Disclaimer: JK Rowling didn't write Harry Potter by getting through all her life not having done anything.

A/N: For those of you who are following His Mother's Love, Chapter 6 is now up.


Chapter 49

Harry himself didn't know about the unusual encouragement being offered in a secluded corner of the castle, but he certainly had his own share of well-wishers trying to settle his nerves. Draco Malfoy had been looking particularly smug over the past week and was sure to have been practising hard after his narrow defeat last year, so this would be far from an easy game. Meanwhile, Oliver Wood was very keen to win the Quidditch Cup again, which wasn't helping anyone's nerves. "Get the Snitch or die trying" didn't sound like particularly good advice, especially after Harry nearly got himself killed last year with Quirrellmort cursing his broom.

Something else that made Harry that much more nervous was that his live audience this year included four more people who were very close to him. Sirius and Remus had smacked themselves in their heads over the summer when they remembered that Hogwarts Quidditch matches were covered on the Wizarding Wireless Network. (With Remus's former lifestyle, he didn't listen to the wireless much, and Sirius's family never went for that "newfangled muggle contraption"). They immediately bought a set and got one for the Grangers too. It was nice that his family would be able to hear the match live, Harry thought, but Quidditch was a violent game, and he didn't want to think about how his parents would react if something went wrong.

The Gryffindor Team walked onto the pitch, to boos from the Slytherins and cheers from everyone else. The Slytherin team met them with the roles reversed. There was a hint of thunder in the air—not a good sign, for while they had practised in all weather, all three of last year's matches had been in good playing conditions.

"All set, Potter?" Malfoy grinned at him. "Wouldn't want to have a panic attack in the air, now, would we, scaredy-cat?"

Harry's heart skipped a couple of beats, and he very nearly set the grass on fire with accidental magic, but he forced the jolt down. Malfoy couldn't possibly know his secret. He was just mocking him for freaking out about Mrs. Norris last week. He refocused the energy into a controlled pulse of magic that he hoped would be intimidating. He thought he saw Malfoy twitch, but the Slytherin had excellent control. "I'm ready, Malfoy," he replied with a threatening stare. He wished he had a tail to twitch at him. "Are you ready to lose again?"

"No, I'm ready to win, Potter," Malfoy glared back. "You got lucky last year, but it won't happen again."

"We'll see."

"On my whistle…" Madam Hooch called. "Three…two…one…"

"And they're off!" Lee Jordan announced over the roar of the crowd. "Katie Bell of Gryffindor with the Quaffle. Gryffindor's definitely got a great veteran team this year—Quidditch Cup winners last year, in case you've been living under a rock. Passes to Johnson—then Spinnet—whoa! Back to Bell and dodges Flint of Slytherin—I didn't even see that. Bell shoots—she scores! Ten-nought, Gryffindor!"

The crowd roared far below as Harry looked down on the stadium. Getting the first goal of the year was always a good start, but he had bigger fish to fry.

"Of course, the big show this year is the rematch between Gryffindor's star Seeker, Harry Potter and Slytherin's Draco Malfoy. Potter went three-nought last year, including beating Malfoy to the Snitch by inches, despite an apparently malfunctioning broom. Now, we'll see if he can repeat his performance, hopefully without the malfunctioning broom part."

Malfoy didn't look too happy about the attention Harry was getting, but he wisely kept circling the pitch opposite Harry, scanning intently for the Golden Snitch. As the two of them looked, they heard a familiar song wafting up from the crowd: "Harry Potter is our king! Potter can catch anything!"

"And it looks like we've got plenty of Potter fans here today," Lee said. "I think it's gonna be a good match."

Wood narrowly blocked a goal from Adrian Pucey in the midst of a long back-and-forth between the Gryffindor and Slytherin Chasers. But just then, Harry saw a flash of scarlet moving in his direction. He looked down and saw George Weasley racing up to meet him. A split second later, he saw a growing black dot—a Bludger heading straight towards him, picking up speed as it climbed to his great height. He pulled a lightning-fast barrel roll and dodged it.

