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Chapter Eleven: The Rogue Bludger

Obtaining the book was far easier than they had anticipated. On Friday morning Allison’s family owl delivered a stack of books, among them was Moste Potente Potions. They however could not start reading it until after a never ending Lockhart class.

Thankfully there wasn’t much danger anymore in the class as ever since the disastrous class with the pixies, Professor Lockhart had not brought live creatures to class. However they were know constantly at risk of dying from boredom as he now solely read passages from his books to them, and sometimes re-enacted some of the more dramatic bits. It wasn’t always the worst but one of Harry’s issues was that Lockhart usually picked him to help him with these reconstructions; so far, Harry had been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a headcold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him.

Harry was once again hauled to the front of the class, this time being told to act out a werewolf scene. However this was where Harry drew the line, he was not going to do an insulting performance of a werewolf when two members of his family actually were just that.

‘No sir, please pick somebody else.’ And despite Lockhart’s protests Harry managed to pull himself away and sat back down. Malfoy ended up volunteering and took every opportunity to make his representation of a werewolf as demeaning as possible.

‘Nice loud howl, Draco–exactly–and then, if you’ll believe it, I pounced–like this–slammed him to the floor–thus–with one hand, I managed to hold him down–with my other, I put my wand to his throat–I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm–he let out a piteous moan–go on, Draco–higher than that–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.’

Harry however wasn’t the only student unimpressed. Dean Thomas sneakily booed a couple times, and Hermione Granger just looked straight up miserable.

The bell thankfully rang soon after and Lockhart got to his feet.

‘Homework: compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!’

‘That was ridiculous,’ Harry told his friends quietly as they were leaving the classroom, ‘There is no such spell to turn a werewolf back into a man while the full moon is out. We are learning nothing from him.’

Just as they left the room Malfoy ambushed them. ‘Hey Potter, scared to do a little acting. Or are you just upset because your daddykins does better howling every full moon?’

‘Shut up Malfoy! You know that’s not true.’

‘Yeah,’ he smirked, ‘But I think you’re a lier. My father has told me all the rumours that floated around back in the day, they were never disproven.’

‘They were never proven either. Now shut up or I’ll make sure you never see the pitch Saturday. Come on guys.’

They started making their way towards the library, but as they walked Theodore started asking questions.

‘I knew I didn’t misremember, I had heard the rumours too that one of your adoptive dads was a werewolf. Do you seriously live with a halfbreed?’

Harry turned towards Theodore, his anger rising. ‘I am really starting to get annoyed with your obsession with blood status Theo. We aren’t here to talk about my dads past, we are here to figure out if there is a Chamber of Secrets and if we are in any danger from the monster inside.’

They dropped their voices as they entered the muffled stillness of the library. They reviewed the book for about an hour and soon realised why the Hogwarts copy was in the restricted section. Some of the potions had effects almost too gruesome to think about, and there were some very unpleasant illustrations, which included a man who seemed to have been turned inside out and a witch sprouting several extra pairs of arms out of her head.

After a few minutes of searching they had found the chapter labeled Polyjuice Potion. It was decorated with drawings of people halfway through transforming into other people. Harry sincerely hoped the artist had imagined the looks of intense pain on their faces. And speaking of faces, Theodore's was filled with awe.

‘This Potion is remarkable, I have never seen something so complex,’ said Theodore, as he reviewed the recipe. ‘Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed and knotgrass,’ he murmured, while reading the ingredient list. ‘It is not too bad, most of these can be found in the student store-cupboard. However there are two ingredients I am less sure where we can procure some, powdered horn of a Bicorn and Shredded skin of a Boomslang. We will also need a bit of whoever we want to change into.’

‘Pardon?’ said Tracey in shock. ‘Did I miss hear you, a bit of whoever we changing into? Do we need their blood or...’

Theodore interrupted her, ‘No, don’t panic. It says hair does just fine. But I think we may need a safer place to discuss this. If anyone over hears we might get in trouble.’

So five minutes later they found themselves barricaded in Moaning Myrtle’s out-of-order bathroom once again. Their earlier journey had proven that no one ever came in there, so they were guaranteed some privacy. Moaning Myrtle was crying noisily in her cubicle, but they were ignoring her, and she them.

Theodore opened Moste Potente Potions once more, and they all continued reviewing the book. After a couple more minutes they were semi-sure what needed to be done.

‘From what I can tell, the piece of the person is the very last step, so we have time to figure that part out. Am I right Theo?’ Harry asked.

