Since the disastrous episode of the pixies, Lockhart had not brought live creatures to class. Everyone, including the Slytherin's, were very grateful for this. It was probably for the best, considering that no one wanted anything else to attack them. The Cornish pixies weren't really that dangerous. Not as dangerous as something could have been. He could have brought a Bogart or something like that. In fact, two Defense Against the Dark Arts classes had been cancelled, considering that it had taken so long to rearrange the classroom. The students could barely tell that anything had ever happened. In the meantime, it was much better that he stuck to something a little less... alive.
Instead, he had begun reading the passages from his books to us. It had turned into story time. In my terms, nap time. Very frequently I slept through Lockhart's classes. I couldn't imagine what the exams at the end of the year would be like. The only parts of his class that were somewhat amusing were when he would sometimes reenact the more dramatic bits. The first time that Lockhart had tried to use me for a demonstration, it had not ended well. I'd laughed for well over two minutes before telling him that I'd rather swallow a Cornish pixie whole. The class had laughed and I'd been given a detention - thankfully with Snape, who needed help cleaning out the storage closet.
Lockhart had never tried to use me for a demonstration again. It was something that I was grateful for, since I really didn't want to have another detention with Snape. I tried to avoid him whenever possible. So that meant that, now, Lockhart usually picked Harry to help him with these reconstructions. There had only been once when he'd gotten most of the class to assist in a large-scale battle reenactment. So far, Harry had been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a head cold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him.
I'd never seen Harry as embarrassed as when he had to get up and assist Lockhart with the demonstrations. It provided me great amusement. Harry was hauled to the front of the class during our very next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, just two days after we'd decided to attempt the Polyjuice Potion, this time acting a werewolf. I could tell that he wanted to refuse Lockhart's request, but we had a very good reason for Harry needing to keep Lockhart in a good mood.
So Harry flopped up to the front of the classroom as Ron and I watched on in amusement. I did feel a little bit bad that even Malfoy was watching and laughing with his friends. "Nice loud howl, Harry," Lockhart ordered. Harry sighed but gave a very loud howl. Ron and I had to slam our heads on the desk to keep from laughing. "Exactly! And then, if you'll believe it, I pounced - like this." Lockhart jumped over to Harry and knocked him to the ground. I couldn't take it. I began laughing and snorting at Harry's misfortune. Ron and the rest of the class followed closely behind me. Harry looked mortified. "Slammed him to the floor - thus - with one hand, I managed to hold him down - with my other, I put my wand to his throat," Lockhart followed the movements with the story.
The rest of the class was howling with laughter. Hermione was the only one that looked serious about the whole thing. "I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm - he let out a piteous moan - go on, Harry." Harry moaned very softly, glaring at me as I laughed. "Higher than that." Harry moaned a little louder. "Good - the fur vanished - the fangs shrank - and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective - and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks," Lockhart finished.
At this point I was nearly in tears from the laughter. Ron and I were leaning against each other, barely able to remain upright. "Oh man, I wish that I had a camera. Where's Colin when you need him?" I asked Ron.
Ron was wiping his eyes to dab away the tears. Malfoy was practically on his butt laughing. "Come on, Tara, we need way more than a camera to remember this," Ron said.
That was true. We needed one of those Muggle video cameras. "Oh come off it, Lockhart is only trying to show us the practical way of how to defeat a werewolf," Hermione tried to defend the useless teacher.
Rolling my eyes at her, I leaned forward to argue with her. "If you did something like that in front of a man that was transformed, you would end up human lunch meat," I told her. There was no way to fight with a werewolf that was transformed. That was why you had to keep them away from people until they were back to their human form. "Hermione, he's putting on a two-man show. He belongs on Broadway, not in a school," I snapped.
That seemed to get Ron's attention. He stopped laughing long enough to look over at us. "What's Broadway?" he asked curiously.
How, exactly, could I explain what Broadway was? It seemed that Hermione knew, but I wasn't sure if Ron would understand. "It's like a piece of New York City - a city in the United States - that's dedicated to stage shows," I weakly explained.
"Sounds girly," Ron said.
I'd seen a few plays and musicals over on Broadway when I was younger. I really liked it. "It's actually quite fascinating. Mom and Dad used to take me when I was younger," I told him.
Lockhart seemed to have finally noticed that he did not have the undivided attention of everyone in the class. "Miss Robins -"
"Nox -" I growled.
As per usual, Lockhart ignored my argument about my proper surname. "Is there something that you would like to share with the entire class?" Lockhart asked me with a small smile.
Should I say something? Why not? It might be fun to let him know what I really thought. "Sure," I said with a small smile. Everyone looked over at me, knowing that if I had something to say to him, it wouldn't be nice. "I love your demonstration of Wagga Wagga Werewolf, but I really think that you should be the one playing the werewolf."
Lockhart was very clearly surprised. "Oh, why's that?" he asked.
The Homorphus Charm really only brought a werewolf back down to human size. There was no cure for lycanthropy. "Because I would love to see someone perform the Homorphus Charm on you. Perhaps it would be nice to see someone shrink your head back down to size," I told Lockhart with a sweet smile.
His eyes flashed slightly as the rest of the class began to laugh. "Ten points from Gryffindor for your very funny suggestion," Lockhart told me. I shrugged my shoulders, already used to Lockhart taking points from me for saying rude things about him. "Once I was actually thinking about joining -"
He never got a chance to finish his thoughts, something that made me very happy. I hated hearing everything that he had to say about things that had never really happened. Or to have him brag about things that he very obviously did not understand. A moment later, the bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet. The entire class began to flood from the room. No one liked hanging around Lockhart for longer than they had to. It was why he normally had to yell the homework after us.
"Homework," Lockhart started and I groaned, knowing that his homework's were always pointless, "compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!"
Why the hell would we need to do something like that? It wasn't anything to do with actually learning about Defense Against the Dark Arts. That was what his homework assignments were always about. Something about how wonderful we could make him sound. I couldn't understand why. It wasn't helping us learn anything. Perhaps it was why I had such a low grade in homework. I was always either ignoring the homework assignments or writing something rude about him in them. We'd see how insulting I could make his defeat of Wagga Wagga the Werewolf. I was in the mood to write something nasty about him.
As we began packing up our bags, I glanced over to Ron. "When is he going to realize that no one wants his stupid autobiography?" I asked him under my breath.
"You know that we need him to like us right now?" Hermione asked me.
"He likes her just fine," Ron snapped at her.
My skin rose with goosebumps at his words. The last thing that I needed was for Lockhart to actually like me. That was why I spoke the way that I did in his class. I really wanted him to not like me. I didn't need him looking at me like a blast from the past sort of thing. The class began to leave as quickly as possible. Being our last class of the day, everyone was ready to head back to their dorms. Harry returned to the back of the room, ignoring my poor duplication of his reenactment of Wagga Wagga the Werewolf. Harry rolled his eyes at me and shoved me to the side. Ron was still laughing as Hermione glared at me.
"Ready?" Harry muttered to us.
I could tell that he was still burning with embarrassment from reenacting the scene earlier. "Wait till everyone's gone," Hermione whispered nervously. "All right..." she muttered once everyone was gone.
The few people that were waiting for the doorway to clear glanced back at us curiously. Malfoy gave me a little snarl and I rolled my eyes. He hadn't spoken to me directly since the slug incident - save when Mrs. Norris had been found - and that was just fine by me. I really didn't particularly enjoy listening to him run his mouth. After a moment, the rest of the room cleared. With a glance between us, we all walked over to Lockhart's desk, allowing Hermione to go first. She approached Lockhart's desk, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand, Harry, Ron, and I right behind her.
"Er - Professor Lockhart?" Hermione stammered. I rolled my eyes at her as he looked up. She was embarrassed to speak to him. "I wanted to - to get this book out of the library. Just for background reading." She held out the piece of paper, her hand shaking slightly. "But the thing is, it's in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it. I'm sure it would help me understand what you say in Gadding with Ghouls about slow-acting venom's -"
And that was all that it took. As expected, the moment that she mentioned one of his books, he launched into a conversation about himself. "Ah, Gadding with Ghouls!" Lockhart exclaimed, taking the note from Hermione and smiling widely at her. "Possibly my very favorite book. You enjoyed it?"
"Oh, yes," Hermione said eagerly. "So clever, the way you trapped that last one with the tea-strainer -"
A tea-strainer? Was that even possible? "Well, I'm sure no one will mind me giving the best student of the year a little extra help," Lockhart said warmly. I rolled my eyes at him. Lockhart was the only reason that Hermione had a better grade in Defense than I did. It was always Harry and I that were the top students in that class. After a moment, he pulled out an enormous peacock quill. My eyebrow quirked. That was an odd thing to use for a quill. "Yes, nice, isn't it?" he asked, misreading the revolted look on Ron's face. "I usually save it for book signings." No one said anything. He scrawled an enormous loopy signature on the note and handed it back to Hermione.
Before we could leave, Lockhart spoke again. "So, Harry, Tara," Lockhart said excitedly, while Hermione folded the note with fumbling fingers and slipped it into her bag. "Tomorrow's the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not?" We both nodded. "I hear you're both useful players. I was a Seeker, too. I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you two ever feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players..."
If my jaw would have hit the floor, I wouldn't have been surprised. Had he really just said that Harry and I were less able players? We were the first players that had been allowed on the team as First Years in a century. We had broken the rules to get onto the team. With the two of us playing, we'd never lost a match. The only one that we'd lost so far was the one that Harry and I had been absent for. And here he was... Once more talking about something that he didn't understand anything about. I couldn't ever believe that he was asked to try out for the National Squad. That was reserved for the best players.
Unable to keep my mouth shut, I began to speak. "Mom and Dad said that you were useless when it came to Quidditch. That you tried out twice and were denied both times. And just so you know, my father is a professional player. He handed down his skills to me. It really impresses Mom," I hissed under my breath.
Before Lockhart could say anything more, I turned and swept from the room. He was such as ass. I refused to be near him any longer. Harry was clearly just as shocked at the nerve of Lockhart as I was. A second later, he followed me out of the room. Exchanging a nasty glare between the two of us, we hurried off after Ron and Hermione. They had heard the comment, too. Ron looked absolutely beside himself and Hermione looked like she could kill me - as she normally did.
"Did you have to say that?" Hermione asked me.
Actually, yes, I really hadn't been able to keep my mouth shut with that one. "He was insulting the way that we played Quidditch!" I barked at her. I knew that she didn't really think that Quidditch was that important, but it really was. At least, to the players. And most of the school. "If someone showed him a broom, the only thing that he'd know how to do was sign it."
Ron nodded along with me. "She makes a fair point," he said.
Interrupting our discussion on whether or not I was in the right for what I'd said to Lockhart, Harry spoke up. "I don't believe it," he said as he showed the three of us the signature on the note. "He didn't even look at the book we wanted."
Of course not. That was because we'd started talking about him. He never paid any attention to anything but himself. It wasn't exactly surprising. "That's because he's a brainless git," Ron said, earning a little smile from Harry and I. Hermione seemed bothered by the comment. "But who cares, we've got what we needed -"
"He is not a brainless git," Hermione said shrilly as we continued our half ran toward the library.
