In the days leading up to the opening match of the Quidditch season, Harry had limited time to worry about the Polyjuice Potion as Wood was adamant about keeping all of his players solely focused on the upcoming match against Slytherin.

Thankfully his friends were more than able to continue on in his absence, with Hermione even offering him her notes on any of the readings they had to do that week. He was extremely grateful, as he really just didn't have the time to cover Snape's assigned text, and it allowed him to catch up on his sleep, as he'd had precious little of it over the past few weeks.

When he awoke early that Saturday morning, Harry lay in bed for a while thinking about the coming Quidditch match. He was nervous, mainly at the thought of what Wood would say if Gryffindor lost, but also at the idea of facing a team mounted on the fastest racing brooms gold could buy. He had never wanted to beat Slytherin so badly. He was already more nervous for this game, then he was for the final game last year. It didn't help either that the family wouldn't all be able to make it this year, as most of them were busy with work and couldn't take the day off, but at least his mum and dad would be there, meaning that Matthew, Joshua, Sarah, and Clarissa would be there too.

After half an hour of lying there with his insides churning, he got up, got dressed, and went down to breakfast early.

Hermione, Neville, and Susan were already sitting at the Gryffindor Table, but Harry never even got a chance to sit with them. As soon as he walked into the hall he barely had time to wave hello before Oliver Wood pulled him down to sit with the rest of the team. Harry didn't mind though, this had become something of a game day tradition. He lay in bed late, had a short, non-verbal meal with the team at breakfast, before heading down to the change rooms to get ready for the game. It didn't seem to bother his friends either that he was pretty much unavailable these mornings as they recognised that all his focus was on Quidditch. They always made sure to meet up immediately after the game though to celebrate a Gryffindor victory.

As ten o'clock approached, the whole school made their way over to the Quidditch stadium, to get a seat for the 12 o'clock game. Harry only just had time to meet up with his family before Oliver Wood once again pulled him away and into the changing room.

"Listen up people!" he began, closing the door behind him and Harry as they entered the changing room. "Slytherin have better rooms than us, no point denying it. But we've got better people on our brooms. We've trained harder than they have, we're more experienced than they are, 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, Wood turned to Harry, the youngest member of the team having taken the liberty to throw on his red and gold Quidditch robes while his captain was pacing the room addressing the rest of the team.

"It'll be down to you, Potter, 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 just got to."

"So no pressure, Harry," said Fred, winking at him from across the room as he laced up his boots.

Harry just smiled and pulled on his dragon-hide gloves. This was what he loved most about Quidditch. The pressure situations, bottling up the excitement that comes from the atmosphere of a win at all costs game, the thrill he got when he wrapped his fingers around that little gold ball.

As he walked out onto the pitch with his teammates a roar of noise greeted them; mainly cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins made their boos heard too.

When they got to the centre of the field, Madam Hooch - the Quidditch teacher - asked the two captains to shake hands. After watching Wood and Flint attempt to break each other's knuckles, the players took to the sky and the game was underway.

"All right there, Scarhead?" yelled Malfoy as soon as the game started, shooting underneath Harry as though to show off the speed of his broom.

Harry had no time to think of anything to wipe the stupid smirk off Malfoy's face because, at that very moment, a heavy black bludger came pelting towards him; he avoided it so narrowly that he felt it ruffle his hair as it passed.

"Close one, Harry!" said George, streaking past him with his club in his hand, ready to knock the bludger back towards a Slytherin. Harry saw George give the bludger a powerful whack in the direction of a Slytherin chaser but instead of colliding with him the bludger changed direction in mid-air and shot straight back for Harry again.

Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard towards Malfoy.

Once again, the bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry's head.

Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed towards the other end of the pitch. He could hear the bludger whistling along behind him. What was going on? bludgers never concentrated on one player like this.

Again and again, the Weasley twins tried to redirect the bludger away from Harry but again and again, it curved back towards him. Gryffindor was at a major disadvantage now, as Harry was forced to fly around dodging a bludger instead of searching for the snitch, and the twins were too caught up protecting Harry to be able to keep the other bludger away from all three chasers.

"Someone's – tampered – with – this – bludger –" grunted Fred, swinging his bat with all his might at it as it launched a new attack on Harry.

"We need a time out," said George, trying to signal to Wood and stop the bludger breaking Harry's nose at the same time.