‘Yes, but I have figured out where we’ll get the two other ingredients, and it’s just about as dangerous as the ingredients themselves. We are going to have to steal from Snape’s private stores. I am starting to think this isn’t worth it.’

‘Come on Theo,’ said Tracey, ‘You can’t chicken out now. This person or thing is threatening the inhabitants of this school, and we got to help stop it.’

He looked very hesitant, but he finally nodded. Tracey turned to Harry and Allison.

‘And you two are in as well?’

‘Definitely.’ Said Harry.’

‘This is super risky, of course I’m in.’ Said Allison stoically.

‘Good,’ said Tracey approvingly, she then turned back to Theodore. ‘Once you have the starting ingredients how long will it take you to make this?’

‘Well assuming nothing goes wrong and I do absolutely everything right, then about a month. One of the ingredients must be obtained on a full moon and the other takes 21 days to brew, but after that it won’t need much extra time.’

‘That long,’ said Harry nervously, ‘There could be more attacks by then.’

‘You are the one who wants to do this. It’s either make the potion that’ll likely get us the information that we need, or we try and come up with a less likely to succeed option that if we fail we’ll likely not get a second chance.’

However, while Tracey was checking that the coast was clear for them to leave the bathroom, Harry muttered to Allison, ‘It might be a lot simpler if you just “accidentally” beat a Bludger right at Draco.’

Harry woke early on Saturday morning and lay for a while thinking about the coming Quidditch match. He was nervous, mainly at the thought of what Marcus would do to him and the team if they lost, but he wasn’t too worried as his team all possessed the fastest racing brooms gold could buy, even Harry’s was still close to top of the line. After the postponement and all that had happened the last month he was looking forward to blowing off steam in the game. After half an hour of lying there with his insides churning from nerves, he got up, dressed, and went down to breakfast early, where he ate alone, his only company was the Gryffindor team at their table seemingly doing some last minute preparations.

As eleven o’clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadi-um. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. Tracey and Theodore came hurrying over to wish Harry and Allison good luck as they entered the changing rooms. The team pulled on their jade Slytherin robes, then sat down to listen to Flint’s usual pre-match threats.

‘Slytherin is going win, we have better brooms, and better players,’ he began, ‘So you sorry lot have zero excuses for messing up. If I see so much as a hair out of line I’ll make your life a living hell. And so help me if we lose I will give each and every one of you a fate worse than death. Do I make myself clear!’

Chest heaving with fury, Flint turned to Harry.

‘You specifically better be good out their Potter, or your horrible fate will be being expelled from the team. Let us rack up as many points as possible before doing your job, but if you see that Mudblood Seeker going for the Snitch you got to get there first. We have to win this game. Got it?!’

Harry simply nodded, Flint had intimidated him so much his voice was stuck in his throat.

As they walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly boos and hisses, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins in the crowd made their cheers heard too. Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary.

‘On my whistle,’ said Madam Hooch, ‘three...two...one...’

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upwards, the fourteen players rose towards the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch.

‘Outcast, eh Potter?’ yelled Kenneth Towler, shooting underneath him. ‘Noticed you’re the only Slytherin without a Nimbus Two Thousand and One. So sad that your own team hates you. Oh wait, that’s nothing new for you.’

Harry had no time to reply. At that very moment, a heavy black Bludger came pelting towards him; he avoided it so narrowly that he felt it ruffle his hair as it passed.

‘Good dodge, Harry!’ said Allison, streaking past him with her club in her hand, ready to knock the Bludger back towards a Gryffindor.

Harry saw Allison give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Katie Bell, but the Bludger changed direction in mid-air and shot straight for Harry again.

Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and Allison managed to hit it hard towards Towler. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry’s head. Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed towards the other end of the pitch. 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 unseat as many people as possible...

Lucian Bole was waiting for the Bludger at the other end. Harry ducked as Lucian swung at the Bludger with all his might; the Bludger was knocked off course.

‘That should do it!’ Lucian yelled happily, but he was wrong; as though it was magnetically attracted towards Harry, the Bludger pelted after him once more and Harry was forced to fly off at full speed to try and keep the Bludger away.

It had started to rain; At his current speed Harry felt every heavy drop fall onto his face like a bullet, and he was almost blind from the splattering on his glasses. He didn’t have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until he heard Lee Jordan, who was commentating, say, ‘Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero.’

Thankfully the superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs, but meanwhile the mad Bludger was doing all it could to knock Harry out of the air. Allison was now flying so close to him that Harry could see nothing at all except her flailing arms and he had no chance to look for the Snitch, let alone catch it.

