November, 1992
The next day, Harry, Neville, and Hermione all convened as usual in the library for a study session, while Ron hung out with the Gryffindor Quidditch team to gossip about the upcoming match at lunchtime.
He'd asked them all to be sure to come to the match, and they'd promised they would. Harry had fished out his dad's old Gryffindor scarf to wear along with a weekend-approved casual non-uniform robe and cloak, to show team spirit. He hadn't worn the robe before, even though he'd gotten it last December. And since it was maroon, and his other casual clothes were either not in Gryffindor colours or too small, he thought it was about time he gave casual robes a try.
"It's not likely I'll play," Ron had said nervously, looking a bit green. "But we're playing Slytherin, and they play dirty. So they might take out Wood and then I'd be up as Keeper."
Tracey stopped by their table in the library to reserve Harry for socialising with the Slytherins after Sunday breakfast. She had a smile and a greeting for everyone, including "Granger" – Harry appreciated the effort, and so did Hermione.
It was a miserable day for Quidditch – the muggy weather turned into rain very shortly into the match. Many of the older spectators cast some kind of spell that seemed to repel rain – Harry wished he knew what it was. At least Percy knew a drying charm and promised to cast it on them after the match, and offered to show them how to cast the Hot-Air Charm for themselves if they had the skill.
A bludger came barrelling straight down the pitch early in the match, right towards the Gryffindor goalkeeper who was quite close in front of them – they'd picked a good spot to barrack for Ron in case he got a turn. Fred and George Weasley seemed much occupied in defending Wood from Bludger attacks, leaving their Chasers and Seeker undefended. After a time out mid-air huddle, he'd clearly told them to attend to the other players more. A bludger came for him again – and sped up to go straight past him through the goalposts right towards the stands where Harry was sitting. Harry dodged aside at the last minute, and it bashed into his seat, before swerving away back onto the pitch.
"Merlin!" said Neville. "That was close, Harry! Bludgers shouldn't end up in the stands!"
"That's not supposed to happen!" Harry piped worriedly. "What's Snape doing?" He looked over to where the Slytherins were sitting, but he seemed to merely be watching the match intently; his lips weren't moving this time, Harry was sure of it.
Out on the field, the rogue bludger had done a loop and was picking up speed as it sped straight back in their direction again.
"Look out!" Harry yelled, fumbling for his wand. People around him scattered for cover with shrieks, as he concentrated on building up power in his wand. A dim light hovered at the wand tip as he waited until the bludger neared, barrelling straight at his chest. "Flipendo!" he cried, casting the Knockback Jinx with a burst of purple-red light. It knocked it away only about five feet, which wasn't as impressive as he'd hoped for such a small object. As the thought drifted through his mind that Bludgers were enchanted to be resistant to other magic, the Bludger changed direction with a quick loop and went for him again. Neville yanked him to one side and he fell mostly out of its path, but it hit his right arm with a sickening cracking noise and a burst of pain.
Madam Hooch, some other teachers, and the Weasley twins were converging quickly on his location, but the bludger seemed to have thankfully decided it had done enough damage and was returning to the field in a lazily random pattern, aiming for the nearest player as its enchantments were supposed to ensure. Madam Hooch blew her whistle to pause the match, on her way in towards Harry.
"Maybe it didn't get the memo that I quit the team," Harry said, through gritted teeth. "I'm pretty sure my arm's broken."
"Stout heart, Harry," said Neville, "Madam Pomfrey will fix you up. My arm's as good as new. It will only take a day."
"Yeah," said Harry, and glanced at his arm. He saw it was hanging at a very strange angle… and then he fainted.
When he came round a few moments later, a crowd of people were around him, including Neville, Ron, Hermione, Wood, one of the identical Weasleys, and Professor Lockhart. Colin Creevey was bent over, shoving through the bodies at waist-height so he could get a clear shot at some great photos.
"I don't want a photo of this, Creevey," he said loudly.
