Quidditch Gone Wrong; Bones just Gone
November 4th 1992
As the news and rumors about the attack had spread, Slytherin became the pariah of Hogwarts… again. Everyone now knew the legend of The Chamber of Secrets and how it had been created by Salazar Slytherin to house a monster that would be used to rid the school of students with muggle blood.
“What are we going to do?” Millicent Bulstrode said in a panic during the night’s Slytherin House meeting. “We are hated by all the students for something we had no hand in!”
“People think we’ll suddenly snap and start attacking muggle-borns.” Theodore Nott, Sebastian’s younger brother, commented darkly. He and his brother did not share their father’s views on blood purity but couldn’t easily escape their family’s reputation, making everyone outside Slytherin constantly think the worst of them.
“They seem to have forgotten that some Slytherins are actually muggle-borns and half-bloods too!” Vanessa Logan, one of said muggle-born students exclaimed with her hands raised in exasperation.
“Then,” Hadrian interrupted the panic, “let us prove to them that we are not our ancestors. We’ll start befriending and interacting with them publically, letting those outside our secret friend groups know that we are actually supportive and want to help, not the opposite.”
That got murmurs from most people, but those who disagreed or had something to lose started voicing their opposition.
“But what about those who’ll be disowned if they’re found interacting with muggle-raised or muggle-born students?” Flora Carrow, one of the people who’d be negatively affected by this decision, asked the new king, her twin sister Hestia nodding along to her words.
“I’m not saying that everyone should do this, but it is a recommendation. Those whose families will be… opposed to the connection can refrain from following my words, but I’d prefer it if more people did so.”
Things were getting heated in Slytherin House, and the students didn’t know what to do. They just hoped whoever had opened The Chamber of Secrets would stop their crusade and not harm anyone else, before more people were affected and more blame was heaped on the snakes.
5th November 1992
“Oi Black!” A voice called out behind Hadrian. He’d been standing in front of the charms classroom with Sebastian and Valerian, waiting for the doors to open to start the Ravenclaw/Slytherin class. The three turned to find Wilhelmina walking towards them. Her eyes widened as if finally noticing his company and her scowl turned into a sweet smile instantly. “Oh hello darling.”
“Hello Willa.” Sebastian said, his face mirroring her own. The two continued staring at each other before Valerian cleared his throat in annoyance and Hadrian groaned in exasperation at their obliviousness. He did wonder when they’d start dating, because this was just torturous….
“Um, hello! Does your God-brother not get a greeting as well?”
“Yeah, yeah, hey Vallie.” Wilhelmina said absentmindedly, waving her hand around in semblance of a greeting. Valerian rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. “Anyway, Hades. Your project child is doing something that’s probably illegal.”
“Project child? Do you mean Harry?” Hadrian asked, curious about the nickname. During the year or so that he’d known the girl, he’d made the quick realisation that she loved giving everything and everyone nicknames. They were either sweet or annoying depending on if she liked you or not, but sometimes they were pretty misleading, so you needed to ask her for clarification to understand what she was saying.
“Yeah, the boy-who-didn’t-die himself. I just heard Madame Pince mumbling about how Hermione Granger borrowed Moste Potente Potions, and then I watched them walk into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom as I was coming here.”
Hadrian groaned at her words, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath to calm himself.
“Father just had to give me an impossible task, didn’t he?” He mumbled to himself, remembering a specific conversation he’d had a while back.
“I’ll look into it. Thank you for the warning Mina.” This he said out loud, and Wilhelmina gave him a sympathetic smile in return.
She of all people understood the impossible task of both following and defying a father’s expectations.
“Happy to help!” She said before turning to the side to greet their other friend who’d just joined them. “Oh, hey Marc!”
November 7th 1992
It was time for the first Quidditch match of the season, and it just so happened to be Slytherin VS Gryffindor.
After the fight they’d had at the beginning of the year, both teams were determined to prove themselves on the field, especially against each other.
