Quidditch and broken bones
On Friday morning, something finally distracts at least Harry and Draco and the rest of the Slytherins from the school’s recent obsession with The Chamber of Secrets, because when they come out of the dorms they find a new notice on the board in the Common Room announcing open try-outs for the Slytherin Quidditch team on Monday night. Harry and Draco both turn to look at each other in excitement and start talking at the same time:
”We have to go for it —!”
”We have to practise all weekend —!”
”—Yes! And tonight after dinner —!”
”—And on Monday before breakfast —!”
”—Yeah!”
They grin silently for a moment, then suddenly Draco’s grin falls and he glances over at the notice board again.
”What’s wrong?” Harry asks.
”There’s only the Seeker position available…”
Harry automatically turns to look at the notice again as well, but it doesn’t tell him anything new of course. Mentally scanning the Slytherin team line-up, he realises that Terence Higgs had been the only seventh year and therefore the only player to have graduated.
”So? You always said you wanted to be Seeker?” he tells Draco, who simply nods but is still frowning at the notice.
”So, what’s the problem?”
”Well, we won’t both make the team…” Draco mutters.
Harry feels his excitement fizzle out just as quickly as Draco’s at that realisation. Of course, chances of either of them making the team are very slim, regardless of how many positions are available, considering they’re only in second year and a lot of the other, older students who will likely also be trying out for the position, have been flying and playing for several more years than either of them have.
But Draco is right, with only one open spot, they know for sure that they won’t both make the team. At least if there were two or more spots open, there would be a tiny possibility that they could both make the team and so they could happily fantasize about that whilst practising their flying all weekend… Now, they’re definitely each other’s competition.
”It doesn’t matter”, Harry says with more conviction than he actually feels. ”If you make the team, I’ll be happy for you and I’ll be your biggest fan!”
Draco’s lips twitch, like they always do when he’s trying not to smile.
”I’ll even make a banner!” Harry adds.
”No, you won’t!”
”And buttons!”
Draco snorts, ”And will you write me a song as well?”
”Well, a cheer at least.”
”You’re insane…” Draco says and shakes his head, but the smile has finally won out and the blonde can’t seem to get rid of it, so he turns away to hide it instead.
”And if I make the team, I’m expecting you to at least make a button”, Harry says.
As they make their way from the dungeons towards the Great Hall for breakfast, Draco’s mood seems to lift considerably again and they start discussing the most efficient way for them practise during the weekend, without access to any actual Quidditch equipment besides their own brooms.
”Hiya, Harry!”
”Hello, Colin”, Harry answers automatically without tearing his gaze away from Draco.
”Harry — Harry — a few of the students in my house have been saying you’re —”
But whatever the Gryffindors have been saying about him, Harry doesn’t find out because before Colin has a chance of finishing his sentence, he’s been washed away by the tide of people making their way towards the Great Hall. They hear him squeak ”See you, Harry!” and then he’s gone. Draco and Harry both frown after him, their mood significantly dampened once more.
”Wonder what the Gryffindorks have been gossiping about”, Draco mutters.
”About me being the Heir of Slytherin probably”, Harry says jokingly, trying to make light of it, but as the words come out of his mouth he feels his stomach drop with realisation, remembering that Hufflepuff boy Finch-Fletchly who ran away from him the day before.
Draco doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t laugh either, which makes Harry feel even worse. But they both try their hardest to pretend everything’s fine and by the time they’ve finished their breakfast and are strolling towards the greenhouses for double Herbology with the Ravenclaws, Harry’s almost convinced himself everything actually is fine.
Besides doing their homework for Charms and Potions, Harry and Draco spend almost the whole weekend flying, barely taking meal breaks in-between sessions, and Harry has never felt so good and alive in his life.
They keep flying as the sun sets and don’t stop until it’s got too dark to see properly. Harry races Draco to the ground and touches down first, cheering triumphantly while lighting his wand with a Lumos spell and watching Draco, who touches down a couple of seconds later, grinning excitedly despite losing the impromptu race.
Harry feels his stomach flutter as he looks at his friend, his grey eyes glittering in Harry’s wand light and his white-blonde hair unusally windswept.
”We should do this every weekend”, Harry says as they make their way back to the castle. ”No matter what happens tomorrow, even if neither of us make the team, we should still come out here and fly together.”
”Yeah, we definitely should! Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if Flint picks you to be the new Seeker… You’re really good, Harry.”
”So are you”, Harry says.
”Yeah, but you’re better — and there’s only room for one, remember?”
”I might fly faster than you, but I might be rubbish at catching the Snitch”, Harry counters.
And it’s true, he might be rubbish… Truth is, he’s no way of knowing because he’s never actually played with a Snitch before. Whenever he and Sirius play together in the backyard, they’ve always taken turns as Chaser and Keeper. Harry’s never even held a real Snitch. He knows James, his biological father, was a Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team when he and Harry’s dads were in school. And he knows James had a snitch that he’d knicked at one point, Sirius keeps telling Harry things like that about James, like it’s something to be proud of, and Harry never really knows how to feel about it…
And there’s more to being a seeker than good flying, Harry knows. In fact, the flying is definitely secondary, because before you can start chasing the snitch you need to actually find it and although James had also worn glasses, Harry knows he didn’t start using them until fifth year which means his eye sight can’t have been that bad, if he got away with it for so many years… Whereas Harry is practically blind without his glasses on…
”Father said he would buy the whole team new brooms”, Draco mumbles as they climb the stairs to the castle. ”Nimbus 2001s.”
He’s avoiding Harry’s eyes and when Harry turns his head to look at him, his already rosy cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red.
”What, for the whole team? That’s insane!” Harry says.
”I told him no”, Draco says quickly.
”Why?”
”Because…” Draco mutters. ”It’s embarassing, isn’t it?”
”Yeah, maybe a little”, Harry agrees carefully. ”But if you make the team, you should definitely tell him he can buy the brooms — just think of the advantage we’d have over the other teams!”
”If I make the team, he won’t see the need to buy the brooms”, Draco says bitterly. ”Don’t you get it? Father never does anything without a reason.”
”Well… No-one does, really, if you think about it”, Harry says awkwardly.
Draco rolls his eyes, ”You know what I mean.”
”Well…” Harry says again and trails off.
He doesn’t want to say anything bad about Lucius Malfoy — it’s Draco’s dad, after all — but he doesn’t want to pretend not to get it either. And the truth is, if one of his dads bribed the teachers so that Harry would get a better grade, or the Quidditch team so that Harry would be chosen regardless of his performance during the try-outs, he would feel embarassed too.
*
Harry awakes on Monday morning feeling both nervous and excited about the up-coming Quidditch try-outs and although Draco claims to be fine, he eats even less eggs than normal for breakfast and then stays unusally quiet throughout the day. It’s not until their last class of the day, which happens to be Defence Against the Dark Arts, that he regains some colour in his cheeks and focus in his eyes.
Ever since the disasterous lesson with the pixies, Lockhart has not brought any more living creatures to class. Instead he has taken to reading passages from his books out loud to them and sometimes re-enacting the more dramatic parts and, to Harry’s immense chagrin, he almost always asks Harry to assist him. So far, Harry has played the part of a yeti suffering from a head-cold and a vampire who, after Lockhart had dealt with him, had been unable to eat anything besides lettuce.
