Seeker and Chaser had both found themselves in the infirmary, after nightfall. Neither had been hurt badly - Seeker's injury was only as bad as it had been thanks to Professor Lockhart's tender care. Chaser, meanwhile, had shattered his collarbone and banged his head, but that too had been easily dealt with.
Of greater concern was their conversation with Dobby.
In both worlds, Dobby had admitted to barring their way to Hogwarts, and then later to attacking with the bludger. If Harry was hurt, the thinking went, then he would have to leave, right? Dobby seemed insistent on the great Harry Potter, sirs, leaving Hogwarts as quickly as possible.
In both worlds, he had left as soon as the professors arrived, carrying a petrified Colin Creevey.
Rose had made her way back to the Slytherin dorm, where several students assumed she had been deliberately attacked for her actions on Halloween. She replied that the professors were already aware of what happened, and that the culprit would die painfully, and to let it be. That got her some chuckles in the common room, and lightened the mood a bit after the Slytherin team's loss in the match, which was her purpose in making the remark.
When Dobby appeared in her dorm room, Rose politely asked him to stand next to Daphne, rather than on her bed - because she was not happy.
Her Dobby, to the elf's credit, held his own in the argument that followed. Yes, he didn't want her friends to be harmed. No, he couldn't protect them. Did his master cause the petrifications? No answer - which was enough of an answer for her. Did his master's son know about it? No answer.
Spellforged, for his part, had not known what to think. For a house elf to risk disobeying their master in this way was highly unusual. He decided to flip a galleon and take a chance. When Dobby appeared to him in Flitwick's office, as he dropped off the 'rogue' bludger, Spellforged begged off.
"Dobby," Spellforged had said, before Dobby could speak. "I know you want to talk about this, and I want to talk about this, but right now I'm pretty angry."
The elf's eyes grew wide, but the elf would not be deterred from his course. "The great Harry Potter, sir, is right to be angry. He was told that Hogwarts is not safe, and came anyway. Now Hogwarts bludgers attack him. He should go to his home, he will be safe there, sir."
Spellforged sighed. He did not have the patience for this today. "Dobby, if I call on you, will you come speak to me?"
Dobby looked at him, considering the request. "If Harry Potter calls, I will come. If my master has no need of me."
"Great. Tomorrow at one in the afternoon, I and my advisor will be at the football pitch. We will be alone. Come then, and we will talk."
Dobby nodded quickly, his expression hinting that he wanted to say something else. Then he disappeared in a soft pop.
Spellforged would have time to prepare for his meeting with Dobby - which suited the ravenclaw just fine. Each of their meetings with the wayward elf had been different, and each gave additional clues. If he treated it as a fourth meeting, rather than his first, Spellforged hoped that he might learn something new.
He felt like he had to pull double duty, there, for Marigold remained silent late into the night.
oOoOoOoOo
"Marigold still isn't up," said Chaser, during their conference the night after the quidditch match. The worry in his voice was obvious, especially since it was a worry they all shared.
"I felt when you two got hurt," said Rose. "I didn't feel it when she got hurt, she just dropped out of the link."
"Same," said Spellforged. "It felt like she had fallen asleep or passed out or something."
Seeker's voice was quiet. "Would we feel it if she, you know…"
"Died?" Rose asked. "I'm not enough of a gryffindor to risk finding out anytime soon, and I hope you aren't either."
"I'm not," Seeker said. "But that's not what I meant. Spellforged, let me ask you something I've wondered about for a long time."
"Alright, go ahead." Spellforged replied.
"The day I got my letter, the day I learned about Hogwarts, I woke up to angry shouting. I felt a pain in my leg. Then I lost consciousness." He paused. "I know the shouting was in the Goblin tongue, now. So I know that it was you I heard."
"Yes," he confirmed.
"So, I heard you in a dead sleep. You were loud enough, across a link we didn't know about yet, to wake me up."
They could hear Spellforged's sigh. "My letter was waiting for me when I awoke that morning. Our owls have always been quicker than most, and Father and I expected a letter. When I went to the training pit for my morning exercises, the trainer announced that I would need to meet with the Director later that day. Another goblin overheard, and questioned my right to go to Hogwarts."