Wood had obviously got the message. Madam Hooch's whistle rang out and Harry, Fred, and George dived for the ground, still trying to avoid the mad bludger.

"What's going on?" said Wood, as the Gryffindor team huddled together, while the Slytherins in the crowd jeered. "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, Oliver," said George angrily. "Someone's fixed it – it won't leave Harry alone, it hasn't gone for anyone else all game. The Slytherins must have done something to it."

"Listen," said Harry, stepping in to break up the conversation. "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. Just cover the rest of the team from the other one and let me deal with the rogue one."

"Don't be thick," said Fred angrily. "It'll take your head off."

Wood was looking from Harry to the Weasleys.

"Oliver this is mad," said Alicia Spinnet angrily. "You can't let Harry deal with that thing on his own. Let's ask for an inquiry – "

"No! If we stop now, we'll have to forfeit the match!" said Harry. "We're not losing to Slytherin just because of a mad bludger! Come on, Oliver, tell them to leave me alone!"

"This is all your fault," George said angrily to Wood. "Get the Snitch or die trying," – what a stupid thing to tell him!"

But the team could argue no longer, as Madam Hooch came up to tell them to get ready to mount once again, as their timeout had run out.

"Okay Fred, George, you hear Harry, leave him alone, and let him handle the bludger," said Oliver as he mounted his broom, before taking off to fly over to the Gryffindor goalposts.

On Madam Hooch's whistle, Harry kicked hard into the air and heard the tell-tale whoosh of the bludger behind him. Higher and higher Harry climbed. He looped and swooped, spiralled, zigzagged, and rolled. Slightly dizzy, he nevertheless kept his eyes wide open. The light rain was speckling his Quidditch goggles and ran up his nostrils as he hung upside down, avoiding another fierce drive from the bludger. He could hear laughter from the crowd; he knew he must look very stupid, but the rogue bludger was heavy and couldn't change direction as quickly as he could.

"Training for the ballet, Potter?" yelled Malfoy, as Harry was forced to do a stupid kind of twirl in mid-air to dodge the bludger.

Glaring back at Malfoy in hatred, Harry saw it, the Golden Snitch. It was hovering inches above Malfoy's left ear – and Malfoy, busy laughing at Harry, hadn't seen it.

For an agonising moment, Harry hung in mid-air, not daring to speed towards Malfoy in case he looked up and saw the Snitch.

WHAM!

He had stayed still a second too long. The bludger had hit him at last, smashing into his right elbow, and Harry felt his arm break. Dimly, dazed by the searing pain in his arm, he slid sideways on his rain-drenched broom, one knee still crooked over it, his right arm dangling uselessly at his side. The bludger came pelting back for a second attack, this time aiming at his face. Harry was only just able to swerve out of the way at the last second, one idea firmly lodged in his numb brain: catch the snitch, end the game.

Through a haze of rain and pain, Harry dived down towards Malfoy. He saw his eyes widen with fear, and Harry had the amusing realisation that Malfoy must think he was attacking him.

"What the –" he gasped, careening out of Harry's way.

Harry took his remaining hand off his broom and made a wild snatch; he felt his fingers close on the cold Snitch but was now only gripping his broom with his legs and there was a yell from the crowd below as he headed straight for the ground, trying hard not to pass out. The broom handle was extremely slippery from the rain, and Harry unintentionally slid forward, very nearly falling off entirely.

He knew that if he fell he was in serious trouble, especially considering the current state of his broken arm and the height that he was flying at.

Acting quickly he summoned the last of his strength and attempted to heal his broken arm using his wandless magic, while at the same time leaning back as far as possible to try and balance his distribution of weight on the broom.

He couldn't help but scream out in pain as he felt the bone crack back into place before he once again felt the bludger colliding into him, this time in the back of the head. Dizzy, and barely holding on to consciousness, Harry was only just aware that he had been knocked off his broom as he fell the last fifteen feet to the ground before he passed out.

Hours later, Harry woke quite suddenly in the darkness of the school's Hospital wing.

He was immediately made aware that it must be the middle of the night, because although there were numerous cards and other assorted items on his bedside table, there was no-one else in the room, meaning Poppy Pomfrey had disallowed anyone from visiting at that hour.

He tried to summon his glasses with a wave of his hand, but immediately felt a wave of nausea overcome him at the slightest attempt to use magic.

