Content warning for: Intentional, repeated misgendering, deadnaming and transphobia

Safe, they might be – but they had no idea of a way out of the tunnels. Something soft and feathery nudged against Rhiannon’s hand, she startled – until she realised by the warmth that it was only the phoenix.

“Of course – phoenixes can carry far more than their size seems, and they can open portals over short distances – it’s how wizards learned to Apparate. Hold on to him,” Luna murmured, his hand already guiding Rhiannon’s to take hold of what felt like it must have been a tail feather. They pressed a cold, filthy hand that Rhiannon guessed must have been Ginny’s into Rhiannon’s free hand, and folded them both closed over another tail feather.

“My-muh-” Rhiannon stammered, exhausted. “My- wand? Cane? Sword?”

Luna chuckled, though it was a weary sound rather than a humorous one. “Rhiannon, we killed a basilisk. I think someone can come back to fetch what we left behind.” they replied. Rhiannon felt xir hand stroke the phoenix’s back just above where she herself held on. “Now – please take us out, if you can.”

The phoenix hummed softly, a comforting vibration that flowed through Rhiannon’s hands and up into body. It spread throughout like a warm current, and Rhiannon felt even Ginny relax under her grip. Then it took flight, carrying the three of them up with it on the gentle breeze of its passage. Bright light flickered through the gaps in Rhiannon’s vision, but unlike with wizarding apparation this was – calm, soft, natural. The phoenix smelled slightly sulphurous and that smell intensified around them as they travelled, but there was no deafening crack, no pull in Rhiannon’s stomach nor even the smell of ozone as the world broke and re-formed itself. The phoenix landed again as easily as they had passed, and deposited Rhiannon, Luna and Ginny gently albeit in a heap on the floor of – somewhere.

Somewhere that smelled like people – and familiar ones. Soft voices sounded somewhere ahead of them, falling silent as they must have seen Rhiannon and her companions. “Fawkes!” a husky voice heavily accented with a Highlands brogue. McGonagall sounded weary, and incredibly relieved. Gentle hands took hold of Rhiannon’s shoulders and helped her stand, hands that someone who smelled faintly of lavender and burned herbs under their sweat, blood and the other accumulated filth of the underground Chamber. The Headmaster herself.

Rhiannon shook her head and stepped away before she could be hugged, wringing her hands anxiously. She was worn out, even more mentally than physically. Luna took her hand in a loose grip as she started to worry her fingernails.

“Of course – sit, sit,” McGonagall said, and Luna helped Rhiannon into a chair. “We’re in my office,” she filled in. “Well – the Headmaster’s office, but I suppose it really is mine. Thankyou for your help, Fawkes – you may go.”

There was a soft sort of puff sound as presumably the phoenix departed. Rhiannon felt ill at ease in the office that had once been Dumbledore’s, but Ginny sat to one side and Luna to the other, one of Rhiannon’s hands held by each. It helped, almost, not to be able to see it – she wasn’t overwhelmed by the images of the place that held so much fright for her, and could instead familiarise herself with the sounds and smells of it that were so much not Dumbledore’s anymore. McGonagall was stamped into every fibre of this place now.

A glass was pressed into the hand Luna held, and Rhiannon frowned. “It’s a restorative draught,” another familiar voice explained – Madam Pomfrey. “It’s a little stronger than I would like, and I will give you proper time to recover afterwards – I promise. But we need to know what happened, and I don’t want you in this state to be questioned – not for your health.”

Rhiannon sniffed the thing and scowled, then drained it. It warmed her inside, breaking up the numb chill that had settled there, sending energy scorching through her muscles. She didn’t want to speak, but she had to – and she appreciated the strength the potion gave her to do so, though the astringent taste of it still burned in her throat and mouth. “W-w-w-w-w-wa-t-water?” she croaked, slurring the word clumsily. The glass was taken away and replaced with a full one, this time water. She drained that too, washing the last traces of potion from her throat.

“So... what- what do you want to know?” Rhiannon asked them, staring blankly at the little fractured pieces of nothing useful that she could see through the glittering haze-curtain. Luna squeezed her hand, and Rhiannon took strength from that as around her she heard others breathe in, sigh, shift themselves and generally dance around the question.

“We – we want to know, what happened.” someone else asked. Rhiannon bristled – she didn’t recognise that voice. McGonagall shushed them firmly.

