Disclaimer: See Chapter One
Updated: Sunday 27th March 2005
Chapter Fifty Three: Bludgers, Duels and Potions.
Estella, had, of course, heard all about the writing on the wall the next day when she went to join her classmates for breakfast in the Great Hall. Whilst she had yet to think of any books that she could research to discover more about this mystical Chamber and the fear it seemed to be instilling in all the adults who knew about it, she wasn't at all dismayed to hear about what had happened to Mr Filch's cat. The cat apparently had witnessed something that caused it to lapse into a permanent state of petrification. As amused as Estella was, however, there was something about the situation that befuddled her. Only a magical creature could solicit a victim into such a state of paralysis – had it been a student playing a prank, the teachers would be able to cast the 'finite incantatem' and be done with it – and this particular case required a powerful restorative potion steeped in mature mandrake roots to remedy it. All the pieces of the puzzle were staring her right in the face, she just knew it, and yet the answers were still shrouded, lingering out of her reach.
"We don't need no education…" She sang softly to herself as she poured over some reference books in the library, the walkman her Godfather had magically charmed to contain his entire Muggle Music collection (in payment of his bet) and work for her at the school was blaring softly in her ears.
"… no dark sarcasm in the classroom…" she smirked at this line, wondering distractedly if Pink Floyd had ever met her Uncle.
"All in all it's just some writing on the wall…" She muttered, amending the lyrics to suit the bane of her thoughts.
"How can ye have any puddin' if ye don't eat yer meat?" She mimicked at the open book before her as the age-old Muggle song played itself out.
"Good heavens, Estella! Put those books away and get some sunlight before you go completely insane!" Draco Malfoy's leering voice chided her from behind as the silence between tracks alerted her to his presence.
"H-how long have you been here?" She stammered, shutting the walkman off.
"Long enough to know you're round the twist!" Draco rolled his eyes. "What were you singing?"
Thinking fast, Estella fished out the walkman. "Stole this off some half-blood Gryffindor." She sneered. 'Well it's almost true' She rationalised. Her Godfather was a Gryffindor, and the bet had been so assured it was a steal.
"It's a Muggle music box. For what it's worth some of their music ain't all bad. Disgustingly primitive maybe, and definitely quaint, but a change nonetheless than the limited scope of music we have to choose from in our contemporary society. The only reason I'm listening to it is because it's easier than putting up with noisy dunderhead Slytherins when I'm trying to study."
Draco eyed her curiously, smirking at the inference. "Oh very funny, Estella. Priceless." He drawled, looking at the muggle contraption with thinly veiled curiosity. "Give me a listen then. It er, may provide an insider insight into how our inferiors operate."
Estella rolled her eyes, but nodded concurringly. "Exactly what I was thinking, Dray."
Reluctantly offered her distant cousin a earplug. "I'm not sure how you can select songs, so we'll just see what comes on, hey?"
Draco nodded, shifting uncomfortably close to Estella as the headphone lead was not all that long and he didn't want anyone to see he was playing with a Muggle device. As Estella leant in accommodatingly, she could only hope that one of her friends didn't see her like this. She didn't really want them all knowing about the walkman, and yet it would be the only plausible way to explain why her and the Prince of Slytherin were sitting so… so… close.
The song she incidentally decided to play (didn't know how to work it, her arse!) was Jimi Hendrix's Voodoo Chile.
"Muggles are even more mentally challenged than I thought!" Draco scoffed as the song ended. "The guy sounds like he's delirious on Absinthe!"
"You don't know the half of it!" Estelle rolled her eyes, tempted to tell Draco how the singer had choked to death on his own vomit after overdosing on a cocktail of Muggle drugs and alcohol.
"Yes well. Don't listen to it Estella, it will rot your brain!" Draco pleaded in a almost brotherly tone. "If you want a peaceful place to study I'm sure I could arrange something more, appropriate."
"Thank you Draco." Estella said with mock appreciation as she spirited the walkman away. "What are you doing in here anyway?"
Idle chitchat and familial exchanges later, and Estella was gratefully excused of Draco's presence as he excused himself to play in the first Quidditch match of the season. Estella had politely declined his invitation to watch the match from the player's box by feigning susceptibility to the harsh weather outside and being restricted to indoor activities by her Uncle. It was while in the library then, butting her head up against the proverbial 'brick in the wall', that news of Harry's injury during the game reached her.
Waiting until she knew the coast was clear, she snuck into the infirmary to visit a sleeping Harry.
"Pst, Harry!" Estella whispered. "I heard what happened, I just wanted to see if you were alright."
Harry sat up and took his glasses from Estella's outstretched hand. "Thanks. But do you think you could possible convince your Uncle to invent a nicer-tasting skele-grow?"
"Ugh, you had to drink that?" Estella groaned in sympathy. Had he known of the potion's ingredients he'd be worried about more than just the taste. "Tough luck, that."
Talk soon moved to the petrified form of Colin Creevy, whom lay motionless on a bed further down the room.
"I've been researching like mad to try and put my finger on it!" Estella confessed. "The creature that's doing all this." She elaborated. "It's eating at me because I know I should know what it is! All I can tell is that petrification is the least of its skills. The teacher's wouldn't be so antsy if that's all it could do."
