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Harry Potter/Granger and the Chamber of Secrets

As Harry had anticipated, getting permission from Lockhart to access the Restricted Section had been almost ridiculously easy; Hermione had made up some story about wanting to consult the book in order to better understand something that Lockhart had written about and the man had signed the paper without even bothering to look at the title of the book she was interested in.

Honestly, if it wasn't for the fact that Lockhart tended to leave him feeling humiliated whenever he called upon him to help act out some scene or another from his novels, Harry might have actually liked the guy for the potential he offered to gain access to less accessible materials; as it was, Lockhart's only good point was that he was such a moron he never paid attention to anything that wasn't about him.

A few minutes after they'd acquired the book, Harry, Ron and Hermione were standing outside an out-of-order bathroom, Ron staring apprehensively at the door.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, looking in concern at the others. "I mean, just because it's not working-"

"Oh, don't worry about that; it's haunted," Hermione said, smiling reassuringly at Ron as she walked into the bathroom, a slight apprehension in her eyes the only sign that she was concerned about what they were doing.

"A haunted toilet?" Harry said, looking over at his sister in surprise even as he briefly examined their surroundings; the bathroom was the most depressing room of its kind Harry had ever been in, with chipped sinks under a long cracked mirror, flaking paint on the doors- some of which seemed to be practically falling off their hinges- and a floor that gave the impression that it hadn't been dry for some time. "What ghost haunts a toilet?"

A transparent head with short lanky hair and wearing a pair of thick glasses that almost made the glasses Harry had worn while living with the Dursleys look stylish poked up over the nearest door, looking scathingly at them for a moment before she ducked back down into the toilet after receiving no response, followed by a new round of sobbing.

"She does that a lot," Hermione said, shrugging apologetically at Ron and her brother as she glanced back at them, keeping her voice low to avoid attracting Myrtle's attention. "It's mostly the sobbing that gets on people's nerves; as ghosts go she's really not as bad as she could be..."

"Right," Harry said, nodding in understanding after shooting a brief uncomfortable glance at the door that Myrtle was currently hiding behind before he turned his attention back to his sister. "Well, let's get on with it; what does this book actually say about that potion?"

As Hermione carefully opened Moste Potente Potions and began to study the pages, Harry could only hope that the illustrations depicted exaggerated the effects of some of the potions; what possible benefit could be gained from a man being apparently turned inside out Harry didn't know, and the expressions of intense pain on some of their faces...

"Here it is," Hermione said, smiling at Harry as she indicated The Polyjuice Potion written at the top of the page; Harry wasn't sure whether to be more concerned about the pained expressions on the faces of the accompanying illustrations or the sheer complexity of the potion displayed in the following pages.

"Not exactly an easy concoction, is it?" he muttered, glancing over at Hermione. "Some of this stuff doesn't look like it's going to be easy to come by; where are you meant to find the powered horn of a bicorn?"

"Forget that, what about the bit about us needing a part of whoever we want to turn into?" Ron said, indicating the relevant part of the text with an urgent point of his finger. "I'll tell you right now, I'm drinking nothing with Crabbe's toenails in it!"

"On the bright side, those aren't going to be needed until the last minute; the problem lies in figuring out how we're going to get the extra ingredients," Harry said, holding up a hand to cut off Ron's objections and Hermione's incredulous glare. "I'm not saying we shouldn't do it, I'm just saying we need to figure out a way of gaining access to Snape's stores which won't give away what we're up to and get us in trouble..."

"However we get it, we'd better think of something fast," Hermione added as she studied the ingredients list before her. "Given that the lacewings alone need to be stewed for twenty-one days, this is probably going to take about a month; honestly, it might be more straightforward to buy us time by knocking Malfoy off his broom tomorrow..."

"I'll keep that possibility in mind," Harry said, smiling briefly at her as the three of them got back to their feet, even as he knew that she wasn't being serious about her last statement; no matter how much Hermione might hate Malfoy, nobody wanted him actually dead.

Of course, if Harry got the chance to go past Malfoy a bit too quickly while they were competing against each other because Malfoy was too incompetent on a broomstick to realise that the speed of the broom didn't matter if the player's reflexes weren't up to scratch to respond to what was going on around him...

Well, nobody could say the other boy couldn't use a few pointers about using a broom properly; so far all reports of the Slytherin team's Quidditch training had shown that they were relying heavily on the speed of their new brooms rather than developing any kind of skilled tactics for dealing with a similarly speedy team.


