Choosing Professor Lockhart to sign the note of permission proved to be an excellent idea. After all, he was self-absorbed enough to want to admire his own signature whenever possible. Aralynn felt that would have been enough alone, but Hermione wanted to be thorough. She proposed that they flatter him at every given opportunity, which would have been an easy task for her, but the burden usually fell upon Harry.

After the debacle with the Cornish Pixies, Lockhart refrained from bringing live subjects into the classroom. Instead, he took to reading excerpts from his published works unless he deemed that certain scenes were better viewed than read. When that happened, and it was often, he would opt to reenact those passages with Harry as his co-star. Aralynn felt terrible for him whenever she saw the exasperation in his eyes, but she was admittedly glad that Lockhart's attention wasn't on her.

Laying the groundwork to, in Hermione's mind, guaranteeing a successful signature took several classes. Which, in turn, meant that poor Harry had to maintain his false willingness to participate in Lockhart's ridiculous productions. Aralynn drew the line when she noticed how wan he looked before their lessons. They couldn't delay the attempt forever, no matter how anxious it made them. It would happen during their next class, or it wouldn't happen at all. So, after acting out the events from Wanderings with Werewolves, with Harry starring as the Wagga Wagga Werewolf, Hermione finally asked their professor to sign the form. It was effortless, just as Aralynn predicted it would be. Lockhart hadn't even bothered to look at the book they were requesting.

Not even Madam Pince, the school librarian who was generally regarded as unpleasant, posed a challenge. Of course, she was suspicious of their chosen text, but that wasn't unusual for her. Her doubt was meaningless, even when she snatched the note and held it up to the overhead lights in search of forgery. They had a legitimate golden ticket to the Restricted Section, which she had no other choice but to oblige.

After successfully acquiring Moste Potente Potions, they hurried off to Moaning Myrtle's dwelling in the out-of-order bathroom.

They sat together on the surprisingly dry floor and watched as Hermione removed the book from her bag to lay in the small opening between them. She turned the delicate, stained, molding pages carefully until she found the page headed: The Polyjuice Potion. The margins were ornamented with hand-drawn depictions of metamorphoses, of people gradually transforming until they became someone else. The drawings reminded Aralynn of a billboard she had once seen in London showcasing the process of evolution—an ape changing again and again until it stood upright as a human. Underneath the image in huge, yellow bold lettering, it said: WHO ARE WE, REALLY?

Hermione exhaled sharply. Her brown eyes were sparkling with impressed intrigue. "This is the most complicated potion I've ever seen!"

Harry looked worried by that sentiment. "You and Ara will be able to brew it, though, right?"

Aralynn leaned over the book with Hermione, reading through the listed ingredients. The first few were fairly average, and conveniently accessible in the student storage cupboard.

Hermione read them aloud. "Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, and knotgrass." She nodded to herself. "Simple."

As Aralynn read further down the list, she winced. "Powdered bicorn horn and boomslang skin? Not quite as simple. We'll have to raid Snape's personal stores…"

Harry paled.

"I think the bit of whoever we choose to change into will be the most difficult to get," Hermione remarked casually.

Aralynn nodded.

An indeterminable sound came from Ron's throat—something between a gulp and a gasp. "Excuse me?" he rasped. "What did you just say?"

Hermione looked at him but seemed reluctant to repeat herself.

Aralynn sighed. "I know it's disgusting but adding part of who you're changing into is required. Otherwise, the whole potion is pointless. We don't have to add them until the very end, anyway."

Ron choked on his own spit. "Beginning, middle, or end – doesn't matter! There's no way I'm drinking Crabbe's toenails!"

Harry hardly seemed concerned about having to drink part of someone else, but still fretting over something. "I can't stop thinking about everything we're going to have to steal for this."

Hermione snapped the book shut with a scowl on her face. "Aralynn and I will do it alone, then, if you two are going to be chickens! It's not like either of us wants to break any school rules, but we think Muggle-borns being attacked is more important than the risk of brewing this potion! How long do we have until someone dies?"

Harry and Ron were both staring at her in utter shock. Hermione was the last person expected to advocate for disobedience. They were momentarily stunned into silence.

Aralynn, while also considerably shocked, was smiling proudly at Hermione. She was a straitlaced person, but she understood when the ends justified the means.

Harry's cheeks were pink. "Wow, Hermione. I've never seen you so fierce about something so wrong."

Aralynn took note of his breathy and flustered voice, tucking it away in her mind where she kept other evidence pointing to Harry fancying Hermione.

"Is it wrong?" Hermione argued, "if it might mean saving peoples' lives?"

A grin spread across Harry's face. "I suppose not."

Ron shook off the bewilderment. "I know Ara would push us to break the rules, but I didn't think you would."

Aralynn huffed. "Are you implying that I'm some kind of deviant?"

Ron smiled brightly. "Sometimes."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

Harry leaned over to look at the book that Hermione had since reopened. "How long will this take, anyway?"

Hermione looked much happier while she skimmed the text. "Well, there are some particularities with the ingredients. The fluxweed must be picked during a full moon, and the lacewing flies need to be stewed for twenty-one days, so I'd say take it'll take about a month."

"If we can get all of the ingredients," Aralynn added. "Between stealing from Snape's stores, and the bit of who we're changing into, it's going to be tricky."

"A month?" Ron complained. "There might not be any Muggle-borns left by then!"

Hermione and Aralynn both glared at him.

He backtracked quickly. "It's the best plan we have, though."

"It's the only plan we have," Harry corrected.

"Bribe Fred or George to whack him in the head with a Bludger during the Quidditch game tomorrow," Aralynn said with a smirk on her face. "Might save us the trouble."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, it probably would."

When Aralynn woke the following morning, she was greeted by an overwhelming sense of dread. It was unplaceable, there seemed to be no reason for it, but there it was. She looked between the three other beds in the room, only to find open curtains and empty mattresses. Lavender, Fay, Parvati, and Hermione had already left for breakfast. The Great Hall was awaiting her, but she couldn't find the strength in her muscles. It felt very much like she was sewn to the bed, unable to leave, or even move. Anxiety was still gnawing tirelessly at her mind. She wanted to stay in bed and watch the sky change as the day progressed, but thoughts of Harry weakened that desire. She had an obligation to him. She couldn't possibly miss his first Quidditch match of the season, not when Gryffindor was versing Slytherin.

