Here is the start of year two. We're covering a lot of ground in this chapter. Now before anyone panics, I'm not just forgetting things. (i.e. Harry and Ron's foray into car theft) Certain events have been left out. For this story, they did not happen. I have my reasons. Just try to trust me a little and don't get too hung up on that stuff.
Gilderoy Lockhart was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.
Harry had a feeling that he wouldn't enjoy Lockhart teaching a class. The man seemed rather conceited and pompous. His accomplishments were impressive, but Harry was dreading being in his class.
Their first class with Lockhart was enough to solidify Harry's belief that Lockhart would be a terrible teacher. The Slytherins shared the class with the Hufflepuffs, which was a nice enough arrangement. But Harry did notice that a few of his classmates were gazing at their professor with besotted expressions.
Lockhart started the class by handing everyone a quiz. But, the quiz was made up of questions about Lockhart.
"I can't do this," Draco muttered. "I'll explode from trying not to laugh."
"I know," Harry whispered, a grin tugging at his lips.
"Bloody imbecile," Blaise noted, eyeing the list of questions with horror. "I don't care what his favorite color is."
"Quiet please," Lockhart chided them cheerfully. "Just answer the questions."
Harry and Blaise guessed on every question. Draco amused himself by writing down increasingly ridiculous answers. Harry glanced at the blond's paper and bit down on his lip to stifle his giggles. Draco had written something about a romantic relationship with a troll. He couldn't wait to see what Lockhart thought of Draco's answers.
Once time was up, the quizzes were collected and Professor Lockhart sifted through them, his eyes darting over the answers. He tsked and shook his head mildly. "I see that many of you neglected your summer reading," he chided them. Then he frowned and peered at one of the sheets of parchment. "Mr. Malfoy... You wrote down that my ideal gift would be a room full of mirrors and that my life's ambition is to become a beautiful ballerina."
"Was that not right?" Draco asked innocently. "I read a lot of books this summer. Maybe I got them mixed up?" he suggested. Beside him, Blaise shaking with suppressed laughter. Harry was stubbornly staring at the table as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.
"Perhaps you should study a little harder," Lockhart suggested, his smile staying firmly in place. "Wouldn't want you to make such errors in the future." He glanced down at Draco's paper again and his eyes widened slightly. He hastily set the parchment aside in favor of another quiz. He eagerly praised one of the Hufflepuffs for knowing that his favorite color was lilac, making the girl blush.
Class continued with Lockhart proudly unveiling a cage full of Cornish pixies. He opened the cage and released them into the room, creating pandemonium.
Draco was not pleased. While some of the pixies had taken to destroying books and breaking things, one of them seemed interested in Draco's hair. The little blue menace dived right for the slicked back blond hair, grasping at it in its fists. Draco yelped and pulled away before he backhanded the creature and knocked it onto the floor.
Many of the Slytherins had pulled out their wands and began freezing the pixies with a useful charm. The Hufflepuffs scuttled around, gathering up the fallen pixies and stuffing them back into the cage. Lockhart cheered them on from behind his desk.
When class dismissed, Harry hurried into the hall. He really didn't want to give Lockhart the opportunity to talk to him. Blaise and Draco followed him, casting disgusted looks toward the classroom.
"He has no idea what he's doing," Blaise stated. "This class is going to be useless."
Draco agreed, but he was a bit preoccupied with his hair. He patted at it cautiously, wincing when he realized how mussed it was. "There's no time to go back to the common room," he fretted. "McGonagall will kill me if I'm late."
"Come on then," Harry sighed, steering Draco toward a nearby bathroom. Blaise helpfully moved to a sink and turned on the water, adjusting the temperature. In the next moment, Harry and Blaise were putting their wet hands to Draco's hair, completely destroying the gel that he'd used to fix it that morning.
"What are you doing?" Draco asked, looking confused and worried.
Harry just hummed and used his fingers to comb through Draco's hair. It was far more cooperative than Harry's hair. Blaise was gently twisting some of the stands together, carefully adjusting them to his liking.
