THE DEADLY QUIDDITCH MATCH
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 re-enacted some of the more dramatic bits. He usually picked Ron to help him with these reconstructions; so far, Ron 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.
Ron was hauled to the front of the class during their very next Défense Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting a werewolf. If Natasha hadn't had a very good reason for keeping Lockhart in a good mood, he would have refused to do it. "Nice loud howl, Mr. Weasley - 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, Mr. Weasley - higher than that - good - the fur vanished - the fangs shrank - and he turned back into a man.", Lockhart said. But Natasha knew that, it was utterly ridiculous. There was no spell to reverse a werewolf transformation. The bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet.
"Homework - compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!", he said. Some of the girls in the room, looked very excited, but all the boys just frowned. The homework given was utterly ridiculous. The class began to leave. Ron returned to the back of the room, where Ron where the other three were waiting.
"That was utterly ridiculous! I feel so humiliated!", Ron said angrily. "I am sure that, there is no spell to reverse the transformation of a damn werewolf!
"Ron! You can't say that, you know all the spells! What if there is a way to so that?", Hermione argued.
"Then I will eat my socks. Whatever he said was nonsense.", Simran joined.
"We should get going and ask Lockhart for the permission.", Natasha said to the three.
"Wait till everyone's gone," said Hermione nervously. "All right..."
She approached Lockhart's desk, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand, with the other three right behind her. "Err - Professor Lockhart?" Hermione stammered. "I wanted to - to get this book out of the library. Just for background reading." She held out the piece of paper, her hand shaking slightly. "But the thing is, it's in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it - I'm sure it would help me understand what you say in Gadding with Ghouls about slow-acting venoms."
"Ah, Gadding with Ghouls!" said Lockhart, taking the note from Hermione and smiling widely at her. "Possibly my very favorite book. You enjoyed it?", Lockhart asked with a huge smile.
"Oh, yes," said Hermione eagerly. "So, clever, the way you trapped that last one with the tea-strainer-"
"Well, I'm sure no one will mind me giving the best student of the year a little extra help," said Lockhart warmly, and he pulled out an enormous peacock quill. "Yes, nice, isn't it?" he said, misreading the revolted look on Ron's face. "I usually save it for book-signings.". He scrawled an enormous loopy signature on the note and handed it back to Hermione. "So, Natasha," said Lockhart, while Hermione folded the note with fumbling fingers and slipped it into her bag. "Tomorrow's the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you're a useful player. I was a Seeker, too.", he said.
Natasha did not believe what he said, and thought that he might have just skipped the flying lessons saying that, his hair will look bad after that. "I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players...", he continued. But Natasha excused herself and left the Professor. "I don't believe it,", she said as the four of them examined the signature on the note. "He didn't even look at the book we wanted."
"That's because he's a brainless git,", said Simran. "But who cares, we've got what we needed-"
"He is not a brainless git," said Hermione shrilly as they half ran toward the library.
"Why are you defending that idiot, Hermione? He clearly is a brainless git!", Simran said. "He just talks about the names of the spells he used, but he never tells the incantation, does he?", she asked.
"Maybe most of it is very advanced for us to learn.", Hermione argued. Simran was about to argue more, but Natasha stopped her, as she knew it really was useless. They dropped their voices as they entered the muffled stillness of the library. Madam Pince, the librarian, was a thin, irritable woman who looked like an underfed vulture. "Moste Potente Potions?" she repeated suspiciously, trying to take the note from Hermione; but Hermione wouldn't let go.
"I was wondering if I could keep it," she said breathlessly.
"Oh, come on," said Simran, wrenching it from her grasp and thrusting it at Madam Pince. "We'll get you another autograph. Lockhart will sign anything if it stands still long enough."
Madam Pince held the note up to the light, as though determined to detect a forgery, but it passed the test. She stalked away between the lofty shelves and returned several minutes later carrying a large and mouldy-looking book. Hermione put it carefully into her bag and they left, trying not to walk too quickly or look too guilty. Five minutes later, they were barricaded in Moaning Myrtle's out-of-order bathroom once again. Hermione had overridden Ron's objections by pointing out that it was the last place anyone in their right minds would go, Natasha and Simran was just grinning at each other when they saw Ron's reaction at the prospect of going to that toilet.
Moaning Myrtle was crying noisily in her stall, but they were ignoring her, and she them. Hermione opened Moste Potente Potions carefully, and the four of them bent over the damp-spotted pages. It was clear from a glance why it belonged in the Restricted Section. Some of the potions had effects almost too gruesome to think about, and there were some very unpleasant illustrations, which included a man who seemed to have been turned inside out and a witch sprouting several extra pairs of arms out of her head. Natasha wrinkled her nose, at the mere look of that picture and was glad that, she will not be needing any of the other potions.