The next morning, however, Harry's confidence had been almost completely replaced with apprehension over the current game; all his thoughts about the Slyhterins' reliance on speed over tactics didn't change the fact that they could outpace anything the Gryffindors could do on their brooms no matter how much better they'd trained. The rest of the team was already feeling apprehensive over breakfast, and even Wood's traditional pre-match pep talk did little to fully revive their spirits beyond reinforcing Harry's old thoughts on speed versus tactical superiority while leaving Harry slightly more nervous at the additional pressure the current situation put him under; with the current speed advantage making it hard to catch up with the Chasers, spotting the snitch first was the only real guarantee of victory.

After the traditional captain's handshake was out of the way- Harry briefly thought it looked like Wood and Flint were trying to break each other's hands at the time-, the two teams were in the air scanning the field, the Chasers moving in for the quaffle while Harry hovered in the air scanning for the snitch, ignoring Malfoy's taunts from underneath him as he flew around apparently showing off the speed of his broom; responding to Malfoy's bragging would accomplish nothing, but catching the snitch first would definitely prove something...

A Bludger suddenly hurtling towards him forced Harry to re-evaluate his original thoughts on the current game; even with his reflexes sharper than they'd ever been after all of Wood's training, he still felt the ball ruffle his hair as it went past him.

"Close call, Harry!" George called out as he flew past him, the club in his hand already drawn to send the Bludger flying towards the nearest Slytherin Chaser- Harry vaguely recognised the man in question as Adrian Pucey-, only for the Bludger to suddenly change direction and hurtle towards Harry without any impact from any of the other players.

Harry quickly dived to try and evade the oncoming black missle, but George's subsequent attempt to hit the Bludger towards Malfoy met with the same result as his last attempt to knock the ball; it automatically boomeranged back in Harry's direction, forcing Harry to put on an extra burst of speed to try and evade it. Spotting Fred waiting for him up ahead, Harry ducked down to allow Fred to knock the Bludger off-course, but Harry had barely had time to draw breath before the Bludger was hurtling back towards him, leaving him with no other option but to keep on flying as the rain began to splatter down in his face.

Damnit... he thought to himself, as he noticed Fred and George frantically hurtling after him, clearly determined to try and force the Bludger off him; nothing they'd tried so far had worked for more than a few seconds, but if they started focusing on him like this they weren't going to accomplish anything but make it impossible for him to do his job on the team.

"GO!" he yelled at the Weasley twins as they began to approach him. "I can handle this; just go!"

"Are you nuts?" Fred protested, swinging a bat to deflect another attack from the Bludger. "This thing is psychotic; if it's left alone-"

"I can outrun it; the rest of the team still need you to deflect the other one!" Harry roared, taking advantage of the Bludger's latest approach to demonstrate his point by doing a quick loop-the-loop to throw off its aim. "Look, with you two crowding me like this I'll never catch the Snitch; the Slytherins have got enough of an edge as it is without you two being out of the picture! Get down there and let me handle this!"

Fred and George exchanged grim glances with each other for a moment, but then they saw the other Bludger being directed towards Angelina as she approached the goal and were forced to turn around and dive towards the Chaser, knocking the Bludger away in time for her to score a goal despite the Slytherin Keeper's efforts; he'd been so busy relaxing in one corner of the hoops that he hadn't had time to react before Angelina had beaten him to it and thrown the Quaffle through the hole.

Whether people weren't certain what to do about his Bludger predicament or simply hadn't registered that it was a problem at the moment- particularly given his current strategy of weaving among the Slytherins to try and shake it off; many of them were only saved from getting struck a glancing blow by the Bludger due to their faster brooms-, Harry wasn't sure; right now his main priority was just to try and find the Snitch before the Bludger broke his spine or something like that.

The rain was making it hard to see even without the issue of the speed he was trying to maintain at this point, but he kept up a continuous roller-coaster ride of speed while trying to maintain relatively close proximity to the Slytherins in the hope that his unwanted follower would do something to one of them while it was pursuing its apparent 'obsession'- for lack of a better term- against him. He was just turning to aim towards Malfoy- so far he'd been proven right in his 'speed versus experience' theory; Malfoy was faster than he was in a straight race but his reflexes were significantly superior to his rival's when it came to conducting aerial manoeuvres- when he spotted something that made him almost halt mid-air; the Snitch was hovering inches above Malfoy's left ear as his Slytherin counterpart smirked at him.

Harry didn't even stop to think; hoping that the Bludger behind him would prove a sufficient red herring to dissuade Malfoy from realising what he was actually after, he put on a burst of speed directly towards Malfoy, the Slytherin's eyes widening in fear as he dived out of harm's way, allowing Harry to grab the Snitch-

The sudden sound and feel of something solid and heavy striking him in the back sent Harry hurtling towards the ground, only vaguely having time to register that the Bludger must have struck him in the back while he was slowing down after grabbing the Snitch.

