Chapter 8: The Rogue Bludger
Since the disastrous episode of the pixies, Professor Lockhart had not brought live creatures to class. Instead, he read passages from his books to them, and sometimes reenacted some of the more dramatic bits. He usually picked Harry to help him with these reconstructions; so far, Harry had been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a head cold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him. Harry was hauled to the front of the class during their very next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting a werewolf. If he hadn't had a very good reason for keeping Lockhart in a good
mood, he would have refused to do it. John on the other hand, skipped every one of the lessons. He knew Lockhart would only teach them lies, and Lockhart was afraid John would spout out his secret. Of course, Gilderoy was way off because while John knew Gilderoy was a fraud, he didn't care enough to discredit the useless teacher… yet.
"Nice loud howl," Gilderoy said as Harry humiliated himself, "Harry… exactly… and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced… like this… slammed him to the floor… thus… with one hand, I managed to hold him down… with my other, I put my wand to his throat… I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm… he let out a piteous moan… go on, Harry… higher than that… good… the fur vanished… the fangs shrank… and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective… and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks."
The bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet.
"Homework…" Gilderoy said, "compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!"
The class began to leave. Harry returned to the back of the room, where Ron and Hermione were waiting.
"Ready?" Harry muttered.
"Why'd you mutter?" Hermione asked, "We're just going to talk to a friend… not as if that's illegal, ya know."
"Right," Harry said sheepishly, "I just feel like we're about to do something bad, is all."
"Huh," Ron said, "I'm getting it too. Wonder why."
At that, they all left the classroom and began their search for John.
Meanwhile, with John…
John was currently resting in the common room on his own, while students came and went every now and then. However, his rest was interrupted by someone jabbing him in the cheek. He opened his right eye and saw a blond curly-haired girl staring at him. That girl was Luna Lovegood, and best friend of Ginny Weasley.
"What do you want Luna?" John asked irritably. Luna irritates him a LOT.
"Have you seen my panties?" Luna asked, "all of them have gone missing."
John suddenly widened his eyes at that and "jumped" causing him to fall face first onto the floor with his head bonking on the coffee table on the way down.
"Ow," John muttered to himself as he got to his feet before turning to look at Luna. He did everything he could to not picture what Luna would look like without panties on as she was undoubtedly going panty-less right now.
"I have not seen them," John said going red as he was failing to not picture it, "how long have they been missing?"
"They vanished during the night," Luna replied, "I suspect Nargals are behind it."
"Alright," Luna sighed, "I guess I'll have to wait for them to return. My stuff always does when they vanish."
She then left the common room wearing a skirt which was the only thing hiding her privates.
"That girl is off her rocker," John muttered as he sat back down in the comfy chair and tried to rest again.
Later…
John was now in the library looking for whatever could help him figure out how he could safely spontaneously combust when Harry, Hermione, and Ron appeared.
"John," Harry said to John who was reading a book titled Afflictions and Blood Curses. Unfortunately, the book wasn't telling John what he needed to know.
"What?" John asked as he closed the book and put it down on the table.
"We need to know-" began Hermione gently.
"Could Draco be Slytherin's Heir?" Ron asked impatiently.
John suddenly burst out laughing at how ridiculous that sounded, and couldn't stop even when Madam Pince stomped over and told him to shut up. He only stopped laughing once they were a fair amount away from the Library.
"How can you think this funny?" Harry asked.
"Because Draco being the Heir to Slytherin is completely ridiculous," John snorted, "If he was the Heir to Slytherin he'd be a parselmouth, and he's not."
He then stopped as something clicked in his head.
"What is it?" Hermione asked.
"Spiders running away frantically," John muttered mostly to himself as he paced in the corridor, "parselmouth, Slytherin's heir…"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other in confusion before looking back at John.
"Aha!" John said with a grin which was unusual for him, "I know what attacked Mrs. Norris!"
"You do?!" the Gryffindor trio exclaimed.
"How?" Hermione asked.