“Let me ask the questions, Dawlish,” she said, her voice deceptively calm. There was no arguing with Minerva McGonagall. “Anything you can tell us – all of you, not just Rhiannon.”

“Rhiannon? Rhiannon Potter?” someone else asked. Rhiannon could feel the irritation crackling off of the Headmaster.

“Yes, Rhiannon Potter – do keep up, and keep quiet!” McGonagall snapped. She leaned forward in her chair and patted Rhiannon’s knee gently to draw her attention back to the conversation at hand. “So let me run through what we do know. We got into the tunnels, and Gilderoy attempted to attack us. He has been taken into custody and placed under guard at St. Mungos, as his spell backfired – speaking of which, your wand, Mx. Lovegood,” she carried on, and presumably passed the wand back to Luna. “We had both tested – yours and Master Weasley’s, for which cast the spell. Master Weasley’s has been returned to him also, but he’s been advised to find another – I’m sure you’re both aware of the difficulties it’s been giving him this year, and it turns out that it was his with which Gilderoy cast the backfiring spell.”

“Ron – Ron, where is he?” Rhiannon asked hurriedly, cutting across McGonagall as soon as the Headmaster drew breath.

The Headmaster chuckled softly, and squeezed Rhiannon’s knee again. “Don’t worry. He took a wee knock in the rockslide and I’ve had him settled in the hospital wing – which is where the three of you are headed as soon as we’re done here.” she assured Rhiannon. “Especially... Poppy, would you take Miss Weasley now? She looks ready to fall out of the chair.”

Rhiannon clutched Ginny’s hand, finding McGonagall was right, Ginny’s hand was cold and limp in hers. It would take time before she could recover enough to speak, and loathe as Rhiannon was to be parted from her so soon after they had escaped the Chamber, but she had to push Nyx’s insistence on staying close aside. Ginny needed rest, and medical care – they still had no idea what Riddle draining her life force had done to her, both now and in the long term. She released the younger girl’s hand reluctantly and nodded stiffly, as Luna pulled her into a sideways hug for reassurance.

“I’ll call Mrs Weasley, she’ll be relieved,” Madam Pomfrey assured McGonagall as she helped Ginny from the room.

Knowing Ginny was being taken care of, even if it was some distance away, had Rhiannon breathing easier. And she could speak more freely now, without fearing she would re-traumatise the younger girl in discussing the experience of the Chamber.

“Tom Riddle was there – Voldemort.” Rhiannon said stiffly, when Madam Pomfrey and Ginny had left the room. A round of sharply intaken breaths told Rhiannon there were four people aside from McGonagall in the room – the two she had heard before, and two more besides. “He – hh-h-h-h-e-he was, taking Ginny’s life – force, I guess. Magic? It was magic. He must have come from the diary – do we have the diary? Does anyone have the diary?” she explained, then worried.

Luna pressed the filthy thing into Rhiannon’s hands, at which she shuddered and thrust it into McGonagall’s hands, wiping her own on her robes – which only made them filthier. “He- he set the Basilisk on us, but the phoenix – Fawkes? - Fawkes had brought the Sorting Hat, and a sword came out of it, and we killed the Basilisk. It hurt, Professor – it-it-it-it-iiiiii-it’d been down there so long it was all – b-b-b-b-broken inside. And then we stabbed the diary with the sword, and Voldemort – he, screamed and broke up, I-I-I think, he’s gone again. That’s when Ginny was okay again.” Rhiannon whispered, her voice breaking a little. She knew her words were clumsy, childish – but she didn’t know how to be grown up for this. She could only manage the simplest words to tell the story, with it so fresh in her memories – she knew it would give her nightmares and to tell it in any more detail would bring those nightmares on in waking time.

Headmaster McGonagall sighed softly. “For this, Miss Potter? I think you get to call me Minerva.” she replied quietly. “Not in class though, you understand – but this... you and Mx. Lovegood, you disobeyed every school rule, defied me personally, endangered your own persons... but you saved a friend, and this entire school. Do you know what she said to me, before charging off on this harebrained quest of hers?” Minerva asked of the others, with a weary chuckle. “’I’m sorry Professor, you can expel me later.’”

