Chapter Twenty-Six – Potions, Plots, and Petrification

Harry did not sleep well that night, and the deafening snores of Crabbe and Goyle did nothing to help. Harry didn't know how Blaise could stand it. He had returned from Hagrid's cabin late that afternoon and immediately came to find his friend, but Harry had been in no mood to talk. And so Blaise had retired to his own bed, and Harry didn't dare peek out of his curtains to see if he was still awake. Harry remained in the oppressive darkness of his four-poster, his mind overwhelmed by the horrible knowledge of what had happened to Colin.

Hours after everyone else had fallen asleep, Harry finally felt his eyelids droop, his exhaustion overpowering the racing thoughts plaguing his mind. His head fell heavy against the pillow, and his breathing became slow and deep. But sleep was destined to evade him that night, and it felt like only a few minutes had passed before the light touch of someone's hand on his head woke him.

Harry jolted awake, delirious, terrified, and prepared to scream, when a thin hand covered his mouth to silence him. In the dim light, Harry saw a familiar elf crouched at the side of his bed.

Seeing that Harry recognized him, the elf swiftly removed his hand, and Harry slowly exhaled the scream that had been in his throat.

"Dobby!" Harry said in a hoarse whisper, "What are you doing here?"

Dobby wrung his hands together fretfully. He was staring at Harry with a mixture of woe and exasperation.

"Why did Harry Potter returned to Hogwarts?" he moaned in a quiet voice.

"It's a good thing I did, Dobby," Harry said sternly, "Do you know what's been going on here? Millie's cat was attacked, and now a student, too. I have to do something!"

"Harry Potter is too noble... He is concerned for his friends..." Dobby said in painful ecstasy.

"Stop that! I'm not being noble. I just have to..." Harry stopped himself mid-sentence. He had been so overcome by the sudden appearance of the elf, he had momentarily forgotten Dobby's warnings during the summer.

"You knew this was going to happen!" Harry hissed through clenched teeth, "You told me not to come because you knew about the Chamber of Secrets!"

"No, no! Dobby did not know, Dobby swears! Dobby only knew something evil was going to Hogwarts this year..."

"Something evil? Dobby, you have to tell me what you know! Is it the Malfoys?"

Dobby's thin lips pressed into a hard line, and he closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side frantically.

"Dobby, I already know you work for them. Just tell me! Draco can't really be the heir of Slytherin, can he?"

Dobby's eyes popped open and he gave a sort of strangled cry, "Oh no! Harry Potter mustn't think... of Young Master Malfoy... Oh!"

Harry had a feeling that threats would not work, as Dobby probably heard enough of those in the home of his masters. Instead, he lowered his voice still farther, and said in his most wheedling voice, "Dobby... I have to know what's going on. If you tell me, then maybe I can stop more people from getting hurt."

Dobby's large green eyes swam with tears. Harry hoped he had broke him, but Dobby simply murmured, "Harry Potter should save himself before it is too late. Harry Potter should have stayed away when the platform was locked. Why did Harry Potter have to return?"

"The platform?" Harry asked. The truth settled over him suddenly. "So it was you who blocked the platform? Was it you who sent the Bludger after me, too?"

"Dobby thought that if Harry Potter believed he was in danger, he would not want to remain at school!"

Harry was in a state of disbelief. This elf's efforts to save him were going to get him killed if this continued.

Harry took a deep breath and tried again, "Dobby... Am I being targeted? Is it... You Know Who?"

Dobby looked fearful, but he whispered, "No... Not him, sir... Not exactly him..."

Harry was about to ask what this meant. Did Voldemort have another accomplice in the school? Someone, like Quirrell, who acted for him?

Before the words could leave his mouth, there was a soft noise in the room. Dobby gave a cry of alarm, and disappeared from sight with a sudden loud crack. An instant later, Harry's bed curtains were whipped open, and Draco Malfoy stood staring at Harry with dark circles under his eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Nothing," said Harry automatically.

"Who were you talking to?"

"No one."

Draco eyes peered into the dark corners surrounding Harry's bed. "I heard voices."

"You must have been having a nightmare," said Harry, "That, or I'm having one right now. Seeing you in your nightdress is about the most frightening thing I can imagine."

Draco glared at him and snapped, "It isn't a nightdress. It's sleep robe, and it cost more than your entire wardrobe, Potter."

