I am sorry this took so long, I thought this was posted about a month ago, but it wasn't. Same happened to a chapter of "The Lost Tales of Beedle the Bard." So that's posted. Another chapter of "Chosen Two" is out as well.

Since the disastrous episode of the pixies, Professor Lockhart had not brought live creatures to class. Instead, he read passages from his books to them and sometimes reenacted some of the more dramatic bits. Lockhart would usually pick Harry to help him with these reconstructions, but she refused and he had to pick someone else; so far, she'd avoided being a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had "cured of a babbling curse," a yeti with a head cold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since "Lockhart had dealt with him." Harry of course didn't believe any of those had actually happened -- or at least that Lockhart didn't do it.

Lockhart attempted to get Harry to play a werewolf but instead was only able to get Lavender Brown to do it.

"Nice loud howl, Ms. Brown -- exactly -- and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced -- like this -- slammed him to the floor -- thus -- with one hand, I managed to hold him down -- with my other, I put my wand to his throat -- I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm -- he let out a painful cry -- go on, Brown -- more distraught -- good -- the fur vanished -- the fangs shrank -- and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective -- and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks. Remember, that charm will turn them back into humans long enough to drain them, but they will turn back in an hour if the moon is still up."

The bell rang and Lockhart helped Lavender to her feet -- she looked rather flush.

"Homework -- compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! A signed copy of Magical Me to the author of the best one!"

The class began to leave, and Harry would've been the first one out if she hadn't knocked over her inkpot. By the time she and her friends finished cleaning up with the simple cleaning charm, Lockhart had noticed they were still there and decided to keep them behind.

"Harry!" he said, while she was stuffing the now-empty pot into her bag annoyedly. "Tomorrow's the first quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you're a useful player. I was a seeker, too. I was asked to try for the National Squad but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the dark forces. Still, if you ever feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players. . . ."

Harry made an indignant noise in her throat and then was hurried off by her two friends who could tell she was about to punch out Lockhart's ridiculously shiny teeth.

"I don't believe it," she said as the three walked to their common room. "How could someone be such a wanker!"

"That's because he's a brainless git," said Ron. "But what's a wanker? Muggle slang?"

"No," Hermione said. "At least I don't think it's just muggles. It's a git but meaner."

"So more accurate," said Ron, smiling.

Harry woke early on Saturday morning and lay for a while, thinking about the coming quidditch match. She 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 racing brooms gold could buy. She had never wanted to beat Slytherin so badly. After half an hour of laying there with her insides churning, she got up, dressed, and went to breakfast early, where she found the rest of the Gryffindor team huddled at the long, empty table, all looking just as nervous as her, and whispering.

As Harry sat to join them, the conversation stopped and all but Wood looked at her. He was still too occupied with a notebook filled with quidditch plays.

"What?" she asked.

"They don't believe us," Fred said.

"We've pulled too many pranks on them," George said.

"Don't believe what?" Harry asked as the rest of the team seemed to scrutinize every bit of her.

"Why you've been wearing the girl's uniform all year," Alicia Spinnet said. "There've been so many rumors we didn't know, and unless what they said is true, we think it's gone on long enough."

"And if what they said is true," Katie Bell said. "You should've told us sooner."

"Well, what did they say?" Harry asked tensely.

"That you're transgender," Angelina Jhonson said.

"Er -- yeah, they're right," Harry said. "Surprise?" The awkward smile on her face simply made everyone laugh, which finally got Wood to look up.

"Oh! Harry, when did you get here?"

As eleven o'clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadium. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. Ron and Hermione came hurrying over to wish Harry good luck as she entered the locker rooms. It was a little awkward as Angelina very forcefully pulled Harry to the girls' side.

"You just told us you're a girl, you're not going over there."

The team pulled on their scarlet Gryffindor robes, Harry keeping her back turned, then sat down to listen to Wood's usual pre-match pep talk.

"Slytherin has better brooms than us," he began. "No point denying it. But not only is it an entire team on brooms made for just the chasers, but we've got better people on ours. We've trained harder than they have, we've been flying in all weathers --" ("Too true," muttered George. "I haven't been properly dry since August") "-- 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.

"It'll be down to you, Harry, 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 got to."

"So no pressure, Harry," said Fred, winking at her. She wasn't sure why, but she felt her face heat up at the unfamiliar gesture.

As they walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins in the crowd made their boos and hisses heard, too. Above all the noise was Lee Jordan commentating even on their entrance.

"Gryffindor first on the pitch, with the wonderful captain and keeper Oliver Wood taking the lead! Coming up right behind him on either side -- don't ask me which is which, our beaters, the Human Bludgers themselves, Fred and George Weasley! Behind them are the three wonderful ladies that make up our chaser squad, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, and Angelina Johnson! And finally, our seeker, the only real topic in the Hogwarts rumor mill, but that'll be dismissed as the beautiful lady that is Harry Potter!"