I couldn't believe that after all of this time and all of the things that we had learned about Lockhart, that she was still actually under the impression that he knew half of what he was talking about. "Yes he is, Hermione," I argued with her.
It was rather obvious that with each passing day, it was becoming harder and harder to defend Gilderoy Lockhart's obvious shortcomings as a teacher. "No he isn't," she said.
This time it was Ron that argued with her, "Just because he said you were the best student of the year -"
We didn't get a chance to say much more than that. The last thing that we needed was to get kicked out of the library before we were able to get the book. We walked into the library and took it a lot slower, trying to look like we weren't doing anything suspicious. It sounded like Ron and Hermione were still arguing about Lockhart and his teaching style, but I could barely hear them as we entered the muffled stillness of the library. Slowly we headed towards Madam Pince's desk in the front of the library. I'd never come up here, and it made me quite nervous to do it now. Madam Pince, the librarian, was a thin, irritable woman who looked like an underfed vulture.
She glanced up at us through her sharp eyes. For a while, we merely stood there nervously. Finally I nudged Hermione, getting her to show Madam Pince the note. She did so, and Madam Pince leaned over it. "Moste Potente Potions?" she repeated suspiciously, trying to take the note from Hermione, but Hermione wouldn't let go.
"I was wondering if I could keep it," Hermione said breathlessly.
Rolling my eyes at her, I gave Madam Pince a very apologetic smile and kicked Hermione. She cringed in pain and released her grasp on the note. I smiled at them both, pretending that nothing had just happened. "She's kidding," I told the nasty librarian.
"Oh, come on," Ron muttered under his breath. He noticed that Hermione was looking after the note wistfully. "We'll get you another autograph. Lockhart will sign anything if it stands still long enough." I raised my brows at him. He was right about that. Lockhart had signed most student's books, as they lay open on the desks. Not that anyone had asked him for it.
Madam Pince held the note up to the light, as though determined to detect a forgery, but it passed the test. It took nearly ten minutes for her to finally begrudgingly nod. I knew that all three of us let out a breath once she had gone. We were so convinced that she wasn't going to believe it. She probably didn't like that Lockhart was the one to sign the note, but she had no argument against it. She stalked away between the lofty shelves and returned several minutes later carrying a large and moldy-looking book. It looked absolutely disgusting. Actually, it looked like it was about to fall apart. We thanked Madam Pince and headed away from her quickly. The others were about to walk over to one of the tables, but I held out a hand to stop them.
They looked at me like I had lost my mind. "Wait, we shouldn't read it in here," I said softly.
It definitely wouldn't look good if they opened the book to the Polyjuice Potion and someone walked by to see it, wondering what four Second Years were doing, looking at a potion like that. "She's right," Hermione said after a moment. The boys nodded as we walked towards the exit. "Where should we go?"
Only one place that guaranteed that no one would come in and bother us. "Myrtle's bathroom. Come on," I told them. No one looked particularly happy about the news, but nodded anyways.
The four of us turned around and started heading towards the exit to the library. As we walked, Harry, Ron, and I covered Hermione. Hermione put the book carefully into her bag and we left the library, trying not to walk too quickly or look too guilty. Not that it really worked. Considering who we were, we would probably always look guilty. As we walked I noticed that most people weren't around. I was very grateful for that. Slipping into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom wasn't something that we could risk anyone seeing. As we walked we spotted Professor McGonagall - making us duck out of sight for a moment - but no one else that was concerning.
Five minutes later, we had managed to barricade ourselves in Moaning Myrtle's out-of-order bathroom once again. Hermione had argued with Ron for most of the way downstairs. He seemed dead set against coming here. But Harry and I had agreed that this was the best place to go. It was the one place in the school that no one in their right minds would go, so we were guaranteed some privacy. The only other place that we could have gone was Harry and Ron's dorm, but there was a chance that Dean, Neville, or Seamus would come inside. Moaning Myrtle was crying noisily in her stall, but we were ignoring her, and she us. Clearly something had happened to her today. Not our problem.
Once we were seated and ready to begin, we all nodded at Hermione. Pulling the book out from her bag, Hermione opened Moste Potente Potions carefully, and the four of us bent over the damp-spotted pages. It was clear from a glance why it belonged in the Restricted Section. Some of the potions had effects almost too gruesome to think about, and there were some very unpleasant illustrations, which included a man who seemed to have been turned inside out and a witch sprouting several extra pairs of arms out of her head. My stomach roiled and I found myself very glad that I hadn't eaten much at lunch.
For a while, the four of us flipped through the pages. As much as we needed to get to the Polyjuice Potion page, we were too curious to see what the rest of the book held. There were the nicer ones that were the Beautifying Potion and Shrinking Potion - although that one was depicted showing a shrinking human head. There was an Ageing Potion - that was being shown to age someone to right as they died - Amortentia - a love potion - Confusing and Befuddlement Draught, and Veritaserum - which made me cringe, knowing that Mom had used a less powerful version of it on me before.
Then there were the less appealing ones. There was a page for Garotting Gas. It wouldn't kill someone, but it would knock them out for a few hours. I made a note to borrow this from Hermione before giving it back to Madam Pince. Some of these might come in handy. There was even the Draught of Living Death. No wonder students weren't supposed to take this out. Felix Felicis was buried near the end of the book. It was widely considered the hardest potion to brew. There was a Girding Potion - which gave the user extra endurance for a few weeks. There were even antidotes to poisons in the back.
Ron did not seem fond of a picture of a woman with a spider growing into the back of her head. "This is disgusting," I commented as we flipped the pages. "Think we should tear out a page and show it to Dudley?" I asked Harry.
He grinned at me and nodded, his hand lingering on a page for the Laxative Potion. "Definitely. Never said that we couldn't brew potions over summer break," Harry muttered as we went to searching for the Polyjuice Potion.
The two of us, and Ron, all laughed. Hermione did not seem thrilled to hear our suggestion. "That's horrible," she said.
"So is Dudley Dursley," I pointed out.
It wasn't another five minutes before Hermione seemed to have found what she was looking for. "Here it is," Hermione said excitedly as she found the page headed The Polyjuice Potion.
The pages were splitting and very dirty, but it was clear enough to read it. The words weren't the things that were bothering me. It was the pictures that were all around it. They made me sick to my stomach. I'd heard that transforming with the Polyjuice Potion wasn't comfortable, but I was praying that it wasn't this painful. The book was decorated with drawings of people halfway through transforming into other people. There were what looked like boils on their faces. I sincerely hoped the artist had imagined the looks of intense pain on their faces.
"What's it say?" Harry asked as we read over it. He and Ron couldn't read it. They were sitting on one end of the bathroom - opposite the book - as Hermione and I sat on the other.
Clearing my throat, I read what the book had to say to the others: "The Polyjuice Potion, which is a complex and time-consuming concoction, is best left to highly skilled witches and wizards. It enables the consumer to assume the physical appearance of another person, as long as they have first procured part of that individual's body to add to the brew (this may be anything - toenail clippings, dandruff or worse - but it is most usual to use hair). The idea that a witch or wizard might make evil use of parts of the body is an ancient one, and exists in the folklore and superstitions of many cultures. The effect of the potion is only temporary, and depending on how well it has been brewed, may last anything from between ten minutes and twelve hours. You can change age, sex, and race by taking the Polyjuice Potion, but not species."
I was certain that I wasn't imagining the green tinge on Ron's face. "Species?" he asked weakly.
I nodded slowly at him. Good thing we didn't want to transform into a cat or anything like that. "Means that we can't use it to transform into an animal or anything like that. Human transformation only," I said.
As I explained everything to the boys, Hermione was reading over the instructions on how to brew the potion. "This is the most complicated potion I've ever seen," Hermione said as she scanned the recipe.
Leaning over her shoulder, I nodded at her. It would definitely not be easy. But we had to do something, and I had to prove to them that it wasn't Malfoy doing all of this. "Part of what makes this so complicated is the ingredients. A lot of these are rare," I said.
"Can we find them?" Ron asked worriedly.
There was no doubt that we could find them, but there was a chance that it would take a fair bit of time. Or something highly illegal. "In an Apothecary and for a lot of money, sure," I said slowly.
"This has to be one of the hardest potions to brew," Hermione said under her breath. The two of us looked over the book and read the instructions slowly. It would be a problem - and it would definitely take a lot of time - but I had a feeling that the two of us would be able to figure things out. With time. Unfortunately, as the note said, time was short.
Part 1: Step One
1) Add 3 measures of fluxweed to the cauldron (must have been picked on a full moon).
2) Add 2 bundles of knotgrass to the cauldron.
3) Stir 4 times, clockwise.
4) Wave your wand then let potion brew for 80 minutes (for a Pewter Cauldron. A Brass Cauldron will only require 68, and a copper one only 60.)
Part 1: Step Two
1) Add 4 leeches to the cauldron.
2) Add 2 scoops of lacewing flies to the mortar, crush to a fine paste, then add 2 measures of the crushed lacewings to the cauldron.
3) Heat for 30 seconds on a low heat.
4) Wave your wand to complete this stage of the potion.
Part 2: Step One
1) Add 3 measures of boomslang skin to the cauldron.
2) Add 1 measure of bicorn horn to the mortar, crush to a fine powder, then add one measure of the crushed horn to the cauldron.
3) Heat for 20 seconds at a high temperature.
4) Wave your wand then let potion brew for 24 hours (for a Pewter Cauldron. A Brass Cauldron will only require 1224 minutes, and a copper one only 18 hours.)
Part 2: Step Two
1) Add 1 additional scoop of lacewings to the cauldron.
2) Stir 3 times, counter-clockwise.
3) Split potion into multiple doses, if desired, then add the pieces of the person you wish to become.
4) Wave your wand to complete the potion
By no means was the potion easy, and it would definitely take a lot of time, but we would have to do it. And there were potions that were worse. If Mom could do it, we could, too. "Oh, no. Felix Felicis is worse," I said under my breath. Hermione and Harry glanced at me curiously, but I didn't want to take the time to explain it. "There's just a lot of steps in this one. We can manage as long as we're thorough. Like I said, it's the ingredients that will be a problem."
Hermione was nodding absentmindedly with me. "You're right about that. Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, and knotgrass," she murmured, running her finger down the list of ingredients. "Well, they're easy enough, they're in the student store-cupboard, we can help ourselves..." I nodded at her. Those were in our kits. Easy enough. Oh, look, powdered horn of a bicorn - don't know where we're going to get that - shredded skin of a boomslang - that'll be tricky, too - and of course a bit of whoever we want to change into."
So many of these things were rare. They would be in Snape's storage closet, I'd seen them all before, but we couldn't risk stealing from him. "We'll need to go to an apothecary for some of this. A lot of this stuff isn't in the school cupboard," I said to the others.
"Why?" Harry asked.
Taking my best guess, I said, "Because a lot of these potion ingredients are used in the Dark Arts. They're not going to put it in a school," I said. I noticed the defeated looks on Ron and Harry's faces. Hermione still didn't seem too bothered by the fact that this was going to be a problem. "Anyways, I can do most of this."