The others laughed at that, and Rhiannon blushed. Even Luna giggled, and Rhiannon couldn’t help a tired smile spreading over her grubby face. “I – I really am sorry. For – for charging off. Not for, saving Ginny. I – I couldn’t just wait while she was stuck down there – and then she was dying, she’d have died if Riddle – if Voldemort had succeeded.” she stammered. Minerva herself laughed, and took Rhiannon’s free hand in both of hers.

“I should know better than to give orders I know will not be followed. You did an incredible thing – a very, very brave thing, and I am so proud of the both of you. This means the attacks are over, does it not?” Minerva asked, her tone quivering – as if she was frightened to hope too much.

Rhiannon nodded, and by the bobbing sensation she felt Luna do the same beside her. “Ye-yes, yes. V-v-v-vol-Voldemort, he was – controlling Ginny. It’s not her fault, please don’t punish her, he hurt her – she, she was scared, she tried to throw it away and he made her get it back. But – the diary’s empty now. We – broke, whatever he had left in it. And the Basilisk is very, very dead. Someone should – burn it, or something, it deserves to rest.” she stammered, then grew weary again at the memory of the agonised creature. Thousands of years trapped deep below even the dungeons of a castle, with infrequent food and less frequent contact with anything... she couldn’t imagine a worse fate for an animal, even one that was thought to be a monster. It was just like Fluffy – they’d not provided food or water for him because he was a tool, not thought of as a living thing. At least she’d been able to save Fluffy. She’d been millennia too late for this one.

Tears ran down over her cheeks, and Minerva sighed. “You’re shaken – it’s understandable, no wonder. Kingsley – would you escort these two to the Hospital Wing? Take care with Rhiannon, she startles. Dawlish, Hanover – would you fetch Ingólfur to do a sweep of the Chamber? Miss Weasley is down a wand, and I suspect you’ll find a sword down there too. The Basilisk would be interesting to study, but I think young Rhiannon is right – put it to rest. It’s had enough use for more than a lifetime.” she asked, speaking to those behind her. Someone stood from their chair, and Rhiannon could smell spice and sweat on the clothes of the person who moved to stand behind her and Luna.

“I’m Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror with the Ministry. We were supposed to be your rescue team, but it seems you’re the ones who rescued us. Come on, you two – easy now,” he explained, then cautioned them and put out a hand to catch Rhiannon as she stood a little too fast and began to tip forward. Luna caught her instead, and Rhiannon snuggled into the embrace – now she had recovered some, she needed the contact.

They were interrupted by a low voice, though none the less carrying for its softness. “So, Harry Potter – you’ve saved us all. Thank you, for returning my school to me.”

Rhiannon whirled around, a growl already rising in her throat as she faced Albus Dumbledore blindly. The Auror Shacklebolt put his hand on her shoulder, but it was Luna who held her back. “I didn’t do it for you,” Rhiannon growled, her voice husky.

Dumbledore laughed, a condescending sort of sound – there was no real humour in it. “But you must have. You must have shown me great loyalty, for Fawkes to have appeared in your time of need.”

Now Rhiannon laughed, a harsh, rattling sound from deep in her aching chest. She lifted her chin and set her shoulders stubbornly – she would give no more ground here than she had against a memory-shade of Voldemort. And she realised she no longer feared Dumbledore as she had – she had survived him, and she had faced something much more dangerous and survived that too. Exhaustion was as intoxicating as any spirit, and she swayed on her feet as she faced him, but she was determined to do so – he needed to hear this, not whatever it was he wanted to hear. “Loyalty? To- to you? I was being cynical, sir – you’re stuck into every fibre of this school, and Headmaster McGonagall, has a fair task ahead to wipe that clean. If it’s loyalty that calls your phoenix – I-I think he took a loophole, by what I said. It doesn’t do to bind those around you – sir. Sometimes they slip loose.”

She imagined Dumbledore’s voice darkened, as he took in breath sharply. “This is my school,” he replied, in his infuriatingly calm tone. “I have run it, and well, for the best part of thirty years.”

