Friday afternoon. The time of frenetic energy, where children would play, and teenagers would prepare to party. It was a time of joy, a time of carefree happiness, where the homework the weekend offered held no sway, and the finished week excited people to distraction and fancy. Harry had heard the Weasley twins telling Angelina Johnson about a pick-up quidditch match with the Hufflepuffs, to be followed by a team-only mixer to meet before tryouts began in the third week. In Slytherin, he knew, the first formal party was being held in one of the underground vaults. He shuddered unconsciously as he remembered his debut at the party. Sweating nervously, he had stumbled over his words, and shyly hid behind Draco's expertise, unprepared for the veritable avalanche of schmoozing, trading, flattery and offers to dance. What had seemed second-nature to the purebloods had been so very alien to him that he had left the party 30 minutes early, to the chagrin of his best friend.
Sighing, he zoned back in, looking down at the homework venomously. The Three Components of Mucus Ad Nauseum, the title read. Below it, a roll of parchment cataloguing the wand movement, pronunciation, and effects of the bogey-blowing jinx. Whilst perhaps appropriate work for first years, Harry found it entirely mind-numbing work, especially since he had up until a few months ago been working with Protego, Incendio Maxima, and Diffindo, not to mention a host of other spells that could easily be used to kill or at least debilitate the opposition. Of course, he'd been forced to study those spells in secret, and thus wasn't as proficient at them as he'd like to be, but the point remained. The spells stood in stark contrast to the Bogey-Blowing jinx, which caused the opponent's nose to run profusely, a jinx Harry found hard to believe he'd ever end up using on the battlefield. Although, to be fair to Quirrell, the only useful spell in a battle a first year could possibly cast with their magic would be a nice Nasas Protero, a spell Harry himself had used several times. The nose crunching spell was always satisfying to land, and he still treasured the time he had hit Lockhart with it "accidentally" after the git had almost vanished the bones in his arm after his second Quidditch match.
"Do you need help with that?" A nervous, female voice came from behind, startling him.
After jumping in his chair a little, he looked behind him to see Hermione looking at him, waiting expectantly.
"No thanks," He replied, "I think I'm about done. Thanks for the offer, though." He finished politely, giving her a half-smile.
He didn't want to be beholden to anybody, a lesson he had learnt the hard way after an especially gruelling study session with Daphne had transformed into questions about betrothal come Harry's ascendance to "Lord Potter" at age 18. Besides, he knew more than her anyway, and wasn't about to spend three hours working on something as entirely inconsequential as an essay on the Bogey-Blowing jinx.
Hermione just nodded and turned around, fleeing from the increasing levels of chaos in the common room. In her rush, she almost ran headlong into Ron, who had to jump out of the way to avoid being bowled over.
"Oi! Watch it!" He cried indignantly at her retreating back, before turning and walking towards Harry, a confused look on his face. "What's with the bookworm?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowed.
"Dunno, she wanted to help me finish my essay or something? Like I couldn't finish it myself…" he finished darkly, a little annoyed at the fact the girl seemed to consider herself above her classmates. A week in, and it was becoming easier to remember why it had been so easy to pick on her. He forced down the stirrings of guilt, looking at Ron again. "Anyways, Friday afternoon, what are we doing?"
Ron shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. I was thinking of grabbing Scabbers and taking him somewhere, he's been off ever since we came here. Maybe its your owl or something." He said, with a surprisingly thoughtful look on his face. Then, realising what he had just implied, blurted out "not that I've a problem with that, Hedwig's been brilliant, it's just, y'know, owls and rats…." He trailed of limply, hoping he hadn't insulted his friend.
Harry smiled a little. The Weasley's, having a rat for a pet. How in keeping with their general image. "Really, Ron? You were planning to spend Friday with your rat? C'mon. Surely we can think of something better to do than that?"
Ron considered. "You ever played wizard's chess?" He said finally.
Harry looked at Ron sceptically. Wizard's chess was pretty fun, and was his favourite framing device for elaborate plans, but against an eleven year old? Especially an 11 year old Ron Weasley? He was doubtful the boy could put up any serious challenge.