Earning her attention for the first time since we'd started looking over the potion, her head snapped over to me. "You?" she asked.
My eyes narrowed at her. So maybe I wasn't Snape's favorite student, but even he couldn't deny that I was good at Potions. "You are aware that I have a higher mark in Potions than you do?" I asked her. She scoffed at me. "Mom's a master, I've been watching and making potions since before I could walk."
Hermione didn't look like she wanted to admit that I did have a better mark than her in something, but she nodded anyways. "I suppose that you're right. We can sneak in here and do it together," she put in.
We both nodded. It would be best for us to take care of this. The boys would simply have to wait and take our word for it. Ron: "Excuse me? What d'you mean, a bit of whoever we're changing into?" Ron snapped, earning my attention. Hermione hadn't even heard him. "I'm drinking nothing with Crabbe's toenails in it -"
"Hair, genius, not toenails," I said.
If he'd been listening to me, he would have heard that. Ron still didn't look particularly happy that he was going to have to drink something with hair in it. I didn't bother telling him that the hair would be the easiest part to swallow. "That's not better," Ron muttered.
"Well there's no other way," I told him.
He looked no happier about things, but he didn't continue arguing with me. Harry had started leaning over the book as well, trying to see what we were attempting to do. Hermione continued as though she hadn't heard either of us speaking. "We don't have to worry about that yet, though, because we add those bits last..."
Ron turned, still speechless, to Harry. He put in the other problem that we were having. "Do you realize how much we're going to have to steal, Hermione? Shredded skin of a boomslang, Tara's right, that's definitely not in the students' cupboard. What're we going to do, break into Snape's private stores? I don't know if this is a good idea..."
Hermione shut the book with a snap. I was rather impressed with the way that she had bristled. "Well, if you two are going to chicken out, fine," she said. There were bright pink patches on her cheeks and her eyes were brighter than usual. "I don't want to break rules, you know. I think threatening Muggle-Born's is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy, I'll go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in -"
"Stop it," I snapped at her. We wanted to keep her safe, and this was one of the few things that we could do to keep her - and the other Muggle-Born's - that way. "And it's not Malfoy," I added. As much as I hated him, it was not him that was doing this. "If we can wait a while, I can go to Diagon Alley over the Christmas break and get it."
But I knew that we couldn't wait a month and a half to get the ingredients for a potion that would take a month itself to make. "We can't wait that long," Harry said exactly what I'd been thinking.
"I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be persuading us to break rules," Ron told Hermione. Her angry face had dropped as she smiled slightly at him. "All right, we'll do it. But not toenails, okay?"
Suddenly I remembered something that I couldn't believe that I had been stupid enough to forget about in the first place. Just the other week - on my birthday - Cedric had shown me a way out of the castle that only two other people knew about. No one would be watching and no one would spot me if I slipped out of the castle for a while. Plus, I remembered exactly where the Apothecary was in Hogsmeade. They might think that it was a little strange, a Hogwarts age student trying to buy things like that, but they wanted to make money, too. They would sell it to me and I would be back within twenty minutes.
No one would get in trouble for it. A small smile fell over my face. "Actually, I think I've got a way to get some of these ingredients. No one has to risk breaking into Snape's storage," I said.
Harry and Ron looked over at me in surprise. Hermione seemed a little surprised, too, but a pointed smile in her direction made her grin just like me. She remembered what I'd told her. About the day that Cedric and I had taken a little unsanctioned field trip to Hogsmeade. Her eyes were bright, despite the fact that she really hadn't been happy when I'd left the castle the first time last month.
"You do?" Harry asked disbelievingly.
Nodding at him, I prepared to explain. "Yep. I know a way out of the castle to get into Hogsmeade without going through the front gates. I won't get caught. If someone can keep a distraction going long enough for me to get out there and get into the apothecary out there, I can be back with the ingredients in twenty minutes," I told them.
Slowly, Ron and Harry started nodding with Hermione. It was risking a lot, sneaking out of the castle again, but it was worth it. "How do you know a way out of the castle?" Ron asked me.
Narrowing my eyes at him, I found myself unwilling to admit that it had been Cedric to show me the passage. So I decided with a half-truth. "You're aware that your brothers are Fred and George?" I asked. Ron still looked like he was curious how I'd gotten it out of them. "Overheard them talking about it."
"You're sure that it works?" Harry asked me.
I nodded at him. "Yes. And it's better than risking stealing from Snape," I said.
Harry nodded at me. Anything would be better than risking stealing something from Snape. If he caught us, we'd be done for. "Someone should go with you," Harry said after a beat.
Maybe it would help, but it would also hinder me. I could make a run for it if I went alone. "No," I said immediately, earning some strange looks. "Hermione's going to need to stay here and keep watch over the potion, you're too easily recognizable, and Ron is already in deep trouble with his mom." Although they weren't the best reasons, Harry, Ron, and Hermione nodded. "I'll go alone. I'll be there and back without anyone knowing. Trust me."
Harry still looked unconvinced. "You're absolutely positive?" he asked me.
I nodded at him. "I promise, I'll be fine. I'll do it in a few days," I said.
Everyone nodded. I was rather impressed. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as I thought that it might be. "How long will it take to make, anyway?" Harry asked Hermione. She looked much happier as she flipped open the book again.
It would definitely take a long time. And that was part of the problem. Plus, a month would only be if it came out correctly. "Well, since the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days... I'd say it'd be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients," Hermione said.
"A month?" Ron asked disbelievingly. "Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-Born's in the school by then!" But Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously again, and he added swiftly, "But it's the best plan we've got, so full steam ahead, I say."
Rolling my eyes at them, I whopped Ron over the back of the head with the book. He groaned as I glared darkly at him. "It's not Malfoy, you prats," I hissed.
Hermione clearly wanted nothing more to do with anything about the bathroom or the Polyjuice Potion. Not until we would be able to start making it. She turned away from us, packed away the book, and headed towards the door to see if we could leave. She was taking her time to ensure that no one was watching. We didn't need a repeat of the Percy situation from the last time that we were in here. We were about to leave when Ron looked over to Harry and I.
"It'll be a lot less hassle if you can just knock Malfoy off his broom tomorrow," he said.
Rolling my eyes at Ron, I brushed by him. "It's not him," I snapped.
That was the last thing that we said of the Polyjuice Potion for a while. No one wanted to discuss the very difficult impending potion-making. So we went back to the Common Room and sat with the rest of the Quidditch team. Harry and I sat with Oliver and the others and discussed all of the moves that we were planning to use tomorrow. There was a chance that none of them would work, but we were going to try our hardest. There was no way that we were just going to hand the win over to Slytherin tomorrow. And there was a chance that we would win. I knew that Harry was ten times the player that Malfoy was. By the time that we finally went to bed, I was no longer thinking of the Polyjuice Potion. The only thing that was on my mind was how to beat Slytherin in the game tomorrow.
It was no surprise that I woke early on Saturday morning. I'd barely been able to sleep, thinking of plays and movements that we could make. Dad had written me a letter, letting me know any moves that I could use on a broom that was faster than mine. They were all good ideas, but the problem was that I never had raced a broom that was faster than mine. So far, it was all theory. And that was what made me nervous. It didn't help that I was concerned at the thought of what Oliver would say if Gryffindor lost. As much as I hated Slytherin, I had never wanted to beat them so badly. After half an hour of lying there with my insides churning with nerves, I got up.
The small dinner that I'd taken in last night was rumbling around in my stomach. My Quidditch robes and pads were downstairs out in the locker room, so I merely put on something that I could wear under them. I grabbed a tight white shirt and a pair of black compression pants that would go underneath the slightly looser robes. Once I had everything on, I turned to head down to breakfast early. As much as I was convinced that I was going to throw up, I was also starving from the lack of food last night.
As soon as I was to the door, Hermione's sleep-riddled voice called out to me. "We'll be rooting for you," she said.
"Thanks, Hermione. See you later," I whispered to her, not wanting to wake the other girls up. I gently slipped from the room and headed down the stairs. Nearly at the portrait was Harry. He clearly heard my footsteps as he turned back to me and smiled. I could that he, too, looked a little sick. "Ready?" I asked him as I walked up.
"No," he answered honestly.
Laughing softly, I followed him out of the portrait hole. "Me either," I said honestly. He looked like he felt a little bit better since I had said that. "But we'll manage this. There's no way that I'm letting Malfoy rub it in my face that he's a better Quidditch player. I'll eat my own foot before that happens," I snarled to myself.
Harry laughed as we began marching down the stairs to the Great Hall. It was very quiet, considering the early hour. "But the brooms -" Harry started before I spoke over him.
"But we're better players," I spoke over him. He smiled weakly at me. "The most important thing is the player, not the broom that they're on," I said, repeating what Dad had told me a million times before.
It was something that had always made me feel better. And it made sense. As much as I loved Neville, he was useless on a broom. If we put him on a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, he would collapse to the ground and break his neck. That was exactly the reason that he wasn't on the Quidditch team. Malfoy was a halfway decent player, but he wasn't good enough. He was not good enough to beat the Gryffindor team. Not with everything that we had been doing for training, not with the instruction of Oliver Wood, and not with Harry and I determined to keep Malfoy's mouth shut.
By the time that we got to the Great Hall, I noticed that we weren't the only ones on the team that hadn't been able to sleep. We found the rest of the Gryffindor team huddled at the long, empty table, all looking uptight and not speaking much. But as Harry and I walked up and sat with them, I engaged Oliver in a conversation about the plan for the game. That seemed to get people talking. Not particularly happy about what could very well be a nasty beating, but it did get people more determined. I noticed that even as time ticked away, those that walked into the Great Hall didn't sit with us. Even Ron and Hermione steered clear. Gryffindor House itself probably wanted us to win more than we did. So they let us sit and plan together in hushed tones.
The plan for the game was relatively simple. Oliver was planning on using Alicia, Katie, and Angelina to keep the Slytherin Chasers separated. Something that had been my plan. If only one of them was coming up to the goals, it would be a lot easier keeping track of one Chaser, rather than three. It would be difficult to keep them apart, but if we could manage it, we could keep Slytherin from scoring too often. Fred and George had been instructed to whack the Bludgers in front of wherever the Slytherin team was flying. We hoped that the Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones were a little slow to stop, since they were so fast. As for Harry, it was the same as when Snape had been refereeing. Ignore Snape and get the Snitch as fast as possible. I was to be another set of eyes unless - until - I was needed.
As eleven o'clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadium. It was very easy to hear how excited people were. The Slytherin's were looking forward to beating us to make up from last year, and the Gryffindor's were eager to show Slytherin that money wasn't everything. As I walked from the Great Hall, I took a moment to exchange a small smile with Cedric. He was clearly rooting for Gryffindor, as all of Hufflepuff was. Outside, it was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. Hopefully the rain could hold off. That only made things harder.
Ron and Hermione came hurrying over to wish Harry and I good luck as we entered the locker rooms with the rest of the team. "Good luck!" Hermione called as they were ushered into the stands.
"You've got this," Ron added.
"Thanks, guys," Harry and I called after them.