"Here it is," said Hermione excitedly as she found the page headed The Polyjuice Potion. It was decorated with drawings of people halfway through transforming into other people. Natasha sincerely hoped the artist had imagined the looks of intense pain on their faces. Natasha took the book and scanned the pages for the things she needed. "This is the most complicated potion I've ever seen," said Natasha as they scanned the recipe. "Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, and knotgrass," she murmured, running her finger down the list of ingredients. "Well, they're easy enough, they're in the student store-cupboard, we can help ourselves... Oooh, look, powdered horn of a bicorn - don't know where we're going to get that - shredded skin of a boomslang -. that'll be tricky, too and of course a bit of whoever we want to change into.", she was muttering to herself. Natasha knew that, only Hermione was understanding, what she was talking about as the others were looking totally clueless.
But when they heard the last bit of ingredient, they both reacted. "Excuse me?" said Ron sharply. "What d'you mean, a bit of whoever we're changing into? I'm drinking nothing with Crabbe's toenails in it-".
"Yeah! I don't want anything with Pancy's or Millicent's too!", Simran said.
"Well, we have absolutely no choice. We have to have a bit of them.", Natasha and Hermione said together. "But we will not need it until, the potion is ready. That is surely a plus point.", Hermione continued as she glanced at the book.
"D'you realize how much we're going to have to steal, Hermione? Shredded skin of a boomslang, that's definitely not in the students' cupboard. What're we going to do, break into Snape's private stores? I don't know if this is a good idea...", Simran said worriedly.
"Maybe you can ask Snape, Natasha! You are his best student after all.", Ron said.
"What will I say I need the things for!? I am sure that, if I ask him those ingredients, he will definitely get to know what we are up to. He will definitely kill me if you do that.", Natasha said.
"Well, if you three are going to chicken out, fine,", Hermione said. There were bright pink patches on her cheeks and her eyes were brighter than usual. "I don't want to break rules, you know. I think threatening Muggle-borns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy, I'll go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in."
"Hey I never said, I am backing out. I just said that, I can't ask Professor Snape!", Natasha said.
"I never thought I'd see the day when you both would be persuading me to break rules," said Ron. "All right, we'll do it. But not toenails, okay?"
"How long will it take to make, anyway?" said Simran as Hermione and Natasha, opened the book again.
"Well, since the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon, and the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days... I'd say it'd be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients.", Natasha said with a glance through the ingredients.
"A month?" said Ron. "Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!" But Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously again, and he added swiftly, "But it's the best plan we've got, so full steam ahead, I say.". However, while Hermione was checking that the coast was clear for them to leave the bathroom, Ron muttered to Simran, "It'll be a lot less hassle if Natasha could just knock Malfoy off his broom tomorrow.". Simran just smiled and nodded in agreement.
Natasha 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. She had never wanted to beat Slytherin so badly. She wanted to show them that, speed does not matter much. After half an hour of lying there with his insides churning, she got up, dressed, and went down to breakfast early, where she 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, Hermione and Simran came hurrying over to wish Natasha 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."
Chest heaving with emotion, Wood turned to Natasha. "It'll be down to you, Natasha, to show them that a Seeker has to have something more than a rich father. Get to that Snitch before Malfoy or die trying, Natasha, because we've got to win today, we've got to.". Natasha was certainly not feeling good, when her captain said to either catch the snitch, or die trying. It was just upping the sheer pressure on her, and she hated that.
"So, no pressure, Natasha" said Fred, winking at her. As they walked out onto the pitch, 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. Natasha instantly knew that, this was going to be a really close, and dirty match with both sides trying desperately, even with ugly tactics just to win.
"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. Natasha flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch.
"All right there, Potter? I hope that, you can hope to win the match." yelled Malfoy, shooting underneath him as though to show off the speed of his broom, and laughed hysterically. Natasha had no time to reply. At that very moment, a heavy black Bludger came pelting toward her; she avoided it so narrowly that she felt it ruffle his hair as it passed. She was very relived, but she could not believe that, someone would attack the seeker, so early in the match. "Close one, Natasha!" said George, streaking past her with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward a Slytherin. Natasha saw George give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey, but the Bludger changed direction in mid-air and shot straight for Natasha again.