"Did you crawl out of bed just to tell me about your clothes, Draco?"

"No! You were talking to someone. I heard you!"

Harry opened his mouth to tell him to leave, when a pillow sailed between their faces, landing in Harry's lap. It was accompanied by Blaise's irritated voice.

"Oy! If you two are gonna snog, do you mind taking it to the common room? Some of us are trying to sleep!"

Draco stomped back to his bed, his usually pale face glowing so red from embarrassment, it practically illuminated their bedroom. Harry scoffed at Blaise's comment and rolled over, clutching the sacrificed pillow to his chest. He sat back up with a huff and snapped the curtains closed again, then tried to get comfortable. But sleep was impossible now. He kept expecting Dobby to show up any second, but the elf was probably too terrified of discovery to make another attempt.

Dobby's warning had done little to deter his resolve. If anything, Harry was more determined than ever to find out who the heir was, and if he could discover their connection to the Malfoys and knock Draco down a few pegs in the process, so much the better.

Unable to sleep, Harry waited until the earliest possible moment when he could jump out of bed and start the day. He dressed in near-darkness, debating whether he should wake Blaise and force him to go down to the common room with him to talk. But then he remembered Blaise's irritation from a few hours before, and how upset he got if he missed a second of his beauty sleep. Harry decided it could wait until later.

He grabbed his book-bag, thinking he would do some studying for the end-of-term tests that were swiftly approaching. At the least second, he grabbed his invisibility cloak and stuffed it in with the rest of his supplies. If he was going to be unearthing the mystery surrounding the Chamber, then a bit of unplanned espionage might be called for. It was better to start carrying the cloak with him again.

Feeling a bit nostalgic for the more care-free adventures he'd had with his cloak last year, Harry stepped down the stairs to the common room. He expected it to be completely empty this early in the morning, but to his surprise, there was one other occupant.

Millie sat on the floor by the fireplace, the only source of light in the common room at this hour. She had a blanket wrapped around her broad shoulders and a book sitting in her lap. But she wasn't reading or drawing, she was merely staring at the flames. She was looking sad and forlorn again, and Harry thought about leaving her to her thoughts, knowing she would probably resent his intrusion. But the sound of his footsteps as he hit the final stair gave him away, and Millie turned with at start.

"Sorry!" Harry said quickly, "I didn't mean to scare you!"

"You didn't," said Millie. She turned away and Harry thought he saw her wipe her sleeve across one of her cheeks. He was horrified at having caught her crying, but he knew it would be far more awkward if he left now.

"Couldn't sleep either?" he said instead, trying to restore a since of normalcy with innocuous small talk.

Millie shook her head and continued to stare into the flames.

Harry selected a seat near the fire, enjoying its warmth and thinking Millie was smart to bring her blanket down with her. He wondered how long she had been sitting in the common room. If it had been Blaise, Harry simply would have asked if something was wrong. But you couldn't do that sort of thing with Millie. She prefered pretending that she didn't have emotions, and Harry wanted to respect her privacy. Still, he had to say something to break the tension, and he decided on the topic that was forefront in his mind.

"I had a visitor last night."

The comment was vague enough to draw interest, and after a beat of silence, Millie turned her attention back to Harry and looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"Remember Dobby?" Millie nodded and Harry continued, "He appeared in my room last night. He was sitting on my bed."

"Woah, creepy. What did he want?"

Pleased that Millie had taken an interest in his story, Harry recounted as much of the conversation as he could remember. He finished by stating that the Malfoys must be involved in this somehow, though he was at a loss to see the connection between Dobby's odd warnings and the Chamber.

"I mean, I still don't think that Malfoy is the heir," he concluded, "Draco is a lot of things, but discreet is not one of them. He wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut."

"But didn't Adrian say that the Chamber had been opened before?" asked Millie, "Do you think it could be true?"

"Maybe. And if it was, maybe it was Lucius Malfoy's doing. Or Draco's grandfather or great-grandfather. He's always going on about how the Malfoy family has been sorted into Slytherin for generations. The key could be passed down from father to son... But there's no way it's Draco!"

Harry exclaimed this dramatically. The truth was, he didn't think Draco was cut out for being the Heir of Slytherin. He was too annoying, too whinging, too petulant to be entrusted with the key to the Chamber of Secrets. He told himself this was not jealousy, that he didn't want to be the Heir of Slytherin, and that he had no interest in going around attacking muggle-borns. But it was infuriating to think that Draco could be distinguished in such a way, and Harry couldn't help but hope he was right after all, and that someone else was behind all of this.

