Chapter Eleven: Dodge, Swerve, and Dive

"Homework: Compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Author of the best one shall receive a signed copy of Magical Me!"

The Slytherins and Hufflepuffs filed out of the room. Half the Hufflepuffs were swooning and the Slytherins were sneering in disgust.

"I can't believe he's making us compose a poem!" Theo raged.

"Ooh, ooh, ooh!" exclaimed Blaise. "I've got one!"

"I'm scared, Harry."

"Don't worry; I am, too, Theo."

And then she burst into Wagga Wagga Werewolf song:

"The Wagga Wagga Werewolf was a lonely creature,
Every full moon he would sneak out into the forest and become the Wagga Wagga Werewolf
But one day, the Wagga Wagga Werewolf found himself outside the forest
He was hungry, so he thought that maybe those hairless monkeys would be tasty
After that night, the villagers were scared of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf
So they called the police, but the police didn't believe them
Meanwhile, the Wagga Wagga Werewolf decided to play the Big Bad Wolf
The Wagga Wagga Werewolf dressed up as Little Red Riding Hood's grandma before he became the Wagga Wagga Werewolf
So when Wagga Wagga Werewolf found himself outside of the forest again, no one was scared of him
Until that is, Wagga Wagga Werewolf started to eat them all!
So then, Gilderoy Lockhart, dark creature destroyer extraordinaire
Came in, as retarded and stupid-looking as the Wagga Wagga Werewolf in a grandma suit
Gilderoy Lockhart the Stupid decided he would solve the Wagga Wagga Werewolf's problem once and for all
Thus, Gilderoy Lockhart managed to find himself cornered into a phone-booth by the Wagga Wagga Werewolf
He waved his wand and said some nonsense words and, to his surprise, Wagga Wagga Werewolf was a werewolf no more."

"I'm gonna laugh if that's the best one he gets. . . ." Harry mumbled under his breath.

"I heard that!"

Harry just rolled his eyes as he continued to their next class, Transfiguration.

Harry and Blaise sat down, and Theo gingerly sat down beside Blaise, as if he was expecting something to explode.

The bell rang and McGonagall called out for their homework. Harry and Blaise had two completed essays, but Theo rummaged in his bag for a bit and then glared at Harry and Blaise suspiciously.

"What do you two do to my essay?"

"Don't look at us!"

oOoOo

"Hey," Blaise yawned as she sat down beside Harry at the empty Slytherin table. Covering her mouth, she grabbed herself some kippers. "Why are you up so early?"

"Nervous," Harry said, taking a sip of his mug of black coffee, grimacing, and adding more honey.

"Gimme some o' that," Blaise muttered sleepily. She swiped the honey and poured it all over her kippers, drowning them in syrupy sweetness. She took a bite and moaned.

"That good?"

Blaise nodded exuberantly.

Harry took the honey and poured generous amounts over his own plate of kippers. He ate some and groaned in appreciation.

"Told you."

"You were right, for once."

Blaise glared and then said warningly, "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Potter! Zabini! There you are!" Flint called as he entered the Great Hall, the rest of the Quidditch team behind him. All were wearing their emerald Quidditch robes, as were Harry and Blaise. Each carried a sleek Nimbus Two Thousand and One.

"I was beginning to think both of you had died and I had somehow missed the memo for your funerals."

"Ha ha," Blaise murmured under her breath.

"Watch it, Zabini. Anyway, I've been meaning to talk to you."

Blaise looked sharply up at her captain.

"Slytherin normally doesn't accept girls onto the Quidditch team. Never have. We only accepted you because you proved yourself to the rest of the team and you're good, at that. We want to win. So go out there and make Slytherin proud that Blaise Zabini's on their Quidditch team."

Blaise beamed. "Yes, sir!"

"You, too, Potter. Catch that Snitch or die trying."

"Never fear."

"Malfoy . . . ?"

"I'll guard the hoops with my life, sir."

"Good, good. Now that we're all clear, let's eat. We need our strength."

oOoOo

"Captains, shake hands," Madam Hooch ordered, glaring at Flint and Gryffindor Captain Wood.

Flint and Wood gripped hands, each trying to break the other's fingers.

Blaise sniggered.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked from the corner of his mouth while looking warily at Flint, whose knuckles were white.

"When Flint and Wood come together, sparks are bound to fly."

Harry snorted.