Harry didn't listen as the Slytherin team was announced, but soon after, Madam Hooch, the Quidditch Master, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did in the form of some kind of odd male dominance ritual. Harry didn't even try to understand why they were staring so intently at each other and trying to grip each other's hands tighter.

With a giggle, Harry realized how that could be taken as a romantic description then moved on.

"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch. "Three . . . two . . . one . . ."

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch.

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

Harry had no time to reply. At that very moment, a heavy black bludger came pelting toward her; she avoided it so narrowly that her ponytail was hit as it passed.

"Close one, Harry!" said one of the twins, streaking past her with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward a Slytherin. Harry watched as the twin gave the bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey, but the Slytherin beater intercepted and sent it flying straight for Harry again.

Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and George (Harry realized from the watch he always wore) managed to hit it hard toward Malfoy. This time the other beater shot in and sent it once again toward Harry.

Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the pitch. Halfway there, the first beater hit the other bludger straight at her. Were they allowed to target her? Weren't the bludgers supposed to target the beaters if they did that? Bludgers didn't let themselves be concentrated on one player like this; it was their job to try and unseat as many people as possible. . . .

Fred deflected the bludger just before it came into contact with Harry, as she didn't have time to swerve.

"Gotcha!" Fred yelled happily, but he was wrong; as though they were waiting for it, the other beater immediately sent the bludger back at Harry. Harry decided to fly off at full speed.

It had started to rain; Harry felt heavy drops fall onto her face, splattering onto her glasses. She regretted only asking Hermione to charm her glasses to stay on her face. She didn't have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until she heard Jordan say, "Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero --"

The Slytherins' superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs, and Harry knew that if she stopped she'd immediately have a bludger after her. Never mind, Harry realized she must already have a bludger after her, as Fred and George were right behind her passing the bludger back and forth with the Slytherin beaters.

"Someone's -- tampered -- with -- these -- bludgers --" Fred grunted, swinging his bat with all his might, as the game of pass continued.

"It should have veered off by now!" George said. "We need a time out." He was trying to signal to Wood and stop the beaters from breaking her nose at the same time.

"What's going on?" said Wood as the Gryffindor team huddled together, while Slytherins in the crowd jeered. "We're being flattened. Fred, George, why didn't you stop Flint from stopping Angelina from scoring?"

"We were twenty feet above her, stopping the beaters from taking off Harry's head! They tampered with the bludgers, to get rid of the target failsafe! They won't leave Harry alone! They haven't gone for anyone else all game."

"But the bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch's office since our last practice, and the was nothing wrong with them then," Wood said, anxiously.

"We weren't trying to target someone then," the twins said in unison.

Madam Hooch was walking toward them. Over Hooch's shoulder, Harry could see the Slytherin team jeering and pointing in her direction.

"Listen," said Harry as Madam Hooch came nearer and nearer, "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. Take one of the bludgers, help the rest of the team, and let me deal with the targeting beaters.

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

Wood was looking from Harry to the Weasleys.

"Oliver, this is insane," said Alicia angrily. "You can't let Harry deal with them on her own. They're obviously cheating, just call the foul."

"That won't do anything, it's Slytherin," Harry explained. "They'll let you take the points, take me out, then just not have Malfoy get the Snitch till they're ahead."

"Then we'll ask for an Inquiry over the tampered bludgers," Katie said.

"If we stop now, we'll have to forfeit the match!" said Harry.

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

Madam Hooch had joined them.

"Ready to resume play?" she asked Wood.

Wood looked down, deep in thought.

"All right," he said. "Fred, George, you heard Harry -- help the rest of the team and let them deal with the cheaters."

The rain was falling more heavily now. On Madam Hooch's whistle, Harry kicked hard into the air and heard the telltale whoosh of the bludger miss behind her. Higher and higher Harry climbed; she looped and swooped, spiraled, zigzagged, and rolled. Slightly dizzy, avoiding another fierce attack from the beaters' bludger. She could hear gasps and boos from most of the crowd, and laughter from the Slytherins, but only she or Wood could stop them on account of her cheating because of some old rules. The beaters were persistent, and while they were faster, she was more agile and could dodge their blows; she began a kind of roller coaster ride around the stadium, squinting through the silver sheets of rain to the Gryffindor goalposts, where Adrian Pucey was trying to get past Wood --

A whistling in Harry's ear told her the bludger had just narrowly missed her again; she turned right over and sped in the opposite direction, as that was the most likely way to get more time.

"Training for the ballet, Potter?" yelled Malfoy as Harry was forced to do a stupid kind of twirl in midair to dodge another attack from the beaters. "Of course, a sissy like you'd want to do that!"

