IMPORTANT: Chapters 6 (Ignition) and 8 (In the Rough) have been updated to fit more correctly within cannon (as per chapter 504). The changes are minor and affect only the memory sequences. However, they do contain MINOR (as in positively minuscule) SPOILERS for contents leading up to the most recent chapters!

A/N: Admittedly, recent chapters (up to 504) have thrown me for a loop. I had a history for Minato and Kushina kind of planned out, and the now-cannon timeline really messed with it. Overall, this shouldn't affect the story too much, but I have had to rework some of the previous chapters (as stated above).

Also, I am so, so sorry for how long it took to get this chapter out. Writer's block (and new chapters throwing a curve ball at you) really sucks, and that's all I can say.

Chapter Nine – Stagehands

As it turned out, 'whenever you want' wouldn't be until after the next day's Quidditch match. Harry was glad to be in the air again; the freedom of the skies, the thrill of the chase…

The freakishly persistent bludger.

He had known that it had been tampered with the moment he'd passed within three meters of it. It had immediately rocketed in his direction, despite being closer Alicia. And now, no matter what he did, it refused to chase after anyone else.

Then the second bludger whipped around. Harry ducked, and the heavy ball brushed right over his head. It narrowly missed colliding with the first tampered Bludger, spinning to trail after him once it leveled with its counterpart.

He cursed. 'Who the hell did I piss off that badly?'

There was no possible way for anyone to miss the fact that he had both Bludgers trying their hardest to break his bones, but no foul was called. The game continued, Fred and George on his tail to try and beat back the rouge Quidditch equipment.

Harry spiraled into a dive, hoping the increased speed would add some distance between him and the crazy Bludgers. His prized Nimbus 2000 had never flown quite so fast before, and he marveled in its swiftness.

Unfortunately, the feeling didn't linger. The Bludgers streaked after him defiantly, twin smears of stormy grey nearly matching the pace of his broom.

Harry swerved around the Slytherin goal posts. 'New plan. Let's see…' Quickly scanning the Pitch, he located the closest target. Conveniently, the nearest Slytherin player was Malfoy.

He ducked underneath the opposing Seeker, rising again before the Bludgers had a chance to descend. He almost felt sorry for Malfoy, really he did.

Unable to dodge in time, the two Bludgers slammed into the second-year Slytherin and he dropped like a rock, howling in pain. Fortunately one of the teachers had the presence of mind to catch him before he hit the ground.

Madame Hooch's whistle sounded sharply and the remaining thirteen players landed.

She eyed the groaning boy briefly before sending him to the Hospital Wing. "Do you have a reserve Seeker?" she asked Flint.

He sourly shook his head. Their old Seeker had graduated, and with Malfoy's 'donation' to the team they hadn't bothered to consider any other players.

"Would you like to continue playing or do you forfeit?"

Flint's upper lip curled in distaste. Harry knew that for them, nothing could be worse than forfeiting to a Gryffindor, let alone a team of them. But he also knew that Flint knew when to cut his losses. Without their Seeker, their chances of victory would be cut drastically, but if they quit now they'd still have more points overall. With that in mind, Harry knew exactly what the Slytherin team captain would say next.

"We forfeit."

Unfortunately, the bludgers didn't seem to share the sentiment, hurtling around the pitch once before seeming to lock on to Harry's presence once more.

Shit. Quickly brandishing his wand, he fired a rapid expelliarmus at the bludgers, knocking them back a couple of meters.

Hooch, meanwhile, had not simply been standing by. Quickly she fired her own spell at the two bludgers, deactivating them instantly. She frowned at them, but as the game was already finished, could do nothing about the obvious foul-play.

Harry sighed. 'Quidditch must be cursed…'

"Are you sure about this, Harry?"

"Of course."

"Good. Do you remember the incantation?"

"Yes, Hermione. Don't worry about it; everything will be fine."

Hermione nodded, looking a little flustered now that she realized that she had almost no control over the situation. She liked things better when she did things herself; relying on people was something she had only begun to do last year.

Ron rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Hermione. You're the one that let him talk us into this. Don't worry about it now."

It was several days after the match, and Ron and Hermione were both anxious to get finished with the investigation now that Malfoy had been released from the Hospital Wing. The attack on Creevey had only heightened their concern.

In any case, that was why the three Gryffindors were huddled into a bathroom just outside the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione's job was to distract either Crabbe or Goyle for as long as possible. Unfortunately, the two didn't seem to go anywhere without each other, so they had hoped to ambush one of them on the way to the bathroom. That meant they had tailed them ("Stalking," Ron muttered irritably.) until one of them needed to go.

"Alright. If he wakes up early we'll be sure to keep him occupied."

The plan had so far gone off without a hitch. After dropping Goyle's unconscious form into the stall, Harry exited the restroom fully disguised as the Slytherin.

Crabbe was waiting right outside the door. He grunted and they left. As it was just after dinner, Harry hoped that they'd head straight to the common room. Luckily they did, as he wasn't sure how long he could hold the henge.