"Close one, Harry!" George yelled as he zoomed by and smacked the Bludger back down into the action.

That was strange, Harry thought. Bludgers don't normally come this far from the main crowd. But then, as he watched it go, the impossible happened. The Bludger slowed down, turned around, and sailed back toward him.

"Oh, come on!" he yelled, and he took off in a dash to the other side of the pitch.

"Uh-oh, looks like Potter's got a Bludger tailing him," Lee commentated. "Wow, it really doesn't wanna let him go."

Harry could see that. The Bludger was charmed against his magic sense, but he could hear it whistling through the air behind him—and a good thing, too, since he wouldn't have to keep looking over his shoulder that way. Yes, it was definitely following him, which it was definitely not supposed to do.

"Gotcha!" Fred yelled as he met Harry going the other way and smacked the Bludger away from him two-handed. But Harry's fears were confirmed when it got halfway down the pitch, turned around again, and came back at him. He took off at full speed.

The good thing about the Bludger was that it wasn't as manoeuvrable as a broom, so Harry was able to dodge it with a roller coaster ride of tight turns and steep climbs and dives.

CRASH! The Bludger went off the edge of the pitch and smashed through one of the wooden towers of the structure, but it barely even slowed down.

"Ooh! That's gonna need some cleanup!" Lee said. "And Pucey scores," he groaned. "Sixty-twenty Slytherin."

Harry remembered that Slytherin was still all on Nimbus Two Thousands, while he was the only one on the Gryffindor Team who had one. That plus Fred and George having to shadow him meant they were playing at a significant disadvantage.

"Someone's tampered with the Bludger!" Fred yelled. He smacked the iron ball away again.

"Ya think?" Harry yelled back. "I can't see!" he complained. He pulled ahead of the Twins a bit.

"Harry, watch out!" George called.

There it was. The Bludger was coming straight at his chest, with no Beaters close enough to reach him. He might be able to dodge it, but he suddenly got another idea. Since the full list of Quidditch fouls had never been published, Harry didn't know if anyone had ever bothered to actually make a rule against wandless magic. It was definitely against the spirit of the game, but he didn't think that was particularly important at the moment. Harry held his hand out in the direction of the Bludger and discreetly cast a wandless Contego inches from his body.

CLANG! That wasn't what it sounded like, but it was what it felt like when the Bludger slammed into his Simple Block Charm and bounced off. He could feel his magic ringing from the impact. Unfortunately, it didn't bounce all that far, and he would have to recast the block every time it came at him. He definitely couldn't do that for the whole match. He went back to dodging.

Lee Jordan was trying to figure out what had just happened: "What the heck was that? Did Potter block that somehow…? No, I think that Bludger's just gone completely nuts."

Harry threw up another Contego to reflect a blow he couldn't dodge. He was surprised no one was making the connection that he was using wandless magic. With adequate dodging, he thought maybe he could make it, but it wasn't a good situation. "Time out!" he yelled, flying within earshot of Wood.

"Time out!" Wood repeated.

Unfortunately, he knew there wasn't much they could do. Substitutions were only allowed in Quidditch if the game ran longer than twelve hours, and substitutions of equipment were permitted only if it was physically broken. On top of that, a light rain had begun to fall. It wouldn't bother most people, but even light rain could be very unpleasant when flying at high speeds. Harry's glasses at least kept it out of his eyes, but it would be good to end the game quickly, before things got much worse.

Thankfully, the Bludger stopped pursuing Harry as soon as his feet touched the grass, but even then, it still circled above him ominously, like a vulture, which only made the Slytherin Team point and jeer at him more.

"Do you see anything, Hermione?" Neville asked nervously as he watched from the stands.

"No," she replied disappointedly, still scanning with her binoculars. "None of the teachers show any sign of jinxing the Bludger. I'm looking at the older Slytherins, but I think whoever did this must have tampered with it before the game started."

"No way!" Ron insisted. "All the game balls are locked in Madam Hooch's office between matches. No one can get in there. The team even uses a different set to practice."

"Could someone have switched the balls before the match?" asked Neville.