A moment later, they were swept away by the crowd. But a second after them, Cedric appeared. He was much larger and had an easier time fighting through the crowd. "Good luck today, Tara," he told me.
"Thank you. I'll need it with their new brooms," I muttered to myself mostly.
As confident as I liked to pretend to be, I really was nervous about the upcoming game. As good as we were, speed was very important in Quidditch. "Nah, even with the brooms, you're worth ten of them," Cedric said.
A small smile appeared over my face. "I needed to hear that. Thank you. I'll see you later," I said, waving him off.
Some of his friends cheered on Gryffindor as I walked into the locker room. I joined Angelina, Alicia, and Katie in putting on our robes. The four of us nervously shifted around everyone helping each other, but no one speaking. As much as I would have liked to talk about the game, it really wouldn't have been anything too reassuring. My confidence had died the moment that I stepped towards the field. It didn't help that I could hear the Slytherin's cheering loudly for their team and booing the Gryffindor's. Once we had everything together, we turned and checked that the boys were ready. They shouted for us to join them.
We sat down on the benches together and began listening to Oliver's pre-match pep talk. "Slytherin has better brooms than us. No point denying it. But we've got better people on our brooms. We've trained harder than they have, we've been flying in all weathers -"
"Too true. I haven't been properly dry since August," George muttered.
Despite the tense air, the rest of us laughed. "- and we're going to make them rue the day they let that little bit of slime, Malfoy, buy his way onto their team." Chest heaving with emotion, Oliver turned to Harry, who still looked very nervous. "It'll be down to you, Harry, to show them that a Seeker has to have something more than a rich father. Get to that Snitch before Malfoy or die trying, Harry, because we've got to win today, we've got to."
My stomach twisted. Telling Harry to die doing something wasn't really a good idea. Because he definitely would. "So no pressure, Harry," Fred said, winking at him.
Oliver ignored them before turning to me. "And be prepared, Tara, you know how nasty Slytherin is," he said.
Everyone knew that Slytherin would try to knock out our Chasers as fast as possible. It was a surefire way to make their jobs just a little easier. I wrung my hands together and nodded. "Trust me, I'm looking for any reason to punt-kick Malfoy across the Quidditch Pitch," I snarled under my breath.
That earned laughs from everyone else. "That's the spirit!" Oliver cheered.
And with that, the whistle signaling the teams to emerge onto the field blew. We stood together and gave one, last, cohesive nod before heading out. As we walked out onto the field, a roar of noise greeted us; mainly cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherin's in the crowd made their boos and hisses heard, too. I could spot Cedric and his friends cheering wildly with the rest of the school. I smiled, spotting that they were wearing red and yellow clothes. Most of the school was, to show their support for Gryffindor. Madam Hooch, the flying teacher and usual referee, asked Flint and Oliver to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary.
Before they could all kick off and begin to game, I walked over to them. "Good luck guys," I called out before settling back on the bench reserved for the alternates.
"On my whistle. Three... two... one..." Madam Hooch called loudly.
She was so loud that she was one of the few people that didn't need a megaphone to be heard. With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. The Quaffle was thrown up and it was automatically caught by the Slytherin team. It was almost impossible to see who was who. All I could see was the Slytherin team zipping back and forth, already scoring once. Harry flew higher than any of the rest of the team members, squinting around for the Snitch.
I started looking with him, knowing that no good could come from watching the game that was already going downhill. "All right there, Scarhead?" Malfoy yelled, shooting underneath Harry so that he could show off the speed of his broom.
Rolling my eyes at him, I scanned through the crowd and the game. There was nothing that I could see that was the Snitch. Every time that I thought that I might have seen it, by the time that I'd managed to focus my eyesight, it was gone. I couldn't understand how Harry did this. But Harry himself had no time to reply to Malfoy's nasty comment. At that very moment, a heavy black Bludger came pelting toward him; I cringed in fear that it would hit him. It seemed faster than they normally did. He avoided it so narrowly that I could see it ruffle his hair as it passed through the air, heading back into the game.
"Harry! Be careful!" I yelled up to him.
I did not want to have to explain to Mom and Dad that Harry had been killed by a Bludger. "Close one, Harry!" George yelled, streaking past him with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward a Slytherin.
Watching out of the corner of my eye, I was slowly realizing that something was wrong here. The other Bludger was shooting back and forth, choosing its targets at random. But not that Bludger. It headed towards Harry again and again. It never went for anyone else. Not once. George gave the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Flint, the Captain and one of the Chasers, but the Bludger changed direction in midair and shot straight for Harry again. Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard toward Malfoy. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry's head.
My jaw dropped as I watched the game. The other players seemed to have noticed that something was going on, but it wasn't their job to do anything. They had to keep Slytherin from scoring more. Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the field. It didn't seem to do anything. The Bludger was whistling along behind him. It didn't change direction. It was like it had locked onto Harry. What was going on? Bludgers never concentrated on one player like that; it was their job to try and unseat as many people as possible... So what had happened to that Bludger? Had it been tampered with?
"Madam Hooch! There's something wrong with that Bludger," I yelled out to the referee.
She was now watching closely as well. But, unfortunately, she couldn't do anything unless we called a time out or forfeited the match. Quidditch could get dangerous... Plus, it was their job to try and knock out a player, but it was never just the one. Still, there was nothing that she could do. Thankfully Fred was waiting for the Bludger at the other end. Harry ducked as Fred swung at the Bludger with all his might; the Bludger was knocked off course from Harry. Hopefully for the last time.
"Gotcha!" Fred yelled happily, but he was wrong.
Just like beforehand, as though it was magnetically attracted to Harry, the Bludger pelted after him once more. Harry couldn't even focus on his job with the Snitch. He was too busy with the Bludger. And Fred and George were currently unable to protect the other members of the team. Harry was forced to fly off at full speed towards the other end of the field. It wasn't long after that, that it started to rain. I groaned. It would not be easy to deal with all of this in the rain. There were heavy drops falling onto my face. I slipped my goggles onto my face, which were part of the uniform in case of rain, but it was still almost impossible to see.
Just like I could assume was happening with Harry, I didn't have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until I heard Lee Jordan, who was commentating, say, "Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero."
My stomach gave a painful lurch. If they continued to score like that, it wouldn't even matter if Harry somehow managed to catch the Snitch, we would still lose. The Slytherin's superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs. There was no way that any of us could fly fast enough to get away from them and Oliver was too slow to be able to catch any of the throws that they made. Meanwhile the mad Bludger was doing all it could to knock Harry out of the air. Fred and George were now flying so close to him on either side that I imagined that Harry couldn't see anything. He was never going to find the Snitch. We were losing this game, and we were losing it fast.
Not far above me, I could see a flash of scarlet. I glanced up and spotted that it was Alicia. She was currently in possession of the Quaffle. But the three Slytherin Chasers were not far behind her. They'd overtake her in a matter of seconds. It didn't matter. Fred and George - who were so preoccupied with Harry and his Bludger - had been slacking with the rest of the team. The second Bludger rocketed out of thin air and whacked into Alicia's broom. It snapped off the top half and she went slamming into one of the stands, collapsing into the stands, knocked unconscious. The Slytherin's all cheered as they took possession of the Quaffle once more.
"Alicia!" I shrieked in horror.
"Nox! Get in here!" Madam Hooch shouted as Alicia was dragged off of the field.
She was bleeding a little, but I imagined that she would be alright in a few minutes. The game would be over by then. The only chance that we stood was scoring a few points so we could at least stand a chance to win the Quidditch Championship if we managed to beat both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. I shot up into the air, trying to forget about Alicia. It was almost impossible to see anything. I could just barely see the Slytherin members appearing like bullets on the other end of the field. So I shot after them just as they made another goal. Angelina and I both dived down towards the ground for the Quaffle but we were cut off by another Slytherin. They were gone before I could identify them.
The two of us exchanged a look and decided that we would employ the same idea that we'd had before. Separate the Slytherin players. It was our only chance to keep them from scoring. The two of us turned back and motioned for Katie to join us. We were about halfway through the field when the Bludger came soaring towards us. I ducked out of the way at the last second and continued on. That was when I realized that it was the same Bludger that had been going after Harry for the entire game. I let out a breath. It was going back to normal. But I thought that a little too soon. It had merely picked a new target.
Harry was given a moment to regain himself before searching for the Snitch. But I did notice him hesitate as he realized that the Bludger had merely picked someone new to attack. Of course it would be me. I tried to catch back up to Angelina and Katie, but I didn't get the chance. The Bludger came back towards me and I barely was able to duck out of the way as it shot straight towards me again. The Bludger shot past me, soared after Harry, who barely missed it, before it turned back to me. The Bludger was tracking the two of us. It came roaring after me and I was just barely able to avoid it taking my head off.
"Tara!" I could hear Fred shout.
There were other screams in the stadium as people began to realize that the Bludger was fixed, but I refused to let them distract me. I was going to be fine. I'd been hit with Bludgers before. They hurt, but they weren't going to kill me. The Bludger shot after Harry and skimmed his torso before it zoomed under him and pelted back towards me. I managed to jam my broom upwards, nearly unseating myself, just in time to avoid it. Fred soared underneath me to whack the Bludger in the other direction.
That time it went after Harry. I shook off the fear of the Bludger and headed back into the game. I was just barely able to catch the Quaffle as one of the Chasers threw it to another. They shouted in anger that they had missed it and sent their Chasers after me. I could hear the whistling of the Bludger behind me. In panic, I knew that I had a limited amount of time to solve this. So I put on a burst of speed, soared downwards to avoid the Bludger, ducked to avoid George's Beater club, and soared back upwards. With the Quaffle still in hand, I flew up to the goalposts and threw. Unfortunately, the Bludger, which was still locked on me, flew in front of the Quaffle.
It hit the Quaffle off path and I groaned as it dropped back to the Slytherin players. The Slytherin's in the crowd howled with laughter as the other Houses began to shout that it wasn't fair. Every move that I tried to make was interrupted by either one of the Slytherin players of the rogue Bludger. It was still chasing after Harry and I, taking turns trying to attack one of us. It was impossible to play the game with Fred and George trying to protect us. My movements were too jerky and I was already barely able to see in the rain. The game was already lost to us. I'd already heard Lee comment that the score was now seventy to ten. I couldn't even recall us scoring the once.
About ten minutes into the game, I managed to catch the Quaffle from Katie. The two of us shot towards the goalposts, refusing to miss this one. I'd reared back to throw when Fred had shouted for me to duck. I had - and barely missed a paralyzing blow from the Bludger - but I had also missed my shot. One of the Slytherin Chasers shot up from underneath me and knocked the Quaffle out of my hands. It had very nearly unseated me. With the rain I'd slipped from the broom. Without Angelina I would have fallen. The only good thing that could be said was that Gryffindor was given a penalty shot that Katie had made, sending the score from ten to twenty, still with Slytherin in favor at seventy.
Another two minutes after that was the next chance that I'd gotten to steal the Quaffle. I'd grabbed it from Flint, elbowing him across the jaw, and shot off with it. The Slytherin players were hot on my trail. I shot past Harry - who seemed to have been recovering from a blow from the Bludger - when I realized something. Where was the Bludger? It had been almost thirty seconds since it had tried to murder me. And Fred and George had left my side in the relative safety.