"Last year," John explained, "When we were searching for info on Nicolas Flamel?"
"Yes…" the Gryffindor trio said not understanding.
"I didn't look myself because I had already read all of the books," John continued, "and one of those books held the key to this year's mystery."
"I don't understand…" Ron said confused.
"There is a creature that can kill people that look into its eyes," John said excitedly, "I can't remember its name, but spiders fear it. Those spiders we saw on the window? They were running away because of the creature that attacked Mrs. Norris. The Chamber of Secrets can only be opened by the heir of Slytherin himself, which means the key that opens the chamber is parseltongue."
Herry, Ron, and Hermione stared dumbfounded as they registered everything John was saying.
"There's just one thing though," Hermione said, "Mrs. Norris is petrified, and you said that the creature kills with its eyes."
"Oh," John said with his excitement vanishing, "bollocks. Looks like you're right."
At that, John and the Gryffindor trio continued their path along the corridor.
The next day…
Harry woke early on Saturday morning and lay for a while thinking about the coming Quidditch match. He was nervous, mainly at the thought of what Wood would say if Gryffindor lost, but also at the idea of facing a team mounted on the fastest racing brooms gold could buy. He had never wanted to beat Slytherin so badly. After half an hour of lying there with his insides churning, he got up, dressed, and went down to breakfast early, where he found the rest of the Gryffindor team huddled at the long, empty table, all looking uptight and not speaking much.
As eleven o'clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadium. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. Ron and Hermione came hurrying over to wish Harry good luck as he entered the locker rooms. The team pulled on their scarlet Gryffindor robes, then sat down to listen to Wood's usual pre-match pep talk.
"Slytherin has better brooms than us," he began, "No point denying it. But we've got better people on our brooms. We've trained harder than they have, we've been flying in all weathers…"
"Too true," muttered George Weasley, "I haven't been properly dry since August."
"… and we're going to make them rue the day they let that little bit of slime, Malfoy, buy his way onto their team," Wood continued.
Chest heaving with emotion, Wood turned to Harry.
"It'll be down to you," Wood said, "Harry, to show them that a Seeker has to have something more than a rich father. Get to that Snitch before Malfoy or die trying, Harry, because we've got to win today, we've got to."
"So no pressure, Harry," said Fred, winking at him.
As they walked out onto the field, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins in the crowd made their boos and hisses heard, too. Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary.
"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch, "Three… two… one…"
With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch.
"Alright there, Scarhead?" yelled Malfoy, shooting underneath him as though to show off the speed of his broom.
Harry had no time to reply. At that very moment, a heavy black Bludger came pelting toward him; he avoided it so narrowly that he felt it ruffle his hair as it passed.
"Close one, Harry!" said George, streaking past him with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward a Slytherin. Harry saw George give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey, but the Bludger changed direction in midair and shot straight for Harry again.
Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard toward Malfoy. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry's head.
Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the field. He could hear the Bludger whistling along behind him. What was going on? Bludgers never concentrated on one player like this; it was their job to try and unseat as many people as possible…
Fred Weasley was waiting for the Bludger at the other end. Harry ducked as Fred swung at the Bludger with all his might; the Bludger was knocked off course.
"Gotcha!" Fred yelled happily, but he was wrong; as though it was magnetically attracted to Harry, the Bludger pelted after him once more and Harry was forced to fly off at full speed.
It had started to rain; Harry felt heavy drops fall onto his face, splattering onto his glasses. He didn't have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until he heard Lee Jordan, who was commentating, say, "Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero-"
The Slytherins' superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs, and meanwhile the mad Bludger was doing all it could to knock Harry out of the air. Fred and George were now flying so close to him on either side that Harry could see nothing at all except their flailing arms and had no chance to look for the Snitch, let alone catch it.
"Someone's… tampered… with… this… Bludger…" Fred grunted, swinging his bat with all his might at it as it launched a new attack on Harry.