As he hit the ground, raising his arms to take the brunt of the impact to his gloves- a part of him dimly noted that at least he could still feel his legs; at least that meant the Bludger hadn't actually broken his spine-, he allowed himself a brief moment to smile at the sight of the fluttering Snitch clutched in his right hand before he passed out.


As he regained consciousness a few moments later, he found himself looking at the elaborately-clad legs and feet of the one teacher he didn't want to see right now.

"Oh no... not you..." he muttered in frustration.

"Doesn't know what he's saying," Lockhart said, smiling at the crowd of Gryffindors gathering around them. "Not to worry, Harry; I'm about to fix-"

Before he could say any more, Hermione was standing in front of Lockhart, glaring pointedly at the teacher with a cold intensity Harry hadn't seen her assume since the time she'd been trying to figure out what potion to use during the attempt to recover the Stone.

"He's going to Madam Pomfrey, Lockhart," she said simply, her fingers tightening around her wand even as she held it under her arm, glaring resolutely at the teacher before her.

"I assure you, I know what I'm-" Lockhart began.

"Potter will go to a trained mediwitch, Professor Lockhart," McGonagall's voice suddenly cut in from off to the side, matching Hermione's hard stare at the professor with one of her own. "Whatever you may write, you are not an official Healer or medi-wizard, and hence have no place attending to Potter's health; he shall be taken to the hospital wing immediately."

"Exactly!" Wood said, smiling at Harry as McGonagall waved her wand at Harry and his body levitated up into the air, Harry wincing slightly at the pain in his back but nevertheless trying to ignore it. "Great job though Harry, really; your best catch yet, I should say…"


Lying in the hospital wing later that night, Harry had to admit that the injury could have been worse in the end. The pain in his back from where the Bludger had struck him meant that Harry had to spend the night lying on his front, but Madam Pomfrey had assured him that he'd regain all feeling in his extremities once the night was over and that there had been no permanent nerve damage done to his spine. Hermione had told him that the rogue Bludger had been destroyed by a couple of curses from some of the older students when it had continued to try and attack him even after the game was over- Fred and George had barely managed to keep it away from him long enough for someone with a wand to get down to the field-, but that left them with no means of determining who was actually responsible for the whole incident in the first place.

As annoying as the lack of information about whoever was behind the attack was, Harry was initially content simply to sleep it off and forget about the whole mess, until he woke up in the middle of the night, his lower back feeling as though something was stretching it and a pair of wide eyes staring at him with a somewhat tearful frustration.

"What the…?" Harry muttered, before his eyes widened in realization at the identity of the figure before him. "Dobby?"

"Harry Potter came back to school..." the house-elf said, shaking his head as he whispered miserably, seemingly ignoring Harry's words. "Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter; why didn't Harry Potter go home?"

"Hold on... you want me to go home?" Harry said, looking in confusion at the elf as he lifted himself up slightly off the bed, taking care to avoid moving his back too much in case he strained his still-healing muscles too much too fast. "But... hold on, we talked about this; I have to be here-"

"You cannot!" Dobby said, shaking his head vigorously. "Dobby thought that Harry Potter could after his last meeting, but terrible things have happened-"

"Uh... a cat being Petrified is a sign of terrible things?" Harry cut in, looking uncertainly at the elf before him, his anger pushed aside in his confusion. "I'm not saying it's not an issue, but..."

His voice trailed off as he looked at Dobby, his eyes widening slightly in understanding.

"You know who's behind this, don't you?" he said.

For a moment Dobby simply stared at Harry, his eyes wide and lips trembling, before he turned to face the nearest wall, only for Harry to grab his pillowcase before he could so much as jump off the bed.

"OK, so that comes under the heading of things you can't talk about; let's... move on, huh?" he said, hoping Dobby would take the hint; the last thing he wanted was a brain-damaged elf on his case-

"Hold on..." he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Dobby, going over the implications of the house-elf's presence in addition to the other inexplicable occurrences that had happened since the last time he'd seen him. "Was the barrier sealing itself when Ginny and I tried to get to Hogwarts your doing?"

"Indeed yes, sir," Dobby replied, nodding his head once again. "Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter and sealed the gateway and Dobby had to iron his hands afterwards," (Harry couldn't help but wince at the description even before he noted Dobby's currently-bandaged fingers; the wounds must have been serious if they were still there even now), "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-!"

"Look, I get that, but would you mind telling me what changed that made you decide trying to send a deranged Bludger to try and kill me was better than me facing whatever's going on here?" Harry asked (He hadn't thought about the connection consciously before he spoke, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth it was obvious).