Today, Lockhart has been telling them about a Transylvanian villager he once cured of a Babbling Curse and when he looks up from his book, his gaze immediately finds Harry in the back row, despite Harry’s best efforts to sink so low in his seat that his chin is level with the desk.
”Harry!” Lockhart exclaims, his many gleaming white teeth on display. ”Would you be so kind —”
Harry simply glares back at him.
”— to join me in a brief reconstruction? Come now, don’t be shy!”
Harry swallows a sigh and drags himself up to standing.
”There’s a good lad!” Lockhart says heartily. ”Now, Harry, if you’ll stand over here — over here, yes — and remember, you’ve been hit with a Babbling Curse — don’t worry about the accent —!”
Harry instictively pinches his lips shut in pure defiance, but then he glances over at Draco in the back row and realises that, for the first time today, the blonde doesn’t look like he’s about to faint at any moment. In fact, he almost looks amused.
”Ready, Harry?” Lockhart says in a stage whisper and brandishes his wand with a dramatic flair.
”Sure”, Harry mutters, thinking if it can get Draco to cheer up, what’s the harm?
”Aaaand… Go!”
”Blah blah blah bla—”
”No, no, no! Come, now, Harry! How are your classmates going to get any sort of an idea of what happened with that unrealistic rendition? Now, focus! Go again!”
Harry glances over at Draco again and the unmistakable twitch in the other boy’s lips is the only thing keeping him from flipping Lockhart the bird and marching out of the classroom. He takes a deep breath, and starts babbling again, except actual words this time…
”Aha!” Lockhart exclaims in his usual reanactment voice and pretends to pull up short next to Harry.
”Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed —”
”Just as I thought! This poor old woman has clearly been hit with a Babbling Curse —!”
”Knotgrass —” Harry says and shoots the other students an exaggerated glare when they snicker and giggle.
”— Don’t fret, Madam —!”
”— Bicorn horn, Boomslang skin —”
”— I’ll soon have you back to rights! Stultioquium Desino!”
”— Ashwinder eggs — Oh, sorry, Professor…”
”Harry, don’t break character — now, Madam, as you can see, you are no longer afflicted by the curse — no, no, no need to thank me — ”
”Alright.”
”Madam, please, your gratitude is reward enough!”
”Can I sit down now?”
There is a chorus of snickers and giggles from the other students and Harry gives them a bitter eyeroll as soon as his back is turned to Lockhart.
He gratefully collapses in his seat next to Draco and the blonde gives him a fond look, his lips twitching again. Harry feels a flutter in his chest and smirks back, rolling his eyes again.
”Obliviate me, please”, he mutters.
”Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad… Remember last week?”
”Ugh, don’t remind me!” Harry hisses.
But when Draco giggles softly and his insides flutter pleasantly again, he thinks he would happily play a starved vampire and stuff his face with lettuce every day for the rest of the school year as long as it made Draco that happy.
After a quick dinner in the Great Hall, Harry and Draco grab their brooms from the dungeons and make their way to the Quidditch pitch along with the other Slytherins hoping to make the team. The team captain Marcus Flint is waiting for them when they get there and instructs them all to line up in front of him. Harry scans the small crowd quickly, counting three other second-years besides himself and Draco, namely Crabbe, Goyle and a girl named Millicent Bulstrode, none of which Harry has ever really bothered to get to know.
He said hello to Millicent at some point in first year, but only recieved a suspiscious glare back and since then he’s avoided the girl as much as possible. Come to think of it, he’s avoided all contact with Crabbe and Goyle as well, ever since the two of them accompanied Draco to his and Ron’s carriage on the Hogwarts Express and tried to pick a fight. Of course, he should have forgiven the two boys for this the minute he forgave Draco, especially considering they were probably just doing what the blonde told them to do, but for some reason Harry has never really felt the same need for a clean slate with Crabbe and Goyle… Gee, I wonder why, Harry thinks and smiles wrily to himself as he watches Crabbe swing the Beater bat violently and nearly knocking himself in the face.
”Next”, Flint barks and gives Crabbe an unimpressed look as he crash lands next to him.
”Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you…” Harry says under his breath, nudging Draco’s shoulder gently with his own.
”What?” Draco says distractedly, shifting his feet restlessly as he watches Millicent fly a lap around the pitch and then catches the quaffle tossed to her without fumbling.
”Why on earth would you want to hang out with Crabbe and Goyle?” Harry asks Draco under his breath.
”What?” Draco says again and turns to look at Harry.
”Crabbe and Goyle. I mean, come on…”
”I don’t hang out with them”, Draco says and squints his eyes at Harry. ”Are you feeling alright?”
”Yeah, but you used to, didn’t you? You were with them on the Hogwarts Express —”
”Yeah, so? I didn’t really know anyone but Pansy and I wanted to go check you out, so I needed backup…”
Harry’s mind whirrs to a stop, echoing check you out, check you out, check you out… and he just blinks stupidly for a moment. Draco gives him another suspiscious look. Harry shakes his head a little. Draco frowns, but turns back to look at Millicent land in front of Flint.
”Oh Merlin, I’m up next”, he mutters faintly and takes a deep breath, then releases it slowly.
”That was a pretty good catch”, the team captain grunts and Millicent perks up a little. ”But I already have all the chasers I need, I’m looking for a new seeker and your flying technique won’t cut it… Next!”
”Good luck”, Harry mutters and gives Draco’s shoulders a quick rub.
Draco shoots him a glance, but says nothing.
”Next!” Flint barks again.
Draco quickly mounts his Nimbus and kicks off the ground. Harry feels a strange mix of pride and envy when Draco flies around the pitch, swerving gracefully to avoid the bludger and then spotting the golden snitch after only fifteen minutes in the air and actually managing to snatch it only ten minutes after that.
”Not bad”, Flint says when Draco lands gracefully in front of him. ”Not bad at all. Stick around… Next!”
Harry takes a deep breath and kicks off the ground and he can’t help but grin as he feels the all-too-familiar rush. He zooms around the pitch, swirling and swerving around the bludger. His hair whips around his face and the cold evening air scratches his face and knuckles. Suddenly he catches a glint of gold in his peripheral and swerves around… There, the snitch!
He lies flat along his broom and speeds up, catching up to the small golden ball as it tries to flit away from him. He throws himself sideways and tumbles in the air as the snitch zips to the side and manages to swat it with his numbing fingers, then clutches it tightly in his fist and pulls the broom up into the air again only seconds before colliding with the ground.
He rights himself on the broom and ducks as the bludger makes one final attempt to hit him, then gently touches down on the ground, still clutching the snitch since he’s the last person to try out. He hands the small ball to Flint who gives him an appraising look.
”Impressive…” he grunts and then looks between Harry and Draco. ”Very impressive for a second year, actually. I’m going to have to go with Potter, Malfoy… You can be the reserve seeker, though.”
”I knew he’d pick you over me”, Draco says when he and Harry are walking back to the castle. ”You’re an amazing flier…”
”Hey, you made the team, too”, Harry says. ”We still get to practise together!”