"We need time out," said George, trying to signal to Wood and stop the Bludger breaking Harry's nose at the same time.
Wood had obviously got the message. Madam Hooch's whistle rang out and Harry, Fred, and George dived for the ground, still trying to avoid the mad Bludger.
"What's going on?" said Wood as the Gryffindor team huddled together, while Slytherins in the crowd jeered, "We're being flattened. Fred, George, where were you when that Bludger stopped Angelina scoring?"
"We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger from murdering Harry, Oliver," said George angrily, "Someone's fixed it… it won't leave Harry alone. It hasn't gone for anyone else all game. The Slytherins must have done something to it."
"But the Bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch's office since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then…" said Wood, anxiously confused.
Madam Hooch was walking toward them. Over her shoulder, Harry could see the Slytherin team jeering and pointing in his direction.
"Listen," said Harry as she came nearer and nearer, "with you two flying around me all the time the only way I'm going to catch the Snitch is if it flies up my sleeve. Go back to the rest of the team and let me deal with the rogue one."
"Don't be thick," said Fred, "It'll take your head off."
Wood was looking from Harry to the Weasleys.
"Oliver, this is insane," said Alicia Spinnet angrily. "You can't let Harry deal with that thing on his own. Let's ask for an inquiry-"
"If we stop now, we'll have to forfeit the match!" said Harry, "And we're not losing to Slytherin just because of a crazy Bludger! Come on, Oliver, tell them to leave me alone!"
"This is all your fault," George said angrily to Wood, " 'Get the Snitch or die trying,' what a stupid thing to tell him-"
Madam Hooch had joined them.
"Ready to resume play?" she asked Wood.
Wood looked at the determined look on Harry's face.
"All right," he said, "Fred, George, you heard Harry… leave him alone and let him deal with the Bludger on his own."
The rain was falling more heavily now. On Madam Hooch's whistle, Harry kicked hard into the air and heard the telltale whoosh of the Bludger behind him. Higher and higher Harry climbed; he looped and swooped, spiraled, zigzagged, and rolled. Slightly dizzy, he nevertheless kept his eyes wide open, rain was speckling his glasses and ran up his nostrils as he hung upside down, avoiding another fierce dive from the Bludger. He could hear laughter from the crowd; he knew he must look very stupid, but the rogue Bludger was heavy and couldn't change direction as quickly as Harry could; he began a kind of roller-coaster ride around the edges of the stadium, squinting through the silver sheets of rain to the Gryffindor goal posts, where Adrian Pucey was trying to get past Wood-
A whistling in Harry's ear told him the Bludger had just missed him again; he turned right over and sped in the opposite direction.
"Training for the ballet, Potter?" yelled Malfoy as Harry was forced to do a stupid kind of twirl in midair to dodge the Bludger, and he fled, the Bludger trailing a few feet behind him; and then, glaring back at Malfoy in hatred, he saw it… the Golden Snitch. It was hovering inches above Malfoy's left ear… and Malfoy, busy laughing at Harry, hadn't seen it.
For an agonizing moment, Harry hung in midair, not daring to speed toward Malfoy in case he looked up and saw the Snitch.
WHAM.
He had stayed still a second too long. The Bludger had hit him at last, smashed into his elbow, and Harry felt his arm break. Dimly, dazed by the searing pain in his arm, he slid sideways on his rain-drenched broom, one knee still crooked over it, his right arm dangling useless at his side… the Bludger came pelting back for a second attack, this time aiming at his face… Harry swerved out of the way, one idea firmly lodged in his numb brain: get to Malfoy.
Through a haze of rain and pain he dived for the shimmering, sneering face below him and saw its eyes widen with fear: Malfoy thought Harry was attacking him.
"What the-" he gasped, careening out of Harry's way.
Harry took his remaining hand off his broom and made a wild snatch; he felt his fingers close on the cold Snitch but was now only gripping the broom with his legs, and there was a yell from the crowd below as he headed straight for the ground, trying hard not to pass out.