Leaning back into the pillows on his bed, Harry focused on trying not to empty the contents of his stomach and ignoring the current pounding of his head.

Okay note to self, don't use magic, thought Harry as he squinted to see around the room without his glasses.

It took him a little while for his eyes to adjust, but eventually, he was able to recognise the items on the desk beside him. There was a large bottle of some kind of potion on his bedside table, his wand, his glasses, an assortment of cards, a bouquet of flowers, and his broomstick was propped up beside his bed.

Carefully reaching over as to not make any sudden movements, Harry picked up his glasses and put them on.

He blinked a few times and allowed himself a few moments for his eyes to re-adjust before he once again opened them.

He didn't know what he would've expected to see but it certainly wasn't a house elf standing at the end of his bed, staring at him with those large tennis ball eyes and bat ears.

Normally he would've freaked out at the thought of being welcomed with such a sight after just waking up, but given his current predicament, Harry only just managed to turn his head to the side before he promptly threw up all over the floor.

"Harry Potter came back to school," whispered the elf miserably, as he snapped his fingers and vanished Harry's puke. "Dobby warned Harry Potter. Why didn't you heed Dobby sir? Why didn't Harry Potter go back home when he couldn't get through the barrier?"

Harry heaved himself up on his pillows so he could look at the elf. "What're you doing here Dobby?" he groaned. "And how did you know I missed the train?"

Dobby's lip trembled and Harry was seized by a sudden suspicion.

"It was you!" he said slowly. "You stopped the barrier letting us through! And you're probably the one who sent that crazy bludger after me."

"Indeed yes, sir," said Dobby, nodding his head vigorously, ears flapping. "Dobby did what he could to make sure Harry Potter left Hogwarts, and Dobby had to iron his hands in return –" he showed Harry ten, long, bandaged fingers, "but Dobby didn't care, sir. Harry Potter is much too important to stay here where it is not safe. If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, us 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 vermin," admitted Dobby as he blew his nose loudly and dried his face on his torn and dirty pillowcase. "When you defeated He Who Must Not Be Named, 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 the potion bottle from Harry's 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…"

"Dobby listen to me!" whispered Harry. "Let me help you Dobby. My friends and I have already started a group to spread the awareness of house elves and to improve their condition. We can get you out from under the control of the Malfoy's, but I need you to help me Dobby. I need you to tell me what you know about the Chamber of Secrets, or I won't be able to help save the school's muggleborns students. I need you to help me defeat the darkness again."

"Ah, sir, ask no more, please ask no more of poor Dobby, he cannot say," stammered the elf, his eyes huge in the darkness of the room. The only light came from the moonlight that managed to shine through the windows but even then that was minimal at best because it was a very cloudy outside.

"Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Harry Potter must not be here when they happen. Go home, Harry Potter. Go home. Harry Potter must not meddle in this, sir, tis too dangerous –"

"Who is it, Dobby?" Harry said, grabbing a firm hold of Dobby's wrist to stop him hitting himself with the potion bottle again. "Who's opened it? Who opened it last time? Was it the Malfoy's?"

"Dobby can't, sir, Dobby can't, Dobby mustn't tell!" squealed the elf. "Go home, Harry Potter, go home!"

"I'm not going anywhere!" said Harry 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 – "

Dobby froze suddenly, his bat ears quivering, picking up on the sounds of footsteps coming down the passageway outside.

In a flash, the elf apparated away, and Harry was left cursing, before Dumbledore backed into the Hospital Wing in a long woolly dressing gown and a nightcap, carrying what looked like a statue, with McGonagall behind him carrying the other end.

"Get Madam Pomfrey," whispered Dumbledore after they'd placed the statue onto one of the empty beds. Immediately, Professor McGonagall hurried past the end of Harry's bed out of sight only to appear moments later with the school's resident healer.

"What happened?" gasped Madam Pomfrey to Dumbledore, bending over the statue on the bed.

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

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

Harry's stomach gave a horrible lurch. Slowly and carefully, he raised himself a few inches so he could look at the statue on the bed. A ray of moonlight lay across its staring face.

It was Colin Creevy. His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding his camera.

"Petrified?" whispered Madam Pomfrey.

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall, as the three Professors stared down helplessly at the first year student. "You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" said McGonagall eagerly.