”Yeah, that’s true…”
”Draco? Are you okay with this?”
Draco glances at him and Harry finds himself holding his breath, waiting for his reply. And what do I do if he says he’s not okay? Do I give up the chance to play Quidditch so that Draco can have my spot on the team? Do I—
”Yeah, I’m okay, Harry”, Draco says and gives him a small, crooked smile.
”Oh…” Harry says, releasing his breath in a relieved whoosh. ”Good…”
They walk in silence for a moment.
”Wait, hang on”, Harry says suddenly. ”You hired Crabbe and Goyle as bodyguards?”
”No, I didn’t hire them”, Draco says with a smirk. ”I strategically befriended them.”
”Oh, I see”, Harry mutters, thinking that sounds just like Draco actually. ”What made you change strategies then?”
”You know what.”
”No, I don’t. Tell me.”
”Well I hardly need bodyguards when my b- best friend is The Boy Who Lived, now do I… Not to mention The Heir Of Slytherin!”
”Ha-ha”, Harry mutters.
”What, I’m serious. Half the school thinks you can control a secret monster. I’m covered until graduation!”
”You’re such an idiot”, Harry laughs and gives the blonde a playful shove.
*
During their next Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, Harry is hauled to the front of the class before he’s even had a chance to sit down and instructed to act as a werewolf as Lockhart gets ready to reenact another one of his Greatest Hits.
”Nice loud howl, Harry!”
Harry shoots him a thunderous glare, but since he knows by now that the quickest way to get the nightmare over with and himself back in the safety of his seat next to Draco at the back of the classroom is to play along with the professor’s shenanigans, he takes a quick deep breath and lets out a loud howl.
”Exactly”, Lockhart praises him before jumping into character. ”And then, if you’ll believe it, I pounced — like this — slammed him to the ground —!”
”Ouff!” Harry grunts as the larger man suddenly wrestles him to the floor.
”Thus!” Lockhart exclaims, splaying his hand on Harry’s cheek and pressing his face against the cold flag stone. ”With one hand, I managed to hold him down, boys and girls — with my other, I put my wand to his throat —”
Harry’s heart stutters and he desperately tries to swivel his head to get a look at the man to see if he’s actually got his wand pointed at him.
”Stay still, Harry, there’s a good boy — I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm — he let out a piteous moan — go on, Harry —”
Harry tries to moan despite Lockhart’s hand squishing his face together, but it comes out as a gurgle.
”Higher than that”, Lockhart admonishes.
Harry gurgles louder.
”Good — the fur vanished — the fangs shrank — and he turned back into a man! — simple, yet effective — and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks!”
Lockhart finally lets Harry up and claps him on the shoulder with a grin and a wink. Harry glares back and rubs the side of his face that had been pressed against the cold, dirty floor… Then, remembering Lockhart’s sweaty palm pushing against the other side of his face, he rubs that too.
”Well done, Harry!” Lockhart says. ”Give him a round of applause, boys and girls!”
There is a subdued smatter of hand-clapping, barely audible over the chorus of snickers. Harry pinches his lips together and quickly marches to his place in the back. Draco gives him a sympathetic look, but his eyes are glittering.
”Shut up”, Harry mutters.
Draco simply snorts and turns back to face Lockhart as he continues to tell the class of all the ways the villagers had shown him their gratitude.
The bell rings, cutting the professor off finally and he holds out his arms as if to say, Alas, I cannot continue regale you with the stories of my victories! and Harry knows, because he’s said those exact words in the past, while raising his arms in this exact way.
”This class is a joke”, Harry mutters and stuffs his books back into his book bag.
Draco hums in agreement.
”Homework!” Lockhart exclaims and grins as if he’s just surprised them with a treat. ”Compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!”
Draco makes a gagging noise and Harry chuckles. Behind them, Pansy Parkinson lets out a high-pitched giggle as well and Harry immediately feels his hackles go up, but he quickly smoothes the scowl from his face when he sees Draco’s proud smirk.
They have half an hour to kill before dinner and since they have Quidditch practise afterwards, Harry decides to write his weekly letter home now instead of doing it before bed like he usually does, so when they get to the Slytherin Common Room he plops down in one of the sofas in front of the fireplace and gets a quill and some parchment out of his bag.
”What are you doing?” Draco says, sprawling out on the sofa next to him.
”Letter to my dads”, Harry mutters. ”I still haven’t told them I made the team…”
”Are they going to make a big deal out of it, you think?”
”Hm, I don’t know… They’re usually pretty low-key… But my dad — Sirius — is really into Quidditch, so he might get really excited about it, plus James…” Harry trails off and fidgets uncomfortably. avoiding Draco’s eyes, silently cursing himself; Why’d he have to go and mention James, now Draco is going to ask lots of questions…
”James Potter?” Draco says and Harry gives him a surprised look to which the blonde shrugs simply. ”His name is in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts… We don’t have to talk about them, if you don’t want.”
Them, Harry thinks. So he must have read about Lily as well.
”No, it’s alright”, he mutters. ”I just feel really awkward talking about them like they’re my parents, I mean they were, technically, but…”
”Yeah, I get it”, Draco says softly.
”Yeah…”
”James Potter was a Seeker too, wasn’t he?”
”Yeah”, Harry says. ”So dad might get all excited that I’m following in his footsteps, I dunno… I mean, they were best friends, so he must miss him a lot, you know? And I know I look just like him... and if I take after him and play Quidditch like him, I’ll be even more like him and remind my dad of him even more, which isn’t a bad thing I guess, except… I dunno, it makes me feel weird, that’s all…”
Draco gives him a small smile, but says nothing.
”Anyway”, Harry mutters, feeling his cheeks heat up a little. ”I should get this letter done before dinner…”
”Want me to leave you alone?”
”No, you don’t have to”, Harry says and shrugs. ”I’ll be quick…”
”Okay”, Draco says softly and picks up one of the books from his book bag and starts flipping through it while he waits.
”Dad and Daddy”, Harry scribbles. ”Guess what? I made the Slytherin Quidditch team! I’m the new Seeker, and Draco is the reserve, so we both get to practise together even if we won’t be playing any games together. Our first game is on Saturday and it’s against Gryffindor — I know this will be go against your Gryffindor pride, but you better root for me to catch the snitch!”
Harry smirks to himself, picturing what his dads would look like sitting in the stands, reluctantly donning green and silver for the first time in their lives, and makes a mental note to get them Slytherin scarves for Christmas, just to see if they’ll wear them…
”Other than that, life at Hogwarts is pretty much back to normal”, Harry writes, only feeling a small twinge of guilt considering he’s not lying per se… things are slowly getting back to normal after the attack on Mrs Norris — just not for him — but he doesn’t want his dads to worry… They might get suspiscious if I don’t have anything to complain about though, he thinks and decides to include some more information.
”I’m doing well in all my classes, except Potions which is really difficult…” he scribbles. ”Also I hate DADA because professor Lockhart is a joke, and he always makes me act out scenes from his books with him! Today he made me pretend to be a werewolf and then he pushed me to the floor as he demonstrated this charm he used to cure a werewolf once, it was really humiliating! Anyway, hope you are good! Give Selina a cuddle from me! Hugs from your Harry”
”All done?” Draco says when Harry rolls up the letter and puts his ink well and quill away.