As she lay staring up at the ceiling, she considered what chance Gryffindor had of winning. It was an unpromising probability when factoring in a whole team's worth of brand-new brooms. "They're the latest models," she remembered Marcus Flint saying to Oliver Wood. "Fastest yet." Wood had looked very keen to punch Flint's smug face. She wished he had.

Suffice it to say, Gryffindor had an uphill battle ahead.

She realized that the uneasy feeling might have been stemming from the impending game. It was the likeliest explanation, considering the odds, but it didn't feel right. The thought of losing to Slytherin, as infuriating as that would be, didn't have the right kind of severity to match the waves of stress washing over her. She remembered having that feeling once before, just minutes before finding Harry in the corridor where Filch's Petrified cat was discovered. She understood what that feeling meant then, and what it meant now: Harry was in danger.

Aralynn sprung herself out of bed and dressed. She didn't know whether her clothes matched, but it was unimportant in light of her revelation. She plucked her coat and satchel from the hook next to her vanity and rushed out of Gryffindor Tower. She had missed breakfast, but she still had a chance of catching the crowd headed for the stadium. She hurried through the corridors as quickly as she could without alerting any lingering teachers. She jumped down the steps leading up to the castle and bounded across the grounds. She spotted Ron's flaming red hair outside of the entrance to the locker rooms. When she couldn't place Harry amongst the faces, she continued into the stadium until she was sitting in the stands.

She stared down at Madam Hooch marching around the empty field. She tried to clear her mind, tried to tamp down the anxiety roiling inside of her, but she had no control over it. Every inch of her body felt like it was vibrating. She didn't even notice when her left leg began to bounce rapidly. She shoved her fingertips into her mouth and chewed on her nails while her eyes darted around as she waited for Harry and the Gryffindor team to emerge. Why was she so sure that her brother was in trouble? If he was, what was going to happen? Could she stop it? Could she save him?

Aralynn was so engrossed in her own mind that she hadn't seen anyone sit next to her. She felt someone's fingers poke her side, and she jumped so hard that she lifted herself off the seat. She clasped her hands over her mouth to muffle a yelp while she turned sharply towards whoever had poked her. "Merlin's Beard, Kiya!" she exclaimed. "You scared the hell out of me!"

Kiyana Davis was stone-faced while she watched, but her copper-colored eyes were shimmering with amusement. She held her hands up. "My bad. I'll keep my hands to myself."

"Unless you want me to launch myself onto the field, that would be a wise choice," Aralynn huffed. She shoved her hands underneath her legs to keep herself from biting her nails again.

"You might launch yourself out of your clothes before then," Kiya remarked, watching Aralynn's entire body tremble. "What's got you so freaked out?"

Aralynn couldn't respond, not when the question brought all the ways she was imagining how Harry could get hurt crashing back to the front of her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut hard for a few moments, hoping it would cast the flashing images away. It didn't help.

"Something with Harry again?" Kiya questioned. "Like what happened on Halloween?"

That surprised Aralynn enough to distract her. "You noticed that?"

"Of course, I did," Kiya said, but then her lips twitched. "It was hard not to when you were running and screaming through the halls."

Aralynn smiled sheepishly. Thinking back on it, she was embarrassed by her own behavior. "I probably looked like a complete nutter."

Kiya grinned and shrugged. "Even if you hadn't, I still would've noticed. That's how I am – I notice things about my friends."

Aralynn returned her attention to the still-empty field. "I'll bet it's hard to get anything past you, then."

"Yeah, basically," she agreed lightheartedly. "It's Harry, isn't it?"

Aralynn sighed. "Yeah. I woke up with this nagging feeling that he's in trouble… that he's going to get hurt, or something."

Kiya hummed once. "Quidditch is a rough sport."

Aralynn frowned. "I'm not sure Quidditch has anything to do with it, though. That's today's focus, so it'd make the most sense, but I can't say for sure. I wish I had something more than a vague sense of doom to follow."

She could see Kiya shaking her head out of the corner of her eye. "Your weird twin link really should be more specific. What's the point of having it, otherwise?"

"To make me mental," Aralynn mumbled.

"What an unfortunate superpower to have."

Ron and Hermione then joined them after fighting their way through the crowded stands. Aralynn didn't know which one of them was next to her, but she quickly figured it out when she felt a hand rest on her bouncing leg. She looked over at Ron's grinning face. "Alright, Ara?"

"I'm not sure," she answered honestly.

"Everything will be okay," Ron assured.

She wasn't sure if he was referring to the game, Harry, or both. Kiya noticed things about her, but Ron did, too. He knew her better than anyone else did.

She swallowed. "I hope you're right."

"Me too," he chuckled. "You'll have my head if I'm not."

She allowed herself to smile. "That's true."

"What's it telling you?" he asked.

"What's what telling me?"

"Your twintuition, of course." He chuckled again. "Can't believe Fred and George thought of that before I did."

"It's telling me that Harry is in danger," she answered, then looked back at him. "Do you know what that's like?"

Ron nodded. "I used to get it with you sometimes. Still do. Never danger, but there were times when I could feel when you were upset or angry."

Aralynn furrowed her eyebrows.

He read her face and shrugged one shoulder. "We're not really twins, though, I know. Guess it doesn't matter. We're still linked somehow."

Aralynn smiled softly at him. "Of course, we are. We always will be."

Ron took her hand and laced their fingers together. He didn't say anything, but his whole face glowed with his warm smile. His cheeks were pink from the biting wind, and his blue eyes were gentle and shimmering like sapphires. He was very handsome when he was happy.

Hermione's excited voice brought them back to the present. "Look, there they are!"

Aralynn turned her attention to the arena, where she saw the separate pools of scarlet and gold, and green and silver. The Gryffindor team was rigid in their stances, while the Slytherins were relaxed—almost lazy as they leaned against their gleaming, freshly polished broomsticks. She felt her stomach twisting as worry spread through her again.

She glanced between faces until she found Harry's. His expression was hard with determination. His focus was on beating the Slytherin team. Aralynn wondered if he sensed the same threat that she did, but he didn't appear to be paranoid or afraid. She wished she had some way to warn him of what might happen. There was no saying her intuition was correct, but it seemed worse for him to be blindsided if it was.

She must have tensed, or continued to shake, because she felt Ron squeeze her hand—a gentle reassurance. She tightened her hand around his, feeding into his comfort. She needed it—needed to feel like her instincts were wrong and Harry might make it through the match unscathed.