Dumbledore didn't answer. He pried open the back of the camera, only for a jet of steam to hiss out of the camera. Harry three beds away caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic.

"What does this mean, Albus?" asked Professor McGonagall urgently as she stared down at the melted camera.

"It means," said Dumbledore, "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?"

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

And from what Harry could see of Professor McGonagall's shadowy face, she clearly didn't understand this mystery any better than he did.

When Harry awoke Sunday morning he was immediately aware that he was not alone as he could hear the whispered voices of his entire family.

Groaning, he opened his eyes and tried to prop himself up against his pillows so that he could sit up, only for his mother to immediately steady him and try to slow his movements.

"You shouldn't exert yourself, Harry, Madame Pomfrey said you got a pretty nasty concussion from that bludger yesterday," she said sadly, though Harry knew she was furious about the whole thing. His mother had never been a Quidditch enthusiast like his father and had very likely come within cursing someone for the tampered bludger that had hit him not once but twice. However, Harry wasn't thinking about that, as soon as he even thought of the bludger, his mind moved on to Dobby and what he'd discovered last night.

"It was Dobby," said Harry, grimacing at how dry his throat was before Emma handed him a glass of water. He took it gratefully and sipped at it, trying not to wince at the pounding in his head that occurred whenever he tried to do the most basic thing like thinking. It occurred to him that this was not an injury he could simply walk away from the day after.

The family waited patiently for him to recover and tell his story, though it was obvious that they were anxious after hearing the name of the little elf that was connected with Malfoy and the Chamber of Secrets.

"Dobby uh… he uh… tampered with the bludger… like he did with the barrier… said he didn't want me staying at Hogwarts… said it's too dangerous… there was another attack last night… Dumbledore and McGonagall brought in Colin Creevy… he was petrified."

The family could only look on alarmed as they looked over their shoulders trying to see the body of the small Gryffindor first year, but all the other beds in the infirmary were empty.

They weren't entirely sure if Harry was telling the truth or if he had just had a hallucination after being hit in the head with a bludger, but they decided to take his word on it for now. They could always ask Dumbledore or McGonagall about the whole thing to verify his claims.

"So… so when do I get out of here?" asked Harry, closing his eyes as that made him more comfortable.

Lily and a few others wanted to cry, while James and Sirius had sad smiles on their faces.

"You're going to have stay in here for a while Harry," said Hermione softly; her eyes were also bloodshot as she struggled to hold back tears.

"Madame Pomfrey said it's probably going to take a week or two for you to get better," said Neville quietly.

"Two weeks?" stuttered Harry in response. "But last year I got out of here in less than three days and that was after I duelled Voldemort."

"Yes but when that happened you just had a case of magical exhaustion," said Susan. "This time you've got severe head trauma and a partially cracked skull."

Harry didn't say anything in response for a little while, so Lily took it upon herself to give him a little bit more information about the situation.

"Poppy's already started you on a strict potions diet that you'll have to follow, but even then you won't be allowed to leave the Infirmary until you're completely cleared of all symptoms."

Harry just inclined his head ever so slightly to show that he understood, still keeping his eyes closed. At the very least, the parents could see a small smile on his face. They knew he was in discomfort, but Harry never liked to show it. He was probably doing his best to block out all negative thoughts at that moment and simply focus on their voices.

"Do you want us to leave you to get some rest?" questioned Alice, from where she stood behind Hermione, Susan and Neville. The other four kids were on the other side of his bed with Lily, Emma, Dan, Remus, and Amelia, while James, Sirius, and Frank were all standing next to her. It did not escape her notice that all three former Quidditch players had kept a safe distance from Lily ever since Harry had been admitted into the hospital wing.

"No you can stay, I want you to stay," said Harry, though it was very clear that he wasn't up for moving or talking very much.

"Okay Harry we'll be right here," said Lily softly as she tucked a stray strand of hair of his behind the bandage that wrapped around his head.

It's a good thing whoever invented Quidditch was dead because she was certain that at that moment, she could've murdered them.

When Harry next awoke, he was happily surprised to find the whole family still sitting there with him, though he did notice that they were now all wearing different clothes.

"Uh what day is it?" asked Harry, signalling for his glasses.

"Tuesday," responded Dan gently as he handed Harry his glasses.

Harry put them on sat up in his bed slowly, noticing that he felt a little bit better than he had on Sunday.