"From right under Madam Hooch's nose?" Hermione said. "Maybe with a Switching Spell, but that'd be just as hard as jinxing it."

"Look, I think they're getting ready to start again," Ron pointed out.

Hermione turned her binoculars back down to the pitch, knowing full well what her brother would do. "Please be careful, Harry," she whispered.

"Look, I can out-fly it on my own. You two focus on the Chasers," Harry argued with Fred and George on the pitch.

"You won't get the Snitch very well that way," George pointed out.

"It's better than dropping out completely. That's why you need to focus on the Chasers. I'll take care of myself."

"You heard him," Wood declared. "Let's go."

They were in the air again, and from that moment, the Bludger went back to chasing Harry. He glanced behind him and saw it flying hot on his tail through the rain. "I hate being the prey," he grumbled. He started flying on his roller coaster course again. He knew he must look pretty foolish by now, but what choice did he have?

"Hey, Scarhead, are you playing Quidditch or training for ballet?" Malfoy mocked him as he flew by.

Harry's blood boiled at that one, and he got an idea. "I'll show you ballet, Sparrow!" he called, and he raced after him. Sparrow? Really? Well, it's an insult for a cat, he thought. But his plan was more than just the insult. Harry snap-judged his angles and did a barrel roll around Malfoy as he passed—one that put the Slytherin directly between him and the rogue Bludger.

"Ah!" Malfoy yelled and pulled back hard on his broom to avoid the iron ball. "Potter, you lunatic!" he yelled.

Ha! Who's the prey now? Harry thought. He immediately capitalised on his new strategy and headed straight for Adrian Pucey, who was trying to get past Wood again. Pucey was forced to dodge the Bludger and dropped the Quaffle. Angelina Johnson snapped it up in a blink.

"And Potter's playing Beater!" Lee exclaimed, assuredly confusing everyone who was listening on the wireless. "Gets the Quaffle away from Pucey to Johnson. I don't know what's going on with that Bludger, but Potter's using it against Slytherin—buzzes Flint—Whoa! Nearly got him there! And Johnson scores! Seventy-thirty Slytherin."

The crowd roared as Harry entered the active play. The Bludger's single-minded pursuit of him made it easy to predict where it would go and direct it. And with that tool in his arsenal, in addition to dodging and the Block Charm, he thought he might actually have a chance of getting through this game in one piece. He looped around the Slytherin Chasers and even the Beaters, forcing them to dodge both him and the Bludger, while still trying to keep an eye out for the Snitch. There was a higher chance someone would foul him with those antics, but it was definitely slowing down the Slytherin Team and keeping him from getting pummelled, so he called it a win-win. And of course, he buzzed Malfoy at every opening he got, although Malfoy was a good enough flier himself that he always got out of the way.

Contrary to popular belief, cats do not play with their prey before eating it. Instead, they smack their prey around to weaken and tire the small animals before going in for the kill, thus reducing the risk of bites and scratches. It was brutal, but Harry thought nothing of doing this to rodents and small birds when he was younger. After all, it was just what he needed to do to survive, and they were a lot less intelligent than most of the animals humans eat. But on the other hand, if you take that same cat, add a human mind, and pit him against his archenemy…well, in this instance, Harry was definitely playing with his prey.

"And Spinnet lines up her shot…" Lee commentated. "Bletchley's getting ready to block…Wait, what's Potter doing? He's rushing the scoring area! He's stooging—! Wait, turns around. WHAM! BRILLIANT! Sends the Bludger straight into Bletchley! I can't believe he could aim it like that."

"How's that for ballet, Sparrow?" Harry yelled at Malfoy as he buzzed him again.

"What the hell, Scarhead? What does Sparrow even mean?" Malfoy yelled back as he dodged the rogue Bludger.

"Oi, you called me 'scaredy-cat' first!" Harry retorted.

Malfoy was about to respond to that when he spotted it: the Golden Snitch. Yes! he thought. Time to beat that mudwallowing nutter! He pulled a sharp turn and raced after it.

"Uh-oh, Malfoy's seen the Snitch!" Lee said, to the dismay of three-fourths of the crowd.