"Why?" asked Chaser. "You're a wizard, of course you could go if you wanted."
"Ah," said Spellforged, "I'm a wizard and a citizen of the Goblin Nation. And goblins are not admitted to Hogwarts. When I said that I planned to attend anyway, Slantedge challenged me to an honour duel."
"That's the one where you win with three hits?"
"Yes. He got one - which you felt, I'm sorry to say." Despite the apology, they could hear the pride in Spellforged's voice. "I got three."
"He sounds a lot like Draco," said Rose.
This got a laugh out of Spellforged. "He should, his uncle is their accounts manager!"
"OK, coming back to my question," said Seeker. "If you can wake me up accidentally, I wonder if we can wake Marigold up on purpose."
That got them thinking. "What, like a rennervate?" asked Rose.
"Yes! Exactly like that." Seeker was excited by the idea.
"What if she is in a coma, and we harm her waking her up?" This, from Chaser. He was thinking back to something Aunt Amelia had said about moving injured patients. "It's late enough at night, they may be keeping her asleep."
"Does rennervate do anything on a coma patient?" asked Seeker.
"I don't think so," said Spellforged, hesitantly. "But we're second years, there's a lot we don't know."
"What if we're overthinking this?" asked Rose. "What if we could just open the link a bit, let her know we're here and she's ok." She considered the idea. "Almost like if we walked into the infirmary and spoke to her while she was asleep, that sort of thing."
The boys were quiet, absorbing this new idea. Rose continued. "I mean, we know the link goes two ways. We woke up when you got hurt, Spellforged. And you, Chaser," He could almost feel her finger pointing at him, even over the link. "I'm betting you had a broom accident when you were eight, am I right?"
How the hell did she know that? Chaser thought to himself. Over the link, he admitted it. "I got a broom for my eighth birthday, and Neville was sleeping over. We snuck out to fly a bit, and he almost fell off his broom. I tried to catch him and keep him in the air, and fell myself."
"We know," said Seeker. "I got dizzy and passed out during supper."
Spellforged only half listened to the back and forth, focused as he was on considering how to help Marigold. Rose was right, the link did go both ways. And as she was showing, they had used it accidentally a number of times, usually involving pain or high emotion. So can we do that deliberately?
"Magic is intent," he said quietly, to himself. None of the others heard him, even though his words had carried over the link. Centering himself, he tried to envision the link as if he were using mage sight. He tried to picture the strings of fate that connected them, these five Potters, together across space and time. He listened to himself, as their words came to him, and tried to trace the magic that brought their words to his mind.
And found nothing.
Frustrated, he thought back to his earliest training in goblin magics - and about how to shape and direct his own magic. He could not find the link, he could not see it. But he could hear it, for Rose was continuing to speak with Seeker and Chaser.
Could it be that simple? Spellforged wondered. Taking a deep breath, Spellforged let the tiniest pulse of his magic go into the link.
"Hey!" came the voice of Chaser. "I felt that, what did you do?"
"Spellforged?" asked Rose.
"Merlin, he did it." said Seeker in wonder. Then, a pause. "What did he do, exactly?"
"I can't explain it," Spellforged said, suddenly tired. "I can feel the link, but I can't see it or sense it - I just know that it's there. And so does my magic."
He felt it, now - just the smallest tingling, across the link. It was like walking through weak wards - you knew you had passed the ward line, but if you were in a conversation, or if it was a windy day, you might easily miss the effect. There was nothing whatsoever distinctive about the magic he felt, but Spellforged knew with certainty that it had come from Seeker.
"How about that," thought Chaser.
They spent several minutes trying out this new ability, wary about sending too much magic through. Spellforged understood that, for he knew it had taken quite a bit of magic just to send that small pulse. They were transiting across universes, after all.
They probably would have spent more time working on it, had they not been interrupted suddenly.