‘Some–Gryffindor–cheater–has–jinxed–the–Bludger–’ Allison grunted, swinging her bat with all her might at it as it launched a new attack on Harry.

‘Perhaps we should call a time out,’ suggested Allison, exhausted, but Harry shook his head.

‘No if we stop the game Marcus will kill us. We might be currently winning, but Towler currently has no obstacles in catching the Snitch. Go work with Lucian to bat the other Bludger at him as much as possible and I’ll start looking for the Snitch.’

She hit the possessed ball away once more, ‘But Harry, this ball isn’t just going to knock you off your broom, it seems to be going for the kill.’

‘I’ll deal with it. Now go.’

Allison flew in the opposite direction and Harry leaned forward hard into the air and heard the tell-tale whoosh of the Bludger behind him. Higher and higher Harry climbed. He looped and swooped, spiralled, zig-zagged and rolled. Slightly dizzy, he nevertheless kept his eyes wide open. Rain was speckling his glasses and ran up his nostrils as he hung upside down, avoiding another fierce dive from the Bludger. 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 he could. He began a kind of roller-coaster ride around the edges of the stadium, squinting through the silver sheets of rain to the Gryffindor goalposts, where Terence 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.

‘Are you an entertainer or a Seeker, Potter?’ yelled Towler, as Harry was forced to do a stupid kind of twirl in mid-air to dodge the Bludger. Off Harry fled, the Bludger trailing a few feet behind him: and then, glaring back at Towler in rising hatred, he saw it, the Golden Snitch. It was hovering inches above Towler’s left ear, and Towler, busy laughing at Harry, hadn’t seen it.

For an agonising moment, Harry hung in mid-air, not daring to speed towards Towler in case he looked up and saw the Snitch.

WHAM!

He realized in the most painful way possible that he had stayed still a second too long. The Bludger had finally managed to land a hit, smashed into his elbow, and Harry felt his arm break. Heart pounding, adrenaline pumping, and starting to go into shock from his injury, 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, barely able to keep his in distress brain focused on a single goal: grab the Snitch.

Through a haze of rain and pain he dived for the shimmering, daziling ball, hardly noticing Towler’s face eyes widen with fear: Towler thought Harry was attacking him.

‘Hey, stop-’ he gasped, careering 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. From far below there were lots of concerned yells, but Harry never heard them as he blacked out the moment his hand grasped his goal.

He came to on the ground. It was still just his arm in agonizing pain so Harry assumed someone, likely Tracey, used a spell to slow his fall. In shock he could quite understand what was going on, there were people around him but for a while he couldn’t seem to make out who they were or what they were saying, all he could focus on was how his arm hung at a weird angle.

Riddled with pain, he finally started to make out what those around him were saying, but it felt like they were on the opposite side of the field heard, mostly whistling and shouting. He focused on the Snitch clutched in his good hand.

‘Aha,’ he said vaguely, ‘we’ve won.’

And then he once again fainted.

He came round again about a minute later, rain falling on his face, still lying on the pitch, with someone leaning over him. He saw a glitter of teeth.

‘Oh no, not you,’ he moaned.

‘Doesn’t know what he’s saying,’ said Lockhart loudly, to the anxious crowd of spectators pressing around them. ‘Not to worry, Harry. I’m about to fix your arm.’

‘No!’ said Harry, he wanted to ask for Madam Pomfrey, but him mind was still jumbled. ‘I’ll keep it like this, thanks...’

He tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible. He heard a familiar clicking noise nearby.

‘No photo please, Colin,’ he managed to say.

‘Lie back, Harry,’ said Lockhart soothingly. ‘It’s a simple charm I’ve used countless times.’

‘Why can’t I just go to the hospital wing?’ Harry eventually managed to say through clenched teeth.

‘We should really fetch Pomfrey, Professor,’ said a worried Allison, who despite preferring to always appear stoic, looked near faint herself when looking at his arm.

Flint then approached. ‘Ya did good Potter, but suck it up and let the Professor do the charm.’

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,’ said Lockhart, who was rolling up his jade-green sleeves.

‘No–don’t–’ said Harry 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 fin- gertips. 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 realised as the people above him gasped and Colin Creevey began clicking away madly. His arm didn’t hurt any more–but nor did it feel remotely like an arm.

