magic. Unfortunately, that thought wasn't doing anything to open Lily's cage and let the poor owl stretch her wings.

"I'm sorry, Lily," Whitney whispered. "I'm rubbish without my wand."

She sniffed and rubbed a stubborn tear off of her cheek. Lily hooted softly, encouragingly even. It had been a difficult summer since Whitney had returned from Hogwarts. The Dursleys treated her as though she were a ghost—ignoring her when they were able, speaking about her as though she wasn't in the room, and skirting around her in hallways like they might catch their deaths. It would all be the same to Whitney one way or another, but it was made harder by the fact that her friends from Hogwarts were apparently doing the same. Even Lily seemed to notice the lack of letters from her friends, and when Whitney's birthday fast approaching, she'd been a little on the emotional side.

Whitney pulled the bobby pin from the lock, tucked it back into her pillowcase for safekeeping, and covered up with her fraying blanket. She turned over, her back toward the offending lock, and fell asleep, feeling absolutely wretched.

/-

The following morning, Whitney made her way downstairs only to be properly confronted by her uncle and aunt. After having been largely ignored for the better part of the summer, she was mildly taken aback at being so forcefully spoke to.

"Girl," her uncle beckoned gruffly. "Come here."

Whitney looked uncertain, but she approached the table. "Yes?" she asked, a little confused.

"Don't take that tone with me, you ragamuffin," her uncle commanded. This rather amused Whitney because, even though she was presently wearing some of Dudley's enormous hand-me-downs, Uncle Vernon couldn't have known that she kept two sets of brand-new clothes under her floorboard upstairs.

"And don't smirk like that," Petunia snapped.

"Right," Whitney said, wiping the half-smile off her face. "What was it?"

"You have your instructions for the evening," Vernon said. "You're to stay in your room, make no noise and—"

"Pretend I'm not there," Whitney finished for him, nodding.

"Precisely," Vernon said, his voice filled with warning. "And stay out of your aunt's way while she's cleaning today."

Whitney wondered to herself when she had ever prevented Petunia from cleaning, and in the process of the thought, decided it wasn't worth this nonsense to eat breakfast with her family. She turned around to step out of the kitchen when a thought occurred to her.

She turned slowly to look at her uncle, who had since resume drinking a nasty cup of thick, black coffee. She cleared her throat to get his attention and he turned to her with dangerous eyes.

"I… Well, I was only thinking that it's going to be really hard to make sure that Lily keeps quiet all evening," she said in a small voice.

Vernon's face turned deep shade of red as his rage bubbled to the top. Whitney saw a shouting match approaching, but she held up defensive hands and clarified, "I can really only do so much to make sure she keeps silent. I can't exactly put a muzzle on a bird, you know. If I could just let her out of the cage, she could go and sleep in a tree somewhere tonight."

Whitney couldn't almost hear the clockwork ticking away in Vernon's brain. His greatest fear in Whitney having the owl was that it would be in and out at all hours, delivering mail from Whitney's "freak friends," but this business deal was just important enough that it might be the thing to change his mind, at least for a night. Whitney waited in silence, wondering if her uncle's head might just pop off and whiz around the room like a balloon if he didn't come to a conclusion soon.

When his answer did come, it was short and abrupt, but favorable. "Tonight," he said simply, pulling a key from his pocket and tossing it across the kitchen at her. "I'm warning you, brat," he said dangerously, the color of his face dimming from purple back to a mottled red, "if that ruddy bird so much as peeks through a window at us tonight, I'll have its wings clipped."

Whitney, understanding that this was not an idle threat, ran upstairs to her room with her prize in hand. Lily was less than thrilled at being woken up in the early hours of the morning, but hooted happily when she saw that Whitney was unlocking and opening the cage. Lily hopped forward and out of the cage, stretching her wings as far as they would go.

Keeping her voice low, Whitney spoke quickly to the owl. "I want you to go and find Ron or Neville, okay?" she asked. "Whoever lives closer. I want you stay with them the rest of the summer and I'll see you again at school."

Lily nipped at Whitney's hand, annoyed, but Whitney shook her head. "I know, and I'm sorry. I wouldn't ask you to leave, but my uncle's a nutter and he's just going to put you back in the cage if you come back. It's for the best, I promise, at least for now."

Lily took a moment to nudge the back of Whitney's hand with the top of her head, and her wingtips brushed the girl's cheek as she took flight and left through the open window. Whitney sighed heavily as she watched the owl go, now truly alone for the first time since she'd found out about magic last year. She took in a sharp breath and denied the tears that threatened to overcome her, looking instead to the key in her hand. "Suppose I'll have to give you back, then," she said to the key, her own voice echoing in the empty room.

/-

Whitney spent the rest of the day in her room following her uncle's orders to the letter. She had retrieved History Through the Ages from the loose floorboard in her room and was sitting next to her window, straining to read it with only the moonlight outside. She frowned in annoyance each time a cloud passed by, throwing her into darkness, but she was nothing if not patient, especially since this book was her last remaining tie to the wizarding world.