"Bloody hell, you four are loud," said the very weary voice of Marigold Potter.
oOoOoOoOo
Albus Dumbledore entered the Hospital Wing, hoping to see a recovered Marigold Potter. When he saw the red haired girl still unconscious, he sighed and moved to Madam Pomfrey's office.
The medi-witch looked up from her paperwork. "Still nothing, Albus."
The headmaster nodded, taking a seat across the desk. "Minerva was quite shaken last night, when she learned what had happened." He looked at Pomfrey. "And we're sure she cast nothing?"
The witch gestured at the holly wand, sitting by itself on her desk. "Six warming charms and a drying charm." She shook her head. "No evidence of a shield charm, nor did she cast any sort of banishing charm on Mister Creevey."
At the mention of the first year, the Headmaster looked through the office window, down the infirmary. In the bed next to Marigold, the boy lay petrified. His cherished muggle camera, when they finally pried it out of his frozen hands, was a melted lump of metal. The only clue to the boy's attacker was the fact that only one of the boy's eyes was open - meaning he was likely looking through his camera.
What that might mean, of course, remained unclear.
The shield, though - that question had the Headmaster even more curious. In a high stress situation, under attack? Accidental magic is always a possibility, even in a Hogwarts student. But to cast a shield, wandlessly, with enough power to fracture a league-style bludger? That was almost unheard of.
"And what of Miss Potter's condition?" he asked.
Pomfrey looked at her parchment. "Exhaustion. Whatever she did, it drained her badly." She looked up. "She may be out for a few days, but once she has time to recover, I doubt there will be any lasting damage."
The Headmaster began to reply, when he stopped. His head turned toward Marigold, and he was already out of his chair.
Madam Pomfrey had felt it too. Marigold Potter's magic was pulsing, somehow.
As they approached the bed, Pomfrey performed a set of diagnostic charms. If the readings were correct, and they had to be…
"Stanley!" she shouted. With a pop, the Hogwarts elf assigned to the infirmary appeared.
"Yes, Mistress Poppy, ma'am?" the elf asked, in its high voice.
"Did you give Miss Potter a Pepper-Up Potion?"
The elf looked affronted. "Stanley is not giving anyone their potions, Mistress Poppy. Mistress Poppy is here to give potionses, ma'am."
"Then who did, Stanley?" The medi-witch was worried now, and growing more agitated - magically exhausted patients don't just get their magic back, not without potions. And even then there are risks.
"Bloody hell," said a very quiet Marigold Potter, her eyes still closed. "You four are loud."
Albus Dumbledore and Poppy Pomfrey just looked at each other, stunned.
oOoOoOoOo
The next day, Dobby appeared at the center of the Hogwarts crest, standing at exactly midfield on the newly installed football pitch. Harry Spellforged was sitting in the small bleachers, reading a book. Erik Sullivan was kicking a football against the side of the equipment shed. At the sound of Dobby's arrival, he caught the ball and walked over to his cousin. The pair was alone - the cold breeze and the still wet grass from the previous day's rains ensured that.
Dobby walked over as well, cautiously. He had seen how close to anger Spellforged had been the day before. But he knew that his warnings had not yet gotten through to the wizard, and he needed to understand. He needed to be made to understand.
Dobby fought the urge to bend his ears. Everything rode on the next few minutes.
"Dobby, welcome." said Spellforged, his tone carefully neutral. "Please, join us."
Dobby's eyes grew wide. "The great Harry Potter Sir lets an elf sit with him?" It was hard not to smile at the awe in the elf's voice, even setting the name aside.
"Dobby, please, you can call me Spellforged." He gestured to Erik, who had just sat nearby,
holding the football. "This is Erik Sullivan, my cousin."
"Dobby is pleased to be meeting the great Harry… er, Spellforged's cousin." said Dobby. He gave what might have been a bow, had he been dressed in anything other than a filthy rag. Tentatively, as if expecting to be punished for his gall, Dobby sat in the front row, looking up at the two ravenclaws.
"Good," said Spellforged. "Now we can talk."
"We have talked, and still Harry Spellforged came to Hogwarts." He waved his hands wildly. "There is danger in the school, young sirs. If Harry Pott… Spellforged does not leave the school, he will be hurt."