Madam Hooch threw the Quaffle up and the players soared into the sky. The stands erupted with roaring cheers while they eagerly waved banners and handheld flags. Hermione was standing and chanting, "Go, go, Gryffindor!" There was a large foam finger over her hand with Harry's face and WORLD'S GREATEST SEEKER on it. Kiya was holding up a massive stick sign with the Gryffindor lion drawn on it. Some nearby Slytherins were scowling at her, undoubtedly thinking of her as a traitor.

Aralynn's eyes were locked on Harry. He was hovering above the fray, watching for any sight of the Snitch. Draco Malfoy was whipping around him, nothing more than a green blur while he flaunted the speed of his Nimbus Two Thousand and One. She was glad that she wasn't part of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. She would have gladly forfeited the game if it meant being able to throw Malfoy off his broom.

Harry kept watching for the Golden Snitch, ignoring the taunts that Malfoy was surely throwing. Aralynn saw a round, black shape streaking away from the colorful amalgamation of players. It was heading straight for Harry. She involuntarily leaned forward when it nearly struck him in the head. George rushed over and sent it away with a whack from his bat. She let out a heavy, relieved breath and sat back again.

The Bludger was nearing Adrian Pucey, but it abruptly changed course and rocketed back toward Harry. He dove to avoid it while George hit it in Malfoy's direction. Almost immediately, its sights were back on him. He turned to rush across the field, but it was still tailing him. Fred was waiting at the other end with his bat ready, but it made no difference when he beat the Bludger away. It adjusted course and continued after Harry.

Aralynn couldn't hear anything around her. All the sound was drowned out by her racing mind. The only thing she was aware of was Ron's hand on her upper arm, trying to pull her back into her seat. Her eyes were fixed on her brother while he dodged the Bludger's every attempt to unseat him. Fred and George both were hovering nearby, doing everything they could to keep the ball from smashing into Harry's face. She could hardly breathe while she watched. She was fighting every screaming impulse to throw herself between the Bludger and Harry. She was considering stealing a broom from the locker rooms, but both of Ron's hands were on her waist now. She didn't even realize she was standing.

There were hands on both of her arms then. Hermione had hold of one, and Kiya the other. All three of them were trying to keep her in place while she fought them. She was barely aware of anything but Harry. Fred and George were on either side of him. They were working to fight the Bludger off, but their efforts were fruitless. It never hesitated, never stopped. It kept aiming for Harry with desperate attempts to knock him off his broom—maybe even kill him.

Ron's voice was in her ear. "Ara," he beckoned. "Ara, look. They're calling a time-out."

Aralynn watched as they touched down. Awareness seemed to flood back in. The cheers from the crowd sounded around her again. She looked up at the sky and realized that it was raining. How long had it been raining? Her clothes were damp. Long enough, then. She looked at the scoreboard. Slytherin was stomping them—leading sixty to zero. Ron, Kiya, and Hermione took advantage of her momentary relaxation and collectively tugged on her again. She flopped back into Ron's lap. She tried to move, to sit next to him again, but he kept her firmly in place.

She finally managed to find her voice. "Since when do Bludgers fixate on one person?" It came out snappier than she intended.

"They don't," Ron said into her ear.

"Someone must've tampered with it," Kiya said. Her hands were still wrapped around Aralynn's bicep.

"Surely Madam Hooch will end the game," Hermione said. Her hands were still clutching Aralynn, too.

"That'll mean forfeiting the match and letting Slytherin win," Ron pointed out.

"Harry's safety is more important than a game," replied Hermione huffily.

Aralynn shook her head unhappily. "Harry won't tell her."

"He will if he knows what's good for him," said Hermione sharply. It was too late. The huddle disbanded, and Madam Hooch whistled to resume the game. She stared blankly at the small shape that was Harry. "What an idiot."

"He wouldn't want to lose a match by forfeiting, 'Mione," said Ron. "Especially not when it's Slytherin who'd win."

The corners of Hermione's eyes were lined with worry as she watched Harry shoot back into the sky. "Like I said – winning should hardly matter when that Bludger is only interested in him. I can't believe Oliver would agree to such foolishness."

Ron snorted. "Really, Hermione? Hogwarts' most passionate Quidditch fan wouldn't agree to continue? Are you sure we're talking about the same Oliver Wood?"

"The players' safety should always be everyone's first priority!" asserted Hermione.

Aralynn wanted to speak. She wanted to say, "That's just Harry," but she couldn't find her voice. It was stuck somewhere in the ridges of her throat, thrashing for freedom, but it was only lodging itself deeper. She could only focus on her brother while he zigged and zagged and zipped around the stadium. Her stomach churned faster with each of his performed rolls and loop-the-loops. She wanted to wring her hands together, but Kiya and Hermione still had hold of her arms. Ron's arms were also still locked around her, chaining her to his lap. She wanted to break free and assist Harry, but she kept herself still while she was still conscious of her movements. Her interference would probably cost them the game, anyway, and then their efforts would have been for nothing.

At least Harry was avoiding the Bludger. The ball was much too heavy to turn as lithely as he could. He curved, dove, swooped, and swerved at sharp angles. He would even drop and hang upside down if necessary. Every maneuver awarded distance, but only temporarily. The Bludger was fast—not as fast as Harry's broom—but fast enough to catch up quickly. He looked very misplaced while the game continued normally below. The erratic movements made it look as though he was showing off, goofing off, or maybe both. People in the crowd laughed when he would twirl, roll, or loop. It always made Aralynn flinch.

How didn't they realize that Harry was fighting for his life?

The Bludger barely missed him as it tore past his head. The bile that had been swirling around in Aralynn's stomach shot up to her throat. She swallowed over and over, as quickly as she could, to keep it from spewing. She was unaware of her surroundings again while she focused solely on Harry. That was too close, she thought. Come on, Harry, find the Snitch. Where is that stupid thing, anyway?

Malfoy idled while he watched Harry dance around the field. He was a small figure in the distance, but he was still visibly shaking with laughter. Aralynn made a mental note to punch him in the nose at the next available opportunity. He must have made a snide remark because Harry glared at him. Then he paused, seemingly staring at Malfoy, for only the briefest of seconds, but it was long enough. The Bludger raced forward and struck Harry's elbow. He bobbled for a moment and started to drop from his broom, but his right leg was still crooked over the handle and caught him. He hung loosely there but swerved just as the Bludger returned to attack again.