"Serpent-tongue," Crabbe grunted at a stretch of empty stone. The wall slid open, revealing a cavernous, green-themed common room. Immediately Harry noticed that the atmosphere, while not unpleasant, wasn't as comfortable as Gryffindor's. At least it wasn't red.

Malfoy sauntered in not long afterward, looking for all the world like he owned the place. "Crabbe, Goyle! Where have you two been? Stuffing your faces, I expect…"

Harry quietly muttered the incantation to the spell Hermione had found the day after the match. It would allow him to record ten or so minutes of sound on his wand.

"…at least your dinner tasted all right. I've still got to take potions from last week-end's match," the pale Slytherin's face twisted into an expression of disgust. He settled into an emerald wing-back chair, motioning for Crabbe and 'Goyle' to do the same.

Hoping that it wasn't too out of character for the bulky Slytherin Harry asked, "Are you feeling okay?"

If it was, Malfoy didn't notice. "I'm fine, but it was utterly disgraceful. Hit by both Bludgers! The only consolation was seeing that mudblood Creevey's face, stiff as a board. It's a pity he didn't die. If it were up to me, he certainly would have. Of course, if it were up to me, Granger would have been first."

Harry nodded. That was all he needed to hear. Excusing himself, he casually left the dungeon. He would have stayed longer to wheedle more information of the pureblood, but he had no idea how long the real Goyle would be out for, and neither did he know enough of his character to accurately imitate him for a long period of time.

Ducking behind a suit of armor, Harry dropped the henge and made his way back to his friends. Giving them the all-clear, they headed to the common room to find an out-of-the-way corner to listen to the recording in.

Hearing Malfoy say that he wasn't, in fact, the heir, hardly deterred Hermione from researching everything she could about the Chamber of Secrets. One avenue of investigation closed, she said, simply left room for others. Ron was somewhat put out about their failure, but admitted to still wanting to know who was behind everything. Rarely for him, part of his reason was out of concern for Hermione, who, as a muggleborn, was a sure target for petrification.

Harry himself was still curious, but only insofar as their safety was concerned. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to be done about it for now. He wasn't confident enough in his knowledge of magic to be sure that it was wise for them to confront whatever the danger was, and without understanding it first he didn't want to use any shinobi arts against it. The best he could do for now was to wait on the sidelines and learn as much as he could.

The professors seemed to have much the same idea; or at least Lockhart smelled a new opportunity to boost his popularity. Either way, almost the entire school was required to attend his dueling competition. Which was how Harry found himself standing on a platform in front of Malfoy.

It was not the first time he'd been singled out by their Defense professor, and he knew it wouldn't be the last.

Lockhart, to his right, attempted to show Harry what was undoubtedly a bogus defensive charm. Ignoring him, he unobtrusively worked himself into a stance that would allow him to dodge quickly should he need to. Uncertainly, Harry watched as Snape whispered into Malfoy's ear. Surely even Snape knew not to push things too far in front of the whole school, right?

'If Lockhart was a quarter as useful as he says he is…' he cut off his train of thought as the blond started the countdown.

"Three… two… one!"

"Serpensortia!" Malfoy cried without hesitation.

Harry blinked down at the meter-long snake Malfoy had summoned. All things considered it was rather… unimpressive. Sure, snake bites were painful, but Harry recognized the breed as one that wasn't venomous.

Poisonous yellow eyes. A giant serpent. Traitor.

"Not to worry, I'll get rid of it!" Lockhart exclaimed excitedly, snapping him back to reality.

"Don't bother," Harry replied, "Flippendo!" The spell snapped off before Lockhart could finish elaborately twirling his wand.

The snake was blasted backward, straight toward Malfoy. Furious and in pain, it let out an angry hiss and snapped at the Slytherin.

"Ouch! Filthy human. Cold cave!"

Harry nearly choked on saliva. That was… the snake? Malfoy nervously backed away from the reptile, nearly falling off the platform.

"Send me home, stick-waver, or I'll bite you!"

The voice, undoubtedly from the snake, carried a similar quality to the voice he'd heard in the hallways on Halloween. What was it?

"Poison upon your bloodstream! Send-"

At this point Snape decided to intervene, vanishing the snake with a wave of his wand. But at its last comment, Harry finally recognized the vague hissing undertone. It was the same way he'd heard Minato speak to the door containing Voldemort in his mindscape.

What was it? That wasn't the way the shinobi normally spoke. He could probably ask, but he hadn't seen the man at all since Harry had tried to look into the memory behind the ruined door. He was still a bit ticked off about their conversation afterward.

"You did understand though, once."

Harry barely paid attention as he and Malfoy were sent away from the platform and two 'more responsible' students were chosen for the demonstration. What could be worth sacrificing someone you love for? The needs of the many versus the needs of the few.

'I won't ever understand,' he thought, hissing voices forgotten.