Fucked by a Basilisk.
The cold, murderous voice was the last thing Harry needed to hear before a Quidditch match. But here it was.
"Kill this time…rip…tear..."
Worst of all was that neither Ron or Hermione could hear it.
"Listen hard, guys!" said Harry, exasperated.
"Harry, we don't hear-"
"Oh, my god…I just figured it out!" interrupted Hermione.
Hermione bolted back up the stairs.
"Where are you going?" called Ron.
"To the library." Hermione called back.
Both Harry and Ron exchanged blank looks.
"Come on…you'd better get out to the Quidditch Pitch." Said Ron, attempting to take Harry's mind of the supposed voice.
"Right," said Harry.
But just before exiting the entrance hall Harry heard:
"Fuck…"
Pausing momentarily, he pushed it out of his mind as he dashed down to the packed Quidditch arena. The rest of the team was there already. They strode out unto the pitch to the sound of echoing applause. Harry had just swung his leg over his broomstick when Professor McGonagall came sprinting onto the field.
"This match has been cancelled! All students are to return to their dormitories immediately!"
Putting her megaphone aside, she turned toward Harry.
"I think you'd better come with me Potter."
Uneasy, Harry followed her. Ron came dashing up alongside them.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Harry shrugged. McGonagall didn't seem to care that Ron was now following them. The three made their way to the hospital wing where madam Pomfrey stood wringing her hands by the doorway. They entered, passing a bed with a paralyzed sixth year on it. Harry and Ron recognized her as the Ravenclaw prefect they had ran into the day they took the Polyjuice Potion.
"She's been paralyzed," said Professor McGonagall curtly.
The bed next to her had it's curtains drawn. Professor McGonagall nodded and madam Pomfrey pulled them open. On it, lay something Harry had hoped he'd never see: Hermione. On her back stiff as a statue, mouth agape. Professor McGonagall nodded in Hermione's direction.
"She's been fucked by a Basilisk."