Harry couldn’t help feeling nervous about the coming match, and as he walked out onto the field, the sounds of everyone only seemed to exacerbate the feeling. Standing in front of the Slytherin team, Harry shook hands with Draco Malfoy, the opposing team’s new seeker.
“Good luck Malfoy.”
“You too Potter. May the best player win.” The two had been civil since the fight and Malfoy’s subsequent apology. They didn’t seek each other out, and weren’t friends by any means, but they could hold a conversation without feeling the need to bite the other’s throat. This was all because of one person, and he was currently standing beside Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint.
Hadrian’s hair had been dyed again, this time to a muted brown and he’d left his dorm without styling it, so it fell into natural waves. His goggles were on top of his head, and his uniform fit him perfectly as always. He was the only player who hadn’t taken Malfoy’s bribe and had kept his old broom – a Nimbus 2000 like Harry’s but a pitch black instead of mahogany.
He was currently talking to Gryffindor’s chaser Justinian Griffin, but he did turn and give Harry a comforting smile, which made him relax a little.
Harry had been surprised to realise this, but he’d truly come to see Hadrian Black as the older brother he’d never had.
Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher and referee, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping harder than was necessary.
“On my whistle,” Madam Hooch warned simply. “Three… two… one….”
With a roar from the crowd to encourage them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the open sky. Harry flew higher than any of them, peering around for the Snitch.
Soon after the game had started, a heavy black Bludger came pelting toward him; he avoided it so narrowly that he felt it ruffle his hair as it passed.
“Close one, Harry!” George Weasley called out, streaking past him with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward a Slytherin. Harry saw him give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey, but the Bludger changed direction in mid-air and shot straight for Harry again.
Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard toward Malfoy. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry’s head.
Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the field. He could hear the Bludger whistling along behind him. What was going on? Bludgers never concentrated on one player like this; it was their job to try and unsettle as many people as possible….
Fred Weasley was waiting for the Bludger at the other end. Harry ducked as Fred swung at the Bludger with all his might; the Bludger was knocked off course.
“Gotcha!” Fred yelled happily, but he was wrong; as though it was magnetically attached to Harry, the Bludger pelted after him once more and Harry was forced to fly off at full speed.
“What in the bloody hell is going on?!” The twins exclaimed in unison, shocked by the disruptive Bludger.
It was at that exact moment that it started to rain, making the match that much harder. Harry felt heavy drops fall onto his face, splattering onto his glasses. He didn’t have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until he started concentrating and heard Lee Jordan, who was commentating, say, “Slytherin in the lead, sixty points to zero —”
The Slytherins’ superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs, and meanwhile the mad Bludger was doing all it could to knock Harry out of the air. Fred and George were now flying so close to him on either side that Harry could see nothing at all except their flailing arms and had no chance to look for the Snitch, let alone catch it.
“Someone’s. Tampered. With. This. Bludger.” Fred grunted each word, swinging his bat with all his might at it as it launched a new attack on Harry.
“We need time out,” George gasped out, trying to signal to Wood and stop the Bludger breaking Harry’s nose at the same time.
“Oi Fred! On your left!” A voice called out, attracting Fred’s attention to the Bludger hurtling towards him. He was barely able to whack it away, but shot the person, Justinian, a grateful smile.
Wood had obviously gotten George’s message. Madam Hooch’s whistle rang out and Harry, Fred, and George dived for the ground, still trying to avoid the mad Bludger.
“What’s going on?” Wood asked as the Gryffindor team huddled together. “We’re being flattened. Fred, George, where were you when that Bludger stopped Angelina scoring?”
“We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger from murdering Harry, Oliver!” George exclaimed angrily. “Someone’s fixed it; it won’t leave Harry alone. It hasn’t gone for anyone else all game. A cheating Slytherin or someone must have done something to it.”
“But the Bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch’s office since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then…..” Wood trailed off, breathing anxiously.
Hadrian Black and Marcus Flint walked towards them just then; their expressions were concerned, which shocked some of the Gryffindors on the team.
