Chapter 2: Upon Reflection

Harry Potter had been petrified, and all I could do was sit in a chair lost in thought.

Seven days ago, I thought Hogwarts revolved around Potter. Since last year, he was constantly the subject of conversation. It didn't matter if someone liked him or hated him, he was always a hot topic.

But then he was petrified. For the first few hours, students speculated about what happened. However, by the next morning, everyone had moved on.

I thought for sure that students would be begging their parents to take them home. I mean, if Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and Parseltongue himself could be attacked, what hope did anyone else have?

Instead, they went back to gossiping about their classes and who was dating who. There was no announcement from Professor Dumbledore, no front-page article in the Daily Prophet, and no one from the Ministry came by. Nobody in Gryffindor seemed to be panicked either – I'm still baffled that a first-year kid got more of a reaction from the school than Potter.

The only two people who seemed to be impacted by it were Weasley and Granger. They seemed to have trouble remembering that he wasn't there anymore. They still left a space for him when they walked to class. And when they were having an argument, they would turn as though looking for Potter to respond. It was pitiful, but they didn't look heartbroken at all.

So, why did it feel like I was the only one who couldn't move on? I was having trouble focusing in class because I couldn't stop thinking of the last words he said to me. At night, (if I was able to get to sleep) my dreams were either of us in class where nothing was wrong or a repeat of his final moments.

Seven days had gone by, and I was exhausted. My friends knew something was wrong, but I didn't have the energy to explain myself. Nobody knew that I was the last person to see Potter – let alone that I was the first person to find him petrified. If I couldn't understand why I was so bothered by it, how could anyone else? At this point, I just wanted to stay in bed and sleep until it was all over.

"Malfoy, come on." Goyle implored. "We let you skip breakfast so that you could sleep in. You can't skip lunch too."

I nodded, and let him and Crabbe lead me to the Great Hall. Usually, they would serve themselves and ignore me until they were full. I've never seen them upset by anything. But I knew they were worried when they waited for me to fill my plate first. I didn't feel hungry at all, but I was still able to get down enough to sate my friends.

I thought that was going to be the end of it, but I should have known better. The next day, I was cleaning up my workstation at the end of Potions class, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Professor Snape behind me. "Mr. Malfoy, a word after class."

I nodded and waited around for class to be dismissed. After the last student shut the door behind them, he started. "Mr. Malfoy, I assume you know why I've called you here?" I immediately didn't like where this was going, so I decided to play dumb. "No, sir. Is there a problem?"

He wasn't amused. "Apparently there is. Several of your housemates and teachers have informed me that you haven't been acting like yourself lately."

"I'm fine," I said, trying to keep my voice level.

"Is that so, Mr. Malfoy?" Professor Snape grabbed a piece of parchment off of his desk, which he then tossed at my feet. I recognized it as the last homework assignment I had turned in. There were red markings all over it with a large "F" at the top. I looked back up at him, and he stared at me. "I know you're well-aware that you're the top student among 2nd year Slytherins and just shy of being the best in your year. If you don't get it together, you'll likely receive more failing grades and could eventually be taken off of the Quidditch team."

"I–"

"Or perhaps you've forgotten that your father is on the board of governors?" He sneered. "You know he comes without warning, and if he were to ask about how you're doing…Well, I'm not going to lie to him."

I felt a shiver go down my spine.

"So, I'm going to ask you again, what's the matter with you?"

I struggled to come up with an excuse. "I've been having trouble sleeping lately, that's all. I'll be fine."

"Mr. Malfoy, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's the problem."

I paused to think. How do I even bring this up? "Sir, there is something that I've been wondering." He nodded for me to continue.

I hesitated, then launched into it. "Why does nobody care that Potter was petrified? For months, everyone has been saying he's the Heir of Slytherin and they've been fearful after every attack. So…why is this being treated like it's no big deal now? The only known Parselmouth in school was attacked by the very beast that was supposed to obey him. But nobody seems to be freaking out about it at all–"

"Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape cut me off. "I think the bigger question right now is why are you so upset by it."

I didn't have an answer.

The school bell chimed in the distance, warning that students only had a few minutes to get to class. Professor Snape pulled a blank piece of parchment towards him, wrote something, then handed it to me.

"What's this, sir?"

"It's a pass to the Hospital Wing," He replied evenly. "It's also a request for Madam Pomfrey to give you a vial of Dreamless Sleep potion."

I looked down at the note, then back at him. "Thank you, sir."