"There we go," Blaise said pulling his hands away. He examined their handiwork, looking mildly impressed. "Honestly, I think it looks better this way."
Draco's pale blond locks were now lightly tousled. The lingering gel caused it to remain in the style that Harry and Blaise had coaxed it into. It gave him a more relaxed appearance. "Are you sure it's alright?" he asked anxiously, stepping over to one of the mirrors and looking himself over.
"I like it," Harry said helpfully. "We've got to get to class now though."
After their classes, Ron and Hermione met them in the library before dinner. Hermione noticed Draco's hair immediately.
"It looks nice," she informed him.
"Thank you Granger," Draco said, reaching up to tuck a stand behind his ear. "I may keep the style, though I think I'll want it a bit shorter."
"One of Lockhart's Cornish pixies went after his hair," Harry explained.
"He set the pixies on your lot as well?" Ron asked. "Complete nutter. Neville ended up hanging from a chandelier."
"Professor accomplished so many amazing things," Hermione said defensively. "It's a wonderful opportunity to learn from him."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione got ten points for Gryffindor for getting nearly every answer right on his quiz," he informed the three Slytherins. Hermione blushed.
Harry kindly changed the subject, redirecting their attention to the homework they'd been assigned.
When it was time for dinner, they headed for the Great Hall. They stopped when a first year Gryffindor boy approached Harry. He was grasping a camera in his hands.
"Hi Harry," the boy said a bit breathlessly. "My name is Colin Creevey. I'm muggleborn. I've read all about you though. Seamus and Dean said you're friendly every though you're in Slytherin," he added, casting an uncertain look at Draco and Blaise. They rolled their eyes.
"I- Nice to meet you Colin," Harry managed, his cheeks growing pink as people passes by them, glancing at them curiously.
"Could I get a picture of you?" Colin asked hopefully. "Dean said that I could use a special potion to make the pictures move," he said excitedly. "I want to prove that I've met you. And could you maybe sign it?"
"You want a signed photograph?" Blaise asked incredulously.
"Who's handing out signed photographs?"
Harry suddenly wished that the stone floors would swallow him up. Of course Lockhart would choose that exact moment to go to the Great Hall. Harry winced as Lockhart draped an arm across his shoulder. Other students either glanced back curiously as they went by, or they stopped and watched Harry's embarrassment.
"I should have known," Lockhart chortled fondly. He smiled winningly at Colin. "Why don't you get a picture of both of us? We'll both sign it for you."
Colin was ecstatic. He snapped a few pictures, barely able to hold the camera still. Then he ran off, his face lit up with a delighted smile.
To Harry's dismay, Lockhart kept him clamped to his side with a paternal smile. "You'll want to be careful Harry," Lockhart chided gently. "Handing out signed photos might seem a bit big-headed to your classmates. You've not reached the level of fame I'm bound to contend with. I carry a stack of signed portraits at all times for my fans. You're not there yet," he concluded, giving Harry a fond squeeze.
"We'll watch out for Harry's big head," Blaise said helpfully, prying Harry away from the professor with a smirk. Ron chuckled, earning a scowl from Harry.
Draco shot Lockhart and exasperated look before pulling Harry toward the Great Hall. He snorted when he heard Ron say "I can't believe you fancy that git." Hermione swept past them with a huff, her cheeks a bright shade of pink.
"Kill me now," Harry groaned, allowing Draco to manhandle him to the Slytherin table.
"And you say I'm the dramatic one," Draco reminded him.
Harry smiled reluctantly and rolled his eyes. Some of the older Slytherins had witnessed the scene, and a few sneered at Harry in disgust. But others simply teased him over the matter.
"Lockhart's a conceited idiot," said Adrian Pucey, a fourth year. "Don't let it bother you." Warrington Davis nodded his agreement.
Harry was still horribly embarrassed, but at least there were some who didn't believe that he wasn't a glory hound like Lockhart.
"This isn't how I wanted to make the house team," Draco complained, following Harry to the Quidditch pitch.