Harry's heart jumped into his throat when he saw that it wasn't a feint. He laid out flat and pushed his broom to the limit, but Malfoy was closer, and on an equally good broom…

"Yaaahh!" Malfoy was thrown off course when he had to swerve to avoid the other Bludger—both Seekers had almost forgotten about it—as Fred hit it his way. That also happened to send it in Harry's direction, but it went wide. At the same time, Harry's Bludger was gaining on him.

Fred started to say, "Go get 'im Har—"

CLANG!

That was what it sounded like when the two Bludgers collided. The ringing sounded across the pitch like a huge bell and carried little ripples of magic with it. Harry thought the Bludgers might be broken when he looked back for a second and saw both of them corkscrewing through the air. He turned his attention back to Malfoy, who had righted himself, but the Snitch had zigged away from him, and Harry was closer now. He reached out and started forward—

WHAM!

Harry had underestimated that cursed Bludger. It corkscrewed straight into his arm. He could hear and feel his bones break with a sickening crack. But even then, he fought through the pain and kept his eyes on the prize: get the Snitch in the next few seconds, and it would all be over.

"OUCH! That's gotta hurt!" Lee said. "Bludger finally got him—but wait, he's still going for it. He's neck-and-neck with Malfoy. HE'S GOT IT! Potter's got the Snitch—and Merlin's beard, with a broken arm, I think. Final score two-forty to one-twenty, Gryffindor."

Harry hit the mud hard, rolling onto his back and groaning in pain, but it was okay. That debacle of a match was finally over, and they'd won. He opened his eyes to the sky and saw the rogue Bludger still circling above him—though wobbling now, but Fred and George snatched it out of the air and started to wrestle it back into its box. He relaxed his grip on Snitch with his good arm, and it began fluttering around his head much more pleasantly. Yes, everything would be okay soon enough…

But then things got considerably less okay as he saw a blond head with gleaming white teeth hanging over him.

"Oh no, not you!" he groaned.

"Poor boy doesn't know what he's saying," Lockhart said with a grin. "Don't worry, Harry, I'll fix your arm."

"Professor, no!" Hermione ran up to the team, followed by half of Gryffindor crowding around him. Harry could hear the clicking of Colin Creevey's camera. "He needs to go to Hospital wing," Hermione said desperately. There was no way she was going to let that fraud cast a spell on her brother.

"It's alright, Miss Granger. I've used this charm countless times."

"No, no, I want a licensed Healer," Harry said through clenched teeth.

But Lockhart wasn't listening. Harry prepared to throw a wandless Flipendo at him as drew his wand, cleared his throat, and said, "Brachium"

"Contego!"

Harry turned his head and saw Hermione had her wand out. She'd saved him having to reveal their wandless magic skills for another day. There was a flash of light as Lockhart's spell splashed off her Simple Block Charm. Unfortunately for him, with his wand hand so close, it splashed right back up onto his arm. At once, a grimace came over Lockhart's face. His wand slipped from his fingers, and then the crowd gasped as his entire arm turned limp and rubbery and flopped around sickeningly. Lockhart had removed all the bones from his own arm.

"Ahh!" he said in a falsetto squeak. "M-M-Miss G-Granger, th-that was r-really unnecessary."

"You've used that charm countless times, Professor?" Hermione said sceptically.

"Well, um, this can happen sometimes, but, um…not to worry. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will fix this…right…up…" Lockhart took another glance at his de-boned hand and looked like he was about to pass out.


Harry and Hermione were on their way to dinner that evening as the party in the Common Room began to slow down. Harry's arm had been fixed in a trice by Madam Pomfrey, who was extremely put out by Lockhart's antics, especially now that he would have to stay in the Hospital Wing overnight. But as the pair were walking, they heard a small squeak and saw a flash of bright yellow-green dart behind into an unused classroom. Putting two and two together, they quickly ran after it, their fingers poised to draw their wands.

"Dobby!" they said when they ran inside and spotted the elf.