Aralynn's rapid heartbeat was thundering in her ears. She was trying to call out to her brother, but her voice was still stuck. She thought back to Harry's first-ever Quidditch game. She remembered watching him stand on the hilt of his broom, hand outstretched toward the Snitch while he inched forward. One step was all it took for him to tip his broom and hurtle into the ground. She was worried then, afraid for him even, but she hadn't been rife with panic like she was now. What changed? Harry was always her brother, even when she didn't know. Why didn't she feel it then? Why didn't her senses scream with terror anytime he was in danger before? Shouldn't the connection have always been there?

Did learning the truth really change that much?

Harry was upright on his broom again with his right arm dangling at his side. Aralynn was sure then that it was broken. He turned sharply and went whipping towards Malfoy, whose expression was alarmed before he careened out of the way. He took his left hand off his broom handle and reached out, but then he lost control and started dropping. The entire crowd stood and collectively gasped as they watched him plummet. Aralynn was thrown back into the present. The sounds around her blared, and the rain hit her skin like daggers. Kiya and Hermione had both released Aralynn's arms to clasp their hands over their mouths. Ron had stood them both up, but he continued to hold her back against him tightly.

Aralynn tried to scream, but it came out like a pathetic-sounding whimper. She watched as he slammed into the ground and skidded to a stop through the mud. She started to struggle beneath Ron's arms, but then he was dragging her across the stands in pursuit of Hermione. Kiya followed behind them while they fought through the crowd and down to the field. While Aralynn looked between the pale and horrified faces, she saw a handful of teachers hurrying into the arena. By the time they walked onto the grass, the Gryffindor team was gathered around Harry and assessing his condition.

Aralynn ripped herself away from Ron and ran forward, dropping to her knees at Harry's side. He was unconscious. Her fingers twitched while she fought the impulse to touch him. She was staring wide-eyed at him when she felt a hand on either of her shoulders. She looked back to see Fred and George standing behind her with reassuring smiles on their faces.

"Don't worry," said Fred. "He's breathing."

"Yeah," added George with a grin. "It'd take a lot more than some mental Bludger to take out our beloved Licorice Whip."

Aralynn could only nod. She turned her attention back to Harry. She saw the blurred outline of someone squatting over his other side, but she was too distraught to notice who it was. Harry began to stir, and she felt her heart jumpstart in her chest. "Harry?" she muttered. "Can you hear me?"

"No," Harry groaned groggily. "Not you."

She followed his gaze and looked up to see Lockhart with his wand drawn. She glared at him with all the ferocity she could muster, but he was flashing his stupid white teeth at the crowd around them.

"Not to worry!" Lockhart insisted cheerily. "He's a bit disoriented, that's all." He looked back down at Harry, then half-shouted. "I'm going to fix your arm now, Harry!"

Harry shook his head sluggishly. "No, it's fine," he grumbled. "I'd rather leave it this way if you don't mind…"

Aralynn turned her head when she heard clicking among the crowd. She saw Colin Creevey taking photographs and glowered at him. Kiya saw the fire burning in her eyes and snatched the camera from Colin's hands and shoved it back into his bag.

Lockhart was easing Harry back onto the ground while he tried to sit up. "Now, now, Harry, don't be silly," he said. "It's a simple charm. It'll be over in just a moment…"

"Professor," Aralynn hissed. She paused when she realized she was talking through her teeth. She composed herself before continuing. "Harry should see Madam Pomfrey. This is her specialty."

Lockhart flashed his infuriatingly white teeth at her. "Nonsense, Miss Potter. No need to add to her workload! I can handle this, I assure you."

Oliver Wood started stepping forward, but Aralynn gave him a look dark enough for him to stop in his tracks and remain silent. She turned back to Lockhart. "Really, Professor, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey won't mind."

As the conversation wasn't serving him any flattery, Lockhart ignored her. He stood upright and brandished his wand. "Alright, everyone, stand back!"

Aralynn didn't move. "I thought you said this was just a simple charm?"

Lockhart paused and glanced at her, but his bravado returned quickly. "Of course, it is!" he assured with a light laugh. "It's always best to take safety measures when it comes to spellwork!"

Aralynn narrowed her eyes at him.

"Please," Harry croaked. "I'd much rather see Madam Pomfrey."

"Hush now, Harry." Lockhart waved his wand overhead and pointed it at Harry's arm.

Aralynn stared at the arm while it appeared to deflate. It was flat and smooth, almost like a pancake. She poked it and immediately recoiled. It was squishy and rubbery. It wasn't like any arm she had ever felt before. She looked up at Lockhart expectantly, who was a little whiter than before.

"Common mishap," he insisted, but his tone was uneven. He lifted Harry's arm, which only bounced pointlessly. He immediately laid it back down again. "What's important is that the bones are no longer broken!"

"What bones?" Aralynn spit.

Lockhart cleared his throat. He gestured between Aralynn, Ron, and Hermione. "Why don't you three just nip him up to the Hospital Wing? Madam Pomfrey can mend—fix—er, tidy him up a bit."

Ron wrapped Harry's functional arm around his shoulders while Aralynn supported his opposite side with her arm around his torso. Hermione and Kiya followed while they led Harry through the castle. Madam Pomfrey was a talented healer, but she wasn't a miracle worker. Aralynn hoped that Harry's arm was salvageable. If she didn't hate Lockhart before, she certainly did now. She couldn't believe that his fraudulence went largely unrecognized. He couldn't perform the simplest spells without disastrous results; therefore, he couldn't have done the wondrous and magnificent things he wrote about. It made her wonder if his books were intended to be fictional until he had the insane idea to pretend like they were autobiographical. She wished she could add him to her "needs-to-be-punched" list.

Madam Pomfrey stomped over as soon as they stepped into the Hospital Wing. Her face was pinched angrily while she snatched Harry's limp, elastic arm. She bent his forearm back to his elbow and watched it spring back with a high, "Hmph!" She turned on her heel and escorted him to an empty bed. She yanked the sheets back and smacked the pillows several times – maybe to fluff them, but Aralynn believed it likelier that she needed to exert her frustrations. She jabbed her finger between Harry and the bed. "You should have come straight to me!" she scolded. "Mending bones is a simple business, but growing them back?" She threw her hands up with a huff. "You'll have to stay the night."

Harry looked worriedly at his jellied arm. "You'll be able to, won't you?"