Harry slowed his pace and watched the blond frown at his new broom. It was a brand new Nimbus Two Thousand and One. It was the fastest model on the market. And Lucius Malfoy had purchased enough brooms for the entire Slytherin Quidditch team. Of course, the "gift" had come with a few helpful hints about the Malfoy heir's abilities at the sport. So Draco had been given a place on the team as a Chaser.
"You'll prove that you deserve to play with us," Harry said firmly.
"My father purchased my spot on the team," Draco snapped irritably.
"I know," Harry retorted. "Pouting isn't going to change that."
Draco scowled and grumbled that he wasn't pouting, though he was dangerously close to pouting. Now he'd have to listen to people suggesting that he had no real talent and had to buy his way in.
"You'll be great," Harry said firmly, looping his arm through Draco's and pulling him along.
Unfortunately, they arrived at the pitch to find Marcus Flint, their captain, arguing with Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor captain. It had been raining the night before, so they were standing in muddy grass. Ron and Hermione were standing just behind the Gryffindor team, anxiously watching the confrontation between the two captains. Oliver impatiently snatched the parchment that Flint offered and read it over. "Snape gave you permission to use the pitch to train your new Chaser," Oliver muttered. He looked over and eyed Draco. "But I booked the pitch."
"We've got a note," Flint replied smugly.
"Why don't we share?" Harry suggested. He winced at the incredulous looks he got from both teams. "It can't hurt. You don't have to show off new strategies. Both teams need the pitch today."
Oliver frowned and turned to his team. Fred and George shrugged carelessly. Alicia, Angelina and Katie, the three chasers, looked nervously at the Slytherins. "We'd have to agree on some rules," Angelina said.
"Like no bludgers," Katie piped in.
Flint heaved a sigh but set about discussing guidelines with Oliver. Amazingly, after ten minutes, both teams were in the air doing training drills. A few insults were exchanged, but it didn't escalate into fighting.
Harry glanced away from the twins as they laughed and flew in dizzying circles around their team mates. On the ground, he could see that McGonagall and Snape were standing next to Ron and Hermione.
Harry abandoned the snitch in favor of flying toward the people on the ground. He'd already caught the practice snitch twice while the Gryffindor Seeker hadn't managed it at all. Harry landed easily, grimacing as he sunk into the damp earth slightly.
"We came out to check on all of you," McGonagall said. "I didn't realize the Professor Snape had given his team permission to use the pitch. That's what the schedule is for," she added, giving Snape a sour look."
Snape was unapologetic. "We have a new Chaser," he responded, his eyes following Draco's form in the air.
"I never imagined that they'd share the pitch," McGonagall muttered in bewilderment.
"Harry suggested it," Ron said proudly. Harry smiled.
A moment later, Flint and Oliver landed and approached them. "What's going on?" Oliver asked, glancing between Harry and the professors. Usually, only Madam Hooch ever attended Quidditch practice, and that was seldom.
"We wanted to be sure that there was no fighting going on," McGonagall responded. "I must say that I'm impressed with the good sportsmanship being shown here."
"And inter-house cooperation," Snape added.
"Fifty points to Slytherin and Gryffindor," McGonagall said, a slight smile curving her lips. "And an extra five point to Slytherin for Mr. Potter's initiative."
The two captains looked pleased and Flint gave Harry a hearty pat on the back. "Back in the air Potter," he instructed, nodding to the professors before taking off on his broom again.
Snape watched as Potter rejoined his team in the air. "I suppose he's not completely hopeless as a Slytherin," Snape commented.
"That's my boy," McGonagall murmured, casting one last fond look towards Harry before turning and returning to the castle.
By the end of practice, Draco had cheered up considerably. They'd been awarded house points and he'd played quite well with the rest of the team. Flint had seemed quite pleased with Draco.
Draco's bad mood returned when Filch gave him and Harry detention from tracking mud into the castle. Snape found them just after lunch to give them the details for their detention.