"Was Poppy able to feed me my potions even though I was asleep?" Harry asked.

The family just nodded their heads and explained that they'd helped her feed it down his throat while he was asleep and that it hadn't been a problem.

Smiling ever so slightly, Harry started to ask them how come they weren't at work, to which the parents responded that they were currently taking the next few days off, at least until he got better to the point where they were comfortable with leaving him.

"I'm not that bad you know, I already feel better than Sunday."

The family smiled, while a few of them actually managed a small chuckle.

"Harry ever since I've known you, you've always done everything you could to get back up and walk away every time you get hurt, the fact that you can't do that this time, let's us know that this is not a minor injury," said Frank.

"Yea usually the first thing you ask is if you can leave yet, but this time, you didn't even try to fight it when we said you could be in here for over a week. You fought a dark lord last year for Merlin's sake and even then you wouldn't stay in here for more than three days," said Susan, a small smile on his face, making Harry give her a small smile in return.

"Yea well, I guess it was it bound to happen to me at some point," said Harry trying to make a lame joke to diffuse the tension but frowning when he noticed chuckling made his head hurt.

The family once again gave him another round of sad smiles.

"We should leave you to get some rest," said Alice.

If Harry was feeling dizzy though, the thought of being bored to tears in the Hospital Wing with nothing to do was enough motivation for him to sit up.

"Please can't you stay a bit longer? At least bring me some books to read or something. I can't just sleep every hour of every day," said Harry.

The family hesitated before they conceded and decided to stay and keep him company.

"Thanks, it's just so boring being cooped up in here all alone. I wish I could go to classes at least or something," said Harry as he leant back into his bed, his right arm outstretched to hold onto his mother's hand.

"Don't worry about it too much Harry, we've already started pooling are notes together to make sure you don't miss a single detail from any class, plus the teachers seem to be rather lenient about re-instating you back into the curriculum, something about the fact that you were light years ahead anyway," said Hermione smiling downing at him.

Harry just smiled and outstretched his left hand to hold hers as he mouthed a silent thank-you.

The others just exchanged small smiles as they waited for Harry to fall asleep before they left the Hospital wing to eat a late night meal in the kitchens before they too had to call it a night. Only Hermione stayed with Harry, and while she justified this action by the fact that she'd already eaten, most of it was because Harry hadn't let go of her hand yet and she wanted to spend a bit more time with him, even if he was asleep.

Unfortunately, Madame Pomfrey chose that moment to come out of her office to check on Harry, replace his bandages and administer his potions, meaning Hermione's brief opportunity of having a little bit of private time alone with Harry was ruined.

While the medi-witch made it clear that Hermione shouldn't be there with curfew fast approaching, she did allow Hermione to stay and help her treating Harry.

Finally, when it was time to leave, Hermione got her brief moment alone with Harry, as Pomfrey had to slip back into her office to record the diagnostics spells she took of Harry's health.

"Get better soon Harry," said Hermione as she squeezed his hand tightly, trying to convey to his sleeping form how much he meant to her. "We all really miss you. I really miss you," said the girl as she bent down and placed a soft kiss on the top of his head (the bandage only wrapped around his forehead to the back of his head). "Hogwarts just isn't the same without you."

She wanted to say more, but Madame Pomfrey and shooed her out of the ward.

Hermione only got one last look back at Harry as she was shown the way out the door, but she could've sworn she saw a small smile on his face. He looked so peaceful in that moment, that Hermione felt herself getting giddy at the thought that maybe, just maybe, her actions had caused that reaction from him.

"I don't know, he seems to be showing some improvement to me," said James as the parents once again resumed their discussion about Harry's health having returned home and sent the children to bed.

"Yes but you can't deny how serious this injury is," said Remus. "I still think we should talk to Dumbledore about pulling him out of school for a bit after Pomfrey releases him. It'd probably be good for him to give him a bit of time to re-adjust before he has to return to his normal routine."

"Well I can tell you one thing, there's no way he's playing another Quidditch game this year," said Lily, daring her husband to say anything otherwise. James wisely kept silent. There was no way he was going to win that argument with his wife while his son lay asleep in the Infirmary.

"I agree with Lily, Prongs," said Sirius downcast, not able to meet the other Marauders eye. "This wasn't just a broken arm, or a cracked rib, something that Pomfrey could fix in a jiffy. If he injures his head again before he's fully 100%, it could cause permanent brain damage. It's just not worth the risk."