“Harry!” Hadrian called out as he jogged the last distance between them. He softly cast a spell over Harry’s glasses that stopped the rain from affecting his sight – something he’d been doing since last year whenever it rained – before bending down a bit to look him in the eyes and putting his hands on the younger boy’s shoulders. “Are you alright?! What the hell is happening?”
“Flint! One of the Bludgers is targeting Harry.” Wood explained to his fellow captain, and the two shared a look that the other players couldn’t quite decipher.
“Damn it!” Hadrian shouted in frustration. “Since the twins are busy with Harry, anyone else on your team could get injured.”
“You basically have no beaters or seeker then.” Flint summarized, and everyone nodded. “We were hopping this would be a fair game, to prove that Slytherin doesn’t have ulterior motives anymore.”
“So why don’t we help?” Hadrian suggested after he’d made sure Harry was alright. He still had his arm around the boy’s shoulder though, and had pulled him close to his side in comfort. “Get Travers and Rowle to help Fred and George with the Bludgers, don’t surround Harry so he can see the pitch and let the game commence as is. Basically it’ll be the same, except that our Beaters will help the Gryffindor Beaters protect everyone.”
“That’s actually pretty good.” Wood exclaimed in surprise, giving Hadrian an appreciative look.
Just then, Madame Hooch approach the gathered players. She gave the random group a shocked look before looking at Gryffindor’s captain.
“Ready to resume play?” She asked Wood. Wood and Flint shared another look before the two nodded their heads in confirmation.
And with that, the game resumed with Hadrian’s plan enacted. Even though the Slytherin Beaters had been reluctant to team up with Gryffindors of all people, no one could object or even dare to defy the King’s words.
The rain was falling more heavily now. On Madam Hooch’s whistle, the players kicked hard into the air and Harry immediately heard the tell-tale whoosh of the Bludger behind him. Higher and higher Harry climbed; he looped and swooped, spiralled, zigzagged, and rolled. Slightly dizzy, he still kept his eyes wide open, rain was speckling his glasses but didn’t affect his vision because of Hadrian’s spell; it did run up his nostrils as he hung upside down to avoid another fierce dive from the Bludger, which was quite annoying. One of the Slytherin Beaters approached to smack the Bludger away from him, giving Harry a curt nod as he passed. He could hear laughter from the crowd; he knew he must look very stupid, but the rogue Bludger was heavy and couldn’t change direction as quickly as Harry could, so he’d decided to use that to his advantage to not inconvenience everyone else. He began a kind of roller-coaster ride around the edges of the stadium, squinting through the silver sheets of rain to the Gryffindor goal posts, where Adrian Pucey was trying to get past Wood….
A whistling in Harry’s ear told him the Bludger had just missed him again; he turned right over and sped in the opposite direction.
“Training for the ballet, Potter?” Malfoy playfully called out as Harry was forced to do a stupid kind of twirl in mid-air to dodge the Bludger, and he fled, the Bludger trailing a few feet behind him; and then, as he was sticking his tongue out at Malfoy, he saw it — the Golden Snitch. It was hovering inches above Malfoy’s left ear, and Malfoy, busy laughing at Harry’s childishness, hadn’t seen it yet.
For an agonizing moment, Harry hung in mid-air, not daring to speed toward Malfoy in case he looked up and saw the Snitch. Friendly or not, this was still a competition, and Harry intended to win this game.
WHAM.
He had stayed still a second too long. The Bludger had hit him at last, smashed into his elbow, and Harry felt his arm break.
“HARRY!” A vaguely familiar voice called out with fear in their tone, but Harry was too busy breathing through the pain to process what was happening or who had screamed.
Dimly, dazed by the searing pain in his arm, he slid sideways on his rain-drenched broom, one knee still crooked over it, his right arm dangling useless at his side — the Bludger came pelting back for a second attack, this time aiming at his face — Harry swerved out of the way, one idea firmly lodged in his numb brain: get to Malfoy and the Snitch.
Through a haze of rain and pain he dived for the shimmering, surprised face below him and saw its eyes widen with fear: Malfoy thought Harry was attacking him, breaking the truce they’d declared.
“What the —” He gasped, careening out of Harry’s way.