"Three, two—"

And when the whistle blew, the fourteen players took to the air. Blaise, being the smallest of the three Chasers, went immediately for the Quaffle, as did Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor. Blaise snatched the ball from under the surprised Gryffindor's nose and headed straight for the hoops guarded by Oliver Wood. Flint and Pucey were in formation of either side of her.

"Blaise Zabini, a new player and surprising addition—the only girl on the Slytherin team—heads toward Wood, she shoots . . . and she scores. Ten—zero Slytherin. . . ." the announcer, Lee Jordan (a friend of Fred and George's) said from the stands.

Harry had soared higher than any of the other players, as Flint had instructed, and squinted around for the Snitch. He grinned and whooped when Blaise scored, along with the Slytherin fans in the stands. Everything was going good until—

Whoosh. Harry ducked and barely missed the Bludger that had come to knock his head off.

"Close one, Potter!" Bole yelled from where he was batting the offending Bludger in Katie Bell's general direction.

But before Bole could fly away, the Bludger swerved back and Harry had to move quickly as it again aimed for his head. Then, before it could hit Blaise in the gut, it turned around to attack Harry.

"What the hell's going on?" Harry yelled to Bole as he had to dodge the Bludger yet again.

Bole grunted as he hit the ball toward Alicia Spinnet. It came back to kill Harry. "Flint! Captain, we've got a rogue Bludger on our hands!" thundered the massive Beater.

Miraculously, Flint heard and called a timeout. They flew down to the stadium and Flint immediately asked, "Potter?"

"It's targeting me, Captain."

Flint sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Can you handle it?"

"Yes."

"But, Captain, you can't honestly expect—"

"Shut up, Zabini."

Blaise stopped, but she looked worriedly over at Harry.

"I'll be fine, Blaise."

Blaise bit her lip in defense, but then she surrendered. "Okay, but if you die, I'm going down with you."

"So dramatic, Blaise."

"I'm serious."

Flint signaled to Hooch before he turned back to Harry. "Just try to catch it as fast as you can, okay, Potter? No matter what I said, none of us want you dead."

"Yes, Captain."

They went back to the playing field; the two Beaters Derrick and Bole, instead of hitting Bludgers at the other team's members, were concentrating on making sure Harry got out of the game alive. They kept on doing it until Harry screamed that he'd never find the Snitch with them around unless he accidentally swallowed it. Then they went back to hitting the remaining Bludger at the Gryffindors.

"Practicing the Russian ballet, Potter?" McLaggan sneered as he stopped in front of Harry, who was doing his best to swerve and dodge the rogue Bludger while still searching for the Snitch.

"Yeah, didn't you know? Me'n Blaise are the leads in the first Romeo and Juliet ballet performance," Harry smirked sarcastically.

"Really?" he asked, mouth hanging open.

"No, you idiot! Haven't you ever heard of sarcasm? You know, the highest and most respected form of wit?"

Apparently Cormac McLaggan lived in a tortoise shell.

Harry was just pondering this as he stopped mid-dive to glare at McLaggan. And then he saw it.

WHAM! Harry cried out in pain as the Bludger finally hit its mark, his right arm. Sharp, stabbing pains traveled from his nerves to his brain as his bone broke.

But the Snitch was still where it had been since before the Bludger hit—to the left of McLaggan's head. With renewed determination, and only his left hand gripping his broom, Harry sped toward McLaggan.

"What the—?" McLaggan quickly got out of the way of the barmy Slytherin. He had this strange, gleaming glint in his eyes. . . .

Harry was now only gripping the broom with his legs as he reached out and made a wild grab for the Snitch. Amazingly, he felt its wings flutter closed in his fist, and he held it up in victory. McLaggan realized too late what had been right by his head.

And then Harry fell from his broom and everything went dark.

oOoOo

When he came around, he screamed. There were people of all shapes, colors, and sizes surrounding him, watching him worriedly.

"Potter, are you alright?" came from the Quidditch team.

"Harry, oh, my God! Don't die on me!" That was Blaise. . . .

"Ah!!! Oh, Merlin! Whatever will happen to the fan club now?" a disparaged female wailed. Uh-oh. That one must be part of his 'fan club'. . . .

And then, the worst voice of all. . . .