"Not kill you, sir!" Dobby protested, clearly shocked at the implication. "Never kill you! 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!"

"And I'm sure you had total guarantee that I wasn't going to end up breaking my neck when I was knocked off my broom trying to evade that thing..." Harry muttered, looking grimly at the house-elf with narrowed eyes. "Seriously, what could be so bad that you'd prefer me to take that much damage?"

"Ah, if Harry Potter only knew!" Dobby groaned, more tears dripping onto his ragged pillowcase (Harry made a mental note to look up why Dobby actually wore that thing; he somehow doubted that it was simply a fashion statement, even if it was a terrible one). "If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, we dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his powers, sir! We house-elfs were treated like vermin, sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir," he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase. "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, sit... 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-"

Harry only just managed to stop Dobby from hitting himself with the water jug on the bedside table, wincing slightly at the pain in his back as he turned slightly to get a better angle to halt the elf's actions even as he tried to ignore it.

"Hold on; the Chamber?" he said, looking at Dobby in confusion. "I thought the monster in there was only meant to go after muggle-borns; why would it want me?"

"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 -"

"If you think I'm going to leave because it might be dangerous for me and abandon everyone who will in danger to deal with it instead, you really don't know me…" Harry muttered, glaring in frustration at the elf; Dobby might mean well, but he really wasn't making this easy…

The sound of footsteps approaching the hospital wing from the passageway outside cut off any further attempt Harry might make to talk to the house-elf, Dobby vanishing into thin air with a terrified gleam in his eyes and leaving Harry with no other choice but to lie back down on the bed while trying to keep his eyes on the door without making it obvious that he was awake. As he silently watched the door, Dumbledore backed into the infirmary wearing a long woolly dressing-down, what seemed to be a statue in his hands, Professor McGonagall appearing a second later carrying the statue's feet as they laid it on the bed before she hurried off to collect Madam Pomfrey. Trying to remain still, Harry silently listened to the urgent voices speaking out of his line of vision, until McGonagall swept back into view, Madam Pomfrey close behind her and pulling a cardigan on over her nightdress.

"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey whispered a few moments later, following a sharp intake of breath as she saw the 'statue'.

"Another attack," said Dumbledore. "Minerva found him on the stairs."

"There was a bunch of grapes next to him," said Professor McGonagall. "We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter."

Trying to control the unpleasant lurch he felt in his stomach at that comment, he slowly raised his head the necessary few inches to look at the statue, a ray of moonlight illuminating the face of Colin Creevey as he stared, wide-eyed and blank-faced, up at nothing, his camera still clutched in his hands.

"Petrified?" whispered Madam Pomfrey.

"Yes," McGonagall responded with an uncomfortable grimace. "But I shudder to think… if Albus hadn't been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate… there's no way to know what might have…"

For a moment, the three of them could only stare silently at the still figure of the muggle-born photograph enthusiast, before Dumbledore leaned forward and wrenched the camera out of Colin's rigid grip.

"You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" McGonagall asked eagerly.

Dumbledore declined to answer verbally, but instead simply opened the back of camera, releasing a jet of steam and the clear scent of burnt plastic.

"Melted," Madam Pomfrey said wonderingly, clearly stunned at what they had just witnessed. "All melted..."

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

"It means," Dumbledore replied, his tone grim as he looked at the other two members of staff, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."

"But Albus…" McGonagall whispered, sharing stunned glances with the clearly-shaken Madam Pomfrey. "Surely… who?"

"The question is not who," Dumbledore said, his eyes on Colin with a grim stare. "The question is how…"

Harry was only slightly comforted by the fact that Professor McGonagall's expression made it clear that she didn't understand this any better than he did.

From what Dumbledore was saying, it sounded like he already had some idea about who was responsible for this, but if that was the case why hadn't he taken action to do something about it…?

And then, of course, there was the whole issue of what Dobby had said about the Chamber of Secrets having been opened before; while that statement did lend evidence to the idea that Malfoy's father might have opened it himself at some point, that still didn't answer the question of why it would have only been opened twice if they were aware of their heritage…

When you added in the factor that he still didn't know what kind of monster was in the Chamber in the first place, or how it could do what it had done to Mrs Norris and Colin, it seemed like Dobby's visit had just left him with more questions than answers…

On the other hand, he at least knew that he was on the right lines for finding out what was really going on in the school at the moment; until he knew more about what was happening, Malfoy was still the most likely candidate for the Heir's true identity, which made him the obvious target for an investigation until they knew otherwise.

Detective work, Harry mused grimly, turning his head to stare at the blank wall on the other side of the hospital wing as he waited for sleep to come. It might be intellectually stimulating, but it's definitely difficult working out the fine details…