Glaring at Malfoy's stupidly handsome smirk in hatred, she saw it -- the Golden Snitch. It was hovering inches above Malfoy's left ear -- and he, busy laughing at Harry, hadn't seen it.

For a moment, Harry forgot about the cheating beaters and stared at Malfoy, not daring to speed towards him in case he looked up and saw the Snitch.

WHAM.

She had stayed still too long. The beaters got a clean shot, at last, smashing the bludger into her elbow, and she felt her arm break. Dimly, dazed by the searing pain in her arm, she slid sideways on her rain-drenched broom, one knee still crooked over it, her right arm dangling useless at her side -- the beaters sent the bludger pelting back for a second attack, this time aiming at her face -- Harry swerved out of the way, one idea firmly lodged in her numb brain: get to Malfoy.

Through a haze of rain and pain, she dived for the fair, smirking face below her and saw its eyes widen with fear: Malfoy thought Harry was attacking him.

"What the --" he gasped, too stunned to get out of the way.

Harry took her remaining hand off her broom and made a wild snatch; she felt her fingers close on the cold Snitch but was only now gripping the broom with her legs. She fell from her broom, but as Malfoy was still in the way, she collide into him. She felt his arms wrap around her in instinct as he was knocked from his broom.

The two fell in a dazed embrace, and somewhere in the back of Harry's dazed mind, she noted that Malfoy's face seemed about as red as a Weasley's hair.

With a splattering thud, the two hit the mud. Her arm was wrapped around Malfoy, but still hanging at a very strange angle; riddled with pain, she heard a lot of gasping and shouting. She focused on the Snitch in her good hand.

"Aha," she said vaguely. "We've won."

And she fainted, still entangled with Malfoy.

She came around, rain falling on her face, still lying on the field, as Malfoy was being pulled off her. He apparently had also fainted and had yet to come around. A figure leaned over her, and she saw a glitter of teeth.

"Oh, no, not you -- Bring him back," she mumbled. "He was warm. . ."

"Doesn't know what he's saying," said Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd of people pressing in around them. "Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm."

"No!" Harry said, a little more coherently. "I'll keep it like this, thanks. . . ."

She tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible. She heard a familiar clicking noise nearby.

"I don't want a photo of this, Colin," she said loudly.

"Lie back, Harry," said Lockhart in an attempt at a soothing voice. "It's a simple charm I've used countless times --"

"Why can't I just go to the hospital wing?" said Harry through clenched teeth.

"They should really, Professor," said a muddy Wood, who couldn't help grinning even though his Seeker was injured. "Great capture, Harry, really spectacular, your best yet, I'd say --"

Through the thicket of legs around him, Harry spotted Fred and George squaring up with the Slytherin beaters for a muggle fight.

"Stand back," said Lockhart, who was rolling up his jade-green sleeves.

"No -- don't --" Harry said weakly, but Lockhart was twirling his wand and a second later had directed it straight at her arm.

A strange and unpleasant sensation started at her shoulder and spread all the way down to her fingertips. It felt as though her arm was being deflated. She didn't dare look at what was happening. She had shut her eyes, her face turned away from her arm, but her worst fears were realized as the people above her gasped and Colin Creevey began clicking away madly. Her arm didn't hurt anymore -- nor did it feel remotely like an arm.

"Ah," said Lockhart. "Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That's the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry, just toddle up to the Hospital wing -- ah, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, would you escort him? -- and Madam Pomfrey will be able to -- er -- tidy you up a bit."

As Harry got to her feet, she felt strangely lopsided. Taking a deep breath she looked down at her right side. What she saw nearly made her pass out again.

Poking out of the end of her robes was what looked like a thick, flesh-colored rubber glove. She tried to move her fingers and all she got were weak muscle spasms.

Lockhart hadn't mended Harry's bones. He had removed them.

Madam Pomfrey wasn't at all pleased.

"You should have come straight to me!" she raged, holding up the sad, limp remainder of what, half an hour before, had been a working arm. "I can mend bones in a second -- but growing them back --"

"You will be able to, won't you?" said Harry desperately.

"I'll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful," said Madam Pomfrey grimly, throwing Harry a nightgown. "You'll have to stay the night."

Ron and Hermione stayed outside the room while Harry put on the nightgown. She couldn't be as upset as she probably should be now; she'd gotten feminine clothing other than her uniform. She just hoped she got to keep the nightgown.

As she swung herself onto the bed, her arm flapping rather uselessly, the two waiting and Madam Pomfrey came through the door. Madam Pomfrey was holding a large bottle of something labeled Skele-Gro.

"You're in for a rough night," she said, pouring out a slightly steaming cup and handing it to her. "Regrowing bones is a nasty business. I'm sure Booth could tell you, but at least now we know your potions don't agree with magical rash creams."