”Yeah, let’s go eat!”
”Aren’t you going to send it?”
”I’ll stop by the owlery on the way to practise.”
At dinner, Harry discretely eyes Draco as he fills a quarter of his plate with food and then gently spreads it around to make it look like there’s more of it. Harry’s witnessed Draco do this so many times and never said anything about it, but for the first time he speaks up.
”Is that all you’re going to eat?”
Draco immediately tenses up, his back going rigid just like that time Narcissa admonished him for his lack of manners at the dinner table.
”It’s just that, we have quidditch practise”, Harry hurries to adds. ”You’re going to need your strength. That’s all.”
Draco seems to deliberate with himself, and swallows thickly as he scans the spread of food in front him on the table. He then reaches out and grabs the ladle of the nearest pot with a slightly trembling hand and then scoops up a couple of potatoes to add to his plate.
Harry decides that will have to do and gives the blonde an encouraging smile, before he starts to tuck into his own food hungrily.
Draco takes his sweet time as usual and when Harry has finished his treacle tart, he is still working on the extra potatoes. Harry waits patiently for him to pick his way through the potatoes and doesn’t say anything to him, just sips his pumpkin juice calmly and eventually Draco manages to clean his plate. Harry gives him another smile, and they make their way to the owlery together.
Flint and the rest of the Quidditch team are waiting for them in the changing rooms and Flint flings a couple of quidditch uniforms at them and tells them to get changed while he goes over the new training program.
Harry gets butterflies in his belly as he slides on his pads and glancing over at Draco, the butterflies get even more excited. The green in Draco’s uniform somehow makes his skin seem less ghostly, but the silver brings out the grey in his eyes… Draco glances up and meets his eyes briefly… Harry’s whole stomach flips over… He forces himself to look at Flint’s diagram instead and tells himself to focus.
When Harry collapses into bed three hours later, he is aching in places he wasn’t even aware he had and judging from the muted groan coming from Draco’s bed, the blonde is experiencing a similar sensation. Harry smiles to himself and starts to drift off…
”Harry”, Draco moans from the other bed and Harry blinks. ”I take it back, I don’t want to be on the team…”
Harry chuckles tiredly and hums in agreement, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Finally, sleep wins though and darkness overtakes him.
At breakfast the next day, Hedwig swoops down and lands gracefully next to Harry’s porridge bowl and sticks out her leg dutifully. Harry unties the small roll of parchment attached to it and then gives her a piece of bacon and a pat on the head. She hoots affectionately at him before taking flight again.
Harry unrolls the parchment, surprised to see his dad’s handwriting. It usually takes his dads at least a few days to respond to his letters… Also, his daddy is always the one writing to him, adding ”Dad says hi” or something to that affect. This is the first time his dad is writing to him directly. It makes Harry stomach clench with worry and he quickly scans the letter, expecting some kind of bad news about his daddy being ill, or —
But no. Nothing.
All it says is that they’re both happy that he’s made the Slytherin quidditch team and of course we’ll be rooting for you to win, and then Sirius says that if Harry feels singled out in DADA he should talk to his Head of House about it or, if he wants, his daddy can send a letter to the Headmaster.
Harry blinks.
He reads the letter again, ”…Harry, if you feel like you’re being singled out and mistreated in one of your classes, you should go to your Head of House! Or if you want, your daddy says he’s more than happy to write a letter to Dumbledore. Just let us know! We love you, take care of yourself and good luck on Saturday!”
Harry blinks again. Your daddy says, he thinks numbly. Nothing about him being ill… But…
”Any news?” Draco asks.
”What”, Harry mumbles. ”Oh, no, just… my dad — I mean, my dads — responding to my letter.”
”That was quick!”
”Yeah… I know…”
”What’s wrong?”
Draco frowns when Harry hesitates to answer and places a hand lightly on top of his arm. Harry just shakes his head.
”You sure?”
”It’s probably nothing…” Harry mumbles.
”Okay… If you’re sure…”
Harry goes over the letter in his head several time during History of Magic, worry still gnawing at him relentlessly, but when they enter Greenhouse Three for their Herbology class and continue to repot Mandrake Roots, the high-pitched squeals of the ugly little plants manage to drown some of the worry and by the time he and Draco stand side by side at their desk at the front of the Potions classroom stirring lizard’s eyes into a Pepperup Potion under the unnervingly watchful eye of Professor Snape, the letter is all but forgotten again.
*
On Saturday morning, Harry wakes up early and lies still thinking about the coming Quidditch match for a while nervous butterflies start hatching in his belly. After half an hour, Draco starts stirring in the other bed and Harry turns over to his side and watches silently as the blonde boy stretches, still half-asleep.
Harry smiles to himself, admiring Draco’s lithe form arching under the cover and his wiry arms reaching up towards the headboard… He might not eat enough, but he looks damn good, Harry thinks and blushes.
Draco blinks his swollen eyes open and peers over at Harry.
”What’re you grinning about?” he mutters thickly and Harry’s smile widens. ”Wha’ time’s it? How long’ve you been up?”
”I dunno, early”, Harry says. ”And I’m not up.”
”Idiot. You know what I mean”, Draco grouses and swings himself up to sitting, his pale legs sticking out of the cover and dangling over the side of the bed.
Harry glances at the other boy’s feet and notices how they brush the floor now. He feels a stab of annoyance that his friend keeps growing like a weed when he’s barely grown an inch since summer himself. He thinks about his dad teasing him and calling him runt, and frowns. He quickly goes over the other boys in second year and tries to think how many of them are taller than him… The answer, to Harry’s chagrine, is most of them… and some of the girls, as well…
”Well, that wiped the grin away”, Draco says slowly and Harry glances over at him again. ”I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it?”
”You didn’t mean what?” Harry says.
”To call you an idiot? Or what else are you scowling about?”
”Nothing”, Harry says and rolls his eyes, pushing himself up to sitting as well. ”I’m just nervous about the match.”
”You’ll do great”, Draco says and waves his hand dismissively.
”You can sleep for another hour at least”, Harry reminds him when they both get up and start getting dressed. ”You don’t have to go with me.”
”I’m up anyway”, Draco says and shrugs. ”I won’t be able to go back to sleep, so I might as well go down to the Great Hall with you.”
”All right, if you’re sure… Hey! Where’s your button?”
”What button?” Draco says and instinctively looks down to see if his robe is missing one.
”The Harry Potter fanclub button!”
Draco rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch and he gently knocks his shoulder against Harry’s.
When they get to the Great Hall, the rest of the team is already at the Slytherin table, eating breakfast in nervous silence and on the opposite side of the Hall, the Gryffindor team sits huddled together in a similar fashion. Harry slides into the seat next to Adrian and reaches for the coffee caraffe. The older boy gives him a small nod of acknowledgement and Harry nods back, before pouring himself and Draco coffee.
”Wood is looking smug”, Flint mutters quietly, glaring over at the Gryffindor table. ”He’s probably underestimating our new Seeker—”
”He has a name, Marcus”, Adrian says in a long-suffering voice.