"Harry, my boy! Here, just give your arm—I'll fix it up in a jiffy—"

"You aren't touching my arm with a ten-foot pole, Lockhart!" exclaimed Harry as he shot up from his position on the ground, ignoring the acute pains in his right arm.

"Relax, Harry—it's a simple spell—I've performed it countless times—you've got nothing to worry about—"

"I don't care! You aren't performing any spell, charm, or hex in my general direction until I've seen Madam Pomfrey!"

"It's alright, everyone—Harry's just a bit delirious—"

"I am not delirious! If anyone's delirious, you are!"

Somewhere above him, he heard Blaise giggle.

"That's quite alright, Harry—now, just be still while I do this—"

Harry whimpered in pain and more than a little bit of fear as Lockhart held his broken arm.

"Why can't I just go to the hospital wing?" Harry squeaked.

"He should really, Professor," Flint sneered at Lockhart. "Oh, by the way, Potter, great catch!"

"Thanks," said Harry weakly.

"Stand back," said Lockhart, already rolling back his jade-green sleeves. He pointed his wand at Harry and he dimly felt something hit his arm.

It was one of the strangest sensations Harry had ever felt. The sensation spread from his shoulder to his elbow, and it felt like, as it went, his arm was being steadily deflated. He couldn't bear to watch, and he shut his eyes tightly and turned his head away. It didn't hurt anymore, but it didn't feel even remotely like an arm either. His eyes shot back open when he heard Blaise gasp.

"What did you do to him?!"

"Ah," Lockhart said nervously, twirling his wand in his hands. "Yes, that can sometimes happen. The point is, the bones are no longer broken. So, Harry, if you could just toddle up the hospital wing—Miss Zabini and Mr. Nott, you may escort him—and Madam Pomfrey can—er—fix you up in no time.

Harry got to his feet, being supported by Blaise and Theo when he stumbled. He felt oddly lopsided. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his courage and looked down at his arm. What he saw nearly made him pass out again.

That bastard hadn't mended his bones. He'd removed them.

Harry was gonna kill him.

oOoOo

Madam Pomfrey was not pleased.

"You should have come straight to me!" she raged, holding up the sad, limp remains of Harry's right arm. And to think that, barely a half an hour before, it had been a working arm. . . . "I can mend bones in a second, but growing them back . . . !"

"You will be able to, won't you?" Blaise asked desperately.

"Of course I'll be able to," Madam Pomfrey said grimly, throwing Harry a pair of pajamas. "But it will be painful. You'll have to stay the night, I'm afraid. . . ."

"Can I stay with him?" Blaise jumped up.

Madam Pomfrey looked ready to decline before she took in Blaise's stricken face. "Yes, Miss Zabini, you may." Madam Pomfrey conjured another pair of pajamas for Blaise before saying, "Mr. Nott, you can help Mr. Potter. And Miss Zabini, don't be getting up to anything with my patient. He can't be exerting any energy while he's regrowing his bones." She conjured a curtain around Harry's bed just in case.

Harry and Blaise glared at Madam Pomfrey, stricken. They were only twelve, honestly!

Blaise changed inside another curtain while Theo helped Harry stuff his rubbery arm into the pajama sleeve.

Theo finished and opened the curtains to see that Blaise was already waiting to hop onto Harry's bed.

"How's your arm, Harry? Does it hurt anymore?"

"No," Harry grumbled moodily, "but it doesn't do much else either." To prove his point he flopped around on the bed, causing his arm to slump around uselessly.

Madam Pomfrey came over when she noticed they were done. She was holding a large bottle of something deadly-looking called Skele-Gro.

"You're in for a rough night," she warned him, pouring out a steaming beakerful and handing it to him. "Regrowing bones is a nasty business. . . ."

So was taking the Skele-Gro. It sizzled down Harry's throat as he fought not to choke it out. Still muttering around dangerous sports and stupid, incompetent teachers, Madam Pomfrey retreated, leaving Theo and Blaise to help Harry gulp down large amounts of water to soothe his throat.

"We won, though," Blaise said brightly, trying to cheer him up. "You should've seen the look on McLaggan's face . . . he looked ready to murder someone. . . ."

"Yeah, both of you did well," Theo added. "Unbelievable flying. I couldn't do that if I trained for years."

"We'll take that as a compliment."

"Okay, Mr. Nott. Off you go, now, before you catch curfew," Madam Pomfrey shooed as she came bustling back.

"Right, Madam Pomfrey. 'Bye, guys."