Professor Lockhart offered to fix his arm, and wouldn't take no for an answer. So half an hour later, Harry was explaining to the disgruntled Madam Pomfrey that of course he hadn't wanted Lockhart to remove all the bones in his arm – something must have gone wrong with the man's spell. Something horrifically dangerous – if it had been cast on his head, spine or chest, he probably would've died instantly! It made him shake with fear in thought of the possibilities that might have been.
Madam Pomfrey's attitude softened in reaction to his obvious fear, and she gave him a pleasant-tasting Calming Draught before coming back with a steaming goblet of Skele-Gro. It tasted awful and made him splutter.
"You're in for a rough night, I'm afraid," she said sympathetically. "Regrowing bones is a nasty business."
"At least it can be done," Harry said gratefully. "Muggles can't do that – I'd be stuck with hours of surgery and replacement bones made of metal, I think."
Madam Pomfrey shuddered. "Steel, I would guess? You'd never cast spells again, with iron embedded permanently in your aura. Try and avoid that at all costs."
"I think they use titanium?"
"What's that?"
"Another type of metal."
"Probably not so bad, then. But still not a good idea. Aren't you glad you're here?"
As she bustled away drawing open his bed-curtains to let his friends visit, Harry thought that if he hadn't been here a teacher wouldn't have made his bones vanish. Nor would he have been attacked by crazed sporting equipment in the first place.
Neville, Hermione and Ron visited first, then the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team (filthy and soaking wet). Before Madam Hooch had called a time out their new Seeker Dunbar had caught the Snitch.
"Malfoy was just staring in your direction," said Dunbar, "he didn't even notice the Snitch right near his ear, so I grabbed it!"
They'd brought snacks and drinks and seemed ready for a party, but Madam Pomfrey found them "too rowdy" and shooed them all out of the hospital wing.
Ron muttered to Hermione about how Malfoy was probably behind the rogue bludger.
"I wonder how he did it," said Ron darkly.
Pansy, Millicent, Tracey, Daphne, and Draco visited after the Gryffindors had left. Harry eyed Draco a little nervously, but was pretty sure that if he was behind the bludger attack, he wouldn't try anything with obvious witnesses standing right there. Pansy had brought him a bottle of Butterbeer, and Tracey had brought him a library book.
"It's Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires. It's by Eldred Worple, and it's much better than Lockhart's Voyages. I've got it out for another two weeks and I've already read it, so you're welcome to keep it for a bit of light reading while you're recovering," Tracey explained. "I know you like Defence so I thought you might appreciate it."
"I do, thanks," he smiled. He winced shortly afterwards though, rubbing at his arm gently and carefully as stabbing pains started going through it.
Draco didn't say anything except a murmured "Get well soon", much like the others. Harry wondered why he came along but figured it must have been Pansy's idea. If it was to quietly gloat at his injury he was certainly doing a good job of acting innocent.
Harry woke in the middle of the night to prickling pain in his arm, and his house-elf stalker sponging his forehead in the dark.
"Ahh! Get off!" he cried out loudly, and then, "Dobby?!"
"Harry Potter promised," the morose looking elf said, "but Harry Potter came to school instead of staying home where he would be safe."
"I said I wouldn't go if I could help it - that I'd try," rebutted Harry, fumbling for his glasses off the bedside table, "and I did. I told Professor McGonagall that threats had been made, and that I wanted to stay home, but she refused. I just can't quit Hogwarts – they won't let me."
Dobby sobbed about how he was sorry for accusing him so. "Dobby is not free to do as he wishes either, Harry Potter. Dobby thought Harry Potter could do what he wishes, for Harry Potter is a wizard. Dobby was so shocked when he heard Harry Potter was at Hogwarts again that he let his master's dinner burn! Such a flogging Dobby never had, sir..."
"You're flogged for kitchen accidents?!" Harry said, appalled. "That's horrible!"
Dobby wailed about Harry's nobility and kindness, until he was ordered to quiet down. He refused to say who his master was, only that he treated Dobby like vermin (even though many house-elves were better treated ever since Harry's defeat of You-Know-Who).