”I know, and it’s a famous one, so why is Wood looking so damn sure of himself”, Flint counters.
”The Weasleys don’t, for a change”, Adrian says. ”And they’ve been looking over here since Harry sat down. They probably know he’s good.”
Harry squirms uncomfortably in his seat. He’s used to people talking about him, but they’re usually doing it behind his back… Trust his team mates to do it right in front of him…
”He’s not good, he’s great”, Flint says. ”I’m sure we’re going to win today!”
The team captain leans back to pin Harry with an intense look from the other side of Adrian Pucey, acknowledging him for the first time since he walked into the Great Hall.
”It’s all on you, Potter! You better get that snitch —”
”Hey, Harry’s not the only one on the team”, Adrian protests.
”No”, Flint growls back at him. ”But the Gryffindor Keeper is better than ours —”
”Hey!” Adrian splutters indignantly. ”She is not better than me —!”
”Oh yeah? Prove it!”
”I might — if I had more support from my team captain!”
Harry and Draco exchange a discrete look. It’s not the first time Flint and Pucey get into an argument like this, in fact it tends to happen every time the team the practises — and before every match, apparently, Harry thinks — what’s weird is how close the two older boys seem to be whenever they’re not in Quidditch robes, but lounging in the common room or making their way between classrooms, which they usually do together… Come to think of, Harry realises they usually sit next to each other during meals and in the library as well…
”Potter, eat up already!” Flint says and stands up suddenly. ”That goes for the rest of you as well. Warm-up in fifteen minutes!”
Adrian slams his coffee cup down on the table and gets to his feet as well, storming out of the Great Hall in Flint’s wake. Harry looks at the rest of the team. They all give him smirks and head shakes, before finishing their breakfasts quickly and getting to their feet as well.
”I guess I have to go”, Harry mumbles to Draco who nods. ”I’ll see you after the match?”
”You’ll see me in the stands during the match”, Draco corrects with a smirk. ”I’ll be the one directing the Harry Potter fanclub to cheer —”
”Ha-ha”, Harry chuckles.
”Give me an H —!” Draco mock cheers.
”Shut up, crazy person!” Harry laughs.
”Go, already”, Draco says and rolls his eyes affectionately. ”Go win the match for us.”
At eleven o’clock the rest of the school is making their way down to the Quidditch pitch, but Harry is sitting in the changing room, clutching the bench and trying to keep his breakfast down as Flint gives them a so-called pep talk — although it’s more of a serious of threats, and Adrian is the one pointing it out — Harry tunes out the older boys bickering and squeezes his eyes shut, focusing on his breathing.
He startles when someone suddenly gives his shoulder a rough shove. The rest of the team are on their feet, shouldering their brooms. Harry hurries to copy them.
They all walk out onto the pitch in some sort of formation lead by Flint and Harry bringing up the rear, and a roar of noise greets them from the stands. Harry can hear some cheers from the Slytherin part of the crowd, but mainly it’s boos and hisses from the other three houses.
The Gryffindor team is already waiting for them in the middle of the pitch, next to the Quidditch teacher Madam Hooch, in her judging robes. As the Slytherin team joins them, she instructs Flint and Oliver Wood to shake hands, which they do reluctantly, but once they’re gripping the other’s hand they seem to be squeezing a lot harder than necessary.
Harry hears Adrian let out a tiny huff of a sigh, but no-one else seems to have noticed.
”All right”, Madam Hooch says and both teams quickly mount their brooms. ”On my whistle… three… two… one…”
With a roar from the crowd to speed them on, both teams kick off the ground and soar towards the dark grey sky. Harry continues higher than the rest of his teammates, squinting around for the Snitch as his heart hammers hard in his chest, Flint’s words echoing in his head, It’s all on you, Potter! You better get that Snitch! Get the Snitch or die trying, Potter!
Being new on the team, Harry is uncomfortably aware that he’s given a lot more attention from the crowd and the commentator Lee Jordan than a Seeker normally would this early in the game… Usually, most of the attention would be on the Chasers and Keepers at this point, but because no-one knows what to expect from him or the Gryffindor Seeker — a Third Year named Cormac McLaggen, who is also new — Lee spends an unnecessarily long time judging their flying technique and pondering the reasoning of both team captains when choosing them for their positions.
”McLaggen, to be fair, is one skilled flier, but doesn’t really have what we would call a traditional Seeker build, after all… Now, Potter, on the other hand, there’s a Seeker’s body if I ever saw one, small and light, but also a fair flier, I have to say —”
Harry bristles… Great, now everyone’s going to laugh and whisper about how small I am too… He forces himself to drown the commentary out and starts squinting for the Snitch again. On the other side of the pitch, McLaggen is zipping back and forth above the goal hoops, clearly having been given different instructions from his team captain —
Suddenly, a bludger comes pelting towards Harry; he whirls sideways and avoids it so narrowly that he can feel it ruffle his hair as it flies past… He swerves around and stares back as fifth-year Lucian Bole, one of the Slytherin Beaters, streaks up and gives the bludger a heavy whack with his club, aiming for one of the Gryffindor Chasers; but halfway towards Katie Bell, the bludger changes direction and shoots straight for Harry —
He dives to avoid it and Lucian manages to hit it again but with no time to aim, this time he sends it in a random direction; once again, the bludger swerves like a boomerang and heads for Harry’s head again —
Hunching over his Nimbus 2000, Harry puts on a burst of speed and zooms towards the other end of the pitch. With his heart now lodged in his throat, he can barely breathe and still the bludger is whistling along behind him, chasing him over the pitch… Bludgers aren’t supposed to chase one specific player… Something’s wrong…
The other Slytherin Beater, Peregrine Derrick, is waiting for Harry and rogue bludger at the other end of the pitch and Harry hurries to duck as the older boy swings, sending the bludger off course, but as though magnetically attracted to Harry, the bludger soon starts chasing after him again.
Harry flies off at full speed again, as heavy drops of rain starts to fall and splatter his glasses. He squints his eyes, trying to catch any glimmer of gold.
The bludger keeps whizzing after him and soon, he’s got Bole and Derrick on either side of him, swinging their clubs madly at the persistent bludger, and nearly whacking Harry himself at one point, and between the rain splattered on his spectacles and his teammates flailing arms, it’s impossible for Harry to see anything else.
”Someone’s — tampered — with — it”, Bole grunts and hits the bludger with a deafening crunch when it makes yet another attempt on Harry’s life.
”Yeah — We need — time out —” Derrick gasps and wheels around, waving his arm at Flint.
Seconds later, Madam Hooch’s whistle rings out and Harry dives towards the ground, flanked by the two burly Beaters. They land in front of Flint who is glaring at the two taller boys, demanding to know what’s going on.
”What the hell are you two playing at? Where we you when that bludger stopped me from scoring?”
”We were twenty feet above you stopping the other bludger from killing Potter”, Derrick snarls. ”It’s been fixed — it won’t leave him alone, it’s not gone for anyone else all game!”
”But the bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch’s office since our practise yesterday”, Adrian says with a worried frown. ”How could anyone —”
”I knew Wood looked smug!” Flint snarls. ”I’m sure he’s done something to it!”