She then went on to tell Harry about the night of her birthday in her Uncle's quarters and how out of character he was being in his exhibited concern for her safety. Harry, in turn, confided in Estella about the Gryffindor trio's plan to brew Polyjuice to sneak into the Slytherin dorms.
"I know he's your cousin…" Harry tried to explain. "But it makes sense the heir has to be in Slytherin."
"Harry you're being ridiculous!" Estella raged. "That's the kind of narrow minded thinking that created you-know-who in the first place! Look at me for example! Both sides of my family are so thoroughly seeped in Slytherin House, yet I'm a Ravenclaw! Just because the Heir of Slytherin is Slytherin's descendent it doesn't guarantee that whoever it is, is a student of that house!"
"They'd have to be, Estella!" Harry hissed. "Who else would be evil enough to want to unleash the monster of the Chamber on the Muggle born students?"
"Mrs Norris wasn't a student!" Estella tried to reason with him. "And not all servants of Voldemort were Slytherins either." She added, indirectly referring to her father's crimes against Muggles. "Nor are all Slytherins evil!"
"Ok, ok!" Harry raised his hands in defeat. "But I can't just do nothing, Estella!"
"Oh, of course, I forgot! You're Harry Potter! You're responsible for saving the day!" Estella mocked. "Honestly, Harry, why put it upon yourself? Maybe my Uncle was right. You just want to be the hero."
"Think whatever you want to think, Estella. I don't care anymore." Harry said brokenly. "I'm sick of trying to measure up to everyone's expectations."
"Then don't!" Estella cried, shaking him by his good shoulder none too gently. "Stop trying so hard! Walk away Harry, let the teacher's handle it! They have access to ancestral records and resources you can only dream of. Don't waste your time setting off on hair-brained ideas that hold absolutely no merit!" She pleaded. "Don't you think if Malfoy even knew he was a Slytherin heir – and you'd surely have to know you were if you knew you had the power to open the Chamber – that Draco would have been gloating about it to me for years?"
"I-I didn't think of that!" Harry shrugged, scratching his head.
"That's alright, you're a Gryffindor. It's in your blood not to think!" Estella snorted. "Just like you didn't think to ask me for help when you decided to brew Polyjuice. Does Hermione even have a clue what could go wrong if the fluxweed is harvested prematurely or if she so much as stews the lacewings for so little as a minute too long? I've watched the Potion being brewed literally hundreds of times! I could have helped! I even have the bloody book the recipe comes from in my trunk!"
"Well we would have asked, but Ron…" Harry began.
"Yeah I know, Ron still doesn't trust me. He probably thinks I'm the heir too, I bet." Estella sighed, laughing mirthlessly. "Merlin Harry, you don't even give me the chance to get Ron to trust me. I can only think that maybe you believe his rot."
Harry looked at her awkwardly. "You can still help if you want… I'm sure Hermione will appreciate it." He said.
"Bollocks. I never said I wanted to help! It's a bad idea, Harry." Estella said sternly. "You're wasting your efforts in something that won't give you any answers. I don't have time for such frivolities. Not when I am so close to putting the pieces together myself. So by all means, go, brew your potion, have your fun. I'm sure it will be a fun story to tell your children."
On that note, Estella turned on her heel and left the infirmary without warning, leaving a flabbergasted Harry slack jawed and staring in her wake.
A week or so before Christmas, Professor Lockhart had taken it upon himself to start a duelling club. Estella had wanted to attend, but her Uncle had warned her against displaying the breadth of her duelling knowledge to her classmates and encouraged her not to go.
"You won't learn anything, Estella." He had assured her.
Ever since the Christmas after her seventh birthday when she had received her parents wands, Severus and Remus had worked at tutoring Estella extensively in the arts of magical defence. By her tenth birthday she was competent enough to hold her own almost sufficiently against either of the two men in her life; her subsequent agility and instilled prowess would thereby be difficult to conceal in a duel club environment as her actions now came to her like a second nature.
It was therefore with much consternation that Estella forwent the opportunity to watch her Uncle 'assist' the pathetic excuse of a Defence teacher in the rudimentary elements of duelling and busied herself in the library, researching the Chamber of Secret's creature instead. Later that night, when she had heard from her classmates how Harry had spoken Parseltongue, Estella was astonished. While part of her supposed Harry could be the heir, and that his apparent drive to point the finger at a Slytherin was all an act of smoke and daggers, some baser instinct told her it was not true. When she then noticed people in the school turn against Harry and fear him, she sent him a note of support, suggesting to him that he should wear the t-shirt that she had bought him for his birthday and approach it all with his tongue in cheek. Harry didn't reply, but the weekend before Christmas he could sure enough be found parading himself around the school wearing the black t-shirt with 'Public Enemy' branded on it in stencilled white letters that Estella had bought him at Reading.
Not many people got the joke. Estella on the other hand took a photo to savour the moment. It was such a contradiction to see people shirk and shrink away from the boy-who-lived instead of fawning over him and gushing like they so often did. The adverse reactions were so visibly overpowering in the physicality of the people in the photo, Estella was determined to make a copy for her Uncle for Christmas. The image spoke volumes of just how the man chose to see Harry.
End Chapter: Bludgers, Duels and Potions