"Yeah, it's alright, I guess, but its Friday afternoon! I don't want to stretch my brain any more after all this." He complained, knowing that he'd very much like to have his brain stretched, perhaps literally if it helped escape from the boredom of some of his classes. The only thing worse than having to sit through Binns lecture about the Goblin Wars was having to sit though the lecture a second time.
Ron looked at him pleadingly. "Pleease, just one game? I'll even go easy on you, I'll take a knight off before we start!"
"Fine… but the knight thing won't be necessary." Harry grabbed his parchment and strolled over to one of the side tables, where a set of battered chess pieces lay. "I'll be black." Harry said, motioning for Ron to sit. This wouldn't take long.
Well, at least he got one thing right. Ten minutes later, his King was trapped in the corner by Ron's Queen and Rook. Determined to concede graciously, he knocked his king over, and held out his hand. "That was bloody brilliant." He said genuinely, an abashed grin on his face. To say he was impressed was an understatement. He would have been less surprised if Merlin had risen from the grounds outside Hogwarts and began throwing irate Puffskeins at the Headmaster. Harry didn't delude himself into thinking he was anything more than a good player, but Ron Weasley was, at the grand age of eleven years old, already a prodigy at the game. Whilst the boy was not yet a master, Harry had never stood a chance as Ron's knights had skewered and forked their way into his ranks, cutting his troops apart. It had been embarrassing at first, losing to a Weasley, but as the boy's skill only continued to show, Harry had found himself becoming more and more convinced that his defeat was by no means a fluke.
Ron, meanwhile, had a satisfied smile on his face as he absentmindedly stroked the head of his King, who looked somewhere between chuffed and irritated at the gesture. "Thanks, Harry, you were pretty good. Read a book on it and I'm sure you'll be better than me in no time!" He said generously, every part of him believing that was true.
"Pretty good? Well, I think that's a bit of an exaggeration considering my army lies mangled on the field within ten bloody minutes, but sure, a book will certainly help me defeat the prodigy." Harry replied easily.
"Ooh, what's this?" The voice of Lavender Brown warbled behind Harry, full of excitement. "Is this chess? Oh, I love the game! Who was which? I bet you were black, weren't you Ron?" She exclaimed, looking the two boys.
Ron looked at her for a moment as anger flashed across his features. "What? No, I-"
"Ron, here, was white. Which clearly was a sign, since he creamed me in less than ten minutes." Harry interjected, not wanting to deal with the headaches a fight would cause. Not when he had something better to do.
Lavender, to her credit, looked at Ron more closely, renewed interest in her eyes as he stared back at her grumpily. "Well…I guess I should give you more credit, Ron." She concluded, before turning to walk back to Parvarti. Harry's hand shot out to touch her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. She looked back at him curiously. "Any particular reason your hand is on my shoulder, Harry?"
Harry smiled. "Yes…it would be fair to say you've something of an interest in hair, right?"
Lavender cocked her head a little. "Well…yeah" she said uncertainly. "But I don't see what that's got to with anything..."
If it was possible, Harry's smile stretched even further. "Oh, on the contrary, Lav, it may be precisely what I've been looking for." He looked at the Weasley twins for a moment, considering them. "If you're interested, I've got a mission for you…"
Saturday morning dawned on Hogwarts castle. Bookworms were already working in the library, hangovers were being nursed, some were sleeping in whilst a few were sleeping out in broom closets. The Gryffindor common room was a bastion of peace and tranquillity, as the fire crackled merrily and students chatted demurely, careful not to wake their sleeping colleagues. It was a tranquillity that lasted up until the moment the Weasley twins strutted into the common room.
"We have an announcement!" One said, as everybody stared at them in disbelief.
"A message, meant specifically for a person, or a group of people." The other continued, ignoring the incredulous looks they were garnering.
"And that message is.."
"Well played!" They chorused in unison.
The entire common room descended into laughter as Fred and George, their heads entirely bald save for a mohawk of colour that alternated between green and white, favoured their fans with an abashed smile.