With a splattering thud he hit the mud and rolled off his broom. His arm was hanging at a very strange angle; riddled with pain, he heard, as though from a distance, a good deal of whistling and shouting. He focused on the Snitch clutched in his good hand.
"Aha," he said vaguely, "We've won."
And he fainted.
He came around, rain falling on his face, still lying on the field, with someone leaning over him. He saw a glitter of teeth.
"Oh, no, not you," he moaned.
"Doesn't know what he's saying," said Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around them, "Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm."
"No!" said Harry, "I'll keep it like this, thanks…"
He tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible. He heard a familiar clicking noise nearby.
"I don't want a photo of this, Colin," he said loudly.
"Lie back, Harry," said Lockhart soothingly, "It's a simple charm I've used countless times-"
"Why can't I just go to the hospital wing?" said Harry through clenched teeth.
"He should really, Professor," said a muddy Wood, who couldn't help grinning even though his Seeker was injured, "Great capture, Harry, really spectacular, your best yet, I'd say-"
Through the thicket of legs around him, Harry spotted Fred and George Weasley, wrestling the rogue Bludger into a box. It was still putting up a terrific fight.
"Stand back," Lockhart said right before a strange expression came across him, "Actually, I've had a change of mind. Let's get him to the hospital wing."
Unknown to everyone, John was putting his wand away. John more than likely used the Imperius Curse on Gilderoy Lockhart.
Later, in the hospital wing…
Madam Pomfrey was fussily checking Harry's arm, but when she was satisfied the dumbass of a teacher didn't try to mend it she let out a sigh of relief.
"Lockhart may be a egotistic pig," Madam Pomfrey said as she pulled out her wand, "but at least he realized that he should leave healing to the professionals."
"How long should it take to mend?" Harry asked.
"Not long," Pomfrey replied as she pointed her wand at Harry's arm, "but I'm going to keep you here tonight to make sure you don't have any other ailments like pneumonia due to the rain."
After Madam Pomfrey had healed Harry's arm, he had said bye to Ron and Hermione who waited long enough to see if he'll be alright. Both Harry and Ron were shocked that Gilderoy did the smart thing instead of trying to prove himself a competent wizard. Hermione on the other hand was even more in love with Gilderoy for doing the right thing and allowing Madam Pomfrey to heal Harry instead.
Before the two could leave, the door of the hospital wing burst open. Filthy and soaking wet, the rest of the Gryffindor team had arrived to see Harry.
"Unbelievable flying, Harry," said George, "I've just seen Marcus Flint yelling at Malfoy. Something about having the Snitch on top of his head and not noticing. Malfoy didn't seem too happy."
They had brought cakes, sweets, and bottles of pumpkin juice; they gathered around Harry's bed and were just getting started on what promised to be a good party when Madam Pomfrey came storming over.
"This boy needs rest," Madam Pomfrey yelled, "Even though his bones have healed, the body needs time to adjust! Out! OUT!"
And Harry was left alone, with nothing to distract him from how boring it is to be in the hospital wing.
Hours and hours later, Harry woke quite suddenly in the pitch blackness because he felt like he was being watched. Which he was. Standing above him was a young black-haired man wearing some kind of victorian style male outfit minus the cliche long coat. He also had some facial hair but not enough to be considered a mustache or beard.
"Gah!" Harry cried out startled which startled the young man as well.
"Who are you and why were you standing over my hospital bed?"
"My name is Credence," the boy replied in an american accent, "and I have no idea how I got here. One second I was with Nagini and the next I was here. Where exactly is here?"
"My name is Harry Potter," Harry said having calmed down, "and you're in Hogwarts. If you need help getting back to where-"
However, before Harry could finish his thought the boy suddenly vanished and Harry bolted up in bed.
"That was weird," Harry remarked.
For a second, he thought Credence vanishing was what had woken him. Then, with a thrill of horror, he realized that someone was sponging his forehead in the dark.
"Get off!" he said loudly, and then, "Dobby!"
