When Ginny awoke, Tom lingered in the back of her head, trying to steer her attention toward the diary. He'd decided that would be the best course of action; face to face, he'd be better able to play to her sympathies, and get her to forget about catching him out about his heir of Slytherin story… not that she understood the significance of it all, of course.
Still, better to play it safe, he thought, and nudged Ginny's mind in the direction of his diary again.
There was a knock, though, and Ginny's friend Hermione poked her head into the room. She looked at Ginny's sleeping roommates, then at Ginny – and Tom, without realising it – who was reaching for the diary under her pillow.
"Morning," Hermione whispered, adjusting her ghastly gold and red scarf. "Colin asked me to check if you were awake, and wanted to go to breakfast with him; he wants to get to the game early so he can get photos of the teams warming up."
Ginny's hand stopped on the leather cover, and then withdrew so that she could push the covers off, and hop out of bed.
"Tell him I'll be down in a second," Ginny said. "Was Ron okay last night? And Draco? Did you find anything out?"
"Yes, they were fine," Hermione said, and then glanced at Demelza, who was stirring. "I'll tell you the rest later." Hermione left the room.
The rest? Tom wondered. If Ron, Draco and Hermione were looking into things, then Harry doubtless was too, and Tom didn't like the sound of that. Diary, Tom whispered into the back of Ginny's head, but she was already at her trunk, looking for clothes and a scarf that would have matched Hermione's had it been ten years younger; the gold had faded to a yellowish colour, and the red was almost pink. Ginny wrapped it on without hesitation, though. I should talk to Tom, Tom thought, but Ginny either didn't hear, or just outright ignored him.
Tom withdrew, frustrated, as Ginny swapped her pyjamas for a pair of worn jeans and a lumpy jumper with a large "G" on it, and skipped out of her dormitory to meet Colin.
Harry ducked the bludger and spun his broom around to make sure it wasn't coming back; it seemed to have had an unnatural fixation on him today. Hydrus, who was hovering nearby, guffawed, and Harry ground his teeth together.
"Laugh," Harry called to him, over the pattering rain, "but the fact that you're sticking so close means that you think I have a better chance of catching the snitch, even with that thing after me."
"You wish, Potter," Hydrus sneered, his face an unpleasant purple colour. "I just want to be there to see it when it knocks you off your broom."
"Ten points to Gryffindor!" Lee bellowed, and a deafening cheer echoed through the stands. Harry clapped, and nodded at Katie as she raced by, already in possession again. Wood was doing an odd kind of dance from his place in front of the hoops.
"Harry!" Fred called from off to the side. Harry looked at him, and then at where he was pointing. Harry only just had time to yank his broom sideways to avoid the bludger, which had been barrelling up at him from below. He felt the wind made by its passage on his ankle, and shivered. Hydrus laughed, and not for the first time, Harry wondered if it was him who'd set it up… that, or he'd asked Mr Malfoy to do it; with their platinum hair, the Malfoys were easily visible in the guest stand, besides a much friendlier gold-and-red head, a sandy coloured head, and a mop of shaggy black hair.
Harry curled his lip, and urged his broom up, for a better vantage point. He loved Quidditch, but with the weather and the bludger, he got the feeling that the sooner this game was over, the better.
"I don't think I can watch this," Sirius mumbled, but couldn't look away. Remus winced, as the bludger grazed past Harry, missing him by inches. Next to Remus, Dora's hair was constantly changing colour; she was obviously making an effort to keep it gold and red, for Harry, but every time the bludger neared him, it would go red with anger, or white and a sickly sort of green with shock and fear.
"Someone's tampered with that," she said, squinting up at Harry's small figure, which was slightly obscured by the rain. "There's a web of magic around it." Sirius didn't doubt it.
"And there's nothing you can do?" Remus asked. Sirius caught Dora's eye, fondly exasperated. While he was a Quidditch fan, poor Remus had never really been on the same level as James, or Sirius, or even Tonks.