But the battered house elf was just standing there with tears in his eyes, wringing his hands. "Harry Potter should not have come back to Hogwarts," he whined, turning in place so that Harry and Hermione weren't sure if he was addressing them or talking to himself. "Dobby warned and warned him. Why did Harry Potter not heed Dobby?"

"Dobby," Harry snapped. The elf stopped and turned to look at him. "You sabotaged that Bludger, didn't you?"

Dobby didn't respond directly, but he made a funny whining sound. Hermione gasped.

"So your idea of keeping me safe is trying to kill me, now?" Harry demanded. His magic started to get away from him. The desks rattled around him.

"Harry, stop!" Hermione whispered, pulling him back.

Dobby felt the pulse of magic, though, and he staggered back in fear, holding his hands up as if to shield himself from a blow. "Dobby never meant to kill," he said. "Dobby only meant to maim or seriously injure. Better to be sent home, or even to St. Mungo's, Harry Potter, sir, than to remain here."

Harry wasn't buying it this time. "How did you even think that would work?" he demanded. "Putting me in St. Mungo's isn't gonna keep me away from Hogwarts all year. I may be muggle-raised, but that doesn't mean I don't have the full resources of the magical world at my disposal. I am Harry Potter, after all."

"Harry, that's enough," Hermione scolded.

"What? He needs to learn his lesson. I don't want to tell on him to his master, but—" Dobby jumped and squeaked in fright at the prospect that Harry might know who his master was.

"Harry James Potter, you will do no such thing," his sister ordered. "Can't you see he's got it hard enough as it is? I apologise for my brother, Dobby. He tends to get aggressive when people push him too hard. We appreciate that you're trying to keep him safe, but you're not going to convince us unless you can show us some real proof of this plot you keep warning us about."

"B-b-but Harry Potter and Hermione Granger has already seen the dark deeds beginning here at Hogwarts, miss," the elf said.

"Dark deeds? You mean that Chamber of Secrets thing?" she asked

Dobby nodded, and then his eyes went wide. He grabbed the nearest desk by the leg and banging his head against it. "Bad Dobby!" he yelled. Harry and Hermione grabbed him by the arms and pulled him back. "Badd Dobby. Very bad Dobby," he muttered dizzily.

"So the Chamber of Secrets is some secret of your master's?" Hermione reasoned. Dobby quivered in their arms. "And the Heir of Slytherins is plotting against…"

"Muggle-borns," Harry told her worriedly.

"And you, apparently," she countered. "Well, that's one more thing to tell Dumbledore. But Dobby, you can't keep doing this."

Dobby shook his head profusely: "Harry Potter and Hermione Granger must not meddle in this, miss. It is being too dangerous. Go home, sir and miss."

"We're not going anywhere," Harry insisted. "If the Heir's after muggle-borns, then we've got other friends who are in danger here, too. We're gonna do whatever we can to help Dumbledore stop him."

"Harry Potter is so noble to protect his friends," Dobby said, "but he must save himself. He is too valuable to—" He stopped cold as Harry flared his magic into the room again. He knew that kind of power and control was the mark of a great wizard—and an angry one—not someone he wanted to cross.

"Harry," Hermione scolded, but he ignored her.

"You see, Dobby?" he said harshly. "You have secrets? Well, so do we. We have more resources than you know." He thought of his communication mirror, the emergency Floo connection to home, and their ins with the DMLE, not to mention their own hidden abilities. "We can take care of ourselves. I told you—" He punctuated this with another flare of magic. "I'm Harry Potter."

The elf gulped and nodded reluctantly. "Dobby must go," he said. "Please stay safe, Harry Potter, sir…and Hermione Granger, miss." And with a snap of his fingers, he vanished. Harry sighed with relief and reigned in his magic before he tired himself out.

"You shouldn't talk to him like that," Hermione groused, crossing her arms. "And you shouldn't be exploiting your fame like that."

"Hey, I got him to go away, didn't I?" Harry retorted. "He just needs a firm hand is all."

"Are you kidding? You saw him. He's obviously had enough of a 'firm hand' to last a lifetime."