James just nodded his head silently, unable to deny Sirius's claims, while the other parents marvelled at Sirius's rare display of maturity. While it was certainly a nice change, it almost felt wrong coming from Padfoot.

Nobody seemed to have anything to say after that, so one by one they all got up to head back up to bed, with only Sirius and James hanging back to indulge in a bottle of fire whisky.

"You're not mad at me are you Prongs, for what I said earlier," asked Sirius, swirling around the deep amber fluids in his glass before he downed the entire contents in one gulp and poured himself another.

James could only chuckle. "How could I be mad at you Padfoot when all you did was look out for my son's best interest. If anything, you acted more mature about this whole thing than I did."

This time it was Sirius's turn to laugh. "Well, you didn't make me the boy's godfather for nothing now did you?"

James just smiled as he tipped his glass back and finished his drink. "You got that right mutt, although, Lily still thinks it should have been Remus."

"Ha, Remus is Sarah's godfather, and besides, when have I ever steered Harry wrong."

James didn't even have to say anything, he just looked at Sirius with a raised eyebrow and the Marauder heeded the point, as he reached over and poured his friend another glass.

"You don't think this is it for Harry's Quidditch career do you?" said James, uncertain of whether or not he should broach the subject.

Sirius, who was about to knock back another drink, put the glass back down on the table as he answered his friend's question.

"Look, James, I know it looks bad now, but I know Harry and I know you. That boy shares the same love for flying that you do, a passion that nobody else can come close to understanding and I'd bet my left arm that when he's ready, he'll fly again. It'll only be a matter of convincing Lily to let him."

James just smiled as he looked down at his drink. All he wanted was what was best for his son, and while right now that meant taking time off to recover, he hoped he didn't quit on the game entirely, as it had brought so much joy to him so far throughout his life.

However, he couldn't wallow in his thoughts for too long, as Sirius let out a loud belch, grinning to himself proudly.

"Oy drink up there, I'm now three ahead of you," said the Marauder as he poured himself another glass.

James just laughed at him as he gripped his glass and downed its contents in one large swig before bowing out. Sirius wasn't too happy about having his drinking partner not indulging with him, but James wanted to be up early so he could visit Harry again first thing in the morning.

"Goodnight Padfoot," said James, as he pulled himself out of his chair and walked out of the room, leaving the last Marauder to finish what was left of his glass before he too called it a night.

However, when Harry awoke the next morning from his wonderful dream about his bushy-haired best friend, he was not greeted with the sight of James, or any other member of his family for that matter.

Instead, he was greeted by the sight of Albus Dumbledore sitting comfortably in a plush armchair by his bedside table. Upon further inspection, he also noticed that the Headmaster was not alone, as Severus Snape was standing behind him by the curtains that separated his bed from all the others in the Hospital Wing.

"Can I help you, professors," said Harry as he tried to sit up in his bed, unsure of what the two men were doing there.

"Ah good morning Harry I trust you are feeling better then you did the night before," said Dumbledore, prompting Snape to roll his eyes behind him. It was rather obvious that the boy's condition had not improved, as Harry was still bed-ridden.

"As to the reason for our visit, we want to know if you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets, or if you saw who was responsible for writing the message on the wall on Halloween," said Dumbledore calmly.

Harry just eyed him suspiciously, wondering why Dumbledore suddenly wanted to talk about his – after all he had been rather quick to dismiss the whole thing when it actually happened.

"This is about the Colin Creevy attack isn't it?" said Harry, deciding to cut right to the chase instead of playing those mind games Dumbledore loved so much.

Snape raised an eyebrow at this declaration, but it didn't seem to bother Dumbledore that Harry knew about that, as he just confirmed his suspicions.

"Yes, Colin Creevy has been petrified, and his symptoms are very similar to that of Mrs Norris who if you remember, was found at the scene of the written message on Halloween."

Harry just nodded his head, noting that for once, this action didn't seem to cause him to feel nauseous.

"Sir, do you think I could try healing him? You know, using the same wandless magic that I did when Voldemort attacked my parents?" said Harry.

Dumbledore cracked a smile at that question as he exchanged a look with Snape behind him. If Harry had known any better, he would've thought that Dumbledore had been assuming he would ask that question.