"Nothing." Sirius sent a dark look past Dora, to where Lucius and Narcissa were seated, with their house elf beside them. Dobby hadn't looked up the entire time he'd been there. "There'd be complaints about me interfering if I cast anything, and even if I did, what would I cast? Finite might work, but in this rain, I'd just as likely hit Harry and it could undo one of the charms on his broom, and if I cast anything to destroy the bludger and miss, I'll hurt him." Sirius was dying to get his hands on a broom and a bat and go and sort it out himself, though he had to admit, Fred and George were probably doing as good a job as he'd be able to. "I just hope his friends have the presence of mind not to try anything either."
"And a nice save by Wood- oh! No, back to Pucey, and-" The boy that was commentating – Remus had told Sirius his name earlier, but Sirius had already forgotten it – swore. McGonagall told him off. "-Ten points to Slytherin." Sirius clapped once, without enthusiasm, and then his eyes went to Harry again. Sirius flinched as the bludger whistled past his godson again.
"Come on, kiddo," Sirius muttered, crossing his fingers.
Harry's newest tactic was to keep Hydrus between him and the bludger at all times. It was cruel, perhaps, but it kept Hydrus too flustered to pay attention to the game, and at least if it hit him, Harry wouldn't let him fall to his death. He wasn't convinced that Hydrus would do the same.
"Always got to have someone to put toward you and danger, huh, Potter?" Hydrus huffed, twirling out of the way. Harry dropped a few feet, and the bludger passed him harmlessly, and was intercepted by George, who sent it whizzing toward Montague, but it turned around again halfway. This time, Fred was there to stop it. "First your parents, then last year it was my brother-"
"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said tiredly. He hadn't glimpsed the snitch once, and was beginning to wonder if the bludger was keeping it away.
Then, he saw it; tiny and glinting golden, over by the Gryffindor stand. Harry kept an eye on it, and, as soon as the bludger was returning to distract Hydrus, took off. He could hear the bludger behind him – or rather, hear Fred warning him that it was behind him – but Harry was faster, and Harry was more agile, and Harry could see the snitch.
The snitch, of course, vanished the moment Harry took his eye off it, and Harry was forced to pull up and lead the bludger into the sky, before its momentum could carry it into the Gryffindor stand, where it might hurt his friends; he could see Ron and Ginny and Draco, all very distinct because of their hair, and once he'd found them, he saw Hermione, and Colin – who was madly taking pictures – and the other second year Gryffindors.
"Be careful!" he heard someone shout, as he corkscrewed upward. The bludger got him this time – just. It nicked his ear as it passed, and knocked his glasses. It didn't hurt, but Harry still froze for a moment, heart pounding.
"Potter has a close save with a bludger – he's been unlucky this game- Ooh, Bell has the Quaffle-"
What is wrong with this thing? he wondered. Predictably, the bludger veered back around, but then George was there, and gave the bludger a solid whack. From below, Colin's camera flashed up at them, illuminating the raindrops.
"Someone's been messing around with that," George said angrily, hefting his bat. Harry didn't miss his pointed look at Hydrus, who'd managed to catch up.
"Slytherin scores again," Lee called. "They lead seventty to twenty." Harry groaned, as did most of the crowd.
"Duck, Harry," George said calmly, and Harry didn't question him. A mere second later, George's bat and the bludger collided where Harry's head had been. "Freddie!" George called. "We could use a hand!" Fred was with them in seconds, just in time to send the bludger in Hydrus' direction.
"You really ought to pay them for their services, Potter," Hydrus said. "Maybe then, they'll be able to afford decent brooms."
"Is Madam Hooch watching?" Fred asked. 'Because if she's not, I think I'll hit the little prat and see if that shuts him up." He hefted his bat, and Hydrus drifted back out of range, looking less smug than before.