”Wood? Really?” Adrian says, giving the team captain a sideway glance. ”I don’t think—”
”No-one asked you!” Flint snaps.
Harry looks over his shoulder. Madam Hooch is approaching their team with long strides. He feels his heart stutter in his chest.
”Listen”, he says hurriedly, cutting off Adrian’s heated response. ”I can’t see anything with you two flying so close to me, the only way I’ll catch the snitch this way is if flies up my sleeve! Go back to the rest of the team, and let me worry about the bludger —!”
”Don’t be thick”, Derrick says. ”It’ll take your head off!”
Flint looks down at Harry with an appraising frown.
”Let’s ask for an inguiry —” Adrian says.
”If we stop the match, we’ll have to forfeit”, Flint snaps.
”You can’t let Harry deal with that thing on his own —!”
”It’s okay”, Harry cuts in desperately. ”I can do it!”
”This is all your fault”, Adrian yells at Flint. ”You and your stupid pep-talks! ’Get the Snitch or die trying’, why the hell would you tell him that —!”
”He says he can do it”, Flint growls.
Madam Hooch finally gets to them, ”Ready to resume play?”
”Yes!” Flint says.
They all kick off the ground again and resume their positions. Harry soars above the rest of the team, warily watching out for the rogue bludger while desperately trying to catch a glimpse of something golden.
The rain is falling heavier now, but he can still hear the bludger when it whooshes by… He flies higher and higher, looping and swooping, spiralling and zigzagging, rolling, feeling dizzier but also more alive than ever before… A whistling in his ear tells him that the bludger has just missed him again and he quickly speeds in the opposite direction…
Suddenly, he glimpses a glint of something in his peripheral and whirls around… For an agonising moment, Harry hangs stunned in mid-air, barely able to breathe as the truth slams into his mind… There amongst the silver sheets of rain, he can see the golden Snitch!
WHAM!
A wave of pain hits him out of nowhere and he doubles over with a gasp, then slides sideways on his rain-slick broom and starts to fall off, clinging on only thanks to one knee still crooked over it… Harry’s eyes fill up with tears and he grabs blinding for the broom but his right arm hangs uselessly over his head and the pain spikes as it dangles; it suddenly dawns on Harry what must have happened: He must have stayed still a second too long and the bludger finally got him, smashing elbow —
Suddenly, he sees the blurry shape of the bludger come hurtling towards him for a second attack, this time aiming straight for his face —
Harry hurls himself up on the broom, cradling his broken arm carefully against his chest as he grips the broom stick with his other hand, he swerves again to avoid the bludger and zooms blindly towards the place where he’d spotted the Snitch — There — gold — Harry lets go of the broom and makes a wild snatch with his good arm, his fingers closing around something cold and round, the tiny wings fluttering desperately for a moment, then retreating back into the the gold casing, admitting defeat; through the daze of pain, Harry is faintly aware of what this means… we’ve won, we’ve won, we’ve actually won… but in the next second he has to put all his remaining thought and strength into gripping his broom with his legs and keep himself conscious long enough to land his broom safely on the ground.
With a splattering thud he hits the muddy ground and finally rolls off the broom. His right arm is hanging at a very strange angle and currents of white-hot pain runs through it… And then finally, he faints.
When he comes back around, he is not painfree and dry in the Hospital Wing as he would have liked, but still lying on his back in the mud with rain splattering against his face and the pain in his arm is just as excruciating… Someone else is there, though. Someone is leaning over him. He sees a glitter of teeth.
”Oh no, not you”, he moans.
”Poor boy, doesn’t know what he’s saying!” Lockhart says loudly to the other Slytherins as they begin to crowd around them. ”Not to worry, Harry! I’m about to fix your arm!”
”No!” Harry says and tries to sit up.
A wave of pain rolls over him and his vision darkens briefly. Bile wells up in his throat and he swallows thickly.
”Lie back, Harry”, Lockhart says soothingly and Harry feels his hand pushing against his shoulder. ”It’s a simple charm, I’ve used it countless of times —”
”No”, Harry gasps again, squeezing his eyes shut. ”Why can’t I just go to the hospital wing?”
”He really should, Professor”, he hears Adrian say from somewhere above him.
”Great capture, Potter”, Flint says. ”Really spectacular!”
”Marcus”, Adrian admonishes. ”Not now!”
”What? Lighten up, we won!”
”Harry!” Draco’s anxious voice calls out from nearby.
”He’s okay”, Adrian calls over his shoulder.
Oh yeah, just peachy, Harry thinks bitterly.
”Lie back, Harry”, Lockhart says soothingly and Harry feels his hand pushing against his shoulder. ”It’s a simple charm, I’ve used it countless of times —”
”No”, Harry gasps again, squeezing his eyes shut.
”Stand back!” Lockhart says loudly, ignoring him.
”No — please —”
Harry squints up at Lockhart and sees him twirling his wand, and a second later he directs it at Harry’s arm. A strange and rather unpleasant sensation starts at Harry’s right shoulder and then spreads quickly all the way down to his fingertips. It almost feels as though his entire arm is deflating, and not daring to look at what’s happening to him, he shuts his eyes again.
His fears are quickly confirmed when there’s a chorus of gasps around him. His arm doesn’t hurt anymore, but on the other hand it doesn’t feel remotely like an arm at all.
”Ah”, Lockhart says. ”Yes — well — that can sometimes happen — but the point is, the bones are no longer broken, see! — so, Harry, if you’ll just toddle up to the Hospital Wing —”
Finally, Harry blinks his eyes open and peers down at his arm in dread… What he sees almost makes him pass out again: poking out of the end of his quidditch robes is what looks like a flesh-coloured rubber glove — he tries to wriggle his fingers — nothing happens…
”Harry! What —!”
Looking up in dismay, Harry meets Draco’s eyes. The blonde is doubled over next to Adrian, trying to catch his breath, but it quickly stutters in his throat and his eyes narrow suspisciously.
”What the hell did he do to your arm —?” he shrieks in panic.
”Draco, what —?”
The low, rumbling voice of Professor Snape alerts Harry of his Head of House’s presence a second before the man appears behind Draco. His black eyes quickly finds Harry and then flicker down to his arm; his face immediately drains of what little colour it had to start with and he whips his head around and fixes Lockhart with a piercing death glare.
”What did you do?” he demands in an unusually loud and uncontrolled voice.
”Just a little bone-fixing charm to sort young Harry out —” Lockhart starts, but falters when Snape pushes Adrian and Flint aside and takes a few threatening steps towards him.
”Fix? Fix?” Snape hisses.
Lockhart stumbles back a step and blinks owlishly at the other professor.
”Well, the bones are no longer broken, as you can see —”
”Broken? Broken? There aren’t any bones left, you complete —!” Snape thunders, but cuts himself off and takes a deep breath to compose himself.
Harry stares between the two professors, then looks over at Draco and his teammates; everyone is staring at the Potions Master in shock… They’ve never seen him lose his temper like this, especially with another professor…
Snape takes another deep breath. When he speaks again, his voice is controlled once more but made of pure ice.
