Two days after the quidditch match, Marigold Potter still felt exhausted.
Her magic was healing nicely, according to Madam Pomfrey. And she had been spared any serious injury from the bludger, according to Hermione - just a knock to the head when she fell. But the circumstances of the attack, and of her defense against it, made the medi-witch hesitant to let her leave the infirmary.
Marigold was tired enough to agree. The fact that it was much easier to sleep down here was merely a bonus.
Ron and Hermione visited during lunch that day, after their classes, and Madam Pomfrey asked Stanley to bring all three of them lunch. It was a nice gesture, one that Marigold appreciated. After a few minutes of talk about classes and inconsequential matters, Ron and Hermione shared a look. Marigold sighed - they had had this argument before.
"I think we can use Myrtle's bathroom for brewing the polyjuice, Marigold." said Hermione.
Yep, she thought. Same argument. "What do you think, Ron?" Marigold asked.
Ron looked sheepish, but met her eyes. "I think Hermione is right, we need to know what the snakes know."
"That part, I agree with," replied Marigold. "But there are much easier ways than to slink about with Polyjuice." She smiled at her friends, hoping they realized that she was trying to protect them from the risk. "And as it happens, I may have gotten what we need already."
Hermione leaned forward, visibly restraining herself from poking her injured friend. "Marigold Lillian Potter, what have you done?"
A broad grin crossed Marigold's face. It would be so easy to tell the truth, wouldn't it? My sister is in Slytherin, and they didn't do it and don't know who did, while a version of my brother is researching the last time the chamber was opened, and he's a bloody ravenclaw, so research is his thing, and by the way you're helping him, Hermione, so relax.
What she actually said was simpler. "Oh, nothing major. A first year snake delivered some potions from Professor Snape, and Pomfrey asked her to check on the patients. When she walked by, I said hello and asked what the hell was going on?"
"Language," scolded Hermione, almost by reflex.
"Funny, she said the same thing before she giggled." Marigold said, getting a chuckle from Ron. "She was pleasant, actually. We talked for a bit, and it turned out that the Slytherins don't know what is going on any more than we do - except that the school seems to blame them, seeing as how a muggleborn was attacked and all."
Ron nodded. "They would be the obvious ones, yeah?"
"Yeah," agreed Marigold. "Which is why I don't think they're behind it."
"Couldn't this slytherin girl have been lying to you?" asked Hermione, her voice uncertain.
Marigold looked at her. Since she doesn't exist, it's unlikely, she thought. "I've had people lying to me for all my life, Hermione. I can tell, usually, when someone's not being honest with me." She smiled again, taking the edge off her comment. "The girl believed what she was saying, at the least."
"Brilliant, that." said Ron. "So now what, then?"
Marigold shrugged. "Not much I can do here, unless another 'slimy snake' wanders past." This got the expected eye roll from Hermione and another chuckle from Ron. "She did say something interesting, though. Draco Malfoy said that the chamber had been opened before, fifty years ago. And a student died."
Hermione's eyes grew wide. "That's horrible." She said, quietly.
Marigold nodded. "Yep. But it's also a lead. Whoever opened it then might have something to do with opening it now."
Ron looked at his two friends, his shoulders slumping in resignation. "We have a project, don't we?"
With a grin, Hermione stood up. "Unless you see a library around here, that is."
oOoOoOoOo
Spellforged paused in the center of the infirmary, looking at the fourth bed on the left.
He knew, at this very moment, that Marigold was lying there, still recovering from the quidditch match. She had said that her Ron and Hermione would probably visit during lunch, and would want to investigate the attacks and the chamber.
Briefly, he considered walking over and performing his mage sight.
Did their worlds overlap, somehow? Or were they separated by great distance, as if their universes were galaxies scattered across the sky? And if so, how did they actually speak to one another?
All questions for the book. He doubted they would ever have answers to all of those little questions, beyond the standard "Magic". But that's alright, he reasoned. Questions like that are why we have ravenclaws.
Soft footsteps behind him brought him back to the present, to the now. To the infirmary. He turned, and saw Luna Lovegood walking up to him. He raised an eyebrow at her, earning little more than one of her serene smiles.
"Colin was kind to me, Harry." she said. Spellforged nodded - that was plenty.
"Alright, then. We do still need to be quiet." She responded with a finger to her lips, earning a chuckle from Spellforged. Then they approached Colin.
The first year gryffindor remained as he had been when he was petrified, a look of surprise etched into his frozen features. Harry was surprised to see as little fear there as he did - perhaps the boy was better suited to the house of the brave than he thought. His legs were offset, one in front of the other, and his shoulders were rotated slightly. It was his clenched hands, frozen in front of his face, that cemented the image in Harry's mind.
And Luna's. "I think he was taking a picture, Harry," she said. Taking her wand from behind her ear, she pointed at his hands. Spellforged nodded. Walking to the side table, he saw the muggle camera sitting on a metal tray.
The camera seemed intact on the surface, but Spellforged saw a slight dribble of black fluid leaking out on one side. Could that be residue from whatever did this?
