Lyla awoke the next morning feeling achy and stiff. Groaning as she heaved herself up, she turned to find Daphne staring intensely, her gaze more searching than anything.
"Good morning to you too," yawned the redhead, sagging against the frame of her bed.
"Since when did you start to fancy Lucian Bole?"
"I'm sorry– what?" Lyla asked, mouth dropping open in surprise.
Daphne nodded, also standing. She was fully dressed in her school robes with her long chocolate hair pulled back into a tight braid down her back.
"Since when did you start to fancy Lucian Bole?" she asked again.
"I don't," said Lyla matter of factly, digging through her truck to look for a fresh set of black robes. "Who says I do?"
"That's not important," said Daphne, glowering. "Look here, Lyla. I thought me and you had a mutual understanding that when we fancied someone, we'd tell each other about it."
"Daphne, I do not fancy Bole," said Lyla firmly, her temper rising slightly. "Oh, you heard this from Draco, right?"
Her friend gave a short nod.
"Ugh," Lyla said in great annoyance." He asked me the same thing out of the blue last night, the intrusive little git! As if I'd talk to him about that kind of stuff… really…"
"So you don't find him attractive?"
"Well… he is attractive," admitted Lyla, slowly "but that's it, really. The fit my mother would throw if I started dating now… and he's too old for me anyways."
Laughing now, the two girls had shuffled up the staircase and were now standing in the green-tinged Slytherin common room. Marcus Flint was the only person inside, leaning back into a sleek black armchair looking extremely smug. He gave Lyla a wink of amusement before returning his attention to his school work.
"Wonder what's got him so smug," mumbled Daphne.
Lyla only shrugged. As the two walked in through the great double doors, rather than head to the table decorated in green and silver, Lyla made a hard turn and plopped herself at the Gryffindor table beside Ron and Hermione.
"Morning," she said with a false smile, to which both stared back at her in surprise. "You haven't heard any updates on Ara, have you?"
Hermione shook her head while chewing thoughtfully on a piece of toast.
"Nothing," said Ron gloomily. "What's up? Why aren't you sitting with the usual today?"
"Nothing at all," Lyla said too quickly, which made Hermione narrow her eyes a bit. "I mean– I just want to be in the know of Arabella's condition, that's all. And since you two are in her house, well, two direct sources, yeah?"
Ron nodded at that, while Hermione remained watchful.
"Well, since there's no update on Ara's condition, what do you two think of yesterday's match?" inquired Daphne. "That was no ordinary Bludger; has anyone gone about trying to see what happened?"
"Afraid not," sighed Hermione with a heavy grunt of disappointment. "There's something else going on that's garnered the attention of all staff as of late– there was another attack last night, sometime after the game, I think."
"Creevey," said Ron in a low murmur, "heard McGonagall talking about it with Sprout before breakfast started–"
"P-petrified?" asked Lyla in a horse tone of terror.
Ron and Hermione nodded darkly.
"If this keeps up, Hogwarts will have to close down for sure," sniffed Daphne.
Arabella hadn't been able to escape the clutches of Madam Pomfrey until late afternoon the next day, and after she'd hurried into her robes as quickly as she could with her arm still bound up, she began to sprint in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. She was desperate to tell Ron and Hermione about Colin and Dobby, fearful of what they'd have to say. However, they were nowhere in sight when she came bursting into the common room,
"Oi, Arabella! You got a moment?"
It was one of the Weasley twins, waving her down. She didn't have time for this! She needed to find her friends as quickly as possible. Without another word or glance into the tower, Arabella bolted from the portrait entrance, slamming the Fat Lady's portrait as she hurried away.
"Oh, yes," commented the Fat Lady with distaste. "I just love being slammed open and closed all day! I really ought to make that a house rule from now on, mustn't I?"
As Arabella passed the library, Percy Weasley strolled out of it, looking in far better spirits than last time they'd met.
"Oh, hello, Arabella," he said brightly. "Excellent flying yesterday, really excellent! Gryffindor has just taken the lead for the House Cup— brilliant flying, really…"
"Um, you haven't seen Ron or Hermione, have you?" asked Arabella, doing her best not to sound dismissive.
"No, I haven't," replied Percy, smile fading. "I hope Ron's not in another girls' toilet again..."
"Of course, he isn't…," laughed Arabella, watching as Percy walked out of sight, and then headed straight for Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. She couldn't see why Ron and Hermione would be in there again, but after making sure that neither Filch nor any prefects were around, she opened the door and heard their voices coming from a locked stall.
"It's me," she called, closing the door behind her. There was a clunk, a splash, and a gasp from within the stall and she saw Hermione's eye peering through the keyhole.
"Arabella!" she gasped. "You gave us such a fright— come in, come in. How's your arm feeling? Have you seen Lyla yet? She's awfully worried."
It's fine," she said, squeezing herself into the small stall. An old cauldron was perched on the toilet, and a crackling from under the rim told Arabella they had lit a fire beneath it. Conjuring up portable, waterproof fires was a specialty of Hermione's. "And no, not yet, only just been released from the Hospital Wing."
"We'd've come to meet you, but we decided to get started on the Polyjuice Potion," Ron explained as Arabella, with difficulty, locked the stall again. "We've decided this is the safest place to hide it."
Arabella had begun to tell her friends about Colin, but Hermione interrupted.
"Yes, we already know — we heard McGonagall telling Sprout this morning. That's why we decided we'd better get going—"
"The sooner we get a confession out of Parkinson, the better," said Ron.
"There's something else, too," said Arabella, watching Hermione tearing bundles of knotgrass and throwing them into the potion. "Dobby came to visit me in the middle of the night."
"Dobby?" asked Hermione, looking up from her shredding.
"Mhm, and he was going on about how The Chamber of Secrets had been opened before…"
"This settles it," said Ron in a triumphant voice. "Aldrich Parkinson must've opened the Chamber when he was at school here and now he's told his dear daughter how to do it as well. It's so obvious!"
"Wish Dobby told you what kind of monster was in there," sighed Hermione. "I want to know how come nobody's noticed it sneaking around the school."
"Maybe it can make itself invisible," suggested Arabella, watching in ghast interest as her friend prodded leeches to the bottom of the cauldron.
"Or maybe it can disguise itself," mused Hermione thoughtfully, "pretend to be a suit of armor or something— I've read about Chameleon Ghouls —"
"You read too much," said Ron, pouring dead lacewings on top of the leeches. He crumpled up the empty lacewing bag and looked at Arabella with renowned realization.
"So you mean to say that– that Dobby stopped us from getting on the train and broke your arm?" He shook his head. "You know what? If he doesn't stop trying to save your life he's going to kill you."
"You just might be onto something, Ron," said Arabella sarcastically.
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