Harry, safely ensconced in the circle of Fred and George's bats, resumed his search for the snitch, but their arms and legs and bats and brooms and robes kept getting in the way. He lost track of the rest of the game too, but if the crowd's groans were any indication, it wasn't going well.
"This is getting stupid," George said, signalling to Wood for a time out. Wood wasn't looking, though; he was watching the girls, who were up at the
"And Johnson takes a bludger to the shoulder!" Lee called. Harry groaned again, and Fred and George looked at each other, grimacing. "Montague takes possession, damn him- Sorry, Professor. Now Pucey has it, and-" The crowd groaned. "-ten points to Slytherin. On the upside, Angelina's all right, folks, just a bit bruised. She's playing on. Don't know why the bludger was allowed to get her – Weasley and Weasley are over with Potter, instead of watching the Chasers, which is an interesting tactic by Gryffindor, but I'm not sure how-"
Wood, who'd looked over at them when Lee mentioned them, saw George's signal, and gestured to Madam Hooch. Her whistle trilled through the rain, and Fred gave the bludger a solid hit that allowed the three of them to get to the ground safely.
"What the bloody hell-"
"The bludger's been tampered with," Fred said, wiping his wet face with his sleeve.
"Stupid thing won't leave Harry alone," George added, with a dark look at the sky. The bludger was circling a few feet above them, seemingly waiting. "The Slytherins-"
"The bludgers have been in Hooch's office, though," Wood said, looking up at the sky as well. "They're always checked-"
"Obviously not well enough," Alicia said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "We'll have get an inquiry, and postpone the game. We're losing anyway-"
"At the moment, yeah, but if we forfeit, we'll definitely lose," Harry said, before Wood – who'd obviously been about to say the same – could. "I want this over, but not if it means Slytherin wins." He for one, wanted to wipe the smirk off Hydrus' face, and if he could do that in front of the Malfoys, then all the better. "I'll manage. And you two should get back to the rest of the team. I can't see past you when you're circling-"
"Don't be thick," George said. "That thing'll crush you into potions ingredients-"
"I'll manage," Harry said again. He stared hard at Wood, who was watching him thoughtfully. "Get the snitch or die trying, remember?" Not that he would; he might be a bit bruised or broken if he was unlucky, but someone would step in before anything really bad happened.
"Wood," Madam Hooch said impatiently. "Are you ready to resume?"
"Almost." Wood looked at Harry, who tried not to look worried. "We'll leave you to do your own thing," he said, with a look at Fred and George, both of whom looked very unimpressed. "But if it's going badly, we'll have another time out and re-evaluate. Got it? I don't want you hurt and out for the rest of the season."
"Yeah, got it," Harry muttered. He remounted his broom, trying to ignore Fred and George, who were murmuring about "staying low" and "easier to get to him when he falls". Harry wiped his glasses – the rain was falling more heavily, now – and kicked into the air on the whistle.
The bludger was after him at once, and Harry ducked and looped and didn't dare stop.
"And we're back!" Lee called. "Montague in possession, but- Oh! Nice bludger from Weasley – not sure which one, sorry lads! – and now Bell's got the Quaffle, dodges Pucey, passes to Spinnet- Spinnet's got it past the Keeper, ten points to Gryffindor! Brilliant work! That's thirty to one hundred and ten, Slytherin's way, but could this be a comeback for Gryffindor?"
McGonagall's mutter of, "Let's hope so," was magically amplified by Lee's megaphone, causing laughter from the stands. Even Harry, spiralling up as he was, chuckled.
"And Johnson's back in possession; I hope her arm's all right, yes, nice throw there, to- Intercept by Flint and- Oh! Johnson narrowly misses another bludger from Wilkes. Weasley's there to get rid of it, though- Ha! How's that for justice, Wilkes!"
"Jordan," McGonagall said warningly. Harry swerved to avoid his own bludger, which vanished into the grey clouds. Grimacing, Harry took what time he could to search for the snitch.