He pointed down at the parchment still at my feet. "Take the rest of the day to get yourself together. If things don't improve, mark my words, I will be notifying your father. Am I making myself clear?"

I nodded. "Crystal." He waved me off, and I departed.

When I got to the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey wasn't there. It was just me and a bunch of beds with curtains around them.

Curiosity got the better of me and I peeked through the first curtain. The first year Gryffindor had his hands up in front of him. I couldn't help but wonder if his arms would hurt from being that way for several months.

The second bed had the annoying Hufflepuff. He looked surprised, but wasn't as interesting to gawk at.

The third one had Nearly Headless Nick. His still form gave me the creeps, as his head was hanging by a thin piece of neck.

The fourth bed, however, had the person I was looking for. I hesitated, not sure if I wanted to see him again.

"Do you hear it? The voice?"

Potter was laid out just like how I remembered, except his glasses had been removed. His green eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. I felt uneasy looking at him.

"It's going to kill someone, I have to stop it!"

I stared down at him, mulling over his words – as I had again and again since I first heard them. After the attack, one thought stayed with me: Potter knew something. He had heard a voice and ran because of it. If he hadn't ended up like this, I would have thought he had lost his mind. But now I was wondering if he had been lured to that corridor…

Suddenly, the situation felt too big. I backed up and shut the curtain behind me, desperate to quickly leave the infirmary. I almost reached the door when it opened for me. On the other side was Madam Pomfrey.

"Mr. Malfoy, what are you doing here?" She frowned.

I wordlessly handed her the note from Professor Snape. She looked at it, then walked over to a locked cabinet. "Finally, an actual patient and not someone coming to gawk."

"Has that been happening a lot?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," Madam Pomfrey sighed, looking through her supply of potions. "There's a few who've done it over the last few months, but one student, in particular, has been doing it repeatedly since last week. I finally had it today when I saw her aiming her wand at Potter and took her straight to her head of house."

That's interesting.

She returned with a vial and handed it to me. "Take this at bedtime. It'll knock you out within seconds, so be sure you're ready to sleep for several hours." I thanked her and left.

Classes were still in session and I didn't want to return to the dungeons just yet, so I ended up wandering around. The revelation I had in the infirmary set my mind ablaze and the more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that something or someone related to the Chamber of Secrets wanted Potter out of the way. Did he stumble upon information that would have jeopardized the Heir's plans? Was the Heir afraid of competition from another Parselmouth? Or maybe…

I snapped out of my thoughts and realized my feet had taken me back to where the attack had happened. The mirror was exactly has it had been a few days ago, but looking at it made me feel uneasy. I turned to look over my shoulder, but there was nothing there. I faced the mirror again, looking for something – anything. But all I saw was my tired, disheveled appearance.

Annoyed, I left and retreated back to the dungeons. I don't know what I was expecting to find, but now I felt stupid for thinking a mirror would have all the answers. When I got to the common room, I threw myself on the couch closest to the large fireplace. I closed my eyes, and leaned back wondering what I should do now.

Apparently, I had dozed off because the next thing I knew, someone was calling my name and shaking me awake. I opened my eyes to see Crabbe and Goyle staring down at me. "It's dinner time." I ran my hand over my face and sat up. I was surprised to see sandwiches and pumpkin juice sitting on the coffee table in front of me.

I looked up at them questioningly.

"Professor Snape said we can have dinner in here tonight," Goyle answered.

I frowned. "Oh, okay…"

Goyle and Crabbe exchanged looks, then sat on either side of me. We ate in silence until we all had our fill. When I put my goblet down, Crabbe spoke up. "Malfoy, even though we don't know what's going on with you, we just want you to know that we're here to help – if we can." I stared down at my hands. "What do you mean?"

"When you're obsessed with something, you don't think of anything else," Goyle replied, carefully choosing his words. "Usually when that happens, we either try to help you or stay out of your way. But this time, we don't know what to do."

I considered his words. "You seem to be under the impression that something needs to be done."

"Well, yeah." Crabbe retorted. "You don't just stew over a problem and leave it at that. You always think of a plan, then follow through on it. Like, last year you were so upset Potter got Seeker that you spent months figuring out how to get on the team. Your father wouldn't have bought the whole team new brooms without you convincing him to do so."

"I don't know what I can do this time," I admitted quietly.

"Well…" Goyle started, getting up. "How about you do everything and see what works?" He and Crabbe cleared up our dishes, then departed.

I was once again left alone in the common room. As I eyed the low flames in the fireplace, I started to piece together a messy, questionable plan that I hoped might work.