"Unfortunately Harry," said Snape, speaking up for the first time in the conversation, "whatever was used to petrify Mr Creevy has not responded to any spell that we've tried. You're more than welcome to try for yourself but it's looking like we'll have to brew a restorative draft using Professor Sprout's mandrakes to heal him, and that could very easily take three to four months."

"Plus, if what Madame Pomfrey has told me is true, which I have no reason to believe otherwise, you are hardly at the point in your recovery where you should be practising advanced magic," said Dumbledore, popping a with into his mouth.

Harry just conceded the point irritably, though he promised that once he had fully recovered he'd try and see if he could heal Colin. He hated spending any time in the Infirmary and he only had to do so for two weeks, he couldn't imagine what it'd be like having to spend four months lying in here petrified.

"So what do you think happened to him?" asked Harry.

"That's actually why we've come to visit you," said Dumbledore. "To see if you know anything about this whole thing seeing as you were the first one to discover Mrs Norris after the Halloween feast. While I believe I know who's responsible, I have no way of knowing how he's doing it."

"It's Malfoy," said Harry, causing both professors to raise their eyebrows disbelievingly. "There's this crazy house elf that belongs to his family who keeps trying to get me to leave the school because he believes it isn't safe here. He told me before school even started that they'd constructed some great plan to endanger the school. He actually visited me the night Colin got attacked and he admitted that the Chamber's been opened before, but he didn't say how or by whom."

"Yes well, I can assure you that these are not the actions of young Mr Malfoy, I have no doubt in my mind that Voldemort is responsible for these acts, I just don't understand how. Last year, I was well aware that he was using Professor Quirrell as a host, and was able to monitor his every move with the help of Severus here, but this time, I haven't the foggiest idea as to how he's operating within the castle," said Dumbledore, playing with the lining of his chair.

"I think it's a snake sir," said Harry, leaning over to look at him. Dumbledore didn't say anything, waiting for Harry to explain.

"The monster he's controlling, it must be a snake. I can hear its voice whenever there's going to be an attack, that's how I knew to find Mrs Norris on Halloween."

Dumbledore and Snape were both silent, as they seemed to be mulling the information over in their heads and piecing it together with everything they else knew about the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry had almost fallen asleep when Dumbledore finally spoke once again.

"I believe I have a proposition for you, Harry."

Harry just nodded his head, signalling for the Headmaster to continue.

"While getting information on Malfoy is certainly one option we could pursue, I think it would be beneficial to lure whoever is behind these attacks into a false sense of confidence, making them easier to identify, and stop."

Harry thought about it but still wasn't certain as to where Dumbledore was going with this idea so he motioned for him to continue.

Dumbledore only smiled. "Well, Harry what would you have to say with regards to revealing you parseltongue abilities to the school, and pretending to be the heir of Slytherin?"

Harry paused. Maybe now was a good time to think about Dumbledore's incentives. While he was prepared to do just about anything to stop the attacks, there were a lot of questions he had for Dumbledore about this plan. How would he be able to convince the students otherwise after the fact? What would be the reaction to learning that their saviour had the mark of a dark wizard? And how was he supposed to reveal his abilities to the whole school anyways?

Seeing the expression on Harry's face, Dumbledore was quick to further explain the incentive behind his plan. "With you pretending to be the heir of Slytherin and having all of the attention pointing at you, it will be much easier to catch whoever Voldemort is controlling in the act."

Harry was silent for quite a long time as he thought about it, though he eventually decided to hear Dumbledore out fully before making a passing judgment on the idea. While he didn't like having to reveal his parseltongue abilities to the school and having all the attention on him, he would do so if it meant that he could help stop more of these attacks from taking place.

"What would you have me do if I agreed to this plan of yours anyways?" asked Harry curiously.

"Well given the circumstances, I could arrange for duelling lessons to be taught to the student body by both Michael Wood and Severus here, where Severus could ensure that both you and Malfoy are picked for a demonstration in front of the school. Once this is arranged, Snape would whisper the spell in Malfoy's ears to conjure a snake, knowing the boy would use any advantage he could to win the fight. You would be able to purposely speak to the snake in front of everyone, giving off the appearance of being the heir of Slytherin. With your parseltongue abilities out in the open, you will garner most of the attention from the entire school, thus relaxing the nerves of whoever is carrying out these attacks, and lulling Tom into a false sense of confidence, making him easier to catch."