"'Bye."

"See ya."

Theo left and Madam Pomfrey turned her gaze back to Harry and Blaise. Then she stared only at Blaise. "You can sleep in the same bed as Mr. Potter if you wish, Miss Zabini. I don't expect you to get up to anything. You are only twelve. . . ."

Blaise grinned before grabbing the quilt Madam Pomfrey conjured for her and hopping onto Harry's bed. She laid down on top of the covers with the quilt pulled up to her chin before looking at his arm worriedly.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright, Harry?"

"Yes, Blaise."

Blaise sighed. "Sorry, you know how I am with these near-death experiences."

"Yeah, I know. Let's just try and get some sleep."

oOoOo

Harry woke up what seemed like nearly five minutes later (and, looking at the clock, it was) to sharp, stabbing pains in his arm. It felt like it was filled with small splinters. But as he came to, he realized that something dry and scaly was slapping him repeatedly over the head.

"Ow! That hurts, you know!"

"Sorry."

"Sneak?"

"The one and only."

"When'd you get here? You've been gone forever!"

Beside him, Blaise stirred. She looked up at him groggily. "Sorry, thought I heard something hissing," she muttered, going back to falling asleep.

"You heard right."

Blaise sat back up. "Sneak's back? Where's he been?"

"That's what I just asked."

"For your information, attention-deficient humansss, I have been hiding from the Big Bad Snake in the pipes. Don't want to die or get frozen, after all. . . ."

Harry shot up. "Frozen?"

Sneak snake-nodded.

"Do you know what it is? It's a snake for sure?"

"It's Parsel sounds serpent-like, but it also sounds a bit clucky and old at the same time."

"Clucky and old? How?"

"Like she's been here for a very, very long time and is part chicken. There's a bit of squawking."

"She?"

Sneak let out what could've been a sigh. "She, as in female. Got an attitude, too," Sneak grumbled. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going back into hiding."

"Uh . . . okay."

"Good day to you, humansss."

"Good day to you, too, Sneak."

And he was slithering away.

"That was quick," commented Blaise.

"You think?"

"Yeah, it was. What'd he say?"

Harry repeated everything that Sneak had told him about the "clucking, old serpent" in the pipes. It all corresponded with Moaning Myrtle's story of hearing strange sounds from the pipes.

"But what kind of snake can Petrify people?" Blaise asked when he was finished.

"That's what the library's for, Blaise."

"Aw, damn. Not the library again."

oOoOo

Just last year the basilisk would have been peacefully napping in her sanctuary, but now that boy was telling her to go out and look at people. The basilisk knew the extent of her powers, but that didn't mean she enjoyed using them. It wasn't like she was going to kill them and then eat them. The meat would be hard to swallow after death. No, she preferred her food alive. But what was the good of killing people if it didn't give food? Not any good at all, that's what. If it didn't go in her belly, she didn't want to kill it. Simple as that.

But she had to follow the boy's orders, for some reason. It was like she was compelled to by the sound of humans trying to speak Parsel. It was odd.

So here she was, wondering the pipes that had again been opened to her. All she smelt so far was the fear of the spiders scuttling away in fear. The smell of mice she had been immune to for nearly nine hundred years. You got that way after a hundred years or so of digesting nothing but.

But there it was, the scent of a wizard. And not just any wizard, the kind of wizard the Parseltongue-ed boy wanted her to kill. But was the innocent young boy safe from the true powers of her eyes? The basilisk didn't know.

Maybe. . . .

The basilisk used one of her powers to reveal herself, and the boy first spotted her dark green hide, fresh from shedding. He scrambled with his camera and got ready to take a picture, and at that moment he looked into her eyes.

One of the orders the boy had recently given her flashed through her mind: Don't destroy anything but the Muggleborns.

oOoOo

Colin was scared. He wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing, but when you were a Muggleborn Gryffindor and Slytherin's monster was on the loose, he had a right to be.

His camera was swinging around his neck as he trekked his way up to the hospital wing. He was going to see if he could do anything to cheer Potter up. It had to be bad to have your arm broken, and then all the bones in it, although broken, removed. Colin had had his arm broken before, as had his little brother Dennis, and it wasn't fun at all.