"Well, if we figure out who his master is, then maybe we can help him. Come on, let's go get dinner." He strode out of the classroom in a dark mood that scared a couple of first years who were walking nearby. Hermione reluctantly followed, hoping he would calm down by the end of the day.


And then Hermione cast a spell that reflected Lockhart's spell and de-boned his entire arm!

A large splatter of ink drops indicated that Tom was laughing hysterically. Ginny herself might be painfully boring, he thought, but news of Harry Potter's antics was both informative and entertaining. He had apologetically told Ginny that he didn't know what might have made the Bludger behave so oddly (which was true, although he could devise some theories). But it was the way Potter had not only adapted to the challenge so well but also turned it to his advantage that really interested him. Things like that were at least potential clues to the mysteries surrounding the boy.

Incredible, he wrote back. Lockhart's even more incompetent than I thought. Perhaps I should teach you instead. You might actually pass your exam that way.

Maybe, Ginny wrote. For some reason, something felt a little funny about that, like an unpleasant tingling in the back of her mind.

So what happened next? Tom asked.

They both went to the Hospital Wing. Harry was out in time for dinner, but Lockhart has to stay there overnight and take Skele-Grow. Yuck! And I hear he got a long talking-to from Madam Pomfrey about practising Healing without a license.

Ah, well, good to see somebody is competent around here.

They wrote back and forth for a while. Tom was particularly interested in the fine details of how Harry had handled the Bludger, and Ginny was only too happy to tell him everything she knew. Tom himself wasn't much of a Quidditch fan, but he had a few interesting stories to give back to her.

Tom, how did I get here? Ginny wrote suddenly taking a look around.

You walked, or so I assume, Tom replied. I'm afraid I can't actually see.

She didn't know how she had wound up wandering the corridors so close to curfew, writing in her diary as she walked with a Self-Inking Quill. Nor did she know why she kept gravitating towards the second floor girls' loo—and the one that was always out of order at that, nor what that weird hissing sound was that seemed to be following her around, but the most important thing was that she didn't think she could get back to Gryffindor Tower in time.

Tom, I'm gonna be late getting back, she thought fearfully—or did she write it? That funny, half-remembered feeling of not being sure whether things were happening in the pages of her diary or in her own head had returned. I could get in big trouble, Tom.

Don't panic, Ginny. Everything will be fine if you get back to the tower without being seen.

Right—you're right, Tom. Silly of me, she thought. She started heading back to Gryffindor Tower. She still felt a little disoriented, but she was doing alright until she suddenly heard someone call out to her.

"Alright, Ginny?"

"Eep!" Oh no, it's Colin! What do I do? What do I do? "C-C-Colin? What are you doing out here?"

"Taking pictures." And with that, her small classmate raised his camera to his face, and a blinding flash went off.

"Ahh! Colin, stop it!" Ginny snapped, covering her face with her hands. Tom, what do I do?

"Oh, sorry. I thought you didn't mind."

He's seeing too much, Tom said. I'm afraid we'll have to take care of him.

"Well, I do," Ginny told Colin, "so cut it out." Do we have to, Tom? I told you I don't want to hurt anyone.

"Okay…So what are you doing out here?" Colin asked.

"M-m-me? I, uh, I got lost—yeah, that's it."

We won't hurt him—we just need to take him out of the—heh—picture for a while. We can't take it too far, after all. A dead student would be grounds to close the school.

Tom, please, why are we even doing this?

To reform Hogwarts to reach its full potential. (Which by his own estimation was true, if not his primary goal.)

I don't like this, Tom. Isn't there some other way?

No, Ginny, there's not. Now please do as I say…

"I'm sorry, Colin," Ginny said. "I just wasn't ready. Here, how about if I pose for you so you can get a better shot."

"Really? Gee, that'd be great," he said excitedly. "Thanks, Ginny."

"No problem. How about…over here." She leaned casually against the wall beside the bathroom door.

"Looks good." He raised his camera to his face and looked through the lens. "Say 'cheese'."

Ginny hissed instead.


"Did you hear something just now?" Harry asked in the Common Room.

Hermione cupped a hand to her ear: "Nope, I don't hear anything."

"Huh. Must have been the wind."