‘Ah,’ said Lockhart. ‘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, just toddle up to the Hospital Wing–ah, Miss Runcorn, Mr Higgs, would you escort him?–and Madam Pomfrey will be able to–er–tidy you up a bit.’

As Harry got to his feet, he felt strangely lopsided. Allison and Terence started escorting him, and quickly they were joined by Theodore and Tracey. Now feeling more secure by being surrounded by friends, Harry took a deep breath he looked down at his right side. What he saw nearly made him pass out for a third time.

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.

To his horror he realized that Lockhart hadn’t mended Harry’s bones. He had removed them.

Madam Pomfrey wasn’t at all pleased.

‘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?’ said Harry desperately.

‘I’ll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful,’ said Madam Pomfrey grimly, throwing Harry a pair of pyjamas. ‘You’ll have to stay the night...’

The others waited outside the curtain drawn around Harry’s bed while Terence helped him into his pyjamas. It took a while to stuff the rubbery, boneless arm into a sleeve.

‘This is the absolute final straw,’ said Harry very frustrated, ’Lockhart has ruined my arm, he is no hero.’

Terence pulled Harry’s limp fingers through the cuff. ‘Harry specifically told him he didn’t want his help and wanted to go to Pomfrey, and now look at the sorry state he is in.’

‘The man is an unqualified nightmare.’ Concurred Allison from the other side of the curtain.

‘How does your arm feel, Harry?’ Theodore asked.

‘I think he means are you in any pain?’ Tracey corrected.

‘No,’ said Harry, ‘but I can’t feel much of anything else from it either.’

As he swung himself onto the bed, his arm flapped pointlessly.

The others and Madam Pomfrey came around the curtain. Madam Pomfrey was holding a large bottle of something labelled ‘Skele-Gro’.

‘You’re in for a rough night,’ she said, pouring out a steaming beakerful and handing it to him. ‘Regrowing bones is a nasty business.’

So was taking the Skele-Gro. It burned Harry’s 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 his friends to help Harry gulp down some water. Theodore pointed at the bottle.

‘Harry, quite a coincidence you are using Skele-Gro, considering it was your ancestor Linfred who invented it.’

‘Wait? He did?’

‘Well yeah, the Potter fortune started with him, you have a lot of potion makers in your family. How do you not know this?’

‘I don’t pay attention to potions class as much as you Theo, and you know I’m being raised by my god father and his husband, they taught me as much as they could about my family but they don’t know everything.’

There was an intense silence between the two, almost like which ever of them broke the silence next would start a full on fight. To ease the tension Tracey spoke out.

‘New topic, it was incredible how you won Harry. I swear Kenneth thought you were about to knock him off his broom.’

‘And how did he get away with jinxing a Bludger. I thought there was extra anti-jinx precautions taken after what happened last year.’ Said Allison deep in thought.

‘I don’t think it was him,’ said Terence. ‘Some of his friends are in my year and they have mentioned how he isn’t strong in charms. This was the work of someone else, someone with powerful enchantment magic.’

Just then the door of the hospital wing burst open at that moment. Filthy and soaking wet, most of the Slytherin team had arrived to see Harry.

‘You were spectacular, Harry,’ said Lucian. ‘To still catch the Snitch after such an injury is almost unheard of.’

The only two team members not present were Filch and Malfoy, which Harry was pleased became he wanted to say something not meant for their ears. ‘Thanks, but you should keep your mouth shut about that, or Marcus will make it a requirement to keep playing after being almost killed.’

‘Yeah, about that,’ started Bletchley, ‘If you want the slime ball that did this just say the word.’

‘We’ll track them down and teach them what happens when you mess with our team.’ Said Bole passionately.

Harry didn’t like violence, but he still appreciated the gesture. ‘Thanks guys, but I am to tired to deal with whoever did it just now.’

The topic of conversation soon turned to the pile of sweets they had brought Harry: 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!’

And just like that Harry was left alone, with nothing to distract him from the stabbing pains in his limp arm.

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 it was that which had woken him. Then, with a thrill of horror, he realised that someone was sponging his forehead in the dark.

‘Get off!’ he said loudly, and then, ‘Dobby! What are you doing here?!’

The house-elf’s goggling tennis-ball eyes were peering at Harry through the darkness. 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?’

Harry heaved himself up on his pillows and pushed Dobby’s sponge away. ‘You shouldn’t be here Dobby,’ he said. ‘And how did you know I missed the train?’ Dobby’s lip trembled and Harry was seized by a sudden suspicion.

‘It was you!’ he said slowly. ‘You messes with my parents alarm and stopped the barrier letting us through!’