Madam Pomfrey looked at him sharply. "Certainly, Mr. Potter."

Harry loosened.

"Make no mistake, though, because it will be painful."

Harry deflated.

Madam Pomfrey threw a pair of pajamas at him that landed on his face before marching away to rummage through her store cupboards. Ron drew the curtain around Harry's bed and began to help him change. Hermione, Kiya, and Aralynn waited outside the threshold. Aralynn tried to pretend like she couldn't hear the two of them struggling with Harry's boneless arm, otherwise, she might not have been able to stop herself from trying to help. Harry probably wouldn't want her to see him in nothing more than his pants.

Kiya inched closer to Aralynn's side. "You okay?"

Aralynn shrugged. "For the most part."

"Guess that intuition of yours was right," said Kiya.

Aralynn sighed. "I wish it wasn't."

Kiya smiled sympathetically. "I know."

"I never felt like this before I knew Harry was my brother," Aralynn muttered. "I don't know why it's changed now."

Kiya spoke with full confidence. "Knowledge broadens our view."

"Shouldn't that connection have been there before, though?"

"It probably was," Kiya answered. "It might've just been locked away, waiting for the key to open it up."

Hermione looked over, eyes now glimmering inquisitively. If anyone could figure out what the difference was, it would be her.

Ron and Harry's quiet voices were drifting out from behind the curtain. "You've got to shove it through," Ron said, sounding strained.

"I'm trying," Harry hissed. "It's all wadded up and stuck."

"Un -wad it!" Ron huffed.

"I can't, it doesn't do anything!" Harry grumbled."

"Use the arm that has bones!"

They heard a smack. Harry began laughing while Ron gagged. "Ew!" Ron gasped. "I can't believe you just hit me with that thing!"

Harry laughed again. "Well, it's good for something…"

As the curtain pulled back, Harry was sitting in the bed and Ron was rubbing his cheek where the boneless arm struck him. "Ara, your brother is a bloody menace."

Aralynn smiled weakly at him. "I know he is."

Hermione strode over to Harry's bedside with a stern expression. "Harry Potter, why in heaven's name did you continue playing? You knew that Bludger was after you!"

Harry looked sheepishly up at Hermione. "I didn't want to forfeit to Slytherin. Malfoy would have loved that. He probably would have told the whole school that we were afraid of their new brooms."

Hermione bristled. "So, what? A Quidditch match is hardly worth your life! You're lucky that thing only broke your arm. It could have killed you!"

"It didn't, though," Harry pointed out, "and we won the game."

Hermione muttered angrily under her breath.

Ron looked at Harry's limp arm. "Then Lockhart only made it worse."

Hermione sighed sharply. "Honestly, Ron, it was an honest mistake. Anyone can make a mistake."

Ron looked at her incredulously. "You can't keep defending him, Hermione. He has no idea what he's doing!"

Hermione's face reddened with her spiking anger. "He couldn't have defeated hags, ghouls, banshees, vampires, werewolves, trolls, and a yeti without knowing what he was doing!"

Ron stared at her. "That's the point, isn't it? You'd think someone who could do all that would be able to fix some broken bones!"

Aralynn held her hands up. "Enough, you two."

Hermione sniffed at Ron but crossed her arms and went quiet.

Madam Pomfrey returned with a large bottle labeled Skele-Gro. She pushed it into Harry's hand. "Drink that and settle in. You're in for a rough night. Regrowing bones is a nasty business." She stared hard at him until he sputtered through the Skele-Gro. Once it was gone, she was satisfied.

Harry looked forlorn as she retreated. Ron smiled encouragingly. "I'll bet Wood is pretty pleased with you. That final catch was wicked."

"The Snitch was right above Malfoy's head," Harry said. "He never noticed it."

"Some Seeker he is," Ron snorted.

"Frankly, I'd like to know how he enchanted that Bludger," Hermione said, looking far away in her thoughts. "Couldn't have been easy."

"Add it to the list of questions we'll ask once the Polyjuice Potion is finished," Aralynn said.

Kiya spoke up. "Don't you guys think it's weird that none of the teachers noticed that it was only after Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't think about that. They must've trusted my judgment to handle it when I didn't call off the game."

Kiya looked suspicious. "Maybe."

"Dumbledore would have intervened had he been there," Hermione determined.

"It's too bad he wasn't," Aralynn muttered.

Harry nudged her with his foot and smiled at her. "It's alright, Ara. I'm alright."

Aralynn sighed heavily. "By some stroke of luck."

"It could have been worse," Harry offered.

Aralynn shook her head. "It was bad enough."

Then, the muddy and sopping Gryffindor Quidditch Team came bustling loudly into the room. They swarmed Harry's bed with cheerful hoots and hollers and wide smiles. They piled cakes, candies, and pumpkin juice on the mattress at his feet. George tousled his hair. "Excellent moves out there, Harry!"

"You saved us from a humiliating defeat," Fred added with a grin.

"I think that might've been your best play yet," Oliver Wood said, chest swollen with pride. "You're the best Seeker this team has ever had!"

"Loads better than that Malfoy kid," Angelina Johnson said.

"We overheard Flint yelling at him," said Katie Bell.

"Bet he'll be off the team next year," George nodded.

"Let's get through this year first," Wood said with a shake of his head.

The Gryffindor players began diving into the treats, gearing up for a merry celebration, when Madam Pomfrey came storming over with waving arms. "This is not a pub!" she shouted. "How's this boy supposed to regrow thirty-three bones with this ruckus? He needs to rest! Out – OUT!"

Aralynn rose from the bed when Harry's visitors began shuffling out of the room. She looked up at Madam Pomfrey pleadingly.

"That goes for you, too, Miss Potter," she said.

Aralynn bit her lip. "Please, Madam Pomfrey, couldn't I stay with Harry?"

"No," she replied. "He needs to rest."

Aralynn looked over her shoulder at her brother with a frown. "I promise I won't keep him up or get in the way."

Madam Pomfrey shooed her. "Get to your dormitory, Miss Potter. Now."

Aralynn threw Harry one last longing glance before turning to follow the others. After saying her goodbyes to Kiya, she trudged reluctantly up to Gryffindor Tower. While she was glad that the nagging sense of danger was behind her, she was consumed with anxieties about Harry. It felt wrong to be away from him while he was injured and recovering. What if he needed help with something? What if he needed comfort? She tried to remind herself that Madam Pomfrey would be nearby. She was never too busy when she was needed, but Aralynn couldn't stop her mind from running through all the ways something could go wrong.