"Mr. Malfoy, you will be serving detention with Filch," Snape drawled. "You'll be cleaning the trophy room without magic. You are to report there in half an hour."
Draco looked appalled. His Saturday free time was going to be used up by a stupid detention. "I don't clean," he said incredulously. "That's what house elves are for."
"Bad luck mate," Blaise said sympathetically, patting Draco on the back.
"Mr. Potter, you'll be assisting Professor Lockhart with... answering his fanmail," Snape said, his expression one of disgust.
"No," Harry groaned. "Please, Professor Snape. Anything but that. Anything," he begged.
"Professor Lockhart requested you specifically," Snape replied simply. He turned to leave their common room, then turned back. "You have my condolences." Blaise snorted with laughter as the potions master left the Slytherin common room.
Harry sank into the couch cushions miserably. "It could be worse Harry," Blaise said, calming himself and sitting down in one of the arm chairs.
"I'm sorry I can't go with you," Draco muttered quietly, sitting down next to Harry. For the moment, his own detention was forgotten.
Harry offered a tight smile. "I'll be alright," Harry assured them. "At least no one else will be there to see it. Maybe I'll have funny stories to come back and tell you."
"There you go," Blaise responded encouragingly. "You'll come back and tell us about all the ridiculous things he says."
It was with that thought in mind that Harry went to detention and suffered through Lockhart's rambling. Harry busied himself with putting addresses on the envelopes while Lockhart read through some of the fan letters. Periodically, he'd offer pointless advise like "Fame is a fickle friend Harry. Remember that." When he'd uttered the words "Celebrity is as celebrity does," Harry had nearly bit through his lip from trying not to laugh. What did that even mean?
"Kill."Harry sat up straighter, shooting Lockhart a look of alarm. But Lockhart was happily signing away at pictures of himself. And it hadn't been Lockhart's voice...
"Let me rip you. Let me tear you.""What?" Harry yelped.
"What?" Lockhart asked, sitting back in his chair and eyeing Harry.
"Didn't you hear that voice?" Harry asked, his heart rate rising in fear.
"I think you're getting a bit drowsy," Lockhart replied with a little chuckle. He glanced at the little clock in his desk. "And no wonder! Dinner is nearly over. You should run along now. Time flies when you're having fun."
Harry hurried from Lockharts office, feeling nauseous. Lockhart apparently couldn't hear the voice, but Harry could still hear it. He moved quickly down the hall, following the sounds of the voice.
"Blood... I smell blood."
"Harry!"
Harry whirled around, relief flooding though him when he saw Draco, Blaise, Ron and Hermione. "Did you hear that voice?" he asked desperately.
"What voice?" Hermione asked, looking Harry over anxiously. He was pale and out of breath.
"I heard it in Lockhart's office and followed it down the hall," Harry explained, turning to look the other way anxiously. "I think it's... Something's wrong." He took off again, this time with his friends close behind him.
Harry slowed as he heard the sound of his own feet splashing through water. He looked down in surprise, realizing that there was water covering the floor of the entire cooridor. His friends stopped behind him, Draco complaining over the state of his shoes.
Harry could see something red reflected in the water, so he turned to look at the wall. His eyes widened in horror.
"The chamber of secrets has been opened," Hermione read out, looking nauseated. "Traitors to the heir, beware."
"It's written in blood," Blaise muttered, wrinkling his nose. Then he caught sight of something else. "Oh Merlin..."
Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, was hanging from a sconce by her tail. Her entire body was rigid. They certainly hated Mrs. Norris, but it seemed like a horrible way to die.
Things only grew worse when Filch appeared. He hobbled toward the five students, likely eager to add more detentions. He froze when he spotted the dangling body of his beloved cat.
"You brats have murdered my cat!" he howled, enraged and devastated.
"No!" Ron objected. "We found her like this!"
Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape came up the hall a moment later. Their pace quickened at the sight of the scene in the hallway. Their eyes moves over the ominous words on the wall before they exchanged a wordless look.