The Bludger had taken my momentary second of weakness against me. With one hand wrapped firmly around the handle, and the other wrapped around the Quaffle, I was unable to defend myself from the attack. As much as I tried to avoid the Bludger - missing the shot in the meantime, easily blocked by Adrian Pucey, when the Bludger caught me off guard. Fred and George hadn't been able to get to me in time as they'd been defending Harry from a near-miss. The Bludger came straight over my hand and cut some of the skin from the pointer finger. I grunted in pain, feeling a few snaps, as I flew awkwardly towards the ground. I was reasonably certain that it had broken my finger.
It was throbbing in pain and nearly impossible to move. George grabbed my arm and brought me back into the sky, keeping me in between Fred and himself for protection as I attempted to move past the pain. I glanced down at my finger and cringed when I saw the position of the finger. It was beginning to swell and had an ugly purplish color. The joint was slightly crooked in the middle of the finger. I realized quickly that it really was broken. Damn it. We didn't have another alternate to step in.
"Someone's - tampered - with - this - Bludger -" Fred grunted, swinging his bat with all his might at the Bludger as it launched a new attack on Harry and me.
Cradling my finger gently, I could hear murmurs breaking out through the crowd. They'd seen it hit me but they couldn't tell that it had actually done some damage. "I think it broke one of my fingers," I said.
"You alright?" Oliver called to me.
We weren't too far from the goalpost that he was lingering by. "Better than Alicia," I called back. She was still out cold. I felt terrible for her. "Can't quit now, don't have another alternate to step in."
"We need time out," George said, trying to signal to Oliver and stop the Bludger from breaking Harry's nose at the same time.
Oliver had obviously gotten the message. Just as Madam Hooch's whistle rang out, Fred knocked away the Bludger from giving me another broken appendage. I thanked him silently. Harry, Fred, George, and I dived for the ground, still trying to avoid the mad Bludger. The crowd was now chattering loudly, trying to figure out what was happening. The Snitch and Bludgers remained in the air - thankfully no longer trying to kill Harry or I - as Madam Hooch caught the Quaffle. Angelina, Katie, and Oliver made their way over to us. The Slytherin team were grinning brightly, knowing that they were almost guaranteed to win.
"What's going on?" Oliver asked as the Gryffindor team huddled together, while Slytherin's in the crowd jeered. I rolled my eyes at them. Even in mortal danger, the Slytherin's still thought that it was funny when the Gryffindor's were in trouble. "We're being flattened. Fred, George, where were you when that Bludger stopped Angelina scoring?"
"We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger from murdering Harry and Tara, Oliver," George snapped angrily. His hand was around me tightly as Fred bandaged my finger. "Someone's fixed it - it won't leave either one of them alone. It hasn't gone for anyone else all game. The Slytherin's must have done something to it."
Shaking my head, I wiped off some of the sweat from my forehead. Rain was still pouring down, although it had slowed slightly. "No, I understand why it would go after Harry. He's the Seeker. He could end the game," I said. If the Slytherin's had fixed it, that made total sense. "But why's it going after me?"
"No offense, Tara, but the Slytherin's kind of just hate you," Fred put in.
That was definitely a fair point. But how could they have fixed them? "But the Bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch's office since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then..." Oliver said anxiously. Then he spotted my finger. "What's happened to your finger?"
"The Bludger broke it," I said carelessly.
The looks on Angelina and Katie's faces told me that they were taking it as a much bigger deal than I was. "There's no way that we're sending you back out there," Angelina said.
"You have to!" I shouted over the rain. "If you don't, we can't keep playing. We have an appointed alternate. I have to be in the game, or it ends and Slytherin wins. Alicia isn't awake yet. It's just a broken finger and it's not on my throwing arm. I'll be fine for a few more minutes."
Those were the rules. All players must be in the game, unless completely incapacitated, or the game ended. Slytherin had no alternates, so if one was injured and had to be taken out, they would be allowed to keep playing. But if I went out when I was still able to fly we would end up forfeiting the game. Madam Hooch was walking toward us as we all argued about what to do. Over her shoulder, I could just barely see the Slytherin team jeering and pointing in our direction.
"Listen," Harry said as she came nearer and nearer, "with you two flying around me all the time the only way I'm going to catch the Snitch is if it flies up my sleeve. Go back to the rest of the team and let me deal with the rogue one."
"Don't be thick. It'll take your head off," Fred said.
But it wouldn't... Not if Harry and I could work together. "No it won't," I said, drawing attention to myself. "Not if I protect him. That Bludger is taking turns going between us. If I can step in and keep it distracted, I can keep it away from Harry long enough for him to catch the Snitch. Angelina and Alicia can score," I said.
It was basically a self-sacrifice, but they had to be made sometimes. Just like with Ron during the chess game last year when we were heading towards the Sorcerer's Stone, I had to do this if we wanted to win. I wasn't too afraid. The Bludger might hit me again and it would break something else. It would probably hurt like mad, but I wouldn't die. Either Dumbledore or Madam Pomfrey would be able to fix me up and I'd be back to practice tomorrow. No one seemed to like that plan, but one glance between Harry and I was all that it took. He would do the same for me. We couldn't deny that it was the best course of action.
In the meantime, Oliver was looking from Harry and I to the Weasley's. "Oliver, this is insane," Angelina said angrily. "You can't let Harry and Tara deal with that thing on their own. Let's ask for an inquiry -"
"If we stop now, we'll have to forfeit the match! And we're not losing to Slytherin just because of a crazy Bludger! Come on, Oliver, tell them to leave us alone!" Harry argued.
"We are not losing! Harry and I can deal with it. We'll keep it away from the rest of the team," I added.
Oliver seemed like he might have been swayed to let us back into the game, but the others on the team did not seem as willing to let it go. "Tara, it's already broken your finger, we're not letting it break your skull," George told me.
I rolled my shoulders at him and shook off Fred, letting him tie the bandage off. "I'll manage. Wouldn't be the first time that I've ever been hit by a Bludger," I said.
The comment did not go over well. "This is all your fault," George said angrily to Oliver. "'Get the Snitch or die trying,' what a stupid thing to tell him and now it has rubbed off on -"
He didn't get a chance to finish the thought. Madam Hooch had joined us. "Ready to resume play?" she asked Oliver.
As much as Oliver loved Quidditch, he did not want one of us dying. But since we were arguing for it, I knew that he would let us play. Oliver looked at the determined look on Harry and I's faces. "All right. Fred, George, you heard Harry - leave them alone and let them deal with the Bludger on their own," he said.
Fred and George looked beside themselves with fury. Angelina and Katie looked petrified for us. But Harry and I nodded, stalking off ahead of the rest of the team. "Keep it away from the rest of the game. Stay near me, alright?" he asked me.
"No problem," I said.
The rain that had momentarily slowed was falling more heavily now. The teams scattered back onto the field and got ready to fly. On Madam Hooch's whistle, I kicked hard into the air and hovered for a moment. I could head back into the game from time to time. I couldn't just linger around Harry. But that was at the exact same time as I heard the telltale whoosh of the Bludger behind me. It was following the two of us. Exchanging a look, we knew what we had to do. Split up. It would only be able to follow one of us. I could just hope that it would choose to follow me and let Harry get the Snitch to end this thing.
Higher and higher Harry and I climbed. The Bludger weaved in and out of us, each time we were just barely able to dive out of the way of the Bludger. The two of us had to go back and forth as we looped and swooped, spiraled, zigzagged, and rolled. It didn't take long for me to become very dizzy from all of the movement. It didn't matter. Nevertheless I managed to keep my eyes wide open. The rain was streaking back and forth and coming very close to making me slip off of my broom as I dodged the Bludger again. Out of the corner of my eyes, I spotted Harry as he hung upside down, avoiding another fierce dive from the Bludger.
Even though I couldn't see them, I could hear laughter from the crowd. He did look rather stupid, but the rogue Bludger was heavy and couldn't change direction as quickly as Harry or I could. The two of us began a kind of roller-coaster ride around the edges of the stadium, squinting through the silver sheets of rain to the Gryffindor goal posts, where Adrian Pucey was trying to get past Oliver. I was trying to get the Quaffle at least once. Just so that I felt like I was doing something other than providing as cover for Harry.
But it didn't last for long. A whistling in my ear told me that the Bludger had just missed me again; I turned right over and sped in the opposite direction, desperate to get away from it. To my complete surprise, the Quaffle was soaring right towards me. Flint had thrown it, unable to see in the rain, right towards me. I barely managed to catch it and smirked. I had an idea to keep the Bludger busy for a moment, and maybe take a Slytherin out of play.
Putting on a burst of speed, I narrowly missed a sideways blow from the Bludger. I spun out of the way, almost dropping the Quaffle and banging my broken finger painfully on the broom, as I sped through the Pitch. Just as expected, the Bludger was following me again. I headed straight towards the goals, but the wrong ones. I could hear the other players screaming for me to turn around, but I had an idea. Flint was flying straight towards me, as I knew that he would. As we were just a few feet away from each other, I dropped the broom down, letting the Bludger soar straight towards Flint. At the same time, I threw the Quaffle up to Angelina, who tossed the Quaffle to Katie, who made the goal. I smiled broadly. Even better, judging by Flint's screams, I could tell that the Bludger had broken his nose, but not knocked him out of play.
Can't win them all... "Training for the ballet, Potter?" I could hear Malfoy yell.
Turning back, I saw that the Bludger was not focusing on Flint for a second longer than it had to. It had gone back to Harry. He was forced to do a stupid kind of twirl in midair to dodge the Bludger, and he fled, the Bludger trailing a few feet behind him. He turned back long enough to make me nervous that the Bludger would use his momentary weakness against him. But as he flew, glaring back at Malfoy in hatred, I knew that he saw it - the Golden Snitch. I could tell by the look on his face that he had spotted it.
Glancing backwards, I saw it, too. It was hovering inches above Malfoy's left ear - and Malfoy, busy laughing at Harry, hadn't seen it. "Move!" I shouted, wanting to end the match.
For an agonizing moment, Harry hung in midair, not daring to speed toward Malfoy in case he looked up and saw the Snitch. It was at that moment that I knew that I would be too slow to warn him. Seemingly appearing from thin air, the Bludger rocketed towards Harry. Just as I had feared, he had stayed still a second too long. The Bludger had hit him at last, earning at least one of its targets, smashing into his elbow. Even from here and through the rain, I could tell that it was broken. Judging by the way that he was flying drunkenly, I could tell that there was a searing pain in his arm.
The Bludger came pelting after me and I barely managed to slide out of the way. We were even. Harry had a broken arm and I had a broken finger. Neither one of us needed anything worse. I could see him slide sideways on his rain-drenched broom, one knee still crooked over it, his right arm dangling uselessly at his side. Just like it had with me, the Bludger came pelting back for a second attack, this time aiming at his face. Holding my breath, I was very grateful to see Harry swerve out of the way. Even with the broken arm, he clearly had one idea in mind. To get the Snitch.