The house-elf 's goggling tennis ball eyes were peering at Harry through the darkness. A single tear was running down his long, pointed nose.
"Harry Potter came back to school," he whispered miserably, "Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter. Ah sir, why didn't you heed Dobby? Why didn't Harry Potter go back home when he missed the train?"
Harry heaved himself up on his pillows and pushed Dobby's sponge away.
"What're you doing here?" he said, "And how did you know I missed the train?"
Dobby's lip trembled and Harry was seized by a sudden suspicion.
"It was you!" he said slowly, "You stopped the barrier from letting us through!"
"Indeed yes, sir," said Dobby, nodding his head vigorously, ears flapping, "Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter and sealed the gateway and Dobby had to iron his hands afterward."
He showed Harry ten long, bandaged fingers.
"But Dobby didn't care," dobby continued, "sir, for he thought Harry Potter was safe, and never did Dobby dream that Harry Potter would get to school another way!"
He was rocking backward and forward, shaking his ugly head.
"Dobby was so shocked when he heard Harry Potter was back at Hogwarts, he let his master's dinner burn!" Dobby said, "Such a flogging Dobby never had, sir…"
Harry slumped back onto his pillows.
"Well," Harry said fiercely, "If John wasn't there you might've nearly gotten me and Ron expelled. If I was any angrier, I would strangle you."
Dobby gave a weak smile.
"Dobby is used to that, sir," Dobby said, "Dobby gets death threats five times a day at home…"
"Not surprised with the Malfoys being your masters," Harry said grimly.
"How-" began Dobby.
"John told me," Harry said.
"Master Constantine was always kind to Dobby," Dobby said.
He blew his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore, looking so pathetic that Harry felt his anger ebb away in spite of himself.
"Why d'you wear that thing, Dobby?" he asked curiously.
"This, sir?" said Dobby, plucking at the pillowcase, " 'Tis a mark of the house-elf's enslavement, sir. Dobby can only be freed if his masters present him with clothes, sir. The family is careful not to pass Dobby even a sock, sir, for then he would be free to leave their house forever. That's why the Malfoys have forbidden me from going anywhere near him. They know he'll free me if he can as he is technically a Malfoy which makes him my owner too."
Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, "Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make-"
"Your Bludger?" said Harry, anger rising once more, "What d'you mean, your Bludger? You made that Bludger try and kill me?"
"Not kill you, sir, never kill you!" said Dobby, shocked, "Dobby wants to save Harry Potter's life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here, sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter hurt enough to be sent home!"
"Oh, is that all?" said Harry angrily, "I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you wanted me sent home in pieces?"
"Ah, if Harry Potter only knew!" Dobby groaned, more tears dripping onto his ragged pillowcase, "If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, we dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his powers, sir! We house-elves were treated like vermin, sir!"
"Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir," he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase, "But mostly, sir, life has improved for my kind since you triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry Potter survived, and the Dark Lord's power was broken, and it was a new dawn, sir, and Harry Potter shone like a beacon of hope for those of us who thought the Dark days would never end, sir… And now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, are perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let Harry Potter stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more-"
Dobby froze, horrorstruck, then grabbed Harry's water jug from his bedside table and cracked it over his own head, toppling out of sight. A second later, he crawled back onto the bed, cross-eyed, muttering, "Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby…"
Looks like John was right about there being a Chamber and it having been opened once already, thought Harry.
Harry seized the elf 's bony wrist as Dobby's hand inched toward the water jug, "But I'm not Muggle-born...how can I be in danger from the Chamber?"
"Ah, sir, ask no more, ask no more of poor Dobby," stammered the elf, his eyes huge in the dark, "Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Harry Potter must not be here when they happen… go home, Harry Potter, go home. Harry Potter must not meddle in this, sir, 'tis too dangerous-"
"Since it's not Draco Malfoy, who is it, Dobby?" Harry said, keeping a firm hold on Dobby's wrist to stop him from hitting himself with the water jug again, "Who's opened it? Who opened it last time?"