Minerva cut across him – and Rhiannon didn’t even need to imagine her expression, she could picture it in her mind, brows drawn together and lips quivering with fury. “With all due respect, Albus, you have not. For half that time I have handled the day to day running of this school, student concerns and supply shortages on your behalf. You hired not one but two teachers who went on to assault students, and failed in your due diligence to investigate Gilderoy Lockhart’s background fully before allowing him access to the students of this school, placing them in danger. Had he not made the attempt with a faulty wand, we would all have had our memories wiped, Miss Ginevra would be dead, the Basilisk still alive and You-Know-Who roaming as he pleased while Gilderoy Lockhart fabricated a story to further his own publicity!” she hissed, her tone very cold and incredibly scathing. Weaker men would have crumbled to dust under her loathing.

Unfortunately, Albus Dumbledore’s pride gave him strength even as it was what held him back, and he stood firmly against her. “I have discussed matters with the school governors, and as a result I have proof that they were blackmailed for their signatures to dismiss me.” he replied, his tone equally chilly. A rustle of paper told Rhiannon he held out a page or a scroll of some kind.

Someone behind McGonagall snorted sharply, and their clothes rustled as they stood. “The method of your dismissal may have been unlawful, Albus – but we cannot deny that there is genuine reason for it. In your short term of absence, the situation has been resolved and the students saved.” said Cornelius Fudge with a haughty sniff. He snapped his fingers, and Rhiannon wrinkled her nose at the sulphurous smell of whatever he cast. “Lucius? Yes, I’d like to see you here at Hogwarts. We’ll open the Floo for you. Now, if you please.” the Minister said briskly.

Someone lit the fireplace, somewhere in the office, with a soft whumpf, and then there was a hollow whooshing sound and the dull clack of hard-soled shoes on a wooden floor as someone, presumably Lucius Malfoy, stepped out of the fireplace. “Yes, Minister?” he asked, his tone greasy. Bare feet slapped the wooden floor, and Lucius Malfoy growled, “Not there, elf – I ordered you to accompany me, not cling to my robes.”

“Sorry Master, yes Master – of course, Dobby lives to please,” another familiar voice stammered miserably. There was a dull thud and a yelp of pain, as if Malfoy had kicked its’ owner. Rhiannon heard Minerva’s knuckles click as she must have clenched her hands at her sides, but Rhiannon herself was breathing shallowly as she put the pieces together. Dobby. It was the Malfoys that Dobby served, that treated him so cruelly... and hadn’t Mrs. Weasley had a run-in with Lucius Malfoy himself, at Flourish and Blotts that day in Diagon Alley? She hadn’t seen it herself but... Ginny had had the diary on the train, which meant she’d been given it before she reached Hogwarts. And – yes – Rhiannon had seen him slip a diary off the counter at Borgin and Burkes! He had said it was not for sale – it could very well have been the same diary. And Dobby had known of this plot, and tried to warn Rhiannon. There was no point in confronting him – not when he had a direct contact with the Minister for Magic himself, it would be her word against his. But there must be something she could do. So she returned her attention to the matter at hand, listening closely to them.

“So,” Lucius Malfoy was saying in his drawling way, “did you catch the thing, then?”

“Yes, Lucius,” Minerva replied briskly, and was clearly intending to say more but she was cut off by Fudge.

“The matter at hand is not whether the school is saved – that’s by the by. However, we have received allegations that you blackmailed the school governors to have Albus Dumbledore removed.” Fudge said, his pompous manner beginning to return, much to Rhiannon’s annoyance.

“I did no such thing!” Lucius Malfoy replied, outraged. Someone must have looked at him sternly – Rhiannon suspected Minerva – as he sighed and deflated. “Alright – fine. There were a few who were dilly-dallying on it, so I gave them a little – encouragement. All in the spirit of saving the school, of course. The concerns about Albus’ leadership have been present for some time, they just needed the right prod to act on them.” he admitted with a grumble. Minerva snorted, and Rhiannon had to restrain the urge to do so herself – the altruistic act did not suit Lucius Malfoy one whit.

“We will be speaking to the Board of Governors, and someone else will be stepping into your position as the Head of it – it’s not for you to take such matters into your own hands, Lucius,” Fudge replied frostily. Rhiannon suspected his anger would not last, however – probably just up until the Malfoys made a generous donation somewhere. “But the matter does stand – there is genuine reason to be concerned about Albus Dumbledore’s leadership, and if enough of the board agree – I see no reason why Minerva should not stay on as Headmistress.”

“Headmaster,” Minerva corrected him swiftly.