Spellforged thought about Colin Creevey, the petrified gryffindor. "Yes, there's danger in the halls, and danger in the walls, isn't there?" Dobby gave no reaction. Perhaps he doesn't know.
"If Harry leaves," said Erik, speaking for the first time. "Then will he be safe?"
"Oh, yes, young mister Sullivans. It is safe outside of Hogwartses."
"Right," agreed Erik. "So, what about me?"
Dobby blinked.
"What about Astoria and Luna and Ginny?" He spun the football in his hands, nervously. "If Harry's safe, should I go with him, then?"
"It is safe outside of Hogwartses," repeated Dobby, quietly.
"Yes," said Spellforged. "But I can't leave Erik behind, if he's in danger. There's already a kid from his year who got petrified last night. What if the same thing happens to him?" He leaned forward, keeping his expression as neutral as he could, while holding the elf's gaze. "What happens if he gets hurt and I find out that I could have stopped it from happening?"
Spellforged saw the elf's hands twitch, slightly. "I must protect Harry Potter," said Dobby, almost in a whisper.
The elf found a wizard's hand on his own. "And I thank you, Dobby, for trying to protect me." Spellforged said, sincerely. He ignored the minor matter of yesterday's mayhem, and chose not to mention the floo blocks - he already knew that Dobby was responsible for those, as he had admitted it to the others. "But I need to be here to protect my cousin, and everyone who might get hurt."
Those elf eyes grew wider once more. "Harry Potter is a great wizard!" Dobby said, again in awe.
"Someday, maybe." Spellforged agreed. "But today I'm just protecting my friends, like you protected me." It was one of his father's negotiating tricks - why let the other person take credit for something, when you can give it to them? The truth was, Dobby protected very little. Spellforged wasn't referring to what he did, but what he thought he had tried to do.
Erik chuckled as the elf hugged his cousin. "The great Harry Potter is wise," said Dobby.
"I need to protect them, Dobby." Their eyes met. This was the important question, the reason why he had wanted to meet the elf. "Can you help me?"
"I cannot be betraying my masters, sirs…" Here, Dobby's voice trembled, and Spellforged fought to keep his expression from hardening. He had heard that voice before, usually when Marigold hinted at her time in Durzkaban.
"...But if I can be helping, I will, Harry Spellforged, Sir." The elf gave a firm nod, as if he had convinced himself of a plan, before popping away.
Erik shook his head. "Can you really trust him, Harry?" the first year asked.
"I'm not sure," was Spellforged's reply. "But at least now, he won't be actively trying to murder me."
Another chuckle from Erik, who was standing up and dribbling the ball. "Well, it's a start."
Spellforged stood as well, shouldering his bag. "Yes, it's a start."
"Now," said Erik. "All we need to do is figure out what Slytherin's Monster is, and where it is, and then stop it."
Spellforged couldn't help but laugh at that. "And to think, all I wanted was an easy year."
A/N: Thank you again for your continued support of my writing, and of this story. The fact that so many of you take the time to read and review still amazes me. Of course, I've said that before.
Madam Pomfrey's elf is, of course, named Stanley. This chapter is being posted on 12 November 2018, the day when we lost Comics Legend Stan Lee. A little bit of tribute shouldn't go amiss - especially in a multiverse story. Excelsior!
One other note, from the reviews, that I'll mention here. The five call Chaser and Seeker by those names because they are similar in voice and manner, enough that the girls sometimes had trouble telling them apart early on. (Spellforged, of course, has a much different diction, with a very slight Goblin accent, limiting confusion.) Now, over a year later, the names are a bit of endearment - but are otherwise invisible to others in the world. Identifying those two by their positions is a writer's conceit, born out of an overabundance of caution aimed at making sure y'all know which world we're in.
The five are much more comfortable with each other, now, to the point that Spellforged can identify whose magic he felt across the link. And, let's be honest, if every scene with one of those two had to be Harry and Other Harry, I'd run for the damn hills.
Feedback, as always, is welcome.