"Keep going!" I yelled.
Knowing that I was very well asking to be whacked again by the Bludger, I did something very stupid. Interrupting a well-placed attack on Harry, I flew up in front of him, desperate for him to get the Snitch and end this. He looked back in horror, just long enough to see it. The Bludger was slightly off course, but sensing that I was the easier target, it flew after me. I tried to fly down to avoid it, glad that I had gotten it away from Harry, but this Bludger was faster than normal. The Bludger came rocketing straight towards me and slammed into me. The only thing that made it better was that I'd dived to the side at the last moment. Instead of breaking every bone in my face, it broke the collarbone, jamming the sharpened bone back into the muscle.
"Shit!" I yelled in a sudden agonizing pain, ignoring the fact that Mom would have been appalled with my language.
Oh Merlin that hurts. That hurts so badly. Ribs, finger, leg, arm, toe; those were nothing compared to the collarbone. Screams echoed through the stadium. I could only imagine that it was probably visible in some disgusting way. My broom was spinning slightly from the hit. Slowly I was heading towards the ground. But I forced myself back up. The Bludger was still following after Harry, and I knew that it would come back after me within a few seconds. I did not get hit for nothing. Make a damn goal.
"Tara!" I heard Cedric yell from somewhere in the stands.
"No!" Hermione yelled over Ron's incomprehensible scream.
Through the haze of rain and pain, I soared back over towards the main game. The Slytherin's thought that I was out of it. They didn't realize that I was not going to give up until the game was over. As I flew towards the other end of the Pitch, I saw that Harry was still trying to play the game through the pain, just like me. He dived for the shimmering Snitch. I could see Malfoy's sneering face below him. To my great amusement, his eyes widened with fear. Malfoy thought Harry was attacking him. Nothing would have made me happier right now than to see the Bludger break his... everything.
"What the -" Malfoy gasped, careening out of Harry's way.
At the same time, I spotted one of the Slytherin Chasers flying past me with the Quaffle in hand. No way that I got a broken collarbone with only one assist. I was making a goal. As I flew past him, I slammed into him, jamming my collarbone back even farther. My scream of pain echoed through the stadium. But I had done my job. I caught the Quaffle that he dropped and flew alongside Katie. She looked very concerned for me, but said nothing. I faked a throw to her and she understood immediately. We'd done this in practice. She hunched over, pretending to be carrying the Quaffle. Miles Bletchley flew in front of her to stop her and she smirked, revealing her empty arms. He panicked, but it was too late. Crying out in pain from the movement, I threw the Quaffle through the furthest goal, making the score.
The crowd was roaring. I was sure that it was the first time that anyone had ever made a goal with a broken collarbone. As I flew awkwardly to the ground, I glanced up. Harry was still after the Snitch. He took his remaining hand off his broom and made a wild snatch. I cheered after him as his fingers closed on the Snitch. He was now only gripping the broom with his legs. The roars from the crowd became deafening. Harry headed straight for the ground near me. I had collapsed into the sand, breathing heavily through the pain. With a splattering thud, Harry hit the mud and rolled off his broom. My finger was still disjointed and Harry's arm was hanging at a very strange angle. Even through the pain, I could hear a good deal of whistling and shouting. I focused on the Snitch clutched in Harry's good hand.
The two of us looked a mess. Harry leaned over to me and smiled. We grabbed each other in a very awkward and painful hug. "Aha. We've won," he muttered. And then he fainted.
Gasping in shock was stupid, as it sent a wave of searing pain through me. Leaning over Harry, I tried to breathe heavily through the pain in my chest. "Oh, Harry, Harry, come on. Wake up, Harry," I hissed. But he didn't move. "Help!"
That was all that it took. In a panic and frenzy, the cheers stopped and the stands started emptying as people came sprinting towards us. I knew that I didn't look good. I could see all of the bruising already forming around my shoulder as I slipped the edges of my robes off. The bone itself was jutting against the skin, causing a lot of the pain that I was feeling. The other end of the bone was jammed back into the muscle. It was making it very hard to breathe. It took a few seconds of smacking him, but Harry came around. He looked past me and, slipping onto my backside, I saw what he was looking at. At first it was just a glitter of teeth.
Then I realized who it was. My collarbone suddenly seemed to hurt even more. The last person that I wanted here right now was him. "You were not what I meant by help," I hissed at Lockhart.
"Oh, no, not you," Harry moaned.
"Don't know what they're saying," Lockhart said loudly to the anxious crowd of Gryffindor's pressing around us. I could see a few scattered Hufflepuff's and Ravenclaw's, too. "Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm. And Tara, you've got a finger and collarbone to work with."
"No! I'll keep it like this, thanks..." Harry said quickly
My stomach gave a painful lurch at the thought of what Lockhart could end up doing to us. "Professor Dumbledore fixed my ribs last year, I'll wait for him. Or, even better, Madam Pomfrey," I said loudly, hoping that one of them would somehow hear me.
Harry looked over at me. "Are you alright?" he asked.
He seemed to be doing mostly alright. I supposed that we both could have gotten off much worse. I could have broken my skull. At least I'd have a good story to tell Mom and Dad when I got back home for the holidays. "It's - It's hard to breathe. The bone. It's about to go through the skin," I said breathlessly.
The two of us were still on the ground. I was sinking into the mud, but a little dirt was the least of my problems right about now. Harry and I both tried to sit up so that we could limp to the hospital wing. I could see Cedric and his friends fighting to get over to us, but the crowd around us had now become very thick. The pain in my chest and finger was now unbearable that the adrenaline had worn off. I heard a familiar clicking noise nearby. I glanced over and cringed at the pain shooting through my entire torso by now. Colin was standing right over us and taking pictures of the gruesome scene rapidly.
"I don't want a photo of this, Colin," Harry said loudly.
"Not now, Colin," I snapped.
A few older Gryffindor's shoved Colin away from us. "Lie back, Harry, Tara. We can do your arm and her finger together. The collarbone will be trickier but I can manage that, too. It's a simple charm I've used countless times -" Lockhart was saying in a voice that I assumed could have been counted as comforting.
"Why can't we just go to the hospital wing?" Harry asked through clenched teeth.
"Screw this. I'm leaving. Fred! George! Help me up," I shouted. But no one walked up to me. Where the hell had the twins gone? "Where did they go?" I asked desperately.
A moment later, Oliver walked up to us. "They should really, Professor," Oliver said. There was mud all over him, almost completely covering him. He clearly couldn't help grinning even though his Seeker and alternate Chaser were injured. "Great capture, Harry, really spectacular, your best yet, I'd say. And Tara, that goal at the end, even with the broken collarbone and arm -"
The last thing that I wanted to talk about was the goal. The only thing that I wanted right now was for the Bludger to come back and whack me in the head. I would appreciate being unconscious for a while. Through the thicket of legs around the two of, I spotted where Fred and George had gone. They were currently encompassed with trying to wrestle the rogue Bludger into a box. It was still putting up a terrific fight. I assumed that it wanted to finish off Harry and me.
The thought kicked me into gear. "Oliver, help me up please," I begged.
Oliver nodded and walked over to me. He was about to grab my hand with Lockhart dove in front of us. "Stand back," Lockhart said, while he was rolling up his jade-green sleeves.
"No - don't -" said Harry weakly, but Lockhart was twirling his wand and a second later had directed it straight at Harry's arm.
"If you touch me, I'll -" I said before the argument died in my throat.
Lockhart grabbed my finger and straightened it out, earning a piercing scream as he obviously didn't know how to handle someone with a broken bone. He backed away nervously and muttered something that sounded very nonsensical to me. A strange and unpleasant sensation started at my wrist and spread all the way down to my fingertips. I glanced over at Harry to see that he obviously felt the same way. It felt as though my entire hand had been deflated. For a moment I didn't dare look at what was happening. I shut his eyes, my face turned as far away from my hand as I could. My worst fears were realized as the people above us gasped and Colin Creevey began clicking away madly. On one hand, my finger didn't hurt anymore - nor did it feel remotely like a finger.
"What's happened?" I asked everyone. No one answered me. That was when I turned back and saw a very disturbing sight. Harry's arm looked like it was made out of rubber. "Your arm!" I screamed.
"Your hand!" Harry shouted back at me.
Glancing down, I saw that my entire hand vaguely resembled Harry's arm. It looked like it was made out of rubber. He had damaged more than the things that had been damaged in the first place. I turned a heated glare on Lockhart. "Thank Merlin you did the finger first! Nitwit! What have you done?" I shouted at him.
Lockhart turned a brilliant shade of pink. "Ah. Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That's the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry, Tara, just toddle up to the hospital wing. Ah, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, would you escort them? Madam Pomfrey will be able to - er - tidy you up a bit," he said sheepishly.
"You are the most useless wizard I've ever seen!" I howled, the shout echoing over the Quidditch Pitch and the entire grounds.
Laughter erupted not long after. Glad that someone is enjoying themselves... "Poor girl is delirious with pain," Lockhart said.
"I hate you," I groaned.
Thankfully Harry was able to bring himself to his feet. People began to scatter out of the way so that the two of us could bring ourselves to our feet. Harry tried to bring his arm down to me, but it was useless. I rolled my eyes and tried to shove myself to my feet, but I couldn't. One side of me was rubber, making myself completely useless to try and stand, and the other was too painful with the broken collarbone. I still couldn't breathe, but now anger had been added to the reasons as to why I couldn't. I tried to move my fingers, but nothing happened. Lockhart hadn't mended Harry or my bones. He had removed them. I couldn't imagine having to tell Madam Pomfrey about this.
A second later, Hermione and Ron were trying to hoist me to my feet without hurting me. It wasn't really working. "I hate your boyfriend, Hermione. Thank God he didn't do the collarbone," I muttered.
"Oh, are you alright?" Hermione asked me desperately.
She looked like she wanted to touch my collarbone, but I'd end her life if she laid one hand on me. "Once I murder Gilderoy Lockhart, I'll feel much better," I hissed at her.
She was not going to say anything back to me. "Tara!" Cedric yelled.
Groaning, I looked up to him with hazy eyes. He was leaning down at my side, Hermione and Ron taking a breath from trying to raise me off of the muddy sand pit. "Did you know that breaking your collarbone is quite painful?" I asked him.
Cedric smiled weakly at me. "It looks painful." He then turned to Hermione and Ron. "I can take her," he said.
"Thanks," Ron said.
Without warning, Cedric pushed his hands underneath me and lifted me up. I cried out in pain but was grateful that at least someone was able to move me. And I had a feeling that this felt a lot better than walking myself up. Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed. Hermione was standing next to Cedric speaking softly to me. Ron was standing on his other side, ready to catch me in case Cedric accidentally let me slip. But I knew that he wouldn't. He never would. Not if it meant that it would hurt me. We quickly made our way up to the hospital wing where Madam Pomfrey was absolutely beside herself as Hermione and Ron explained what had happened.