“Yes, yes, very well,” Fudge replied dismissively. “If that is all – I think we have Mr. Lockhart’s case to handle now. So many people to track down... and an official pardon and wand license to issue to Mr. Hagrid. What a mess... Dawlish, I want your department to handle the Lockhart case, that’s going to be tricky... so many ruffled feathers, ooh and the publicity... Christ.” he grumbled.

Minerva cleared her throat. “If that is all, Minister?” she asked, though Rhiannon was familiar with the tone – it was the same one she used when students chattered in her classes.

“Yes, yes,” Fudge replied airily. “Very well, congratulations – all that. You’ll be seeing some of our people over the holiday, get things up and running, all that. Come on Lucius,” he said, evidently beckoning Malfoy Senior to follow him, “we’ll check in with the students on the way out, leave the old-fashioned way.”

Malfoy coughed. “With all respect, Minister, I’d like to speak to my son first. I’ll meet you back at the office. Good day, Minerva, Albus, Mister Potter.” he replied stiffly, with a sneer as he uttered Rhiannon’s name. He might have bowed to her mockingly, but she had no idea – so the gesture was a little wasted.

Rhiannon heard Dobby’s feet slap on the floor as he hurried out of the room behind Mr. Malfoy, and Rhiannon’s heard twisted. He may have gone about it clumsily, but the little elf had tried to save her life – at great personal risk to himself.

“Excuse me, Prof- Minerva – can I, borrow the diary a minute? I’ll – I’ll bring it back.” Rhiannon asked, bending down to pull her shoes off. She slipped one of her filthy, slimy, bloodied socks off, and shoved it into the diary between its ruined pages as McGonagall handed it to her, and winced at the disgusting sensation of the thing in her hands. Leatherbound and soaking, it felt more like something dead in her hands than a book. She turned her head and nuzzled into Luna’s shoulder. “Guide me?” she whispered. “I’ve got an idea.”

With Luna’s help, she hurried out of the office as Dumbledore and Minerva began to argue in quietly , catching up to Mr. Malfoy by sound and smell. “Mr. Malfoy! W-w-w-w-w-wait up, I think you forgot something!” she called after him.

The sound of his footsteps slowed, then stopped, and cloth rustled as he whirled to face her. “Mr. Potter?” he asked her, icily polite. Rhiannon ground her teeth, ignoring the jibe, though Luna squeezed her hand more tightly.

“Y-your diary, sir, you left it behind,” Rhiannon said, holding it out to him with the sock concealed inside. “Wo-wouldn’t want anybody to read it, right? Know your – secrets?” She was fizzing with nerves, but she was lent a reckless sort of confidence in the face of this shallow, vicious, bullying man who was hell-bent in moulding his son in his own image.

Luna nudged her sharply. “ Rhi, what are you doing?” xie hissed, voice soft. “You can’t just – antagonise him, he’s dangerous .”

Rhiannon shook her head and leaned in to whisper into Luna’s ear. “ Just – let me try, I’ve got a plan,” she hissed back, though her hands trembled – in truth, it was a very foolhardy plan. But she had to try. She wouldn’t forgive herself if she let Dobby leave with this man, not after what he’d gone through to try and warn her. Not after he’d saved her from the Dursleys.

Lucius Malfoy strode forward and snatched the diary from Rhiannon’s outstretched hand with a snarl. “You dare?” he hissed, his face suddenly very close to hers. His breath smelled sour – no, not just his breath, him, he smelled sour with sweat and fear. There was a rustle of pages and a heavy thump as he threw the diary aside and advanced on her, but Rhiannon’s heart leapt – it had not hit the ground.

“You meddle with things you have no idea of, boy. Your parents didn’t either – and someday soon, you will meet the same sticky end.” Mr. Malfoy said in a very low voice, tight with rage. Suddenly he whirled away and snapped his fingers. “Now come on, Dobby. We’re leaving. This place has gone to the dogs.”

But there was no sound of bare feet slapping stone, and Mr. Malfoy halted as he realised his servant was not following him. “I said, come here ,” he growled.

Something pressed against Rhiannon’s leg and she flinched, before realising Dobby had shifted to stand beside her. “Master has given Dobby a sock ,” he breathed, in a wondering tone. His voice trembled, as if he was about to overflow in tears. “Dobby is free .”

“What?” Lucius Malfoy asked sharply. “Don’t play games with me, elf, get here.”