Harry took his remaining hand off his broom and made a wild snatch; he felt his fingers close on the cold Snitch but was now only gripping the broom with his legs, and there was a yell from the crowd below as he headed straight for the ground, trying hard not to pass out.
With a splattering thud, he hit the mud and rolled off his broom. His arm was hanging at a very strange angle; riddling him with immense pain. He heard, as though from a distance, a good deal of whistling and shouting. He focused on the Snitch clutched in his good hand.
“Aha,” He sighed out. “We’ve won.”
And then he fainted.
He came around, rain falling on his face, still lying on the field, with someone leaning over him. He saw a glitter of teeth.
“Oh, no, not you!” Harry groaned in despair.
“Doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Lockhart exclaimed loudly to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around them. “Not to worry, Harry. I’m about to fix your arm.”
“No!” Harry shouted as he sat up abruptly. “I’ll keep it like this, thanks….”
Sitting up caused the pain to spike terribly and he gasped out loud. He heard a familiar clicking noise nearby.
“I don’t want a photo of this, Colin!” He said loudly.
“Lie back, Harry,” Lockhart said soothingly. “It’s a simple charm I’ve used countless times —”
“Why can’t I just go to the hospital wing?” Harry asked through clenched teeth.
“He should really, Professor,” a very muddy Wood said, but he couldn’t help grinning even though his Seeker was injured. “Great capture, Harry, really spectacular, your best yet, I’d say —”
Through the thicket of legs around him, Harry spotted Fred and George Weasley, wrestling the rogue Bludger into a box. It was still putting up a terrific fight.
“Stand back!” Lockhart said dramatically, rolling up his jade-green sleeves in preparation.
“No — don’t —” Harry whispered out weakly, but Lockhart was twirling his wand and a second later had directed it straight at Harry’s arm.
A strange and unpleasant sensation started at Harry’s shoulder and spread all the way down to his fingertips. It felt as though his arm was being deflated. He didn’t dare look at what was happening. He had shut his eyes, his face turned away from his arm, but his worst fears were realized as the people above him gasped and Colin Creevey began clicking away madly before Justinian got to him and took his camera. His arm didn’t hurt anymore — nor did it feel remotely like an arm.
“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU DO?!” A voice shouted behind the crowd of Lions gathered, and the group parted automatically to let one pissed off snake through. “How dare you use magic on a minor without their guardian’s consent and try to heal them when you don’t even have the credentials for it?!”
Hadrian Black was seeing red. No one harmed his ‘little brother’ and got away with it!
“Ah,” Lockhart started sheepishly. “Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That’s the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry….”
“ENOUGH!” Hadrian shouted at the rambling man, and he stopped immediately; a clacking sound was heard from how fast he’d shut his mouth. “I will be taking Harry to the Hospital Wing, and if I ever see you using magic on a student again, so help me Merlin I will make your life a living hell.”
Hadrian was practically growling out his words, and his dark tone made several people shiver in fear, including a sputtering Lockhart.
As Harry was helped to his feet by a still angry Hadrian (and Harry could see that his eyes were teetering between their natural grey and the pitch black they turned into when he used his powers), he felt strangely lopsided. Taking a deep breath, he finally looked down at his right side; which was the side Hadrian wasn’t holding him by. What he saw nearly made him pass out again.
Poking out of the end of his robes was what looked like a thick, flesh-coloured rubber glove. He tried to move his fingers. Nothing happened.
Lockhart hadn’t mended Harry’s bones. He had removed them.
Madam Pomfrey wasn’t pleased ay all.
“You should have come straight to me!” She raged, holding up the sad, limp remainder of what, half an hour before, had been a working arm. “I can mend bones in a second — but growing them back —”
“You will be able to, won’t you?” Harry asked desperately.
“I’ll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful.” Madam Pomfrey informed grimly, throwing Harry a pair of pyjamas. “You’ll have to stay the night of course….”