"Dobby can't, sir, Dobby can't, Dobby mustn't tell!" squealed the elf, "Go home, Harry Potter, go home!"
"I'm not going anywhere!" said Harry fiercely, "One of my best friends is Muggle-born; she'll be first in line if the Chamber really has been opened-"
"Harry Potter risks his own life for his friends!" moaned Dobby in a kind of miserable ecstasy, "So noble! So valiant! But he must save himself, he must, Harry Potter must not-"
Dobby suddenly froze, his bat ears quivering. Harry heard it, too. There were footsteps coming down the passageway outside.
"Dobby must go!" breathed the elf, terrified. There was a loud crack, and Harry's fist was suddenly clenched on thin air. He slumped back into bed, his eyes on the dark doorway to the hospital wing as the footsteps drew nearer.
Next moment, Dumbledore was backing into the dormitory, wearing a long woolly dressing gown and a nightcap. He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet. Together, they heaved it onto a bed.
"Get Madam Pomfrey," whispered Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall hurried past the end of Harry's bed out of sight. Harry lay quite still, pretending to be asleep. He heard urgent voices, and then Professor McGonagall swept back into view, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey, who was pulling a cardigan on over her nightdress. He heard a sharp intake of breath.
"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey whispered to Dumbledore, bending over the statue on the bed.
"Another attack," said Dumbledore, "Minerva found him on the stairs."
"There was a bunch of grapes next to him," said Professor McGonagall, "We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter."
Harry's stomach gave a horrible lurch. Slowly and carefully, he raised himself a few inches so he could look at the statue on the bed. A ray of moonlight lay across its staring face.
It was Colin Creevey. His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding his camera.
"Petrified?" whispered Madam Pomfrey.
"Yes," said Professor McGonagall, "But I shudder to think… If Albus hadn't been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate… who knows what might have-"
The three of them stared down at Colin. Then Dumbledore leaned forward and wrenched the camera out of Colin's rigid grip.
"You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" said Professor McGonagall eagerly.
Dumbledore didn't answer. He opened the back of the camera.
"Good gracious!" said Madam Pomfrey.
A jet of steam had hissed out of the camera. Harry, three beds away, caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic.
"Melted," said Madam Pomfrey wonderingly, "All melted…"
"What does this mean, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked urgently.
"It means," said Dumbledore, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."
Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore.
"But, Albus… surely… who?"
"The question is not who," said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin, "The question is, how…"
And from what Harry could see of Professor McGonagall's shadowy face, she didn't understand this any better than he did.
With John…
John was currently tossing and turning in his sleep as he was dreaming the strangest dream he's ever dreamt. A fiery humanoid dragon with flames making up the wings connected to some jagged dragon bones at the top of the wings. It stood on two legs, had glowing orange eyes, and had opposable thumbs and fingers, two paw-like feet with deadly looking claws, a tail with a spiked end, and ridges on the back. It was suddenly replaced by the sword of Godric Gryffindor which was for some reason being held in a woman's hand that had protruded out of a lake.
"What the bloody hell was that?!" John exclaimed silently as he looked around to see if he was still in his bed in the Ravenclaw house's boy's dormitory.
The next morning, with Harry…
Harry woke up on Sunday morning to find the dormitory blazing with winter sunlight and his arm no longer itching from the magical healing spell. He sat up quickly and looked over at Colin's bed, but it had been blocked from view by the high curtains Harry had changed behind yesterday. Seeing that he was awake, Madam Pomfrey came bustling over with a breakfast tray and then began checking him for any ailments due to yesterday's rain.
"All in order," she said as he fed himself porridge, "When you've finished eating, you may leave."
Harry dressed as quickly as he could and hurried off to Gryffindor Tower, desperate to tell Ron and Hermione about Colin and Dobby, but they weren't there. Harry left to look for them, wondering where they could have got to and feeling slightly hurt that they weren't waiting for him.