Natasha 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 her head. She put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the pitch. She could hear the Bludger whistling along behind her. 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. Natasha was panicking now. Fred Weasley was waiting for the Bludger at the other end. Natasha 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 Natasha, the Bludger pelted after her once more and she was forced to fly off at full speed. It had started to rain. "The game is getting better and better.", Natasha thought bitterly, as the drops began to fall. Natasha felt heavy drops fall onto her face, splattering onto her glasses. She didn't have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until she heard Lee Jordan, who was commentating, say, "Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero.". Natasha knew she had to find the snitch now, as the Slytherins had a very clear lead.
The Slytherins' superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs, and meanwhile the mad Bludger was doing all it could to knock Natasha out of the air. Fred and George were now flying so close to her on either side that she 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 Natasha.
"We need time out," said George, trying to signal to Wood and stop the Bludger breaking Natasha's nose at the same time. Wood had obviously got the message. Madam Hooch's whistle rang out and Natasha, Fred, and George dived for the ground, still trying to avoid the mad Bludger. Natasha was relieved for a break from the game, as the bludger was seriously making her scared.
"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 Natasha, Oliver. Please don't say that, you did not see that happening!", said George angrily. "Someone's fixed it - it won't leave Natasha 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. Madam Hooch was walking toward them. Over her shoulder, Natasha could see the Slytherin team jeering and pointing in his direction.
"Listen," said Natasha 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.", Natasha said. For a moment, even Natasha was thinking about what she had said. "Did she just sign her death warrant? She thought. But she knew that, it was impossible to back out of that decision no, and she wanted her team to win.
"Don't be thick,", said Fred. "It'll take your head off."
"Oliver, this is insane," said Alicia Spinner angrily. "You can't let Natasha 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 Natasha. "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, and they started the match at that moment. Natasha was finding is very difficult to dodge the bludger. It was coming at such high speeds that, she knew if it hits her head, it will definitely kill her. She flew in all the directions possible, and was feeling a bit dizzy.
"What in the world is happening with you, Potter? Why in the world is a bludger following you everywhere.", Draco asked. Natasha could hear a small concern in his voice. Before Natasha could answer the question, she dodged the bludger again and saw the golden snitch. It was hovering inches above Malfoy's left ear - and Malfoy, busy looking at Natasha, hadn't seen it. For an agonizing moment, Natasha hung in mid-air, not daring to speed toward Draco in case he looked up and saw the Snitch.
WHAM. She had stayed still a second too long. The Bludger had hit her at last, smashed into her elbow, and she felt her arm break. Dimly, dazed by the searing pain in her arm, she slid sideways on her rain-drenched broom, one knee still crooked over it, her right arm dangling useless at his side - the Bludger came pelting back for a second attack, this time zooming at his face - Natasha swerved out of the way, one idea firmly lodged in her numb brain: get to Draco. Natasha still hated him, so she did not care about what happened to him.
Through a haze of rain and pain she dived for the shimmering, sneering face below her and saw its eyes widen with fear: Malfoy thought Natasha was attacking him.
"What the -" he gasped, careening out of Natasha's way. Natasha took her remaining hand off her broom and made a wild snatch; she felt his fingers close on the cold Snitch but was now only gripping the broom with her legs, and there was a yell from the crowd below as she headed straight for the ground, trying hard not to pass out. She was feeling really dizzy but happy. She even felt that, she will throw up.
With a splattering thud, she hit the mud and rolled off her broom. Her arm was hanging at a very strange angle; riddled with pain, she heard, as though from a distance, a good deal of whistling and shouting. She focused on the Snitch clutched in her good hand.
"Aha," she said vaguely. "We've won.". And she fainted. She came around, rain falling on her face, still lying on the field, with someone leaning over him. She saw a glitter of teeth. "Oh, no, not you," she moaned.
"Doesn't know what he's saying," said Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around them. "Not to worry, Natasha. I'm about to fix your arm.". "No!", said Natasha. "I'll keep it like this, thanks...". She tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible. She heard a familiar clicking noise nearby.
"I don't want a photo of this, Colin," she said loudly.
"Lie back, Natasha," said Lockhart soothingly. "It's a simple charm I've used countless times-"
"Why can't I just go to the hospital wing?" said Natasha through clenched teeth.
"He should really, Professor," said a muddy Wood, who couldn't help grinning even though his Seeker was injured. "Great capture, Natasha, really spectacular, your best yet, I'd say-".
"Stand back," said Lockhart, who was rolling up his jade-green sleeves.
"No - don't -" said Natasha weakly, but Lockhart was twirling his wand and a second later had directed it straight at Natasha's arm.