Rhiannon felt one of Dobby’s ears slap her leg as the little elf shook his head. “Master has presented Dobby with clothes.” he insisted. “Dobby is free .”

Mr. Malfoy growled , furious, though it hardly matched a growl of Rhiannon’s on a bad day. “You,” he whispered, and he must have pointed at Rhiannon. “You’ve lost me my servant, you interfering freak!” There was a rush of air as he lunged at Rhiannon and she stumbled backwards, but he never made it – there was a dull thud, as if he’d struck something solid, and he screamed with rage.

Dobby stepped away from Rhiannon’s leg. “You will not hurt Miss Potter,” he told his former master in a tremulous voice, though he held steady. Rhiannon’s heart almost broke with joy for the little creature, able to stand up at last. “You will leave. Leave, now, and never come back.”

Mr. Malfoy growled again, and there was an ugly sound as by Rhiannon’s guess he spat on the floor. Then he whirled around in a billowing rustle of fabric and strode away, leaving the three of them standing in the corridor.

Rhiannon fell to her knees. “Dobby, you – saved us,” she whispered. “You’ve been trying to all year.”

Dobby, overwhelmed, burst into tears and hugged Rhiannon clumsily. He staggered away with a gasp and by the sounds of things, began to hit himself around the head, crying “Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!”

Rhiannon grabbed him and held him steady, shaking her head. “No – no! No, I’m glad. P-p-p-p-p-please, don’t hit yourself, you saved us – all of us, you tried to warn me.”

She let go of him cautiously, once she was certain he would no longer resume hitting himself. Luna squeezed her shoulder and Rhiannon stood stiffly, her knees cracking painfully. Dobby sniffled, and hugged one of her legs. “Miss Rhiannon freed Dobby,” he whispered, refusing to let go.

Rhiannon nodded. “And – is there anything you need? Money, food, somewhere to stay – I’m sure Luna’s dad wouldn’t mind-” she asked him, but she was cut off by another noisy bout of tears from the little elf clinging to her leg.

“Money! Elfs don’t have money, Miss Potter – oh, it’s so much, what is Dobby going to do?” he exclaimed, letting go of her leg.

“If it’s not presumptuous, Master Dobby, I think I might have a solution.” Minerva suggested. Rhiannon startled to hear the Headmaster behind her, but she did not flinch when the tall woman laid a hand on her shoulder. “If it would suit you, you may work for Hogwarts – without an Elfbind. We will pay you a fair wage as we do our human working staff, you will be fed, clothed and housed, and receive days off just as everyone else does, medical care too when you need it. I know things are difficult for unbound elves, and it has been a – pet project of mine for some years, finding work for those I could within Hogwarts. Unfortunately the wider house-elf population is outside of my jurisdiction even as Headmaster, being bound to members of the Board, but... I can make sure you are provided for, and are assisted to adjust.”

Rhiannon gaped, and Dobby fell silent as presumably he too stared in wonder. “Yes, Master McGonagall,” he breathed, and sniffed. There was a soft thump , Rhiannon guessed he fell to his knees and bowed in that heart-twisting way he did. “I – I- Dobby, would like that, very much – it has been a long time since, since Dobby has seen other elfs. Dobby doesn’t know what to say, it...” he trailed off muttering and sniffing occasionally.

Minerva squeezed Rhiannon’s shoulder again, and Rhiannon could hear the smile in her voice. “Please, young Master Dobby – I know it will be a difficult adjustment. But you are free now. You may refer to yourself by ‘I’ and whichever other pronouns you prefer, and I will draw up a contract that registers you as an employee and thus, legally, a person, under magical law. Before we do anything else though – if you can find your way to the Hospital Wing? Madam Pomfrey will see to your injuries and help you clean up. I need to speak with Rhiannon and Luna for a moment, I’ll be along shortly to explain things to her – just tell her I sent you.” she assured Dobby. Dobby gulped and mumbled something like thankyou, he sounded to be on the verge of tears again, and vanished with a crack .

When the elf had gone, Minerva turned Luna and Rhiannon to face her. Rhiannon wasn’t sure what to expect, having stood silently while she spoke with Dobby. Then the Headmaster drew her and Luna both into a hug. “I am so, so proud of you two,” she murmured as she released them. “You saved a second life tonight, one that too many would overlook. Now come on – there’s showers and beds waiting for you both.”