Harry, in bed, heard the laughter emanating from the common room, and he contentedly rolled over, grinning ear to ear. The charm they'd had put on the twins could last a little longer, he thought, as he closed his eyes.
Harry wandered along the old corridor in the East Wing, scrutinising the blank wall in front of him. It was odd, he reflected, at there were no portraits along this entire stretch. Was it a sign? A hint that not all was as it seemed? He tapped his wand against the wall every few steps, hoping that he'd find something. But, the wall seemed determined to remain a wall, and there was certainly no hollow noises coming from it. A minute later, and he admitted defeat. Another fruitless search. Whilst he had come across a few old classrooms, and a weird passage contained within a statue of Wendelin the Weird, he was still no closer to finding the Chamber. Grumpily, he trudged back towards the tower, ignoring the excited chattering of students enjoying what remained of the first weekend off. Still, at least he had checked off one more area off the ever-shortening list of "unusual" Hogwarts areas. Of course, the list of "unusual" areas at Hogwarts was truly massive, and whilst he had managed to use logic to narrow it down somewhat, there were still more places than he wanted to think about able to hold the Chamber. And that, of course ,was assuming that he'd be able to tell if there was a secret passage to the chamber by tapping his wand and sending some magic at the wall! It all seemed so hopeless. He gritted his teeth. If the alternative was students dying on his watch, he'd break his damned wand before he saw the basilisk get loose again.
Nodding determinedly, he began the long walk back to the dormitories, thinking of the books he had yet to go over in his search. The list was rapidly dwindling, and the possibilities seemed to be increasing all the time. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he completely missed a turban-clad figure sidle out from a corridor, and begin to follow him.
When he got back to the dormitory, it was clear something had happened. A number of students were crammed around the notice board, with many more chattering excitedly.
"Harry!" Neville called from the crush of people. "Did you hear?"
Harry shook his head. "Hear what?"
Nevillle broke free of the crowd and scampered over. "Its flying practice! We've got it with the Slytherins this Thursday." He moaned.
Harry did his best to look surprised. "Really? Mixing the two arch-rivals, I wonder how that could go badly."
"I don't even know how to fly! Gran never let me! She said I had enough accidents on the ground to let me go flying." Morosely, he looked down accusingly at his legs, which did seem to get into more than their fair share of accidents.
"Well most people won't, except the rich kids like Malfoy. You'll be in good company, at least." Harry explained, hoping to avoid a repeat of the infamous Remembrall incident. Drake and Ron had spent the next week in detention for that little stunt.
"But Ron says he's outrun a muggle hang-glider, and he's not rich at all!"
"Ron's just telling tales, is all. Don't worry about it. Just stick close to me, and we'll be fine, yeah?" Whilst Harry did not particularly want to spend his first flying lesson in forever babysitting Neville of all people, it was better than the alternative. In his first flying lesson, the boy had fallen from his broom halfway through the lesson, losing his Remembrall in the process. Draco and Ron had began squabbling over it, culminating in them having a broom race. They had, of course, been assigned detention in the Forbidden Forest as a punishment, where they had been unfortunate enough to meet what Harry now realised was the Dark Lord. With how much things had already changed, the last thing Harry wanted was for two first years to be in the forest with Quirrell's possessed body out and about.
Neville, meanwhile, just nodded a little, his face a little white at the mere thought of flying. "I will, thanks, Harry. I just hope I don't embarrass you in front of Malfoy."
Oh. Right. Malfoy. If he knew his former friend, he'd be ribbing Neville every chance he got.
"Don't worry, Nev, I'm sure it'll be fine. Worst comes to worst, I'll handle him, okay?"
"yeahokaythen."
"What was that?"
"Yeah. Okay then. Thanksalot. You really don't have to stick up for me though, Harry, I-"
"Neville. It's fine. Lets…just not talk about it anymore."
There was an awkward silence for a moment, before Harry came up with an excuse to leave.
"Anyways, I got some study do before dinner tonight, I'll be down in the dormitory."
"Bye Harry."
Harry hurried across the common room, keen on retreating into his books. In his haste, he missed the two Weasley twins, staring suspiciously at him from across the room.