"It's them that's done it," Filch said, his voice shaking as he pointed at the students. "You saw what the they were on the wall. They killed my cat."
"She's not dead," Dumbledore said, peering at the cat. "She has been petrified."
"I swear we didn't do it," Harry said, his gaze pleading.
"I believe you," Dumbledore assured him.
"My cat has been petrified. I want to see some punishment!" Filch shouted. He wilted slightly when Snape glared at him.
"We will be able to cure her," Dumbledore replied calmly. "Professor Sprout has a supply of mandrakes growing. It will take time, but once they've finished maturing, we can use them reverse this." He carefully removed Mrs. Norris from the sconce and led Mr. Filch away.
"Are all of you alright?" McGonagall asked, gazing at the students in concern.
"Did you see anything?" Snape asked impatiently.
"Nothing sir," Blaise said, noting that Draco was frowning at the writing on the wall again.
"Off to the common rooms then," McGonagall said briskly. She patted Harry on the shoulder before leading Hermione and Ron away.
Snape led the remaining three students toward their common room. Draco looked around to make sure that no one else was around. "Harry heard a voice," Draco blurted out, though he kept his voice down.
Snape stopped and looked at Harry. Harry flushed and looked down at his shoes.
"What voice?" Snape asked sharply.
"We don't know. The rest of us couldn't hear it," Draco explained. "I know how bad that sounds... It must mean something. Harry hears a voice and then we happen to find a petrified cat and those words written in blood?"
"Very strange," Snape agreed pensively. "But, let me worry about that for now. You are not to go wandering about with that invisibility cloak."
Harry winced. He should have known that Snape would know about his cloak. "I'll have a house elf bring you dinner," Snape informed Harry as they stopped at the entrance to the common room.
Harry thanked his head of house and then allowed Draco and Blaise to pull him into the common room. Harry wasn't sure that he'd be able to eat a thing. Hearing voices wasn't a good sign. Harry was quite grateful that Draco had chosen not to mention that in front of Minnie. She'd be so worried. As it was, the nervousness in Draco's face was enough to make Harry feel nauseous.
Blaise wrapped his scarf more securely around his neck, cold wind kissing what bare skin it could find. His eyes scanned the green clad figures and easily spotted Draco's pale blond hair. Draco was playing well, easily avoiding the Gryffindor players and catching the quaffle when Adrian threw it to him.
Harry was circling the pitch, watching for the snitch. He dodged a bludger that barely missed smashing against his shoulder. Blaise released a sigh of relief, only to have the air catch in his throat as the bludger shuddered to a halt and pelted toward Harry again.
"Oh Salazar," Blaise gasped, lurching to his feet. He turned his head and caught Ron's frightened gaze from a few seats down. For the sake of appearances, Blaise had sat with Crabbe and Goyle to watch the match between Slytherin and Gryffindor. But at that moment, he really wished that he was sitting with Ron and Hermione.
"That bludger isn't supposed to chase Potter, is it?" Goyle asked, frowning as his gaze followed Harry's flight.
"No," Blaise responded through clenched teeth. "I think someone tampered with it."
"That could kill him," Crabbe noted.
"Malfoy's gonna be mad," Goyle added.
Blaise wanted to shake them. He didn't have the patience for their dimwitted commentary. Someone had to help Harry.
"Uh oh," a concerned voice echoed over the field. Lee Jordan of Gryffindor was the commentating for the game and he'd clearly noticed Harry's plight. "Harry Potter had a rogue bludger."
Blaise saw Draco nearly drop the quaffle. The blond hastily tossed the quaffle to another Slytherin Chaser before flying after Harry and the bludger. Draco appeared to be shouting, but Blaise couldn't hear. To his astonishment, the Weasley twins abruptly zoomed away from the rest of their team and positioned themselves with a decent space between them.
Blaise could barely hear himself think with all the shouting going on. There was an exciting match going on along with a bizarre battle with a possessed bludger. There was far too much going on at once.