A strange and unpleasant sensation started at Natasha's shoulder and spread all the way down to her fingertips. It felt as though her arm was being deflated. She didn't dare look at what was happening. She had shut her eyes, her face turned away from her arm, but her worst fears were realized as the people above him gasped and Colin Creevey began clicking away madly. Her arm didn't hurt anymore - nor did it feel remotely like an arm.
"Ah," said Lockhart. "Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That's the thing to bear in mind. So, Natasha, just toddle up to the hospital wing - ah, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, would you escort him? - and Madam Pomfrey will be able to - err - tidy you up a bit."
As Natasha got to her feet, she felt strangely lopsided. Taking a deep breath, she looked down at her right side. What she saw nearly made him pass out again.
Poking out of the end of her robes was what looked like a thick, flesh-colored rubber glove.
She tried to move her fingers. Nothing happened. Lockhart hadn't mended Natasha's bones. She had removed them. Madam Pomfrey wasn't at all pleased. "You should have come straight to me!" she raged, holding up the sad, limp remainder of what, half an hour before, had been a working arm. "I can mend bones in a second - but growing them back-"
"You will be able to, won't you?" said Natasha desperately. "I'll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful," said Madam Pomfrey grimly, throwing Natasha a pair of panamas. "You'll have to stay the night...".
Then her four friends came, and they all started arguing about Lockhart. Only Hermione was defending Lockhart.
"Hermione! See what he has done! She nearly lost her arm!", Simran said angrily.
"Anyone can make a mistake," said Hermione. "And it doesn't hurt anymore, does it, Natasha?"
"No," said Natasha, getting into bed. "But it doesn't do anything else either." As she swung herself onto the bed, her arm flapped pointlessly. Madam Pomfrey kicked the other three out, when she heard them arguing.
Natasha was left alone, with nothing to distract her from the stabbing pains in her limp arm.
Hours and hours later, Natasha woke quite suddenly in the pitch blackness and gave a small yelp of pain: Her arm now felt full of large splinters. For a second, she thought that was what had woken him. Then, with a thrill of horror, she realized that someone was sponging her forehead in the dark.
"Get off!" she said loudly, and then, "Dobby!"
The house-elf's goggling tennis ball eyes were peering at Natasha through the darkness. A single tear was running down his long, pointed nose.
"Natasha Potter came back to school," he whispered miserably. "Dobby warned and warned Natasha Potter. Ah madam, why didn't you heed Dobby? Why didn't Natasha Potter go back home when he missed the train?"
"I told you, dobby. I had to come back here. This is my home.", Natasha said.
"Dobby was so shocked when he heard Natasha Potter was back at Hogwarts, he let his master's dinner burn! Such a flogging Dobby never had, sir...". Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, "Natasha Potter must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make-"
"Your Bludger?" said Natasha, anger rising once more. "What d'you mean, your Bludger? You made that Bludger try and kill me?"
"Not kill you, madam, never kill you!" said Dobby, shocked. "Dobby wants to save Natasha Potter's life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here madam! Dobby only wanted Natasha Potter hurt enough to be sent home!"
"Oh, is that all?" said Natasha angrily. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you wanted me sent home in pieces?"
"Ah, if Natasha 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, madam! We house-elves were treated like vermin, madam! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, madam," he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase.
Natasha felt really bad for the elf. She knew that, she shouldn't have shouted at him. "But mostly, sir, life has improved for my kind since you triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Natasha Potter survived, and the Dark Lord's power was broken, and it was a new dawn, madam, and Natasha Potter shone like a beacon of hope for those of us who thought the Dark days would never end, madam... And now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, are perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let Natasha Potter stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more.". Dobby froze, horror-struck, then grabbed Natasha'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..."
"So, there is a Chamber of Secrets?" Natasha whispered. "And did you say it's been opened before? Tell me, Dobby! Please, many of my friends are in danger!".
Dobby suddenly froze, his bat ears quivering. Natasha heard it, too. There were footsteps coming down the passageway outside. "Dobby must go!" breathed the elf, terrified. There was a loud crack, and Natasha's fist was suddenly clenched on thin air.
She 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. Natasha was horrified at first, as she knew something really bad must have happened.
"Get Madam Pomfrey," whispered Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall hurried past the end of Natasha's bed out of sight. Natasha lay quite still, pretending to be asleep. She 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. She 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.". Natasha was now even more horrified as she heard the Professor.
Natasha'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. Natasha was now literally in verge of tears. Even though she hated the boy, she did not want this to happen to him. "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. Natasha, 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 Natasha could see of Professor McGonagall's shadowy face, she didn't understand this any better than he did.