”I will now escort my student to the Hospital Wing… After I have done so, I will contact his guardians… But when they arrive at the castle and demand to know what has happened to their son, you will explain this to them… since you are the one who’s gone and buggered up their son’s arm like the incompetent imbecile that you are… is that understood?”
Harry and Draco exchange a startled look. Harry thinks Draco must be thinking the same as him: that Professor Snape must be furious indeed to be speaking like this to a fellow teacher, in front of students no less, even if the teacher is Lockhart.
”Because if you think that I’ll be subjecting myself to Remus Lupin’s fatherly wrath unduly, then you are sorely mistaken!” Snape finishes in a snarl.
Harry frowns. Why would Professor Snape of all people be afraid of his daddy’s wrath? If anything, his dad is the one with a temper…
A memory flares up, Ron and Draco standing at his bedside in the Hospital Wing and telling him about his daddy being livid… He hadn’t believed it then and he still struggles to believe it now… But Snape is the scariest man he’s ever met — besides Voldemort — and he just revealed that he’s… maybe not scared, but at least wary of Harry’s daddy… not his dad, but his daddy…
”Harry”, Snape snaps and whirls around to face him; Harry cringes instinctively. ”Can you stand?”
”Y-Yeah”, Harry mutters and gets to his feet.
Once he’s standing, he feels strangely lopsided. He swallows thickly and avoids looking down, but he feels his arm dangle heavily along his side. Don’t throw up, don’t faint and don’t throw up, he wills himself.
”Let’s go”, Snape says shortly.
He curls his arm around Harry’s shoulders and steers him off the pitch. Draco hurries to keep up with them and stays close to Harry’s side all the way to the Hospital Wing.
Madam Pomfrey is almost as furious as Snape had been. She holds up the sad, limp remainder of Harry’s right arm and it flops unnervingly in her grasp as she shakes it. Harry feels sick again and squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing bile.
”You should have come straight to me!” Madam Pomfrey rages. ”I can mend bones in a heartbeat! But growing them back —!”
”You will be able to, won’t you?” Harry gasps desperately and opens his eyes again, staring at her hopefully.
”Of course I’ll be able to”, the woman says grimly and lets his arm go again, dumping a pair of pyjamas on top of his lap. ”But it will be painful… You’ll have to stay the night.”
She wheels around and marches back into her office to give him some privacy, and Draco helps Harry into the pyjamas. It takes a while to get the rubbery, boneless arm through the shirt sleeve, but finally, Harry is dressed for bed and flops back down on it with a sigh. The de-boned arm flaps pointlessly next to him.
Draco perches on the side of the bed and watches him with a worried frown, nibbling his lower lip anxiously.
”It’s okay, Draco”, Harry sighs. ”It doesn’t hurt anymore…”
”Yet”, Draco corrects him quietly.
Oh, that’s right, Harry thinks sourly, remembering what Madam Pomfrey had said. He lets out a tired huff. Why is it always him?
Madam Pomfrey comes marching back, holding a large bottle of something labelled ’Skele-Gro’ and pours out a steaming beakerful of it and hands to Harry.
”You’re in for a rough night, m’boy… Re-growing bones is a nasty business.”
So is taking Skele-Gro, it turns out. Harry gulps down half the beaker in one go and immediately splutters as it burns his mouth and throat going down. Madam Pomfrey tuts and rolls her eyes, and then to Harry’s chagrine she leaves the bottle on his nightstand before she retreats into her office again.
”It tastes foul”, Harry mumbles.
Draco gives him a sympathetic look and pats his knee awkwardly.
Suddenly, they hear echoing footsteps outside the doors and Harry’s heart skips a beat as he recognises his daddy’s furious voice, ”Where is he? Where is my son?”
A second later, the doors slam open and Remus and Sirius storm inside the Hospital Wing, followed by Professor Snape who keeps a safe distance from both of them but his eyes on Remus in particular, Harry is surprised to notice.
”Harry!” Remus exclaims and runs over to his bed.
Draco barely has time to jump aside before the man has thrown himself over Harry and enveloped him in a tight hug.
”What did I tell you?” he growls, his voice slightly muffled since he’s got his face buried in Harry’s neck. ”You were not to make a habit of this!”
”S-Sorry!” Harry gasps as the man tightens his arms around him even further. ”Daddy, you’re crushing me —!”
”Oh! Sorry!” Remus yelps and immediately eases his hold and sits back, but keeps pawing Harry and petting his hair. ”Harry, you promised you’d be careful — your dad and I worry about you enough as it is!”
”I’m sorry”, Harry says again. ”But daddy, it was just Quidditch…”
”Well, I want a word with your team captain”, Remus says firmly. ”And Hooch. And the professor who did this to your arm!”
The way he spits out the word professor suggests to Harry that his daddy doesn’t think anyone who accidentally removes all the bones from his son’s right arm has any right to call themselves that, and Harry actually inclined to agree.
”This is the same man who made you pretend to be a werewolf, isn’t it?” he growls.
”Ehm, yeah”, Harry mumbles, wondering how that’s relevant in the light of what’s happened to his arm.
”He what?” Professor Snape says sharply.
”He always makes me —”
”A werewolf he then cured with a simple spell”, Remus snaps darkly, clearly not paying attention to what Harry is saying at all.
”Now, now, Moony”, Sirius says soothingly. ”We talked about this, remember? Let’s leave the DADA professor for Dumbledore to deal with, yeah?”
Remus growls something low under his breath, then decides to help himself to another Harry-hug and that seems to finally calm him down.
Harry feels a steadily growing pain start shooting through his boneless arm and winces. Remus immediately loosens his embrace, ”Oh I’m sorry, was I crushing you again?”
”N-No”, Harry gasps. ”My arm… Hurts again…”
Remus tightens his embrace again and gives him a weak groan of sympathy as he starts to pet his head.
”Hey, at least you caught the Snitch, Harry — that’s amazing!” Sirius says and Harry can practically hear the grin in his voice and chuckles weakly. ”I knew you would!”
”Sirius”, Remus warns.
”Oh, come on! Our boy’s a star today, Moony — we can’t take that away from him, just because he’s hurting — then he’s hurting for nothing!”
”He is hurting for nothing!” Remus snaps and sits back to glare at his husband over his shoulder.
”You know what I mean…” Sirius wheedles.
”Tactful as always, Black”, Professor Snape mutters.
”You stay out of it, Snivellus!” Sirius barks back.
With a bang, the office door flies open and Madam Pomfrey comes storming out.
”That’s enough! This boy needs rest! Everybody out! OUT!”
Professor Snape grabs Draco by the arm and hurries out of the wing and Sirius quickly backs a few steps as well when the woman gives him a stern look. Remus is the only one who stays where he is, still petting Harry soothingly.
Madam Pomfrey turns to them and her face softens immediately.
”How’s he holding up, Remus?”
”Not to good, I think the Skele-Gro just started to kick in…” Remus murmurs and gives Harry a sad smile. ”But he’s a strong boy, he’ll be okay…”
”Oh, I don’t doubt it”, Madam Pomfrey says and gives Harry a rare smile.
”Well, Harry, we’ll let you get your rest”, Remus says and stands up finally. ”Owl us in the morning and let us know you’re well, okay? And if there’s anything — anything at all — that makes you uncomfortable in class from now on, you tell Professor Snape, all right?”