Hermione waited outside the curtain drawn around Harry’s bed while Ron helped him into his pyjamas; it took a while to stuff the rubbery, boneless arm into a sleeve. The two had followed him and Hadrian to make sure Harry was alright, and he was grateful for their support. Hadrian was standing with Madame Pomfrey off to the side, the two talking quietly about something Harry wasn’t sure about, but was probably related to him in some way. He’d never seen the older boy so furious, and on Harry’s behalf no less. He felt strangely cared for, and a warm tingly feeling was spreading through his chest at the thought.
“How can you stick up for Lockhart now, eh Hermione?” Ron called through the curtain as he pulled Harry’s limp fingers through the cuff. “If Harry had wanted deboning, he would have asked.”
“I wasn’t going to defend him, Ronald!” Hermione said in exasperation, shocking the two boys slightly, “I realised a few weeks ago how much of a scam he was anyway. What he did was incredibly irresponsible! But, Harry, you’re not feeling any pain anymore, right?”
“No,” Harry answered, getting into bed. “But it doesn’t do anything else either.”
As he swung himself onto the bed, his arm flapped pointlessly. He glared at Ron, who was trying to stop himself from laughing at the sight.
Hadrian and Madam Pomfrey came around the curtain at that moment with Hermione standing right behind them. Madam Pomfrey was holding a large bottle of something labelled Skele-Gro.
“You’re in for a rough night,” she explained, pouring out a steaming beaker-full and handing it to him. “Re-growing bones is a nasty business.”
So was taking the Skele-Gro, Harry soon realised. It burned his mouth and throat as it went down, making him cough and splutter. Still tut-tutting about dangerous sports and inept teachers, Madam Pomfrey retreated, leaving Ron, Hadrian and Hermione to help Harry gulp down some water.
“We won, though,” Ron was saying, a grin breaking across his face. “That was some catch you made. Malfoy’s face…. He looked ready to kill….”
Hadrian cleared his throat and gave the red-head a faux annoyed look, and Ron just sheepishly grinned at the older teen.
“What I want to know how someone fixed that Bludger!” Hermione exclaimed with a dark, angry expression on her face.
“I’ll look into it, so please leave the matter to rest. I think you three have enough investigations on your hands, do you not?” Hadrian said pointedly, and the three lions looked at him in shock before masking it with innocent expressions.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hads.”
“Really, so you three weren’t going into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom every day to brew a very illegal potion, then?” Hadrian asked with wide eyes, sarcastically playing along with their lies. “Strange, my eyes must’ve deceived me because I could’ve sworn it was you three who I’d seen going in and out of there.”
“Nope, not us!” Ron said with a fake laugh, but they knew he didn’t believe them one bit.
“Sure.” Hadrian said with a small smirk. “Well, in any case –”
But before he could continue, the door of the hospital wing burst open at that moment. Filthy and soaking wet, the rest of the Gryffindor team had arrived to check up on Harry.
“Unbelievable flying, Harry,” George said brightly. “I’ve just seen Marcus Flint yelling at Malfoy. Something about having the Snitch on top of his head and not noticing. Malfoy didn’t seem too happy. No offence, of course, Hadrian.”
“None taken, George.” Hadrian said with a soft laugh. “But I’d watch my back if I were you.”
That made George stare wide-eyed at the Slytherin, who just smirked in return.
The team had brought cakes, sweets, and bottles of pumpkin juice. They gathered around Harry’s bed and were just getting started on what promised to be a good party when Madam Pomfrey came storming over, shouting, “This boy needs rest! He’s got thirty-three bones to regrow! Out! OUT!”
“I’ll be staying with Harry, Madame Pomfrey.” Hadrian said as everyone packed up to leave.
“Well then, so should we!” Ron said, but Madame Pomfrey shook her head.
“Only one of you is allowed, and I trust Mister Black to make sure Potter doesn’t do something stupid, unlike you two.”
When Ron seemed to be getting ready to protest, Hermione just smiled at the Matron and dragged him away and after the Quidditch team.
“You can actually stay here?” Harry asked with a tilt to his head.
“Not really, but I talked Madame Pomfrey into it.” Hadrian said with a smile. “Now then, will you please tell me what you and your friends are planning to do with Polyjuice Potion?”