Harry couldn't believe that Dumbledore had come up with all of that right on the spot, but then again, he wasn't the most brilliant wizard alive for no reason. One thing did grab his attention more than anything though, and it didn't really even have to do with Dumbledore's plan.

"Sir, right now you just called Voldemort Tom did you not?" asked Harry.

Immediately Dumbledore's face lit up into a huge smile, evidently, he was proud that Harry had been able to pick up on this small detail, even despite his current position.

"Yes, yes I did. For you see Harry, when the chamber was opened 50 years ago, the boy responsible went by the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was a half-blood like you, though he was a Slytherin and Head Boy to boot too. One day, he managed to open the chamber and unleashed the serpent housed there on another student, blaming her death on Rubeus Hagrid. Despite the old Headmaster's willingness to go along with Tom's tale and expel Hagrid, I never really believed Tom, and kept a close eye on him for the rest of the year. I believe it was this action on my behalf that saved lives that year, as Tom always kept his distance from me. After he graduated, many people expected Tom to go on and do great things in the Ministry or some other field, but the boy disappeared. He wasn't seen or heard from for over a dozen years, and the next time I ever laid eyes on him, he didn't go by the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle, but as Lord Voldemort." Unsurprisingly, this revelation had Harry looking at the Headmaster with wide-eyes. "It is my belief that Tom is behind the opening of the chamber again, only this time he is acting through someone else, much like he did last year with Professor Quirrell."

Once again, Harry was silent, allowing his mind to digest the information. The whole thought process of following the conversation was giving him a screaming headache, but at that moment he didn't care.

"So, you want me to participate in this duelling club so that I can pretend to be the heir and draw away attention from whoever Voldemort is controlling?"

"Correct," said Dumbledore.

Harry was once again silent, thinking over the idea. He took his times weighing the pros and cons of the situation, and right when he was about to accept, Snape spoke up.

"Sir, with all due respect, I don't think this plan will work," said the Potions master, causing both Harry and Dumbledore to look at him curiously, prompting Snape to explain.

"It's just that Potter has already humiliated Malfoy once in a duel in front of the whole school, and given the reminder that Harry dished out on the Quidditch field roughly a month ago, he'll hardly jump at the opportunity to have a rematch in such a public setting."

Both Harry and Dumbledore admitted that this was true, though Dumbledore was not deterred in the slightest, his brilliant mind once again taking this information and moulding it into another scenario that they could use for their benefit.

"Very well then, we have the entire Slytherin Quidditch team attack, Harry, here one day when he's walking through the hallways of the school, as I'm sure they're dying for the opportunity to redeem their honour after that particular humiliating episode. All we have to do is make sure the scenario plays out in our favour and this shouldn't be too difficult if Snape instructs them when best to attack Harry and of that particular spell to use which I have mentioned. You just have to remember Severus to make sure that Harry here is both tipped off on the trap that he will be walking into, and that there are bystanders there to watch the scene play out. After Harry's revealed his parseltongue abilities, we can reveal ourselves and diffuse the situation before it has an opportunity to escalate, and thanks to the Hogwarts rumour mill, the whole castle will know about the scene by the next morning."

Harry still had to think about it. He really didn't want to be ostracised by the whole school for the rest of the year, but if it meant he could prevent more students from being attacked, then what choice did he have. He'd already lived his whole life knowing he was different. He was used to having people stare at him wherever he went. He might as well save a few people's lives for a good cause if he was going to put up with this kind of treatment.

"Okay I'll do it," sighed Harry, as he looked up into the smiling face of the Headmaster in front of him. "But I have two conditions." Both Snape and Dumbledore nodded their heads as they waited to hear him out.

"The first is that I get to tell my friends about this whole plan," said Harry, seeing nods from both Snape and Dumbledore, "and the second is that come Christmas, we tell my family about Snape's true allegiance, because I'm not sure how much longer we're going to be able to keep this thing going without getting caught."

Snape looked like he had just swallowed a watermelon at these words, but Dumbledore was quick to agree with him, reasoning that it was only fair considering what they were asking of him.

Smiling, Harry shook hands with the Headmaster, before the two men left him alone to get some rest.

As he once again lay back down against his pillows, one thought was going through Harry's brain.

He couldn't wait to tell his friends about everything he'd just learned.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was Lord Voldemort.