He spied it far below him, flitting over the grass like an odd, golden butterfly.
Then something collided with his elbow, and Harry felt something snap, and then pain shot through his arm and the same time as the stands gasped. Harry swayed, tucking his broken arm against his side.
You're not going to be sick, he told himself. Or faint. Breathe. You've had worse. Much worse. Breathe.
"Potter's just taken a nasty hit from a bludger!" Lee said. "Doesn't look good from the way he's holding it- hang on- the bludger's coming back for him- that's not natural-" Harry, who'd heard the whistle of the bludger the second time, didn't think; he could still see the glint of the snitch on the ground, and with the bludger behind him, the only real way to go was down.
He didn't think he did it gracefully; he sort of fell forward, taking his broom with him, and he was more or less slumped over it, since he didn't think he'd be able to hold anything with his broken arm. He could hear the bludger, or was it Hydrus - or both? - zooming after him, and urged his broom forward at a dangerously fast rate.
"And the seekers are both diving- have they seen the snitch, or is Potter just trying to get out of the air?"
Harry could barely see, what with the pain and his tears and the rain, but he was only a few feet from the ground now and started to pull up. Then, there was a flash of gold, and he reached for it with his good arm.
Several things happened at once; first, something small, hard and cold hit Harry's palm, and he closed his fist around it, and held on for dear life. Second, without Harry's arms to pull it out of the dive, Harry's broom hit the mud – thankfully, he'd pulled it up enough that it hit at an angle, rather than directly – and Harry found himself thrown off, with barely enough time and presence of mind to brace his injured arm. Third, there was a shrill scream as a green-robed figure hit the mud next to him.
"You all right?" Harry asked groggily. Hydrus whimpered, and convinced he was at least alive, Harry turned away from him and managed to push himself upright. Hi ears were ringing, or maybe that was the crowd's noise. He wasn't sure.
"I don't believe it," he heard someone say. He thought it might have been George. Harry's good arm – the one holding the snitch – was lifted gently into the air. A great deal of screaming and whistling followed, and, dazed as he was, Harry could only hope that it was them that had won.
Harry's vision flickered, and he thought someone might have said his name, but he didn't have time to work out who before he fainted.
When he came around, there were significantly more people near him. Wood, and Angelina, who was cradling her own arm, were standing over him, looking worried, but closer still was Lockhart.
"No," Harry said, wincing as he tried to shuffle back. He kept his arm tightly against his chest, trying to brace it with his body, but it hurt anyway.
"I know it hurts," Lockhart said brightly. "But not to worry, Harry, I can help you." A murmur went through the gathered crowd, and it sounded relieved. Harry was not. Didn't they know Lockhart was an idiot? He looked for Fred or George, but they, along with Slytherin's beaters, were trying to wrestle the bludger into a box. "Lie back, there's a good-"
"Don't touch me," Harry said. "Padfoot's here, he'll be here any second, or I'll got to the hospital wing-"
"Lie still, Harry. I've used this charm countless times, it's very good-"
"I'm going too," Angelina said. "I'll take him with me, Professor, it's no trouble-"
"Yes," Harry mumbled. "Brilliant idea."
"No need to bother Madam Pomfrey with this," Lockhart said. "Run along, Johnson." Looking uncertain, she did. Lockhart lifted his wand, and Colin's camera flashed. Harry looked around wildly, and saw Colin and Ginny – who was holding his broom – being kept at bay by Katie. Poor Alicia was having less luck trying to hold Ron and Hermione back. Draco was nowhere to be seen.
"Leave him alone, you git!" Ron was shouting.
"What he said," Harry said, waving his good arm at Ron.
"Excuse me, sorry, excuse me, please." Harry's ears perked up as he heard Padfoot's voice.
"Padfoot's nearly here, he can fix- No, don't-" But Lockhart had already waved his wand and tapped it – making Harry wince – on his shoulder. The strangest sensation travelled down toward his fingers. To Lockhart's credit, the pain did vanish, but Harry wasn't entirely sure that was all that had happened.