If I hadn't known any better, I would have thought that she might have gone and killed Gilderoy Lockhart herself. I would have loved to see that. She ordered Harry and I into the hospital wing, pushing out anyone with lesser injuries. Apparently regrowing bones was not fun and not easy. Something that didn't make me feel better. Harry was helped into bed by Hermione and Ron. Cedric leaned over the bed next to Harry - that had been pushed close together like after our adventure with the Sorcerer's Stone - and gently placed me down. I couldn't help the hiss of pain that escaped my mouth. I was grateful, but I was still in a lot of pain.
Cedric, Ron, and Hermione stepped back as Madam Pomfrey fussed about. Cedric was standing at the side of my bed that she wasn't fluttering around. "My hero," I told him jokingly.
"You alright?" he asked me concernedly.
I shook my head at him as much as I could. I had to almost immediately stop. It hurt me to move my head too much. "Not really. Hard to breathe," I said through a cough.
"You should have come straight to me!" Madam Pomfrey raged, holding up the sad, limp remainder of what, half an hour before, had been a working arm. She looked at my floppy hand a moment later, sighing heavily to herself. I couldn't feel anything in it. "I can mend bones in a second - but growing them back -"
My head shot upright. Pain shot through me as I dropped back to the pillows. She would be able to, right? "You will be able to, won't you?" Harry asked desperately.
"I'll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful," Madam Pomfrey said grimly, throwing Harry and me two pairs of pajamas. "You'll both have to stay the night..."
Cedric seemed to know that this was his moment to bow out. "I'll see how you are tomorrow," he said.
"Thanks for everything."
"Feel better," he told me, brushing the hair off of my forehead. "Both of you," he added, turning to Harry.
"Thank you," I said.
"Thanks," Harry muttered afterwards.
As much as he didn't always like Cedric, he had to admit that he was there when we needed him, and was a perfect gentleman. After a moment, Madam Pomfrey drew a thin curtain around Harry and I's beds. He was just barely separated from mine. Ron stayed in Harry's to help him into his pajamas as Hermione stayed to help me into mine. I had to be careful until I was actually able to get my collarbone fixed. Hopefully Madam Pomfrey would do that soon. I was sure that my body was slowly failing me, the pain getting worse and worse with every possible second. How did Muggles manage having to wait for weeks for their bones to be fixed?
"Help me, yeah?" I asked Hermione so that she could do up the buttons. It hurt too much to try and rotate my shoulder. I had a feeling that the Bludger might have shattered some of the bones in it, too.
"How can you stick up for Lockhart now, Hermione, eh?" Ron called through the curtain as Hermione gently moved the sleeve over my shoulder. "If Harry and Tara had wanted deboning, they would have asked."
"Anyone can make a mistake. And it doesn't hurt anymore, does it, you two?" Hermione asked.
Harry took the defense much better than I did. "No," Harry said as he climbed into bed. Hermione helped me into bed, ignoring the pain in my chest. "But it doesn't do anything else either."
Hissing through clenched teeth, I said, "Hermione, I will kill you. Lockhart is useless. It's not even my middle finger so that I could show Lockhart what I really think of him," I snapped at her.
My legs were easier to shove into the bed. I did find myself grateful that it wasn't my foot or anything like that. At least it was just my hand and it wasn't the hand that I wrote with. If it couldn't be fixed immediately, I would be able to write with my other hand. As I swung myself onto the bed, my hand flapped pointlessly. I noticed that Harry's arm was doing the same thing as the curtain was taken down. Madam Pomfrey came around the curtain as Hermione and Ron backed off slightly.
She stood over me first. "Straighten up, dear. The hand will take the night to heal, but I can take care of the collarbone right now," she said.
"Thank Merlin," I muttered.
Madam Pomfrey held her wand over me. "Ferula," she whispered. A wrapping and splint formed over my chest, extending over to my other shoulder. I cringed, feeling the bones stretch. Although it automatically made me feel a little bit better. She then tapped her wand gently on my again. "Iugularem Emendo." A warming feeling spread over my body. "Don't move around too much. The bones will be brittle for a few days. Take the next week or so off of Quidditch. You, too, Potter," she ordered. We both nodded. "Better, dear?" she asked me.
Unable to say anything, I nodded at her. I didn't feel perfect but I did feel much better. Just like after Dumbledore had fixed my broken ribs. The collarbone still tingled slightly, but I felt much better. It helped that the bone was now longer pressing and stretching the skin or pressing into my lungs and muscle. I took in a deep breath for the first time in nearly an hour. Madam Pomfrey disappeared for a moment before reappearing. I groaned when I saw that she was not alone. She was holding a large bottle of something labeled Skele-Gro. Mom had it at home. I'd never used it but I'd heard bad stories.
Leaning over to Harry, I said under my breath, "Mom's used that on people. She said it's disgusting."
Harry looked very put-off. "Better than being without bones. You two are in for a rough night," she said, pouring out a steaming beaker full and handing it to him, and another to me afterwards. "Regrowing bones is a nasty business."
We exchanged a look before clinking the glasses together and taking a long sip of it, wanting to get it down in one foul swoop. It turned out that regrowing bones wasn't the only nasty business. So was taking the Skele-Gro. It burned my mouth and throat as it went down, far worse than Firewhisky, making me cough and splutter. I very nearly ended up spitting the liquid all over the place. Then, still tut-tutting about dangerous sports and inept teachers, Madam Pomfrey retreated, leaving Ron and Hermione to help Harry and I gulp down some water.
Once we had it down, Ron and Hermione took the chair by our beds. "We won, though," Ron said, a grin breaking across his face. "That was some catch you made. Malfoy's face... he looked ready to kill..."
"I want to know how he fixed that Bludger," Hermione said darkly.
Shaking my head at them, now that I could, I made my point of view known. "It's just like the broom last year. It would take someone far beyond a Second Year to do something like that. If anything, it was one of the others on the team," I said.
They all seemed to be able to buy that. Even I could believe that one of the Slytherin team members had somehow fixed the Bludger. "We can add that to the list of questions we'll ask him when we've taken the Polyjuice Potion," Harry said, sinking back onto his pillows. "I hope it tastes better than this stuff..."
"Oh no, it'll taste worse," I promised him.
That much I knew. "If it's got bits of Slytherin's in it? You've got to be joking," Ron said, seemingly on my side.
The door of the hospital wing burst open at that moment. Harry and I both glanced up to see what had happened. Rarely did people just burst into the hospital wing. Most people tried to avoid it. Filthy and soaking wet, the rest of the Gryffindor team had arrived to see Harry and I. I smiled weakly at them. Fred and George headed straight for me. Angelina and Katie hung around the foot of the bed, smiling softly at us. Oliver still looked thrilled that we had won. Alicia was awake once more, a bruise forming across a good portion of her forehead. I was happy to see that she was awake again.
"Unbelievable flying, Harry, Tara. I've just seen Marcus Flint yelling at Malfoy. Something about having the Snitch on top of his head and not noticing. Malfoy didn't seem too happy," George said.
"Good. I hope they've beaten him over the head with his own broomsticks," I said. "Or shoved them -"
"Tara!" Hermione yelled at me.
Shrugging my shoulders at her, I immediately wished that I hadn't. They were still sore from the bone being broken only minutes before. "We'd be happy to do it for you," Fred offered, making me smile.
"Thanks."
"How's the collarbone?" Alicia asked guiltily.
I showed her the wrappings. "Recently fixed. It'll be weak for a few days. But I'll be better. We'll just need a few days off. But, at least Lockhart didn't get to it. Hey, don't feel bad," I said when I realized that she thought that it was her fault. "You got knocked out. It's my job to step into the game when something happens to another player. How's your head?" I asked her.
"Not broken," she said, pointing down to my hand.
Shaking my head at her, I waved off the panic and guilt. We would be fine. Most of the issue had been with Lockhart, not with the Bludger. "We should be fine by tomorrow. Overnight stay is all," I said.
With that, we all tried to get off of the topic of the bones that we were going to have to regrow. It turned out that I was very glad that the team had showed up. They had brought cakes, sweets, and bottles of pumpkin juice. It was somewhat of a little party that we had won an already difficult game with two severely injured players against a full team of the best racing brooms in the world. It would be one for the record books. Everyone gathered around our beds and were just getting started on what promised to be a good party when Madam Pomfrey came storming over to us. I groaned, knowing that she would kick them out.
She didn't even give us a chance to ask if they could stay. She was shouting, "These two need rest, he's got thirty-three bones to regrow! She's got twenty-seven! Out! Out!"
They didn't need anything more than that to tell them that they needed to go. They all gave us a guilty look before heading out. If nothing else, at least we were left with each other and the things that they had brought. But it was still early in the day and we didn't even have a deck of cards to amuse ourselves with. The worst part was that it meant that we had nothing to distract ourselves with. It didn't take long for the searing pains and stabs of what felt like needles to start in my hand. It wasn't as bad as the pain that I had felt around Voldemort, but this was prolonged. For hours it went on.
Harry and I chatted back and forth for most of the day. But eventually we silenced ourselves, nearly overcome with the pain. "I'm gonna kill Lockhart," I said, cradling my hand.
"Make sure that I'm there when you do," Harry said, making me smile.
"Well this hurts like hell, can't imagine how you feel," I said, motioning to his arm.
If growing back the bones in my hand was bad, I couldn't imagine what the arm was like. His bones were much bigger, while the ones in the hand were smaller. "I hope that you never do. Sorry about the collarbone. How's it feel?" Harry asked.
I shrugged my shoulder about the collarbone comment. It could have been worse. I could have had to regrow that. "Much better now that Madam Pomfrey took care of it. I should write to Mom and Dad. They'll be beside themselves. They very well might kill Lockhart themselves," I said, smiling at the thought.
"I'll go get you a quill and parchment," Harry offered quickly.
The two of us both laughed, echoing in the nearly empty hospital wing. "Well, if nothing else, at least for a little while we haven't been the monsters of Hogwarts. People were quite impressed with the way that you caught the Snitch with a broken arm," I said.
Harry shrugged his shoulders and motioned over to me. "Says the one that made a goal with a broken finger and collarbone," he said.
Smiling softly at him, I nodded. "We make quite a team, huh?" I asked with a little laugh.
"That's one way of putting it," he said.
The two of us laughed together once more. We spent much of the night together, but it wasn't as fun as the night after beating Quirrell and Voldemort. We'd had all of the presents and most of the pain had been gone after that had happened. We had burned through the pumpkin pasties and pumpkin juice quickly and were left with water and plain turkey sandwiches. They were alright, but they certainly didn't detract from the pain. It meant that we could barely move to look at each other without feeling any pain. It wasn't long before we fell asleep, unwilling to stay away through the pain any longer.
It was hours and hours later when I felt it. A sharp pain shot through my hand to the point that I shot up and awake. My collarbone was at a dull throb, feeling much better, but my hand was boiling with pain. I hissed and flexed it slightly. It felt like the bones were about halfway regrown. It wasn't two minutes later when Harry woke quite suddenly, startling me slightly. We both sat in the pitch blackness as he gave a small yelp of pain. I glanced over at him. My hand now felt like it was full of large splinters.
Harry was panting slightly. "You alright?" I asked him.
Harry jumped slightly, probably having not been expecting me to be awake, before nodding. "Pain," he muttered.