Spellforged stood up straight, and then took a step back. Luna saw his move, and backed away as well. Again, she watched as he cast his Goblin mage sight. She watched the hand motions carefully, hoping to hear the incantation as well sometime - perhaps she could ask Harry to teach her?
Colin's skin was saturated in a sickly brown, hinting at some sort of magical creature. They knew that, he thought. It was the same as Marigold had reported when she found Mrs. Norris - so, the same culprit, then.
The camera had residue in the same shade of brown around its lens, and on the other side near a smaller aperture - probably the viewfinder. Spellforged looked over at the boy's blue-grey eyes. One was opened wider than the other, as if the other had been closed moments before. As if he had been looking through the camera with one eye open.
Luna approached the camera, getting a closer look at the black fluid. She saw what Harry had not - a small metal catch. Using a quill, she very gently opened it - and the back panel of the camera sprang open. Taking her wand, she whispered Lumos, and peered into the camera.
Off Harry's look, she shook her head. "It was the film. Nothing there, it's all melted." She pressed the door closed with her hand, latching it shut with the quill.
Spellforged was still looking at the device, however. "It's a muggle camera, right?" Luna nodded in response. Harry stood beside luna, looking at the various controls across the top of the camera. He then, very gently, reached down and pressed what he thought was the button that would take a picture.
They heard the click of the mechanism, but the flash did nothing - whatever powered the bulb was inert. "Huh." said Harry.
The pair continued to look around, but nothing further caught their attention. After a few minutes, they stood at the foot of the gryffindor's bed, looking at him. Then Luna whispered something to the petrified gryffindor, before patting his shoulder.
In the hallway, Spellforged sat down on one of the nearby benches, in the corner. Luna took a seat facing him.
"What sort of creature crawls through the walls of a castle and petrifies its prey, but doesn't kill them or eat them?" Spellforged asked.
Luna shrugged. "Nothing I've heard of. I'll ask Daddy next time I write, maybe he has an idea."
Spellforged nodded. "I appreciate it." He sighed. "The camera bothers me, though. Why would whatever it was melt the film?"
"If it was a spell," Luna replied, "maybe it hit right on the camera?"
"Maybe, but what creature would cast a spell?"
"I don't know."
The pair sat quietly for a few moments, considering what they had - and hadn't - learned. Eventually, Spellforged got out his notebook and started adding to his notes on the question. Luna noticed the Goblin script, but made no comment.
"I wonder if Daddy would let me write an article about these attacks, when we figure out what it is doing them." Luna mused.
Something about that caught Spellforged's attention. "Maybe someone already did." Off her quizzical look, he smiled. "If this is the Chamber of Secrets, we should look at what happened the last time it was opened."
"When was that, Harry?" Luna asked.
Spellforged put his notebook away, before standing up. "1943." Luna giggled at his offered hand as she allowed him to help her up. "Miss Lovegood, would you accompany me to Madam Pince's Daily Prophet archives?"
oOoOoOoOo
Quidditch practice had been a disaster that evening, at least for Draco Malfoy. It seemed that the year had gone downhill for him - a year that should have been his year! But ever since Rose Potter had dragged him before that Merlin-damned house meeting, everything had gone to dragon shite.
Getting summoned to the hospital wing after practice had helped not at all. He had not even been given time to change, and so walked into the infirmary in his full kit, broom still in hand.
The Creevey boy was still in his bed on the far right, paralyzed or petrified or whatever the hell people were saying had happened to him. All Draco knew was that the lions had been absolutely furious. Some of them had even laughed when Rose got attacked by that bludger.
While he could agree with them on that, at least, he had to admit that their reaction bothered him.
On the left, in the fourth bed down, Draco saw a brunette girl in hospital robes. She was laying still and quiet, and he could not tell if she was asleep or unconscious due to injury. The sheets covered any bandages there might have been.
In the chair next to the bed, he saw the sleeping form of a taller blonde girl. Couldn't be older than third year, he thought to himself. She had a winter cloak on, probably in lieu of a blanket. Or perhaps she had just arrived, and collapsed from fatigue?
Madam Pomfrey was standing at the foot of the bed, giving the girls space. Even from several paces away, her diagnostic charms were effective - but the results they gave her still earned a grimace and a shake of the head. Not good news, then.
No one else was around. Certainly no one with whom Draco was close. He began to worry that something had happened to mother, but his parents were not there either - and if something like that was the cause of his summons, Professor Snape would have been there as well.
"So who summoned me here, then?" Draco asked, more to himself than anything.
"I did."
Turning, Draco saw Rose Potter sitting on the bench near the doors. He deflated when he saw his housemate rising, but said nothing. He looked back into the infirmary, once more trying to figure out who the brunette was.
"Astoria Greengrass," Rose said, off of his look. She did not see his eyes grow wide.
"The story goes that she forgot her bag in Potions, and went back to retrieve it. She was out of sight for seven minutes." Rose stood behind his right shoulder. She spoke quietly, but he heard every word - as she intended. "When her year mates went back, they saw three older boys in red-trimmed robes running off - and a bleeding Astoria, unconscious on the floor."
"How bad?" Draco asked, after a moment.