Harry can handle himself. He doesn't need a caretaker, she thought, but it sounded a lot like she was trying to convince herself. She knew she was likely being overdramatic about his safety—about the possible dangers surrounding him. She felt overbearing, and she was starting to annoy herself, but then she would remember that she had only just found him. She didn't want to lose him so soon. Maybe that justified her behavior. Maybe it didn't. The only thing she was certain of was that she couldn't control it—couldn't switch her intuition off. It would be easier if she could.

Hermione's voice startled her. "What Kiya said in the Hospital Wing got me thinking," she said.

Aralynn, partially distracted, looked at her. "What?"

"You were telling her that you didn't feel your connection with Harry at first," Hermione explained. "How it suddenly changed, but you didn't understand why."

Aralynn watched her, trying to piece the previous conversation together through her foggy brain. "Okay…?"

Hermione huffed. "Well, Kiya said that the connection was probably always there, but it needed to be activated somehow."

"I remember," Aralynn replied, present in the moment now. "What about it?"

"Well, I think she was right. Do you remember your detention with Hagrid in the Dark Forest last year?"

"Hard to forget," Aralynn snorted. "Voldemort was there. He tried to attack us, but…"

"—But he couldn't," finished Hermione eagerly. "You said you took Harry's hand, and this protective shield of sorts surged from you both."

Aralynn remembered that moment perfectly. The black figure of a person in a dark hooded cloak glided towards them, lips curled back over his teeth with the silver unicorn blood dribbling down his chin. She had been drowning in fear—paralyzed by it. She was so sure that she was going to die—that they both were going to die. There was nothing they could have done, but then she was compelled by some instinct to take Harry's hand as if that would make everything alright somehow…

Hermione was too impatient for Aralynn to come to her own conclusions. "What if that was the moment your connection was freed?"

Aralynn considered this, but she couldn't be sure of it. "It wasn't the first time we held hands," she said. "We did before in the loo with the troll."

"Did you feel anything then?"

"Well… Yeah, actually. It wasn't the same as it was in the forest, though."

Hermione hummed. "You weren't alone together then," she said, though she was talking more to herself while she deliberated. "Ron and I were there, too, and in the forest, you weren't facing a troll…" She perked up. "You were facing You-Know-Who, though! It makes sense! The circumstances were perfect! Just like the first time, you only had each other. You both sought the comfort of your twin because that's what you knew. Even as babies, you needed each other! At the end of the line, when all was lost, you still had each other. That's the difference."

Aralynn listened, working hard to keep pace with her logic. She understood what Hermione meant, but in a deeper sense, she didn't. She hailed from a world of magic, but that somehow seemed too fantastical to be possible. "So, what? We recreated the night we were supposed to die?"

Hermione smiled brightly. "Exactly."

Aralynn raked her fingers through her hair. "Last year, Dumbledore said that it was our mother's love and sacrifice that saved us that night."

"Couldn't it have been both?"

"That would require power stronger than one-year-olds have, Hermione."

"What else did Dumbledore say about it?"

The thought spread warmth through her. "He said that love is the most powerful form of magic there is."

Hermione grinned. "Don't you see what I mean, Ara? You and Harry love each other enough to need to be together at the very end. No matter when that end is."

It was difficult to comprehend, but some things are simply beyond understanding. Love, perhaps, the least of which. Like fear, or anger, it's constant—present in every single person's life, in some form or another… but unlike fear and anger, it's not as easily explained. There isn't always a reason, perhaps not even usually a reason. It just is.

Aralynn felt her throat go dry with the emotion of it. "You might be right."

"You'll never need anyone more than you need each other, Ara."

When Aralynn tried to sleep that night, her mind was so busy that it kept her awake. Her thoughts jumped anywhere they could—from the events of the Quidditch match, the first time she saw Harry at King's Cross Station, the battle with the mountain troll, and seeing the black silhouettes of her family in the Mirror of Erised. No matter how far it wandered, it always circled back to her conversation with Hermione. That moment with Harry in the Dark Forest changed so many things. Even then, it affected her severely. She remembered how her stomach would stir and her hands would moisten whenever he was near. She remembered wrestling with herself; how she felt as though she didn't fit correctly in her own world. The desperate need to understand the unknown had nearly swallowed her. It very well might have if it wasn't for… him.

Voldemort told her the truth when nobody else did—when nobody else would. It might have been a truth that she already knew, and refused to admit to herself, but it was just that… truth. To him, it was a vindictive act; a cruel act to make her feel alone in the world—broken, in some way, with dead parents and a fake family. Aralynn never interpreted it that way. It hurt to learn that the people who gave her life were so callously ripped from the world, but that never took away her family. The Weasleys were, and always would be, her family. To her, what he did was a sort of kindness. Perhaps the only kind thing that he would ever do in his life.

She wasn't grateful for what he did. She never would be—never could be. She could, however, acknowledge that it eased her mind and answered many of her questions. That was the only value she could assign to it. After all, he was the one who murdered her parents and eliminated the chance of her ever meeting them or feeling their love. He was responsible for her never knowing Harry, for not getting to love him sooner. Not only was he a murderer – he was a thief. A thief of time, of goodness—of love. That was enough to make him irredeemable. A monster.

Maybe that was why it hurt to be away from Harry. So much time had already been taken from them and she didn't want to waste another second. She wanted to know him—really know him—to form that bond that they should have never lost. If they could. Too much time gone might have hindered their chances for proper siblinghood. The only thing she could do was try, and she would. She wished chaos would stop following them so that she could have more opportunities to, though.

Aralynn was struck with the image of Harry lying alone in the Hospital Wing. She wanted to be there with him, even if he didn't need her. She could at least be nearby if he did end up needing her. She frowned at the darkness as she remembered Madam Pomfrey forcing her to leave. Harry's injury wasn't necessarily serious—it was simple to fix with the Skele-Gro, but she thought it was serious enough to allow her company while he recovered. Too bad Madam Pomfrey was so strict.

Hermione's earlier words ran through her mind.

"You'll never need anyone more than you need each other."

Maybe Harry didn't need her right now, but she needed him. It must have been late enough for Madam Pomfrey to be asleep. Aralynn would try not to fall asleep in the Hospital Wing so that she could leave before the matron woke in the morning. She could sneak in and out without issue, but honestly, she didn't quite care if she got caught. Madam Pomfrey was more likely to scold her and kick her out than give her detention. Being with Harry was worth any possible consequences.