‘Indeed yes, sir,’ said Dobby, nodding his head vigorously, ears flapping. ‘Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter and sealed the gateway and Dobby had to iron his hands afterwards–’ 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 backwards and forwards, shaking his ugly 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...’

Harry slumped back onto his pillows.

‘Dobby That is really horrible what they are doing to you, but what you did nearly got Theo and me expelled,’ he said sternly. ‘Or how bad would you have felt if a strong wind had made me and Theo fall to our deaths. You aren’t all that bright, are you?’

Dobby smiled weakly. ‘Dobby is used to insults. Nearly every word out Dobby’s Masters mouth towards Dobby is an insult.’

He began to wipe his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore, but Harry then handed him a tissue from the bedside table to which Dobby used to blow his very long nose.

‘Your family must be very cruel, I was told house-elf servants usually get one modest outfit to wear, but yours isn’t even clothing. Why don’t you fashion yourself a new outfit from left over cloth or materials?’

‘It is forbidden, Dobby can only get a new outfit when Dobby’s Master presents Dobby with clothes. But Dobby’s masters are cruel, and very careful not to pass Dobby even a sock, sir, for then he would be free to leave their house for ever.’

Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, ‘Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make–’

‘Your Bludger?’ said Harry, no longer just frustrated at Dobby, but furious. ‘What d’you mean, your Bludger? You made that Bludger try and kill me, do you know how much pain my arm is in right now?’

‘Yes sir, but Dobby did not try to kill you, sir, never kill you!’ said Dobby, shocked. ‘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?’ said Harry, adrenaline pumping. ‘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, us 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 with the tissue Harry had given him. ‘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 then 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...’

Harry couldn’t believe what he had heard. What the school had been speculating for over a month was true, and Dobby had known this would happen since the end of the last school year.

‘So there is a Chamber of Secrets?’ Harry whispered. ‘And you said it’s been opened before, Theo was right? Tell me more, Dobby!’

But Dobby shock his head miserably, Harry than realized something that did not quite make sense. Harry seized the elf’s bony wrist as Dobby’s hand inched towards the water jug and then asked his question. ‘But I’m not Muggle-born, how can I be in danger from the Chamber?’

‘Ah, sir, ask no more, ask no more of poor Dobby,’ stammered the elf, his eyes huge in the dark. ‘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 –’

‘Who is it, Dobby?’ Harry said, keeping a firm hold on Dobby’s wrist to stop him hitting himself with the water jug again. ‘Who’s opened it? Who opened it last time?’

‘Dobby can’t, sir, Dobby can’t, Dobby mustn’t tell!’ squealed the elf. ‘Go home, Harry Potter, go home!’

‘I’m not going anywhere!’ said Harry fiercely. ‘So many of the students here are Muggle-born, I must help protect them if the Chamber really has been opened –’

‘Harry Potter risks his own life for strangers!’ moaned Dobby, in a kind of miserable 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.

‘Dobby must go!’ breathed the elf, terrified; there was a loud crack, and Harry’s fist was suddenly clenched on thin air. He slumped back into bed, his eyes on the dark doorway to the hospital wing as the footsteps drew nearer.

Moments later Dumbledore was backing into the infirmary, 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,’ whispered Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall hurried past the end of Harry’s bed out of sight. Harry lay quite still, pretending to be asleep.

Soon 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.’

‘The fact that he has his camera with him makes me think he wanted to get some kind of interview with Mr Potter,’ said Professor McGonagall.

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 tightly. Harry was in shock, he wasn’t sure how he didn’t gasp when he saw the sight.

‘Petrified?’ whispered Madam Pomfrey.

‘Yes,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘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 carefully pried the camera out of Colin’s rigid grip.

‘You don’t think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?’ asked Professor McGonagall eagerly.

Dumbledore didn’t answer however. Instead he opened the back of the camera.

‘Good gracious!’ said Madam Pomfrey.

A jet of smoke had hissed out of the camera. Harry, three beds away, caught the acrid smell of burnt oily plastic.

‘Melted?’ said Madam Pomfrey confused, ‘all melted...’

‘What does this mean, Albus?’ Professor McGonagall asked urgently.

‘It means,’ said Dumbledore, ‘that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again.’

Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore. ‘But Albus...surely...who?’

‘The question is not who,’ said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin. ‘The question is, how...’

And from what Harry could make out of Professor McGonagall’s shadowy face, she didn’t understand this any better than he did.

Kenneth Towler

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