Draco was racing along at Harry's side, shouting instructions that the audience couldn't hear. Draco veered off as Harry made a sharp turn to put some distance between himself and the bludger. He was cradling his right arm to his chest and gripping the broom with his left.
Harry looped around and flew toward the twins. He flew right between them and the twins swung their beater bats, knocking the bludger back.
"Finite Incantatum!" Draco shouted, pointing his wand at the bludger as it started shooting back toward them. This time, a Slytherin beater swooped in and knocked the bludger away from the others.
The bludger was no longer targeting Harry. Blaise dropped back into his seat, scrubbing at his face with shaking hands as relief flooded through him. He peeked warily through his fingers to see that Draco, Harry and the twins had returned to the game. Harry was still holding his right arm against his torso, clearly injured.
"They've seen the snitch!" Lee cried out, drawing attention to the two Seekers.
Harry was leaning foward on his broom, gaining speed as the Gryffindor Seeker struggled to keep up. Harry lifted his good arm suddenly and snatched the golden snitch out of the air. Cheers erupted in the stands as Harry landed.
Blaise began trying to push his way into the pitch when Harry dropped to his knees. Crabbe and Goyle helpfully began to nudge people aside, clearing a path for Blaise to get through.
Draco landed at Harry's side, kneeling next to his friend. "Can't stay out of trouble can you?" Draco asked, panting.
"We won," Harry responded blearily. His arm was throbbing horribly.
Hermione, Ron and Blaise made it to Harry's side but were careful not to crowd him. Hagrid had lumbered up behind them along with Professor Lockhart. The other Professors were hurrying toward them.
"Are you alright?" Hermione asked anxiously.
"No," Harry managed, gasping at the pain. "I think my arm is broken."
"I can fix that right up," Lockhart assured him, squatting down next to Harry.
"N-No," Harry blurted out. "Not you. I can wait until I get to the hospital-"
"Oh nonsense," Lockhart shushed him, pulling out his wand with a flourish. "This won't hurt a bit. It's a simple charm. I've used it countless times." He pointed his wand at Harry's right forearm and waved it grandly.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut as a strange sensation slowly spread from his shoulder down to his fingertips. Was it possible to deflate an arm? Because that's what it felt like. It was quite unpleasant.
Draco gasped, staring at Harry's arm. He was horrified when Lockhart cautiously picked up the arm and was able bend the hand all the way back. The sight made Draco's stomach churn.
"Well, that can sometimes happen," Lockhart muttered with an awkward laugh. "But Harry doesn't feel any pain, and clearly the bones aren't broken."
"Broken?" Hagrid growled. "There's no bones left."
"Yes, well-" Lockhart floundered, only to be cut off by a furious Professor McGonagall.
"You've done quite enough," McGonagall said sharply. "Mr. Potter is to go straight to the hospital wing." She gave Draco an expectant look. "I'm sure that you and your friends could manage that."
"Yes, Professor," Draco nodded. He shifted and carefully helped Harry up. Blaise, Ron and Hermione moved closer, casting uncertain looks at Harry's boneless arm.
Crabbe and Goyle approached them as they began to leave the pitch. "We can clear the way for you," Goyle offered. "We saw a first year with a camera trying to get a good look."
"Thank you," Harry said, before Draco could dismiss them. He didn't really feel up to facing Colin Creevey and his camera. "That would be helpful."
Crabbe and Goyle proudly positioned themselves just in front of Harry and his friends and led the way to the castle. They sneered and growled at anyone that got too close. Blaise discussed the game with Ron while Hermione and Draco fussed over Harry.
Madam Pomfrey was furious when Draco explained what had happened. Harry was forced onto a bed and made to drink a potion that tasted truly awful. "You're in for a rough night Potter," she said grimly. "Re-growing bones is a nasty business."
Harry friends were quickly sent away so that Harry could rest. Harry made himself as comfortable as possible in the bed, deciding that he'd prefer to try to sleep through as much of the bone growing process as he could manage. Once he was healed, he intended to figure out why a bludger had tried so hard to kill him.