"But Harry Potter must find a way to go home. Surely now Dobby's bludger has injured Harry Potter, he can go leave to be with his family, and-"
"Your bludger?!" Harry said, and scrambled frantically in the dark for his wand, somewhere among the snacks and gifts littering his bedside table. He found it, and pointed it at Dobby with his left hand. "So it was you who tried to kill me! Explain yourself!"
Dobby babbled quickly about how he only wanted to injure Harry badly enough that he'd be sent home (or to a hospital) for his own good, given the danger posed at Hogwarts by the Chamber of Secrets being open once more.
After that, he seemed horror struck that he might have revealed too much, and smashed his head with Harry's water jug. Which for Harry was a big clue that whatever the alleged bad wizards were up to that might endanger Harry involved the Chamber of Secrets. But despite all Harry's urging, he could get nothing further of any use out of the crazed little elf before the sound of approaching footsteps caused him to disappear.
After a quick muttered "Reparo" on the water jug Harry pretended to be asleep and listened carefully as, to his horror, the petrified form of Colin Creevey was brought into the hospital wing. He eavesdropped on the conversation between Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore, and it definitely sounded like they were convinced the Chamber was both real, and opened by someone.
"But Albus… surely… who?" said McGonagall.
"The question is not who," said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin. "The question is, how…"
Harry wasn't sure if it was reassuring that Dumbledore knew who was behind the attacks, or frightening. It would depend on whether someone was arrested tomorrow or not. Given his lack of action against whomever had jinxed his broom last year (he still thought it was more likely to be Snape than Quirrell), he wasn't holding out a lot of hope.
And the next couple of days proved his more pessimistic side right – nothing was accomplished as the rumours about Colin spread, except a lot of students starting to band together in tight little huddles as they moved around the castle. The teachers were all useless, and couldn't be relied on to do anything constructive or helpful. Colin was just lying there – wouldn't they even send him to hospital? Surely the school wasn't the only source of Mandrake Restorative draught? He could understand waiting for the sake of a cat, but not a student. Couldn't St. Mungo's help? Was this a budget issue, or a PR one? And why wouldn't the headmaster announce the culprit, and do something?
Harry made sure to tell Neville that he had access to his vault, just in case.
"Nev, in case I get petrified I want you to know that I've made sure you, and only you, can access my trust vault."
"What? I'm a signatory on your vault?"
"It's for emergencies. Like if I get petrified. I want you to make sure I get taken to St. Mungo's. I don't want to wait for Snape to brew a restorative draught. I want proper medical attention – I don't want my life to depend on an ex-Death Eater who hates me. Muggle treatment if it's better than the magical kind, too, though that won't apply in cases of petrification or bone loss. And you can use my money to pay for it."
"I… I don't, that is, it's an honour, but…" Neville looked rather panicked.
"You can get your Gran to help. Or Pansy's dad. You just help them pay for things, okay?"
Neville slumped with relief. "I think I'd need help to argue with Madam Pomfrey or the Headmaster. Especially if I was having to say how waiting for Snape's potion wasn't good enough."
"Maybe Lockhart could help too…" mused Harry.
"After what he did to your arm?!"
"Merlin, no! Not with spells. With people management. Don't let him cast a single spell on me!" Harry shuddered. He didn't want to end up petrified. But if he did, he definitely didn't want to end up dead because Lockhart mispronounced another spell. The more he read of Lockhart's books (and saw him in class), the less impressed he was.
A/N: Picky grammar purists are welcome to comment on the proper punctuation of this sentence (and others that are similar with dialogue in the middle of the sentence):
Draco didn't say anything except a murmured "Get well soon", much like the others.
It's a tricky case that really bugs me, and I haven't found anything definitive on punctuating quoted dialogue in the middle of a sentence. UK standard preferred, with references if possible ( (dash) to break up URLs if you're posting on fanfiction dot net).