”Y-Yeah, all right…”
”Okay, bye pup…” Remus says softly and bends down for one last hug.
Sirius quickly sidles up to them and steals a hug as well, then quickly backs away with a wary look in Madam Pomfrey’s direction.
Harry waves goodbye at them with his good hand and as soon as the doors close behind them, he lets his heavy eyelids fall shut and drifts into an uneasy sleep…
Hours and hours later, he awakes again with a start and blinks out into the sudden darkness of the Hospital Wing, swallowing a gasp of pain. His arm doesn’t feel hollow and rubbery anymore, but full of painful splinters. For a moment, he thinks that’s what woke him up, but with a thrill of terror he realises that he’s not actually alone, but there is someone next to him in the darkness… Someone who is sponging his forehead…
”Gerroff!” he says and jerks his head away.
Then blinking and squinting, as his eyes grow used to the dark, he finally sees a familiar set of batlike ears and goggling tennis-ball eyes peering back at him.
”You!” he gasps.
”Harry Potter came back to school”, the house-elf whispers miserably and a single tear escapes one of the huge eyes and slides down the long, pointed nose. ”I is warning and warning Harry Potter, Sir and still he came back to school… Why didn’t Harry Potter go back home when he missed the train? Why did he not heed Dobby’s warning? Why —?”
But Harry barely heard anything the elf said after missed the train —
”Wait, what did you say?” he demands. ”How’d you know I missed the train?”
The house-elf’s lips begin to tremble and his huge tennis-ball eyes fill up more tears, but Harry struggles up to sitting and roughly pushes the sponge away from him. It lands on the floor with a wet slap.
”It was you! You stopped the barrier letting us through!”
”Indeed, Sir”, the house-elf confirms, nodding his head vigorously, his ears flapping and tears spilling all over his small face. ”I is hiding and waiting for Harry Potter to arrive and sealing the gateway — I is having to iron my hands afterwards —”
He holds out his small hands and Harry notices the bandages for the first time. A twinge of pity flares up inside him, enough the quell his anger a little and he slumps back against his pillow with a sigh.
”— but I is not caring, Sir! Because I is thinking Harry Potter is safe, and that’s all that matters! I is never dreaming that Harry Potter would get to school another way — when I is hearing that Harry Potter is back at Hogwarts, I is so shocked I let master’s dinner burn — such a flogging I is never had before —”
”Look, my arm’s killing me, I can’t deal with you right now”, Harry mutters.
”Harry Potter must go home! I is thinking my Bludger would be enough to make —”
”Your bludger!” Harry says, anger rising once more. ”What do you mean your bludger? You made that bludger try to kill me?”
”Not kill you, Sir, never kill you!” the house-elf says, shocked. ”Just injure, enough to be sent home!”
”Oh, is that all?” Harry snaps furiously. ”And I don’t suppose you’ll tell me why you wanted me sent home in pieces?”
”Ah, if Harry Potter only knew!” the house-elf groans dramatically. ”If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, us dregs of the magical world! When He Who Must Not Be Named was at the height of his power, of we house-elves were treated like vermin, Sir! Of course, I is still being treated like vermin… But mostly, Sir, life has improved for my kind since Harry Potter stopped He Who Must Not Be Named —”
Voldemort, Harry wants to snap, just to unsettle the annoying elf, but part of Harry shivers just thinking about the name.
”— And not, at Hogwarts, terrible things are about to happen, are perhaps happening already, and I cannot let Harry Potter stay here bnow that history is to repeat itself, and the Chamber of Secrets is open once more —”
The elf stops himself short suddenly, and looks horror-struck for a split second before he snatches the bottle of Skele-Gro from Harry’s bedside table and whacks himself in the head with it. The blow knocks him off balance and he topples to the floor.
”Repeat itself? You mean this has happened before?” Harry calls after him.
The house-elf re-appears next to the bed and climbs back onto it. Harry inches back and frowns at the creature as more tears roll down its cheeks.
”I’m not Muggle-born, you realise?”
”I know”, the house-elf mumbles, rubbing his head.
”So — how can I be in danger —?”
”Ah, Sir, ask no more, ask no more”, the elf stammers, staring back at him in horror. ”Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Harry Potter must not be here when they happen. Go home, Harry Potter, please go home! Harry Potter must not meddle in this, Sir, it is too dangerous —”
Harry grabs the elf’s tiny wrist in a firm grip, to keep him away from the Skele-Gro or any other blunt object.
”Who is it? Who opened the Chamber, and who opened it last time? I know you know, tell me!”
”I can’t tell you, Sir! I can’t! Just go home, Harry Potter, go home!”
”I’m not going anywhere!” Harry says fiercely. ”Now tell me what you know —!”
The elf freezes suddenly, his bat ears quivering. Harry looks up into the darkness — he can hear it too — approaching footsteps…
”I must go”, the house-elf whispers, terrified; then there’s a loud crack and Harry is clutching thin air.
Harry bites down on a curse and quickly slumps back against his pillow, just as the doors to the Hospital Wing fly open and light spills inside. Harry curls up on his side, pretending to sleep, but squints his eyes open slightly, peering at the people entering the wing.
The man backing inside, Harry realises with a jolt, is Headmaster Dumbledore and he’s wearing a long dressing gown and what appears to be a nightcap. He is also carrying one end of what looks like a statue. Seconds later, Professor McGonagall appears in the doorway, carrying the staue’s feet.
They walk over to the nearest bed and heaves the statue onto it.
”Get Madam Pomfrey”, Dumbledore whispers.
Professor McGongall quickly sweaps past Harry’s bed and disappears out of sight, only to return moments later with an anxious-looking Madam Pomfrey close on her heels. They join Dumbledore at the other bed and Harry can hear a sharp intake of breath as Madam Pomfrey reaches it.
”What happened?” she whispers, horrified.
”Another attack”, Dumbledore says. ”Minerva found him on the stairs.”
With a horrible sinking feeling, Harry peers over at the statue on the bed — except it’s not a statue at all, he realises — it’s the gryffindor Colin Creevy.
”There was a bunch of grapes next to him”, Professor McGonagall says. ”We think he was trying to sneak in to visit Potter.”
”Petrified?” Madam Pomfrey whispers.
”Yes… But I shudder to think… If Albus hadn’t been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate, who knows what might have…”
Professor Dumbledore leaned down and prised Colin’s camera out of his petrified hands.
”You don’t think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?” McGonagall says eagerly.
Dumbledore doesn’t answer, but opens up the back of the camera.
”Good gracious!” Madam Pomfrey gasps as a jet of steam hisses out of the camera and even from three beds away Harry can smell burnt plastic. ”Melted… all melted…”
”What does this mean, Albus?” McGonagall says.
”It means… That the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again…”
”But Albus… surely… I mean, who —?”
”The question is not who”, Dumbledore corrects calmly, still staring down at Colin’s face. ”The question is how…”
Harry frowns to himself in the darkness as the three adults finally leave and he’s left alone with the petrified form of poor Colin Creevy… What was that supposed to mean, it’s not a question of whom but how? Does that mean Dumbledore knows who has opened the Chamber?