Or it was, until a nearby popping noise signaled the entrance of a small, brown creature with enormous features. Whitney's mouth popped open as she stared.

The creature bowed low to her, his long nose nearly touching the floor. "Whitney Potter," he squeaked in a high-pitched voice. "Such an honor to be meeting you, miss."

Whitney closed her mouth and cleared her throat. She set her book aside. "Nice to, er… meet you," she replied, "whoever you are."

"Dobby, miss. Dobby, the house-elf."

Whitney nodded, but flinched as Petunia's fake laughter drifted up the stairs. Whitney licked her drying lips. "Well, Dobby… er, I'm not really…" She looks down at herself. "I'm not really dressed to have guests in my room."

"Guests!" Dobby squealed, and Whitney cringed. "Never has a witch ever called Dobby a guest! A guest of Whitney Potter!"

Whitney heard an eerie silence from downstairs and anticipated the housework she would have to do as punishment the next day. "Uh, well, I know that we've only just met, Dobby, but might I ask a personal favor?"

Dobby looked at Whitney with watery, tear-filled eyes at the request. "A… A personal… A favor. Whitney Potter wants to ask Dobby for a—"

Whitney interrupted him before he could get loud again. "Well, I was just hoping that you could be very, very quiet," she said. "My aunt and uncle are entertaining downstairs and I'm to make no noise up here. I would owe you one, if you could just be… quieter."

"Owe… Owe Dobby a… favor…" His voice was considerable softer, but as tears began to spill over the brims of his eyelids, he sobbed hysterically. Panicking, Whitney leapt forward to grab the pillow from her bed and handed it to him.

"Here," she said quickly. "Into the pillow. Into the pillow. Shh… Er, there-there."

Dobby took the pillow and it muffled his cried for the most part, while Whitney looked awkwardly around the room, hoping for some idea of what to do about this.

"So, you said… you were a house-elf, eh?" Whitney asked in an attempt to make conversation. "What is… I mean, what exactly is a house-elf?"

Dobby sniffled a few more times, and Whitney dreaded what house-elf snot would do to the case, but tried not to think about it now. "A house-elf serves a wizarding family, miss," Dobby answered. "Dobby is bound to serve his family forever."

Whitney looks miserably to her bedroom door where she can hear her uncle telling an awful joke that he thinks is funny. "That sounds familiar," she says. "I do the cooking and the cleaning and the wash and the gutters, and still I'm locked upstairs when company is over."

She sighs and looks to Dobby. "So, why was it you came?" she asked. "Just to visit? I'm happy to visit, but it's not the best of times now."

"Ah, miss!" Dobby exclaimed, before clamping his hands over his mouth apologetically. "Dobby has come to protect Whitney Potter, to warn her even if he has to punish himself severely for disobeying his family. Whitney Potter must not return to Hogwarts."

Of all the things Dobby could have said, this was something Whitney had least expected. "Not… Not go back?" Whitney asked, looking around her room. "I can't not go back," she said. "Have you seen where I live? Who I stay with? I have to go back."

Dobby shook his head quickly. "No no no. Whitney Potter must not return to Hogwarts. She is to precious. She is too important. It is too dangerous."

Whitney snorted at this. "It's always dangerous for me, Dobby. No matter where I go, danger seems to find me. But I'm safer at Hogwarts than I am here."

"But there is a plot, Whitney Potter. There is a terrible—there is a horrible—there is a devious plot to make terrible things happen. Dobby has known it for months, miss. For months!"

Whitney sat on the floor next to Dobby and her pillow and put her hands on his shoulders. "I really appreciate that you've come to tell me this," Whitney said slowly. "It's really very sweet of you, but Hogwarts is my home."

"But, miss—!" Dobby began, but Whitney interrupted him with a question he did not expect.

"Do you like being a house-elf, Dobby?"

Dobby was struck silent for a moment, his large, lipless mouth hanging open for a second. He started to shake his head, but then leapt onto the nightstand and slammed his fingers into the drawer, squealing loudly. Whitney darted forward to cover his mouth and to stop him from slamming the drawer again. She wrestled him back to the ground, and held him firmly in her lap until he stopped struggling against her. He crawled away and back to the pillow after a moment and Whitney could hear Vernon making some excuse about a cat making noise upstairs.

Whitney breathed slowly and steadily. "I don't mean for you to punish yourself," Whitney said slowly, "but if you had the chance to stop being a house-elf, even if the alternative was something dangerous, wouldn't you do it?"

Dobby was silent for several moments, after which he tugged a stack of envelopes from his clothes and dropped them onto the floor. Whitney was startled to see them for a moment, but when she realized what they were, she reached for them slowly. "My… mail?" she asked, reading the names of her friends on them. She saw several birthday cards that would have arrived that day, too.

"Dobby thought if Whitney Potter thought her friends had forgotten her, she might not want to go back to school," Dobby said apologetically. "Dobby cannot always sneak away from his family, miss, but Dobby will try to help Whitney Potter stay safe at Hogwarts."

Whitney looked up at Dobby and smiled softly. "Then that's two I owe you," she said quietly, and Dobby disappeared.