So he thought that he could maybe give Potter a get-well card with some Muggle candy. Sure, he had lived with Muggles, but Muggle candy was sweeter than wizard candy, and Harry surely missed it. Colin had got him a big bag of dark, milk, and white chocolate truffles, as he didn't know which one Potter would prefer.

He was just passing the second floor corridor where the first Petrification had taken place when it happened. The first thing he saw was a dry, scaly, dark green hide. Dropping the bag of candy and fumbling for his camera, he positioned it to take a picture and looked back at where the hide had been a second before.

oOoOo

Harry woke up hours later with feeling that his arm was being stuffed with large blocks of wood. Then he realized someone was gently sponging his forehead. What was it with mysterious midnight visitors and his head?

Harry sat up quickly, knocking whoever had been standing on his chest to the ground. "Dobby? What the hell?"

"Harry Potter, sir mustn't get angry at Dobby!" the elf said, quickly getting into a submissive position on the floor. "Dobby was just coming to see how Harry Potter was feeling."

"Well, I'm feeling horrible, so you can leave now!"

Blaise woke up, startled, at his exclamation. "What the—Dobby! What the hell?"

"Miss Zabi! Did you get in the hospital wing, too, miss?" Dobby's eyes flickered to where Blaise was laying beside Harry. "Oh . . . Dobby is sorry, miss!"

Blaise blushed down to her collar bone. "Dobby, it's not that—"

"That's alright, Miss Zabi. Dobby understands."

"Oh. . . . Well, in that case, what are you doing here?"

"Harry Potter, sir, came back to school! He was supposed to be gone from the incident on the train! Bad Dobby!"

"That's okay, Dobby," Harry said, catching the elf's wrist when he went to bang his head.

"No, Harry Potter, sir, it is not okay! Dobby has been a bad elf! Harry Potter and his Zabi were not supposed to come back to school!"

"And why not?" Blaise fumed.

"There is danger, Miss Zabi. The Chamber has been opened again, and the monster's going to kill. . . ."

"The Chamber has been opened before?"

"Going to kill?"

"Dobby has said too much!" the elf exclaimed, rocking on the balls of his feet. "Dobby cannot say!" The house-elf went to leave, but Harry again stopped him.

"What do you mean, the Chamber's been opened before?"

Before the elf could answer, the sounds of footsteps coming from outside the hospital wing reached their ears.

"Dobby must go!" the elf said quietly before disappearing with a small crack, leaving Harry holding onto nothing but air.

Harry and Blaise quickly lay back down, pretending to be asleep as the doors to the hospital wing opened to reveal Dumbledore backing in, Levitating some sort of statue. McGonagall came behind him.

They set it on the nearest cot and McGonagall went to fetch Madam Pomfrey.

The Healer bustled in, pulling on a cardigan over her nightdress. She gasped when she spotted the statue.

Harry and Blaise sat up an inch or two so they could see the "statue" lying on the bed three cots away. It was one of the first year Gryffindors that had helped them pull the prank on Malfoy, Colin Creevey.

Blaise gasped slightly in horror.

"What's happening here, Albus?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "At this rate, half the school will be in here before the year's over!"

"It is as we feared, Poppy. The Chamber of Secrets has indeed been opened again," Dumbledore sighed despairingly.

McGonagall frowned before wrenching the camera from Creevey's hands with no small amount of force.

"You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" Pomfrey asked.

McGonagall opened the camera and pulled out the roll of film. She stared accusingly at each of the negatives before coming the last one.

It seemed to happen in slow motion. Her hands trembled in terror and her mouth hung open slightly. Her eyes widened and her hands clenched around the negatives in a frightened manner. And then she was frozen.

It was such an odd sight, and it seemed that Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore didn't know how to react. Neither did Harry and Blaise, for that matter. And then the commotion started. Madam Pomfrey screamed in horror before she vomited in the bucket beside Colin's bed, and Dumbledore looked upon his colleague and friend sadly. She could be revived, of course, but the chances of Petrification happening again now were many.

"Who could be doing this, Albus?" Pomfrey asked, tears forming in her eyes as she took in the still form of Professor McGonagall.

"It isn't who, Poppy, but how."

The only thought running through Harry's and Blaise's heads was, "What the hell?"

oOoOo

Authoress's Note: Special thanks to Curse of Immortality for writing the poem about the Wagga Wagga Werewolf for me! (His was so much better than mine!)

Happy Valentine's Day! Or, if you're like me, Happy Singles' Awareness Day!