The Skele-Gro was absolutely terrible, Harry almost spat it out and Ron laughed at the face she was making. Madam Pomfrey was muttering about dangerous sports and inept teachers as she cast the diagnostic spell Harry had grown accustomed to.

"We won, though," Ron said to break the silence, a grin on his face. "That was some catch you made, and you took out Malfoy; I think he's in the next room."

"I want to know how they fixed that bludger," Hermione darkly stated.

"I bet it'll be on Hannah's list of things she's tired of him boasting about tomorrow," Harry said, sinking back into her pile of pillows.

"What was it last week?" Ron chuckled "How confident he was about his chances of beating you?"

At that moment, the whole of the LGBT club burst into the room.

"Brilliant flying Harry!" Jex shouted at the same time Flix yelled, "Great job avoiding those beaters!"

"Thanks for taking Malfoy out for us," Hannah said. "Now we won't have to listen to his voice for a while."

"I don't really mind his voice," Harry admitted, "what he says with it is what bothers me."

"Perhaps you could teach him to say better things," Luna teased, placing his hands on her hips and leaning forward.

"Like she'll get the chance," Lacy said. "He'd be talking too much to learn anything."

Ginny was about to add in her own joke, but Madam Pomfrey ushered them all out for Harry to get some rest. Harry drank the offered dreamless sleep, diluted as it was to not mess with her potions and drifted off into the emptiness of sleep.

Pain was the first thing her brain registered when she woke up. The stinging stabbing pain that told her the Skele-Gro was working. Next was the cool, wet cloth pressed to her forehead. And then it all came into focus. Or at least as much as possible when she wasn't wearing her glasses.

Some small tan figure was sitting on top of her, pressing the cloth to her forehead and softly sobbing.

"Dobby?" she asked "What are you doing here?"

"Dobby came to apologize, miss," Dobby sobbed. "Dobby wanted to keep Harry Potter safe, miss, but Dobby was made to assist in a second plot to endanger those within Hogwarts."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked the elf as she reached around for her glasses.

"The Young Master made Dobby tamper with the bludgers, Miss."

"So you came to apologize for that? Well, I forgive you, it's your master's fault, not yours."

"That is not all, Miss. Dobby also came to apologize trying to trap you with the muggles. He watched them and saw they are like Dobby's masters. Harry Potter said going to Hogwarts was like Dobby punishing himself, but I's now know going to Hogwarts for Harry Potter, Miss, is like Dobby being freed. Dobby would never take freedom."

"Thanks? I forgive you," Harry said hesitantly. "Is there anything else you wanted to tell me?"

Dobby nodded vigorously "Dobby cannot talk about it directly, but he has learned that Harry Potter, Miss, is good with figuring out what Dobby wants her to know."

"Alright," Harry said, sitting up. "Is this about the same as last time? The plot to endanger everyone in Hogwarts?"

"Yes," Dobby nodded. "The very same one. Dobby is not allowed to say what it is, but he was not forbidden from saying that it has already begun, nor is he forbidden from sharing that it has happened before."

"Do you mean the stuff with the Heir and Mrs. Norris getting petrified?"

Dobby simply stared.

"Not allowed to say? That seems like confirmation... And it's happened before?"

"It has happened before, yes. A young girl was killed before."

"Killed!? Well, we can't let that happen. Um.." Harry sat for a few minutes, a hand on her chin as she tried to think it through.

"Can you tell me who your masters are?"

"Dobby has served the Malfoy family for as long as he could remember, and his mother told him she had too."

"Of course it was Malfoy," Harry groaned before a realization struck her. "Malfoy said he doesn't know anything, and he'd be boasting up and down the halls if he was on about it. Is it your master's plot or one of his pal's?"

"Dobby cannot say. He can say that Master Lucius has had no contact with his allies since before the plot was made," Dobby said smugly.

"Wait, so how is he doing this without Malfoy being involved?"

Before Dobby could answer, his ears perked up and he turned to the door.

"Dobby must go," he said very dramatically before snapping his fingers and fading into a sparkly dust, then that too faded.

"While I am disappointed in you and Taylor," Madam Pomfrey's voice filtered through the door. "I will admit to playing favorites and say that you were summoned to a late-night evaluation to make up for the one we missed due to Ms. Potter's injury."

The door to Harry's room was opened to reveal a worried-looking Flix and a ruffled Madam Pomfrey.

"Oh, did we wake you, lass?" Pomfrey asked. "Well, it saves time. Up you come."

Harry was whisked about before she could even fully understand what was happening, soon Professors Sprout, Flitwick, McGonagall, and Dumbledore all arrived at a nearby room where Jex lay petrified, his face screwed up to peering through a glass bottle like it was a telescope.

All the gathered staff were discussing fervently about the event, yet Harry and Flix heard none of it. They were too busy looking shocked at their friend and classmate. Repeating through Harry's mind was a single, horrible thought. All her friends could be next.