Everyone gasped, and Harry tried to lift his arm to look at it. It didn't move.
"Ah," Lockhart said. "Yes, well- That's a common side-effect of that particular spell… But you'll notice, Harry, that the bones are no longer broken. Yes. Perhaps- Perhaps you ought to drop by the hospital wing, for a bit of a tidy up-"
Harry hadn't looked away from his hand. It was sticking out if his sleeve, looking vaguely like his hand, but a lot more like a flesh-coloured version of the rubber gloves Aunt Petunia wore when she cleaned her kitchen. Colin's camera clicked again, and Harry was thankful when he saw Hermione take the camera away from him.
"Sorry, Ron, can I just get- Harry!" Padfoot had finally made his way through the throng of Gryffindors and all but shoved Lockhart out of the way to get to Harry's side. Moony and Tonks were talking in quiet voices to Harry's friends. "Broken? It looked broken-"
"Not anymore," Harry said, grimacing. Padfoot glanced at his hand, and his eyebrows shot up.
"May I?" he asked, reaching for Harry's arm. Harry nodded, and Padfoot picked up his hand, and almost promptly dropped it. Then, with a wary expression, Padfoot squeezed it – which Harry could feel, but it didn't feel right – and then slowly bent one of Harry's fingers back toward the back of his hand. Harry watched in disgust as his forearm started to bend, and Padfoot hastily straightened it, and conjured a brace for it.
"Ew!" Lavender said, from somewhere behind Colin. It would have been funny, had it not been Harry's arm. Padfoot flicked his wand and the oddest expression – a cross between disbelief, horror and fury – settled on his face.
"Harry needs to go to the hospital wing," he said, turning to Moony, who stepped forward at once. Padfoot's gaze had landed on Lockhart, who was trying to disappear into the crowd, but was having very little success getting past Ron. Lockhart seemed to deflate as Padfoot advanced on him.
"Can you walk?" Moony asked. Harry nodded, but let Tonks help him to his feet. His arm flopped uselessly at his side, having assumed a very unnatural position within the brace. Harry looked at it in dismay. "Come on, you two," Moony said, gesturing to Ron and Hermione. Ginny and Colin both looked a bit put out, but neither complained at being left behind, and Harry saw they were soon joined by Fred and George, who'd finally managed to secure the bludger.
Harry's departure was serenaded by Padfoot shouting at Lockhart.
The reason for Draco's absence became quickly apparent when they reached the hospital wing; he was there, with his parents and his brother, looking over Hydrus, who looked very much the worse for wear. Or at least he did in the brief glimpse that Harry got of him; Mrs Malfoy stood and drew the curtains around her son's bedside. Draco emerged only seconds later though.
"He tore something in his knee," Draco said, fiddling with his Gryffindor scarf, while Ron helped Harry into the bed. "Good game, though, Potter."
"Thanks." Harry glanced over at where Moony and Tonks were talking to Madam Pomfrey, who marched over seconds later, looking furious.
"Let's see it, Potter," she said, and Harry turned toward her. "At least someone had the sense to brace it," she said.
"Padfoot, not Lockhart," Harry said. Madam Pomfrey's lips thinned.
"You'll need Skelegro," she said grimly. Harry grimaced; he'd been subjected to that remedy several times before, and it never got any better. "You'd best get settled; you'll be in overnight." She glanced at Moony and Tonks, and at Harry's friends. For a moment, he thought she was going to ask them all to leave, but she just sighed. "I'll be back in a moment with your first dose."
Other than Draco, Colin was the only one of Ginny's friends that she ever brought the diary out around. Her brothers would try to take it, to see what she was reading, Hermione – much as Ginny liked her – could be nosy, and Harry was just generally curious, and would no doubt get it into his head to try to rescue Tom, if he found out that he existed.