Aralynn slipped out of bed, pulled her bathrobe on, and crept quietly across the dormitory. She opened the door slowly, mindful of how it squeaked once it reached a certain point. She created a gap large enough to squeeze herself through, and carefully returned the heavy wood to its previous position. She hurried down the stairs to the girls' tower, then climbed up the boys' tower. She made her way to Harry's dormitory, tiptoed inside, dug his invisibility cloak out of his trunk, threw it over her head before pushing the portrait open, and then exited the Gryffindor Common Room.

She walked as briskly as she could without making too much noise. She started to be thankful that she didn't have to worry about running into Mrs. Norris, but then she thought about why Mrs. Norris couldn't do that and cut her feelings right there. That situation was far too grim to find any joy from.

Aralynn made it to the Hospital Wing without incident. She stepped cautiously across the room, looking for any signs of Madam Pomfrey before removing the cloak. As she approached the curtain surrounding Harry's bed, she heard him speaking quietly. "You can stop doing that. I don't need—no—put down the sponge. Dobby!"

She shifted around the gap between the curtain and the wall and removed the cloak. Before she could stop herself, she realized how appearing out of thin air might have been a bad idea. Harry managed to stop himself from screaming, but he jumped so hard that the entire bed rattled. A short creature with bulbous eyes, large batlike ears, and a long, pointy nose was standing on the bed next to him. The House Elf spun around, about to scream or squeal, but Harry fastened his hand over his mouth before he could.

"Blimey, you scared me! What are you doing here, Ara?"

"I wanted to be with you," Aralynn replied, taking a seat on the stool next to his bed. "Who's this?"

Harry's eyes flickered towards the House Elf. "It's alright. That's my sister." He waited until he felt the creature was calm, or rather calm enough considering the way he shook, before removing his hand. "This is Dobby."

Aralynn looked at Dobby, who seemed awestruck as he stared at her. "The House Elf who dropped a cake on Mrs. Mason's head?"

Harry gave Dobby an annoyed look. "Yeah."

Aralynn smiled at the silent Dobby. "Hello, there. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Me?" Dobby squeaked. Aralynn wondered if that was how his voice usually sounded. "Pleased to meet… meet Dobby?" He looked like he was about to start wailing, but he cringed at the stern expression on Harry's face.

Aralynn glanced at Harry but continued smiling at Dobby. "Of course."

Dobby shook his head so hard that his batty ears audibly flapped. "No, no—it is Dobby who is pleased to meet you." He bent into a bow so deep that the tip of his slender nose touched the mattress. "Aralynn Potter!" he gasped. "Dobby never dreamed of meeting you—both of you! Dobby is honored."

Aralynn was hesitant. She wasn't sure how to respond. "Er—thank you?"

Dobby's goggling eyes were welled with tears. "Thank Dobby?"

Aralynn looked desperately at Harry. He distracted the House Elf by tapping him on the shoulder. "What are you doing here, Dobby?"

Dobby's expression turned grave while he slowly shook his head. "Dobby heard talk about Harry Potter coming back to school. Dobby tried, didn't he? He tried to warn Harry Potter—to stop him from going! After all that Dobby did to prevent it… It changed nothing! Ah, sir, Dobby wishes Harry Potter would have heeded his warning! Why didn't Harry Potter go back home when he missed the train?"

Aralynn jerked her head towards the Elf. "Hang on—missed the train? Was that your handiwork, Dobby?"

Dobby looked miserably at Aralynn. "Indeed, miss, it was… Dobby blocked the barrier in hopes that Harry Potter couldn't get to Hogwarts."

Harry glared at him. "Messing with my life is one thing, Dobby, but that didn't affect just me! You nearly got Aralynn and Ron expelled, too!"

Dobby hung his head and held up both of his hands, revealing shoddily bandaged fingers. "Of course, Dobby had to punish himself for that, sir. He ironed his hands! Dobby has no regrets, though, sir… He can't be sorry—he just wants to keep Harry Potter safe! He never thought Harry Potter would find another way to school…"

Harry's eyes were blazing. "You left us no other choice."

The Elf whimpered. "Dobby had to, sir! Dobby thought it would force Harry Potter's hand, but then… Then he found out Harry Potter made it to Hogwarts, and he was so upset that he neglected his master's dinner and it burned! His master was so angry with him… Dobby got a flogging worse than ever!"

Aralynn frowned as she listened to the House Elf. Harry didn't appreciate his interference, but Dobby seemed genuine in his desire to keep Harry safe, even if his methods were excessive. It was difficult to listen to everything that he had to endure, both from himself and his masters. She wished there was something she could do to help him.

Harry grimaced as he watched Dobby blow his nose into what he was wearing. It looked like a pillowcase that had never been washed. "Why d'you wear that thing, Dobby?"

Dobby tugged at the corners of the pillowcase that were resting on his shoulders. "'Tis a mark of the House Elf's enslavement, sir. Dobby can only be freed if his masters present him with clothes, sir. His masters would never do that, sir. They won't even pass him a sock, for he wouldn't have to obey them ever again. He would be able to leave forever, sir." He shook his head mournfully. "Dobby will never be free, sir."

Aralynn moved to sit on the edge of Harry's bed near Dobby. She smiled kindly at him and reached out to straighten his pillowcase. "I'm sorry you're treated like that, Dobby."

A choking sound escaped him. His eyes grew impossibly wider as he gazed at her. "Oh, such kindness! Dobby doesn't deserve Aralynn Potter's compassion…"

"Don't be silly," Aralynn said. "Of course, you do."

Harry was quick to continue talking when Dobby's lower lip began to tremble. "Dobby, isn't Ara also in danger if I am?"

Dobby looked bleak. "Yes, sir."

Harry looked annoyed again. "Why didn't you try to stop her from coming to Hogwarts, then?"

"Dobby did, sir, at the train station…"

"Before King's Cross, though?"

"Aralynn Potter is never alone, sir, not like Harry Potter is!"

Harry sighed. "Well, we're both here, Dobby. You shouldn't worry about it anymore. We're not leaving."

"Oh, but you must, sir! Dobby begs for it, sir! He'll keep trying if he must! He thought the Bludger would be enough, but Harry Potter is strong-willed…"

Aralynn blanched. "You bewitched that Bludger?"