He thought again about Lord Voldemort, wondering if there was some connection. Dobby had denied it when Harry asked him, but Lucius Malfoy was a Voldemort supporter if Harry ever saw one. He was about to open his mouth to solicit Millie's opinion on the subject, but the hour had progressed, and a few of the early-risers were already trickling into the common room. Many of them looked alarmed to see Harry already dressed and waiting, though a few others gave him a cheery hello.

Millie took their appearance as a sign that she too could get ready. She told Harry she would change out of her night clothes and be down in a moment, and Harry waited patiently. She returned again before Blaise was even out of bed, but eventually all three made it down the breakfast table, with Harry whispering to Blaise in cautious tones the shortened version of his conversation with Dobby.

"So that's what all the noise was about," Blaise said, stretching his arms above his head and looking thoughtful. "I thought Draco was trying to crawl into bed with you."

"Please, say that a little louder. I don't think the whole school heard you," said Harry with heavy sarcasm.

It was true that Blaise, who had not bothered to keep his voice down, had attracted the attention of a few Slytherin girls headed to the Great Hall a few paces ahead of them. They giggled at the sour look on Harry's face, and rushed quickly ahead. Blaise merely smirked, and Harry privately vowed revenge.

They ate their breakfast in a hurry and headed to the library straight away. A student may have been attacked, and the whole school was buzzing with rumours of who the culprit could be, but that didn't stop the teachers from announcing that end-of-term exams would be held on schedule.

Harry bent his head to the transfiguration homework he promised to complete for them all in exchange for Millie and Blaise completing his DADA and charms assignments, respectively. Transfiguration wasn't his best subject, but he tended to do better in McGonagall's class than either Blaise or Millie, so the lot usually fell to him. He was struggling through their assignment as best he could when Millie gave a frustrated groan and whispered to him.

"Harry, trade assignments with me."

"What? But you're brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts!"

"Not this year," Millie said irritably, "Lockhart keeps giving us assignments asking us to detail his personal likes and dislikes. It's absolute garbage, and I've never once opened one of his stupid books."

"Well I haven't either," Harry argued, "I'd be just as lost as you."

"But he likes you, Harry. Can't you just write some flattering trash for us and have done with it?"

Harry didn't see why Millie couldn't make stuff up just as well as he, but he agreed to the trade and was soon looking at the questions listed out on their assignment sheet. The first was "Which do you think is more likely to subdue a banshee? A levitation charm, or Gilderoy Lockhart's smile?"

Harry gave a sigh of disgust, losing all motivation to continue his studies. He glanced out the window wistfully, watching the snowfall start to pile up against the windowpanes. It made him think of a suitable change of subject.

"What are our plans for Christmas?" he asked.

"Mum wants you to come visit us again," Blaise answered, "Millie, you're invited as well. That is, if you think your parents would agree."

"I'm sure they wouldn't care," Millie replied, her face turned toward her paper as her quill scribbled across the smooth surface without pause, "But I was thinking of staying here for Christmas."

Harry thought this was odd, and wondered why she didn't want to come spend Christmas with them. He was about to press the invitation, thinking that perhaps Blaise sounded too careless about it for Millie's liking, when Blaise interrupted him.

"Well, at least you won't be alone."

Harry and Millie both looked up from their parchment, their quills still as they waited for Blaise to explain. Blaise shrugged and nodded to a table not far away, where Draco and his usual band of cronies were also studying laboriously for finals.

"I overheard him saying he'd be staying over break as well."

"Draco is?" Harry had to ask, certain there had been a mistake. Draco was a spoiled only child, as everyone knew. It was odd that his parents would agree to have him remain at school when he could be doted on at home.

Blaise shrugged, the simple gesture enough to acknowledge Harry's surprise, and yet confirm that it was true. Suddenly, Millie's choice to stay behind could be beneficial to them all. She could keep an eye on Draco, and make sure he didn't do anything suspicious over break.

He communicated his idea to Millie, who rolled her eyes at him but promised she would keep tabs on Draco over the holiday.