Colin, though, lay stretched out on the carpet in front of the fire and chattered away about Quidditch; today's game had been his first. Ginny didn't think he'd ever be a huge fan, but the game had fascinated him nonetheless, and she thought it always would. She and Draco had spent most of the game explaining the rules to him, but Ginny hadn't minded, and, while Draco had teased Colin about being such a muggle, Ginny didn't think he'd meant it.
So who was attacking Harry, Ginny? Tom asked.
I don't know, Ginny wrote back. Probably one of the Slytheirns, but no one's heard anything yet. Speaking of Slytherins, have you had any luck with remembering?
I'm afraid not, Ginny. Ginny was disappointed, and didn't know what to write. Tom seemed to know. It's only been a day. It was always going to take me time.
I know, Ginny said.
"-think he's all right?" Colin asked. "Ron and Hermione and Malfoy have been back for a while now…"
"Who's all right?" she asked, puzzled.
"Harry." Colin blinked at her. "Maybe we ought to visit him. It's not curfew-"
"We only have an hour, though," Ginny said, biting her lip.
"We'll be quick," Colin said. He sat up. "I might take him some grapes, too. I think he'd like that-"
"Grapes?" Ginny snorted. "Take him a chocolate frog instead. He'd like that better, I think."
"Ooh, good idea." Colin bounced to his feet. "I think I have a box upstairs."
Ginny? Are you upset with me? You've gone quiet.
I'm talking to Colin, she wrote.
"Back in a minute," Colin chirped.
"I'm going to put this away." Ginny closed the diary. "Don't go without me, all right?" Colin was already halfway up the boy's stairs.
Ginny headed up to her own dormitory, and wrote a quick goodbye to Tom, telling him she'd talk to him later, and then tucked the diary into her trunk. Then, her vision wavered, and she sank down onto her bed with a frown, pressing a hand to her temple.
"You've been quiet, Ginny," Colin said, glancing at her. Tom met his gaze coolly. "Are you all right?"
"Fine," Tom replied. The part of Ginny's mind that was still Ginny wriggled, and Tom added a tiny bit more pressure until she fell silent. "Just worried about Harry, is all." Colin accepted that without a problem, as Tom had known he would, and didn't even look at Tom oddly, when Tom stumbled. Most of Ginny's movement, thankfully, relied on muscle memory, but whenever he thought about it too much, he tended to cross her feet, or forget just how small she was. It was frustrating, really, but all he had to work with at the moment.
"Are we far off?" Colin, as it had turned out, didn't actually know where the hospital wing, and was relying on 'Ginny' to find it. Tom wasn't sure if Ginny even knew where it was, but he certainly did.
"Not far," Tom replied. "I've just taken us on a bit of a round-about way. My brothers told me there are less Prefects around here."
"But we're not past curfew," Colin said, looking confused.
"But we're Gryffindors," Tom said, sighing. "The Slytherins won't care if it's not curfew." Colin nodded seriously, and Tom looked away before Colin could see his smug smile. Colin was the sort of person that Tom knew how to handle; the sort that took his word as law, and didn't ask any difficult questions. It was a pity Colin hadn't been the one to find his diary.
Ginny asked too many questions, and, while she would happily spill her secrets to Tom, she'd also made more friends than Tom had meant to allow. And, Ginny didn't mind pulling the diary out when Colin was around. That meant she trusted him, perhaps enough to turn to him if she grew suspicious.
Tom couldn't have that.
"Oh, good," Tom said, drawing to a stop. He glanced into the dark room. "Colin, do you mind if I just duck in here? I should have gone before we left, but-"
"Go," Colin said, bouncing on the spot. "Just be quick, or we're going to run out of time."
"Thanks, Colin," Tom said, and slipped into the bathroom. Myrtle drifted out of her cubicle, and her eyes narrowed. Tom drew Ginny's wand, and banished her down the toilet, without a word. Smirking, Tom strode toward the sinks.