"Bad." was the response. "She was beaten with a cricket bat, bad enough to break her left thigh. They also got her right forearm. She has two broken ribs, as if the rest weren't enough. Bruises everywhere."
Draco heard a hollow wooden noise, and looked over. He saw Rose holding a wooden implement. At first glance it was like a beater bat, except that the handle was longer and thinner, and the striking surface was wide and flat. He had never seen the like.
"They stunned her, that's the only magic they used." She reversed the club, handing it over. Draco reached out with one hand, giving Rose his broom with the other. She set it against the wall as he examined the bat. "It's a muggle weapon, Draco. From a game that is, to muggles, like quidditch is to us. Chosen for that very reason."
He ran a hand across the flat of the bat, feeling the fine grained wood.
"Before they tired of beating her, they left a note, stabbed into her robes with a quill." She handed him the parchment. In red ink, it said simply 'Snakes go Home!'
Draco shook his head, handing it back. He set the cricket bat down against the bench.
"Astoria wants to be a spellcrafter," began Rose. "She wants to travel the world and learn new spells and pick them apart and put them back together again, completely new." A chuckle, now. "One time she saw a portrait of cherry blossom leaves falling in Japan, and wondered if she could make a spell that loosed a thousand leaves like that. Sort of like Avis launches a number of birds, you know?" Draco nodded. "Only a few of those leaves would be stunners, waiting to strike from all directions." Rose smiled. "She's a ravenclaw who made it into Slytherin, but the truth is she's the best of both."
Rose waved her hand at the Greengrasses. "And now she's laying here for a week, having bones regrown, because the lions are too stupid to think for themselves."
Draco's voice was quiet. "Because of me."
Rose said nothing.
Draco took that as a verdict all its own. "What will you do?" Draco asked.
Rose considered him, his tone, the look of horror on his face. She could not tell whether he was worried at his own fate, or horrified at what had befallen Astoria.
Presently, she spoke. "Do you understand now, Draco Malfoy, what I've been trying to tell you for close to a year?" She looked at him, laser focused on every movement across his face. He turned to look back at her, refusing to cower under the scrutiny. "Do you see what being in Slytherin is supposed to mean?"
"Clearly not," he retorted, growing annoyed. "Else I would not be here."
She smirked at that. "There's that. Alright, here's your free lesson. Everything a Slytherin does has to be for the protection or advancement of their family. Period. Full stop." She smiled at his stunned expression. "Your father was accused of some heavy shite after the last war, yes? And yet you defend the honor of House Malfoy, because family is the most important thing. All magic is family magic, after all, right?" That, at least, got a nod from the boy.
"Here at Hogwarts, we honor our families with the usual Pureblooded dance, Heiress this and Heir that and Honored Sir and so on and so forth, all to a fare thee well." He looked over in time to see her eyes roll. "It's false and fake, and everyone knows it's false and fake, but it's harmless and it's tradition. But your real family is your house. Here at Hogwarts, your house is Slytherin." She poked him on the Slytherin crest adorning his quidditch robes. "You don't wear the Malfoy crest, I don't wear the Potter crest. We're Slytherin."
Rose pointed at the Greengrass sisters. "Those two, there - they are your house."
Draco nodded, understanding. "Everyone hates me."
Rose shrugged. "A nonfatal condition, Mister Malfoy, easily cured with time and an avoidance of fuckery." Draco snorted at that, getting a snicker from Rose.
"So what do I do?"
Rose looked at him again, the amusement gone from both of them. "Tomorrow, when Daphne returns to the common room, offer your sympathies and ask if you can help. Offer to get class assignments or some such. If she tells you to fuck off, you fuck off." She pointed at the Greengrasses again. "And when Astoria leaves here, offer her your apologies - unprompted - and be at her service."
She leaned closer, bringing her voice lower. "And make sure this never, ever, happens to her again."
Draco nodded. "Alright." He said quietly, almost as a whisper.
"I'm sorry?"
He looked at her. "I said alright, I will."
Rose handed him his broom. "Good." She smiled pleasantly at him, as if their previous conversation had never happened. "Now go hit the showers, seeker boy, you stink."
Draco snorted again, before smiling and giving her a bow. "As you wish, Heiress Potter." Then he left.
Rose sighed and sat back down on the bench, taking a sip of her now cold tea.
"I hope he listens to you, Miss Potter." said Madam Pomfrey.
Rose smiled. "How much did you hear?"
"Enough," said the medi-witch. "And as a former Slytherin, may I say - thank you." Off Rose's stunned expression, Madam Pomfrey chuckled as she walked back to her office.
A/N: Thank you again for the favorites and follows - and especially for the reviews. Special thanks to Superblal, who left the sort of review that makes a writer sit up straight and go "Fuck yeah, they like it!" So thank you, one and all.
I'm going to get hate for Astoria's attack - but physically, she's going to be fine. It's scary, but will do little to dimish her fire. If anything, she will put up with even less nonsense than before. Related - No, I have no intentions of ever going Rose/Draco.
Output may vary a bit over the holidays, and as the usual winter ailments roll from my kids to me, as tradition demands.
Feedback, as always, is welcome.