As Harry passed the library, Percy Weasley strolled out of it, looking in far better spirits than last time they'd met.
"Oh, hello, Harry," he said, "Excellent flying yesterday, really excellent. Gryffindor has just taken the lead for the House Cup you earned fifty points!"
"You haven't seen Ron or Hermione, have you?" said Harry.
"No, I haven't," said Percy, his smile fading. "I hope Ron's not in another girls' toilet…"
Harry forced a laugh, watched Percy walk out of sight, and then headed straight for Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He couldn't see why Ron and Hermione would be in there again, but after making sure that neither Filch nor any prefects were around, he opened the door and heard their voices coming from a locked stall.
"What are you guys doing here?" Harry asked confused.
Hermione peered a keyhole and let out a sigh of relief before walking out of the stall. However, Ron didn't follow suit.
"Oh come out Ron," Hermione said trying to keep herself from giggling, "Harry's not going to make fun of you."
After a minute Ron walked out walked out of the stall nervously. Harry looked at Ron in shock because Ron was dressed like a girl and had longer hair. Not only that, but he had more girl-ish features that he should.
"Uh…" Harry said speechless.
"Somehow some of the girls in the girl's dormitory found out Ron was in a girl's lavatory," Hermione said straight-faced, "and then they snuck into the boy's dormitory and cursed Ron to become a girl for 24 hours!"
She finally burst out laughing while Harry just stared open-mouthed.
"Is there anyway to turn him back?" Harry asked.
"No," Hermione said still laughing, "not unless you want him to have the body of a boy, and the personality and thought-processes of a girl."
"It's not funny!" Ron yelled girl-ishly which only made Hermione laugh harder.
"Hermione," Harry said looking at the brunette, "Can't you see that Ron is upset? Think about if you were in his shoes, and was turned into a boy."
As Hermione thought of that, her laughter subsided as her expression became one of sympathy.
Now that the excitement was over, mostly, Harry started to tell them about Colin, but Hermione interrupted.
"We already know…" Hermione said, "we heard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick this morning."
"There's something else," said Harry, "Dobby came to visit me in the middle of the night."
Ron and Hermione looked up, amazed. Harry told them everything Dobby had told him… or hadn't told him. Hermione and Ron listened with their mouths open.
"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?" Hermione asked.
"Wish Dobby'd told you what kind of monster's in there," Ron said, "I want to know how come nobody's noticed it sneaking around the school."
"Maybe it can make itself invisible," said Hermione, "Or maybe it can disguise itself… pretend to be a suit of armor or something… I've read about Chameleon Ghouls-"
"You read too much, Hermione," said Ron and looked at Harry.
"So Dobby stopped us from getting on the train and broke your arm…" He shook his head, "You know what, Harry? If he doesn't stop trying to save your life he's going to kill you."
The news that Colin Creevey had been attacked and was now lying as though dead in the hospital wing had spread through the entire school by Monday morning. The air was suddenly thick with rumor and suspicion. The first years were now moving around the castle in tight-knit groups, as though scared they would be attacked
if they ventured forth alone.
Ginny Weasley, who sat next to Colin Creevey in Charms, was distraught, but Harry felt that Fred and George were going the wrong way about cheering her up. They were taking turns covering themselves with fur or boils and jumping out at her from behind statues. They only stopped when Percy, apoplectic with rage, told them he was going to write to Mrs. Weasley and tell her Ginny was having nightmares.
Meanwhile, hidden from the teachers, a roaring trade in talismans, amulets, and other protective devices was sweeping the school. Neville Longbottom bought a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal, and a rotting newt tail before the other Gryffindor boys pointed out that he was in no danger; he was
a pureblood, and therefore unlikely to be attacked.
"They went for Filch first," Neville said, his round face fearful, "And everyone knows I'm almost a Squib."
i have a reason for the bipedal humanoid flaming dragon dream and the sword of Gryffindor getting the Excalibur treatment. i'll let you all know that reason eventually in the story.