Life at Hogwarts didn't settle after the writing on the wall. The mystery was like a constant murmuring undercurrent that occasionally rose in volume and interrupted school life once again. But over the murmur of mystery and the wondering of who could possibly have written it, other terrible incidents continued to arise and add to the hectic pile of troubles that gradually built up at Hogwarts.
One such incident came round at the school Quidditch match. The tension was rising as Saturday grew closer. Ginny saw her twin brothers get gradually more agitated about it, and had to listen to their constant complaints of how weather affects practice.
"Not that we can't handle it," added George after a long period of grumbles over Quidditch, "it's just we'd rather not have to put up with Wood being paranoid and making us train in every spare second."
"Yeah," said Fred, "Slytherin are probably going to be the hardest competitors to beat while they have new brooms from Blondie over there. They aren't the best team ever, particularly with their new additions of Draco and his galumphing goons, but the Nimbus 2001 is amazing! It's a brand new model, can't be beaten for speed and steering."
"Plus every time the weather is good after school, Snape sends some rubbishy little note to give Slytherin the pitch."
"We'll be alright though," piped up Hermione, "since money won't be much use to Draco once he tries to catch the snitch. We've got all the skill on our side, not to mention you'll be prepared if it's raining on the day. What could go wrong?"
It turned out plenty could go wrong. The day threatened to rain from the beginning, and didn't show any signs of clearing up before the match. Ginny had gone through a restless sleep the night before, and having woken up at five o'clock without being able to sleep anymore, she wrapped herself in her dressing gown and shuffled down to the common room in her slippers.
The room was deserted and the embers had burnt out in the fireplace. A potion book was open on the table with scribbled notes written next to it, and a plate with a few crumbs had been discarded along with the work. Ginny picked up the quill to find it was still wet. She sat down to read what someone had been up all night planning for, reaching for the ancient book of potions that lay across table. It was huge, stretching the width of the armchair that Ginny sat upon, with elegant writing covering the pages, and small, intricate illustrations to show the effects of the potion. She read the title.
"Polyjuice Potion"
Ginny had heard of it before. Her dad had mentioned how some Aurors had used it to help find out more about Death Eaters recently, and how some of the departments were watching out for it being used by criminals for getting out of trouble. It was used for changing your appearance to look like someone else, but it took a lot of time and effort to make, plus some of the ingredients were expensive and rare, so why would a Hogwarts student need it? She was sure Fred and George would find some use for it, but they were too lazy to make so much effort. None of the students had access to ingredients like Boomslang skin anyway, along with some of the other things on the list. Who was daring enough to make and use this potion?
Ginny looked at the list that had been written on the parchment beside the book. It looked like Hermione's handwriting. And only someone like Hermione would know about this type of spell, and have the ability to make it. It was incredibly complicated. But she still couldn't see a reason why Hermione would need it. But then there were a lot of unexplained things going on at Hogwarts; Ginny couldn't even understand what was going on in her own mind, let alone the rest of the school.
Suddenly Ginny heard a huge thud outside the door. The floor vibrated slightly, and she heard a little whimper coming from the same direction. She looked to the clock. It was a quarter past five. Who was roaming the outside corridors at this time of the morning, and making so much noise? Ginny put down the potion book slowly, and moved tensely toward the back of the portrait, hardly making a sound as she crept across the room. She opened the portrait to a quiet creak, only to behold a small, panicky house elf struggling to carry a large trunk down the corridor. The fat lady rose gently from her slumber, opening her drowsy eyes and jumping up startled at the sight she beheld.
"Honestly! It's five fifteen in the morning! What on earth are you doing making such a racket!" she screamed at the shy little creature that curled up protectively in the sudden downpour of noise.
"Please miss, I is only trying to help! And she is up as well; she is the one who awaked you, miss!"
"I'm sorry!" said Ginny before the fat lady began to rant, "I just couldn't sleep! But it wasn't me who made that thud, it was the elf!"
"I don't care who woke me! Just tell me what in Merlin's name is going on!"
"Please, miss, I is taking this package back to the Quidditch cupboard, miss."
Ginny noticed the box shuddered in the elf's weak little fingers. It looked as though it was trying to pull away from Dobby, toward Gryffindor common room. But, Ginny told herself, Bludgers often attempted escape even when they were inside the box. But not in one direction though...
"You're not one of the Hogwarts house elves. I've never seen you before, and I'm on first name terms with all of the Elves who work here. Who are you?" The fat lady retorted bitterly.
"I is Dobby, miss, and I is not usually here, but I has come."
"What for?"
"I is forbidden to say, miss. I is here on private business."
"Well, I'm sure Dumbledore would not let you in without knowing you were safe. Honestly, this school is mad at the moment! Carry on, but don't create such a racket next time. We are all missing out on sleep anyway, without the help of noisy workers. I don't know what you're doing here, but so long as you don't intend cause harm to the school or anyone in it, you should be welcomed. Go on, go!"
"Dobby thanks you kindly miss!" Dobby called as he heaved the trunk down the stairs with a loud "thunk" as it fell down each step, constantly tugging itself out of Dobby's fingers in the opposite direction.
"And as for you," said the fat lady, turning on Ginny, "what are you doing up?"
"I've just had trouble sleeping. Sorry for disturbing you."
"Well, it wasn't totally your fault. Are you going in or out? You're letting a draft in."
"Out."
"Alright, I'll see you soon then."
"Thank you."
Ginny climbed out of the portrait hole and went down the moving staircases. She came to the bottom and saw Dobby still struggling with the Quidditch trunk.
"Need any help?" she asked.
"No, miss, I will do it!" Dobby looked worried, almost afraid of her help.
"Okay, if you're sure…"
"Yes, I is sure, miss, thank you, miss."
"Bye then."
"Goodbye, miss."
Ginny walked on, occasionally looking over her shoulder to see Dobby struggling along and looking frantic. Why didn't he want any help? Ginny wondered. She walked out of the huge, heavy, front doors and down the front steps to the court yard. A large fountain stood in the centre, with the Hogwarts crest in the centre of it. Carved from stone, the creatures that represented each house stood out in cold, grey unanimated images. Silence spread across the courtyard, just the underlying sound of the fountain trickling gently, and the wind that lifted Ginny's red hair and flicked it across her face could be heard. In a few hours, this place would be full of excited students, ready to watch the Quidditch. Ginny thought how amazing the peace was; even her head wasn't full of whispers. For now, anyway.