I nodded at him and made a move to go back to bed. But that was when I spotted something at the foot of Harry's bed. And it was not his foot. "There's something on your bed!" I yelled in a panic.
"Get off!" Harry shouted loudly. It was a moment later that he added, "Dobby!"
My jaw dropped. Had Dobby really returned? Was he the one that had fixed the Bludger on Malfoy's order? That was the only reason that I could imagine that he was here. I leaned up slightly to see that Harry was right. The house-elf's goggling tennis ball eyes were peering at Harry through the darkness. I glanced over at him and sighed. It was just the house-elf, thankfully. It could have been something much worse. A single tear was running down his long, pointed nose.
"Jesus, Dobby, you scared the hell out of me!" I hissed.
Dobby glanced over at me with sad eyes. "Dobby is sorry, miss. Harry Potter and Tara Nox came back to school," he whispered miserably. Harry and I exchanged a look. Of course we had. Was Dobby's warning real? Now it seemed like it was. "Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter. Ah sir, why didn't you heed Dobby? Why didn't Harry Potter go back home when he missed the train?"
Harry heaved himself up on his pillows and pushed Dobby away. I sat up as far as I could without the burning pain in my collarbone. "What're you doing here? And how did you know I missed the train?" Harry asked.
Because he was the one that had done it. "Was that you?" I asked disbelievingly.
From here I could hear Harry take in a deep breath. Dobby's lip trembled as Harry moved towards him. "It was you!" he said slowly. "You stopped the barrier from letting us through!"
"Indeed yes, sir," Dobby said, nodding his head vigorously, ears flapping. I was going to go to Azkaban for murdering a house-elf and Hogwarts teacher in the same night. "Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter and sealed the gateway and Dobby had to iron his hands afterward," he showed Harry and I ten long, bandaged fingers, "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!"
Overcome by anger at the house-elf's flippant disregard for our education and our lives, I howled, "You could have gotten us expelled! We could have been killed by the Whomping Willow!"
Dobby let out another tear at my words. "Dobby never meant to hurt miss." He was rocking backward and forward, shaking his ugly head. "Dobby was so shocked when he heard Harry Potter was back at Hogwarts, he let his master's dinner burn! Such a flogging Dobby never had, sir..."
Harry slumped back onto his pillows. "You nearly got Ron and us expelled," he said fiercely. "You'd better get lost before my bones come back, Dobby, or I might strangle you."
Dobby smiled weakly. "Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day at home."
We already knew that Dobby belonged to the Malfoy's. And for a brief second, despite how angry I was about everything that had happened, I couldn't help but to feel bad for him. I felt bad for anyone that had to take orders from Lucius Malfoy. At the same time, I saw Dobby blow his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore, looking so pathetic that I felt all of my anger ebb away in spite of myself. I could save his murder for a few days, I supposed...
"Why d'you wear that thing, Dobby?" Harry asked curiously.
"This, sir?" Dobby asked, plucking at the pillowcase. "'Tis a mark of the house-elf's enslavement, sir. Dobby can only be freed if his masters present him with clothes, sir. The family is careful not to pass Dobby even a sock, sir, for then he would be free to leave their house forever." Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, "Harry Potter must go home! So shall Tara Nox! They are not safe!"
"When are we ever safe?" I muttered.
Dobby shook his head and hopped onto my bed. "You will be safer at home, miss." Probably, but so went life at Hogwarts. "Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make -"
My jaw dropped. He had almost killed us. "Your Bludger?" Harry asked. I knew that both of our anger was rising once more. "What d'you mean, your Bludger? You made that Bludger try and kill me?"
"You broke my finger! And my collarbone! A fall could have killed us!" I hissed angrily.
Dobby looked horrified that we suggested that he wanted to kill us. "Not kill you, sir, never kill you miss!" Dobby defended himself, shocked. "Dobby wants to save Harry Potter's life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here, sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter and Tara Nox hurt enough to be sent home!"
"Oh, well if that's all, sorry about being angry with you," I snapped at the house-elf. "But you could have gotten us in a wheelchair if we'd fallen the wrong way!"
Harry seemed to share my sentiment. "Oh, is that all? I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you wanted us sent home in pieces?" Harry asked him.
"Ah, if Harry Potter only knew!" Dobby groaned, more tears dripping onto his ragged pillowcase. "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-elves were treated like vermin, sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir," he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase. I cringed at the sight.
"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, sir... 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 -" Dobby froze, horror-struck, then grabbed Harry's water jug from his bedside table and cracked it over his own head, toppling out of sight. A second later, he crawled back onto the bed, cross-eyed, muttering, "Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby..."
Of course. The moment that we were going to actually get anywhere, Dobby started abusing himself. "So there is a Chamber of Secrets?" Harry whispered. "And - did you say it's been opened before? Tell me, Dobby!"
Leaning forward, I knew that I would have to plead with the house-elf if we wanted answers. "Dobby, if you want to help us, you have to tell us what's going on. Dumbledore can help, but we need to know what the plot is and who's doing it," I whispered to him.
Harry seized the elf's bony wrist as Dobby's hand inched toward the water jug. "But I'm not Muggle-born - neither one of us is - how can we be in danger from the Chamber?" he asked.
"Tara Nox will always be in danger, but never mortal. It is worse that miss is here."
Once more, I found myself at a complete loss for words. I would always be in danger, but never mortal. So I would be in danger, but never of dying? Why did everyone have to talk in riddles? Was a straight answer really that hard? "What does that mean? Dobby, tell me what that means," I begged.
"Ah, sir, miss, 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 and Tara Nox must not be here when they happen - go home, Harry Potter, go home. Harry Potter must not meddle in this, sir, 'tis too dangerous -"
"Who is it, Dobby?" Harry asked, keeping a firm hold on Dobby's wrist to stop him from hitting himself with the water jug again. "Who's opened it? Who opened it last time?"
All I could remember was the man's warning in my dream. This had happened before. And people knew who it was. But no one would tell us. "Dobby can't, sir, Dobby can't, Dobby mustn't tell! Go home, Harry Potter, go home!" he squealed.
"I'm not going anywhere!" Harry yelled fiercely. "One of my best friends is Muggle-Born; she'll be first in line if the Chamber really has been opened -"
"Harry Potter risks his own life for his friends!" moaned Dobby in a kind of miserable ecstasy. "So noble! So valiant! But he must save himself, he must, Harry Potter must not -"
"Please, Dobby, so much of the school is Muggle-Born, they'll all be attacked within weeks if you don't tell us," I pleaded with him.
We were all desperate. Dobby wanted us to go home as Harry and I were desperate to know what was going to happen. We all wanted different things, but we couldn't all win. Dobby suddenly froze, his bat ears quivering. I heard it, too. There were footsteps coming down the passageway outside. Someone was coming into the hospital wing, and we were about to lose the traction that we had made with Dobby.
"Dobby must go!" breathed the elf, terrified.
"No!" I hissed.
But it was too late. There was a loud crack, and Harry's fist was suddenly clenched on thin air. We stared at each other before groaning to each other. This was over. We could continue it in the morning, when we were able to talk. The two of us slumped back into our beds, and I leaned over. My eyes were on the dark doorway to the hospital wing as the footsteps drew nearer. It was only seconds before I saw that Dumbledore was backing into the dormitory, wearing a long woolly dressing gown and a nightcap. He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet. Together, they heaved it onto a bed four down from me.
"Get Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore whispered.
For whatever reason, we both knew that it would be best for us to remain silent. Professor McGonagall hurried past the end of my bed and out of sight. I didn't dare move as I pretended to be asleep. Off in the distance I could hear urgent voices, and then Professor McGonagall swept back into view, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey, who was pulling a cardigan on over her nightdress. They were clearly trying to be quiet enough not to wake us. I was having a hard time not saying something or looking up to get a better look at what was going on. A second later I heard a sharp intake of breath.
Something wasn't good. "What happened?" Madam Pomfrey whispered to Dumbledore, bending over the statue on the bed.
"Another attack. Minerva found him on the stairs," Dumbledore said.
My stomach roiled in my chest. I knew that Mrs. Norris wasn't the last. Someone else had been attacked. "There was a bunch of grapes next to him. We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter or Nox," Professor McGonagall said.
Immediately I feared the worst. Had it been Cedric? Had he been coming back to see if I was alright? No. They were attacking Muggle-Born's. They wouldn't have hurt him. Still though... Whoever had been hurt had been hurt because of us. Slowly and carefully, I raised myself a few inches so that I could look at the statue on the bed. It was obvious that Harry was doing the same thing. A ray of moonlight lay across its staring face. It was Colin Creevey. My stomach gave another painful lurch. Colin... His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding his camera.
"Petrified?" Madam Pomfrey whispered.
"Yes," Professor McGonagall said. "But I shudder to think... If Albus hadn't been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate - who knows what might have..." The three of them stared down at Colin. Then 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?" Professor McGonagall asked eagerly.
Both Harry and I stiffened in the beds slightly. We were about to find out who the Heir of Slytherin was. We were about to find out what was causing all of these attacks. Perhaps the voice, too. Dumbledore didn't answer her as he turned the camera over. I could only hope that they said the name and that I recognized it. This was all about to be over. It made me feel like the boneless hand was no big deal. That was, until, he opened the back of the camera.
"Good gracious!" Madam Pomfrey cried.
Something - someone - had fried the inside of the camera, much to my horror. A jet of steam had hissed out of the camera. Whoever had caused the attack was going to get away with it. I could tell that Harry was as disappointed as I was. Whoever was causing the attacks was smarter than anyone wanted to give them credit for. I caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic as Dumbledore set the camera down.
"Melted. All melted..." Madam Pomfrey said wonderingly.
"What does this mean, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked urgently.
He was only silent for a moment as my stomach stirred. "It means that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again." Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore.
"But, Albus... surely... who?" she asked.
The butterflies in my stomach that were normally reserved for Cedric were now hammering against my stomach in fear. This was the last thing that anyone wanted to happen. All of the teachers had been trying to convince us that it hadn't happened. "The question is not who," Dumbledore said, his eyes on Colin. "The question is, how..."
And from what I could see of Professor McGonagall's shadowy face, she didn't understand this any better than I did. It seemed that Dumbledore knew who had once done this. And perhaps that was part of the problem. Was he thinking of their child? Or did they not have a child? That would have made things a lot worse... No real theories if that was the case... The only thing that I could tell by the way that they were looking was that they were both terrified. And that terrified me.
A/N: Next time... Tara goes to a midnight Dueling Club where Hogwarts discovers a startling secret about Harry and Tara, only adding to the rumors that they are the Heirs of Slytherin. Poor Tara. Never a Quidditch game where she isn't injured. And a very sweet Cedric savior moment in there. Thanks for all of the follows and favorites! Please review! Reviews make me update faster ;) Until next time -A
422: Filch is crazy! I could totally see him attacking a student. Who indeed? It won't be revealed for a while, but I'd love to hear a guess! Thank you so much! I hope that you liked this one!
Grin like the Cheshire Cat: Happy belated birthday! Hope that you liked this one! And thank you!