Potions class proved to be more trouble the next day than usual. It had always been Harry's least favorite class, due to the mutual dislike that existed between him and Professor Snape. Though recently, Defense Against the Dark Arts had come in a close second. Harry wasn't sure which was more cringe-worthy, watching Snape belittle Neville Longbottom almost as often as he sneered at Harry, or watching Gilderoy Lockheart ask Blaise about his mum for the millionth time.

That day, they were busying themselves with a swelling solution. Snape had written the instructions up on the blackboard, and Harry was busy trying to follow the difficult recipe exactly. Snape was always the most critical of Harry's work, and he was almost always selected to have his potion tested before the class. Snape delighted in testing potions on his students, so Harry was in a constant state of fear when it came to making his, lest he accidentally concoct something toxic, and end up in the hospital wing in a worse state than either Colin or Mamon.

He was bending over his cauldron, carefully extracting a spoonful of the liquid to drip onto a newts eye, when it happened. There was a splash, and a second later the contents of Goyle's cauldron exploded, spraying the nearby Slytherin students with its contents.

Much to Harry's dismay, Goyle had apparently developed a successful swelling solution. Harry had the misfortune of getting some on his hands, and his fingers were already swelling to the size of sausages. Draco, who had been partnered with Goyle this class period, got a face full of the stuff, and his lip was now dangling pitifully against his chest. If Harry hadn't been weighted down by the girth of his own swelling fingers, he might have laughed.

Understandably, this caused quite a commotion on both sides of the classroom. Snape snapped orders to the students, commanding anyone who had been affected to come to the front of the class to receive the antidote. Harry queued up with the rest, his fingers now dragging against the cold stone floor. Blaise was right behind him, cradling his over-sized head in his hands so the weight wasn't completely crushing his neck. Harry thought there might be a joke somewhere in there, but at the moment, he didn't feel much like laughing.

Harry allowed Blaise to cut in front of him, and was the last in line as he approached Snape's desk at the front of the room. His heart sank as he saw Snape's mouth twist into a smirk, his snake-like eyes gleaming.

"Oh dear, did your little prank backfire, Mr. Potter?"

"You think I did this to myself?" Harry asked, futilely trying to lift his own hands. He was irritated, but not surprised. It was just like Snape to try to blame this incident on Harry.

Snape pretended not to to notice his comment, and merely said, "This is unfortunate. It seems I have just used the last of the antidote on Mr. Zabini."

"Liar," Harry said. He heard a light gasp from Neville Longbottom, who was probably astounded by Harry's nerve.

Snape sneered at him and waved an empty vial in front of his face.

"I am afraid your friend's massive head required more of the potion that usual to restore. Though I must say, no amount of potion could ever do anything about his bloated ego."

There it was, the joke Harry had been plotting himself, but Snape had beat him to it. It was less funny coming from the teacher. Harry said nothing, and did not even crack a smile. He merely glared at Snape, knowing full well he had plenty of antidote in his storeroom somewhere, if only he would look.

To Harry's surprise, it was once again Snape who looked away first, although he had the upper hand in this situation.

"Will you stop glaring at me like that, Potter?" he said, clearly annoyed. "Madame Pomfrey will have plenty antidote in the Hospital Wing. The swelling has stopped, so you should have no trouble getting there yourself."

Harry did not bother to argue. He turned on his heal as sharply as his dragging fingers would allow, and marched out of the room. He was present just long enough to see Snape inspecting Goyle's cauldron, and with a flick of his wand, levitate a twisted bit of blackened stuff that looked very much like one of Filibuster's Fantastic Water-Proof Fireworks.

Snape's chilling drone followed Harry out of the classroom as he said, "If I ever find out who did this, I will make certain that person is expelled."

Dragging his engorged hands up the stairs from the dungeons to the Hospital Wing was one of the most humiliating and physically exhausting experiences of Harry's life. The one saving grace was that Goyle's potion had the odd side effect of deadening Harry's nerves, so he felt no pain as he dragged his fingers behind him and they bounced along the steps. He only hoped the bruises left behind once his hands were of regular size would not be too painful.

Madame Pomfrey acted almost as annoyed as Harry felt, as she quickly fixed both the swelling and the bruising, complaining the whole time about students not wearing proper safety equipment before handling dangerous materials. Harry made a few sympathetic noises to show he was listening, when in reality he was peering behind the nurse, trying to make out a figure on the bed behind her, which was surrounded by white curtains. He was certain that Colin was in that bed, and he hoped for a glimpse of him.