“It’s nothing!” Harry said quickly. “Hermione just wanted to see if she could do it or not!”
“Aha.” Hadrian breathed out with a disbelieving smirk. “Well, in any case, I hope you stay safe. I know I can’t stop you from your escapades, even though I’ve tried many times, but I hope you’ll come to me if you need something.”
“I will.” Harry said softly. “Did you actually mean it? Making Lockhart’s life a living hell if he does this again?”
“Of course I did. Not a lot of people know this Harry, but my family are pretty… powerful and influential. I’ll make sure all his lies come to light if I have to.”
“Good.” The two shared a small laugh before turning their conversation to lighter topics.
November 8th 1992
Hours and hours later, Harry woke quite suddenly in the pitch blackness and gave a small yelp of pain, his arm now felt full of large splinters. For a second, he thought that was what had woken him. Then, with a thrill of horror, he realized that someone was sponging his forehead in the dark.
“Get off!” He said loudly, and then he realised who it was. “Dobby!”
The house-elf’s goggling tennis ball eyes were peering at Harry through the darkness, standing on his left. A single tear was running down his long, pointed nose.
“Harry Potter came back to school.” He whispered miserably. “Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter. Ah sir, why didn’t you heed Dobby? Why didn’t Harry Potter go back home when he missed the train?”
Hadrian, who’d been sleeping on a chair to Harry’s right and leaning his head on the bed, shot up at the sound and subconsciously pointed his wand at the intruder, his eyes darkening slightly as he channelled some of his powers to see in the dark.
“What the hell?!” He exclaimed as soon as he’d processed the scene in front of him. “What are you doing here, Dobby?!”
“M-Master Hades….” Dobby whispered with a trembling voice. “Y-yous wasn’t supposed to be here.”
“Neither are you.” Hadrian said with a dark look on his face that made Dobby shiver in fear. “And what did you mean by ‘Harry didn’t go home when he missed the train’?”
Harry heaved himself up on his pillows and stared at the scared house elf.
“Yeah, how did you know I missed the train?”
Dobby’s lip trembled and Harry was seized by a sudden suspicion. Sharing a look with Hadrian made him realised that he had the same one.
“It was you!” He exclaimed loudly. “You stopped the barrier from letting us through!”
“Indeed yes, sir.” Dobby admitted, nodding his head vigorously, ears flapping. “Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter and sealed the gateway and Dobby had to iron his hands afterward” — he showed Harry ten long, bandaged fingers — “but Dobby didn’t care, sir, for he thought Harry Potter was safe, and never did Dobby dream that Harry Potter would get to school another way!”
He was rocking backward and forward, shaking his large head.
“Dobby was so shocked when he heard Harry Potter was back at Hogwarts, he let his master’s dinner burn! Such a flogging Dobby never had, sir….”
“Dobby!” Hadrian finally interrupted, reminding the small creature of his presence. “Before your transfer to the House of Malfoy, who was your Master?”
“Master Arcturus Black, sir.”
“So you will listen to me as his Heir and tell me exactly why you stopped Harry from getting onto the platform and made the Bludger follow him on the pitch today to injure him?”
“WAIT! That was you too? You wanted to kill me?!”
“Not kill you, sir, never kill you!” Dobby exclaimed in horror. “Dobby wants to save Harry Potter’s life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here, sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter hurt enough to be sent home!”
“Oh, is that all?” Harry asked angrily. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why you wanted me sent home in pieces?”
“Ah, if Harry Potter only knew!” Dobby groaned, more tears dripping onto his ragged pillowcase. “If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, we dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his powers, sir! We house-elves were treated like vermin, sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir,” he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase he was wearing. “But mostly, sir, life has improved for my kind since you triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry Potter survived, and the Dark Lord’s power was broken, and it was a new dawn, sir, and Harry Potter shone like a beacon of hope for those of us who thought the Dark days would never end, sir…. And now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, are perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let Harry Potter stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more —”
Dobby froze, horror-struck, then grabbed Harry’s water jug from his bedside table and cracked it over his own head, toppling out of sight. A second later, he crawled back onto the bed, cross-eyed, muttering, “Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby….”