Harry looked furious all over again. "Tell me she's wrong, Dobby."

Dobby shrunk under Harry's glare. He didn't answer, but he didn't really need to. Guilt was overcoming the features on his face.

"So, you thought killing me would do the trick?!" Harry whispered severely. Aralynn could tell that he wanted to scream so badly.

"Not kill you, sir, never kill you!"

Harry's nostrils flared. "I don't suppose you'll tell me why you're trying to send me home in a body bag?"

"Dobby only wants to save Harry Potter's life!"

"From what?"

The Elf whimpered again. "Dobby wishes he could say, sir… Oh, if only Harry Potter knew! If only he understood what he means to us—what Harry and Aralynn Potter both mean to us! We lowlifes, we dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers what life was like when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named reigned! All that cruelty! We House Elves were treated like vermin, sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like vermin, sir…" He paused to sniffle and wipe the tears from his eyes with the pillowcase. "Life has improved for many of my kind, though, sir, in the time since Harry and Aralynn Potter defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! When the Dark Lord was no more, the sun began to shine again! We believed the dark days would last until death! Terrible things are happening at Hogwarts now, Harry Potter! Things that threaten to bring the darkness back! That's why Dobby can't allow Harry Potter to stay here, sir, not when history is to repeat itself now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more!"

Aralynn was shocked. There had never been confirmation of the Chamber of Secrets' existence until now. She sifted through her racing thoughts while she watched Dobby gasp and grab the water jug from Harry's bedside table to hit himself over the head. "Bad Dobby," he said. "Very bad Dobby…"

Harry leaned forward, eager for information. "The Chamber of Secrets is real, and it's been opened before? That changes so much… Who opened it before, Dobby? What happened then? I know you know. You need to tell me—lives might depend on it!"

Dobby shook his head harshly. "Dobby can't, sir!"

Harry grabbed him before he could move away. "One of my best friends is Muggle-born, Dobby! I—… I care about her. She'll be the one in danger if the Chamber of Secrets is open and I don't do something about it! I'm not Muggle-born, I'll be fine. Tell me."

Dobby threw himself down on the bed with Harry still holding onto his wrist. "Dobby cannot tell, sir! Ask no more of Dobby, sir, please!" He slid himself along the mattress until he was hanging halfway off the bed.

"Tell me who's doing this! I have to protect my friends!"

"Such bravery!" Dobby said admiringly. "So noble and valiant! Harry Potter is a hero!"

"Dobby."

The Elf shifted until he was hanging off the bed with nothing but Harry holding him there. He looked pathetic while he dangled there. "Harry Potter must save himself now! Harry Potter must leave Hogwarts before it's too late!"

All three of them froze when they heard footsteps down the hall. There was no mistaking that they were headed for the Hospital Wing. Alarmed, Harry abruptly let go of Dobby, who thudded against the floor with a shrill squeak. He stood up quickly, looking pleadingly at Harry. "Dobby must go! Go home, Harry Potter! Go home!" With an echoing crack, the House Elf vanished.

Harry glared at the empty space where Dobby had been. The quick footsteps drawing closer forced him back to the present. "Ara, come on!" he whispered urgently, waving her closer.

Aralynn plucked the invisibility cloak from the floor and pulled her feet up on the bed. She lay on top of the blanket next to Harry and covered herself with the cloak again. The small gap between the curtain and the bed provided them with a view of the door. The door swung open, and Dumbledore appeared, backing into the room. He was dressed in a long, woolly dressing gown and a nightcap with a pompom on the tip. His hands were supporting the shoulders of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall, sporting her own dressing gown and hairnet, was holding the statue by its feet. Together, they heaved it onto an empty bed. Aralynn couldn't wrap her mind around why they would bring a statue into the Hospital Wing until she realized what it actually was…

Professor McGonagall swept hurriedly across the room. When she returned, Madam Pomfrey was on her heels. They rushed over to the bed, where Madam Pomfrey bent over it with a loud gasp. "Heavens!" she exclaimed. "What happened, Headmaster?"

"Another attack," answered Dumbledore. "Minerva found him on the stairs."

"There were grapes askew nearby," McGonagall explained. "We've come to believe that he was trying to bring a snack to Mr. Potter."

Aralynn leaned her head up to see more clearly over Harry's body. She felt her blood run cold when she saw Colin Creevey's face—scrunched up in horror with his hands positioned in front of it. There was something rectangular between them. She swallowed thickly as she studied him through the darkness. It was his camera.

"Another Petrification?" Madam Pomfrey asked in a whisper.

"Yes," replied McGonagall. "Albus was headed to the kitchens for some hot chocolate. I shudder to think what might have happened if he hadn't…"

"I can't bear to think about it," murmured Madam Pomfrey.

Dumbledore inched forward and began to delicately shift the camera in Colin's stone grasp until it broke free. He lifted it to his face, examining it closely.

"Perhaps he captured a photograph of his attacker," McGonagall suggested.

Dumbledore only hummed in response. He opened the back of the camera, only for a puff of steam to hiss out of it. The strong, acrid smell of burnt plastic wafted over to Harry and Aralynn.

"It's melted," said Madam Pomfrey, in disbelief. "Nothing."

"Who's doing this, Albus?" asked McGonagall urgently.

"I'm afraid I cannot say, Minerva," replied Dumbledore.

McGonagall exhaled shakily. "What does this mean?"

"It means," began Dumbledore solemnly, "that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more."

"Opened by who?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "It is not a question of who, but how…"

Professor McGonagall was quiet. Aralynn squinted to get a better look at her face. Her expression matched Dumbledore's and Madam Pomfrey's. They were processing the gravity of the situation—the severity of it. They looked serious, somber. The most unsettling part was that they all looked perplexed and contemplative. All they knew was that the Chamber of Secrets was open—not by who, not how. They didn't even know what was going around and Petrifying people. That made Aralynn's heart race.

When McGonagall and Dumbledore finally left, and Madam Pomfrey returned to her chambers, Aralynn removed the invisibility cloak. Harry looked at her, and she at him, but they didn't speak. There was nothing to say. The Chamber of Secrets was open. They were terrified and worried. Who knew how many Muggle-borns were at Hogwarts, but all of them were in grave danger. Aralynn thought about Hermione—about Kiya. How long would it take for someone to end up dead? Would it be one of them?

Aralynn only realized she was shaking when Harry wrapped a comforting arm around her.

She would never need anyone more than she needed Harry.