Unfortunately, Madame Pomfrey guessed what he was about, and as soon as he was back to normal, she shooed him out of the Hospital Wing, slamming the door behind him. For a moment, Harry considered sneaking in under the cover of his cloak. Unfortunately, the cloak he'd stored in his book-bag just that morning was left with the rest of his school supplies in the Potions classroom. Harry cursed at his own carelessness, and hoped that Blaise thought to grab his things for him.

He was on his way back down the stairs, taking a different route on account of the moving staircases, when he heard the sound of quiet sobbing. Harry froze, trying to make out where the sound was coming from, when he saw that just below him, sitting on the same flight of stairs that was his aim, was a small boy. From his size Harry guessed it was a first year. He was bend double, his face in his lap, trying to stifle the sobs that shook his narrow shoulders. Harry could tell from his robes that he was in Slytherin, and as he was directly in Harry's path, he knew that the boy could not be ignored.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked in his kindest voice. The boy looked up, and Harry recognized Herbivorous Pandey, Colin's reluctant friend.

"Harry!" he exclaimed in surprise, quickly wiping away his tears.

"Um, it was Herb, wasn't it? What are you doing here?"

"I went to see him," Herb said, pointing up the stair that led to the hospital wing.

"Did they let you see Colin?" Harry asked, understanding Herb in an instant.

The question was a mistake. Herb, who had just managed to collect himself, twisted his face to try to prevent the tears that began to stream from his eyes anew.

He buried his face in his hands to stifle his tears, and Harry could just make out his words through muffled sobs, "It's awful! Just awful, Harry!"

Harry was shocked to see such a strong display of emotion from the usually scowling first year. What's more, he was surprised to see him cry for Colin's sake. Herb had always seemed to be in Colin's company more from the force of Colin's affection rather than his own preference. Harry was touched to see that Colin had such a devoted friend. He patted Herb's shoulder in what he hoped was a consoling way.

"It's alright," he said in a soothing tone, "I heard Professor Sprout say she put scarves and socks on the mandrakes this morning. They're growing nicely, and before long they'll be able to give Colin a potion to restore him, good as new."

Herb's moans of grief increased with renewed vehemence, and he wailed, "That's the problem! The poor mandrakes! What are they going to do to them?"

Harry pulled his hand away, disillusionment setting in as he realized Herb wasn't crying for Colin, but for a few silly plants.

Herb continued his lamentations, "Do you know that they have the same developmental milestones as a human? Oh, the poor things! They're going to kill them! And all for some stupid potion!"

"I would think you'd be more worried about Colin," Harry said coldly, "You know, your friend who is lying as if dead in the hospital wing?"

"I am worried about him," Herb admitted, "But couldn't they find some other way to brewing the potion without the mandrakes? There must be a substitute..."

"They are plants," Harry reminded him, "It's not like they're actually alive."

"How do you know?" Herb challenged, "They cry like they're alive. They even go through puberty! What makes you think they aren't alive?"

"Well, er... I mean, they're certainly alive in a sense, but I don't' think they have, you know, thoughts and stuff."

Herb looked at Harry doubtfully and gave another sniffle, though he seemed to have calmed down again. Harry was about to make some excuse to leave, perhaps by mentioning that his friends were waiting, when he had a sudden thought.

Herb might be more concerned about plants than his friend, but he had been allowed to see Colin when Harry could not. Perhaps he had seen something that could furnish Harry with a lead on the Heir.

"Herb, the day Colin was petrified, he was attacked just after the Quidditch game. Do you know what he was doing in the castle by himself?"

"Yeah," Herb said, his voice thick from his crying, "He said he was going to tell Dumbledore that you didn't bewitch the Bludger."

Harry was stunned, "Do you mean he knew who really did it?"

Herb shook his head. "I don't think so. He just said he knew there was no way you would do something like that, and that he was going to tell Dumbledore himself so you wouldn't get in trouble."

Harry felt a pang in his chest. Colin had been disillusioned when he and Harry last spoke, but even still, he thought well enough of Harry that he was going to defend him, and he'd been attacked for it. Harry felt responsible, and for the first time, a sense of anger toward the attacker mingled with his desire to capture them.

"Don't worry," Harry said, more to himself than to Herb, "I'm going to catch whoever has done this."