“ENOUGH!” Hadrian shouted for the second time that day, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “You are not allowed to punish yourself, and you will tell me exactly what you’re talking about. As the Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, I command this of you!”
“Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Harry Potter must not be here when they happen — go home, Harry Potter, go home. Harry Potter must not meddle in this, sir, ’tis too dangerous…. Master Hadrian cannot ask more of Dobby. He is forbidden from saying more.”
“Do I need to bring Valerian here for you to talk properly then? I know you aren’t a Black elf anymore, but isn’t your magic at least partially tied to our House?”
“Yes, but not enough to break Lord Malfoy’s words. And Master Rian can’t know about this! Dobby has been forbidden from telling Master Rian and Master Dray anything!”
“Yes well Harry isn’t going anywhere until you tell us this danger.” Hadrian said softly, trying to coax the elf to talk.
“Dobby can’t, sir, Dobby can’t, Dobby mustn’t tell!” The house elf squeaked loudly. “Go home, Harry Potter, go home!”
“I’m not going anywhere!” Harry answered fiercely. “One of my best friends is Muggle-born; she’ll be first in line if the Chamber really has been opened —”
“Harry Potter risks his own life for his friends!” Dobby moaned in a strange mix of misery and ecstasy. “So noble! So valiant! But he must save himself, he must, Harry Potter must not —”
Dobby suddenly froze, his bat ears quivering. Harry heard it, too. There were footsteps coming down the passageway outside.
“Leave.” Hadrian hissed to Dobby as he helped Harry settle back down. “Hazza, pretend you’re asleep.”
Dobby suddenly disappeared with a loud crack as Harry closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He could feel Hadrian sliding and retaking the same position as before, also pretending to have slumped over in his seat and slept there. Harry decided to squint his eyes to see what was going on. He didn’t know, but Hadrian was doing the same thing, but he was also using his powers to detect everything.
The next moment, Dumbledore was backing into the room, wearing a long woolly dressing gown and a nightcap. He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet. Together, they heaved it onto a bed.
“Get Madam Pomfrey,” Dumbledore whispered to his companion, and Professor McGonagall hurried past the end of Harry’s bed and out of sight. He heard urgent voices, and then Professor McGonagall swept back into view, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey, who was pulling a cardigan on over her nightdress. He heard a sharp intake of breath.
“What happened?” Madam Pomfrey whispered to Dumbledore, bending over the statue on the bed.
“Another attack,” said Dumbledore. “Minerva found him on the stairs.”
“There was a bunch of grapes next to him,” Professor McGonagall explained softly. “We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter.”
Harry’s stomach gave a horrible lurch. Slowly and carefully, he raised himself a few inches so he could look at the statue on the bed. A ray of moonlight lay across its staring face.
It was Colin Creevey. His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding his camera.
“Petrified?” Madam Pomfrey whispered, trying to hide her fear but failing miserably.
“Yes,” Professor McGonagall replied softly. “But I shudder to think…. If Albus hadn’t been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate — who knows what might have —”
The three of them stared down at Colin. Then Dumbledore leaned forward and wrenched the camera out of the boy’s rigid grip.
“You don’t think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?” Professor McGonagall asked, eager to find any evidence to what happened.
Dumbledore didn’t answer. He just opened the back of the camera.
“Good gracious!” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed with her hand on her mouth to stifle her horrified gasp.
A jet of steam had hissed out of the camera. Harry, three beds away, caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic.
“Melted,” Madam Pomfrey wondered, her voice wistful. “All melted….”
“What does this mean, Albus?” Professor McGonagall asked urgently, looking at the man imploringly.
“It means,” Dumbledore sighed out, “that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again.”
Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore in shock.
“But, Albus... surely... who?”
“The question is not who,” Dumbledore replied, his eyes on Colin. “The question is, how….”
And from what Harry could see of Professor McGonagall’s shadowy face, she didn’t understand this any better than he did.