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AN: Thanks for reading and enjoying and reviewing! I am eternally grateful (I think...I really can't speak for eternity).

Chapter 23: Of Samhain and Surprises

"Togaidh mise chlach,
Mar a thog Moire da Mac,
Air bhrïgh, air bhuaidh, 's air neart;
Gun robh a chlachsa am dhïrn,
Gus an ruig mi mo cheann uidhe."

Harry plopped the last stone in his pocket, glancing behind him at his companions.

A few feet away, Hermione, Fred, George, and Luna stood, watching him with varying degrees of interest as he fetched three stones from the small creek that tumbled and meandered over the Hogwarts grounds, chanting the little verse as he dropped them in his robe pocket. He could not help but observe that Fred and George looked rather amused by the ordeal, whilst Luna appeared sleepily excited, and Hermione simply looked put-off.

"Alright, who's next? I'll just warn you now, though, the Gaelic's a bitch to pronounce."

"Why are we doing this again?" Hermione asked uneasily, staring at the drenched sleeves of Harry's uniform, and then at the other three students.

"Because, Hermione, Samhain is a wonderful time for divination – hell, even muggles can perform divination on the 31st! We're fetching dreaming stones, so that you can experience some oneiromancy, or dream divination tonight."

"They also drive away the migg-mares that live in your pillow and eat your dreams," Luna added, skipping up to the stream, proceeding to sing the poem as she placed three stones in her pocket.

Harry smiled at her. "Exactly – I just wanted to give you a taste of the obscure art."

Hermione nodded slowly, then looked at Fred and George. "And what are they doing here?"

Both twins gave a mock bow.

"My dear,"

"We are an essential part"

"Of this here operation."

Fred winked. "You didn't really think that Harrykins here"

"Managed to find a secret passage out of the castle all on his lonesome?"

Hermione glared at them slightly, then turned to Harry again. "How do they know about you anyway?"

Harry shrugged. "'S only fair."

Hermione looked as though she wanted to argue, but only sighed, shaking her head wearily as Harry turned to Fred and George with a grin.

"You two want to try it?"

"Well we would…"

"Except…."

"You forgot the chant already," Harry supplied.

Both of the twins winced sheepishly.

"No matter," Harry dug into his pocket, pulling out a small piece of parchment. "I wrote it down, just in case."

"You're the best, Harry."

"I know."

The twins took the parchment, grinning at him and then at each other as they went over to the stream, whither Luna still stood, oddly fixated on a curiously gnarled tree root protruding from the bank.

Harry glanced over at Hermione. "Come on, you know you want to try too!"

She looked at him sourly. "How does this work again?"

Harry sighed. "The stones open your mind and act as a filter for the gods, who plant messages in your mind, in the form of dreams. That's the basic gist of it."

Hermione bit her lip. "I'm not sure I like the ideas of pagan deities shuffling through my head…"

"It's not like that, Hermione – the connection's really weak, the dreaming stones just plant impressions that inspire dreams, is all. Not even a real vision - there are some scholars that believe all dreams come from divinities either way. This just...spices it up a little. People did it for centuries as part of the Samhain celebration - a common practice, really. Come on, it'll be good for you."

"Well why've I never heard of it if it's so common?"

"Well, it sort of fell out of regular practice a while back..."

She narrowed her eyes. "And it's perfectly legal?"

Harry faltered a moment. "Well, depends what you mean by legal..."

"Ministry approved," she ground out.

"Well, it's not perfectly legal, but it's not illegal either – "

Hermione scowled at him.

"You know how the Ministry feels about anything pagan – it's not like they could really give us anything more than a slap on the wrist if they found out. Come on, 'Mione, live a little!"

"Mione?" she asked distastefully.

"Yeah 's a nickname. You can call me Harry the Horrible, if you want."

She heaved a heavy sigh, rolling her eyes. "I have to pick up the stones between my middle finger and my thumb, right?"

Harry grinned. "That's right."

He watched with amusement as she reluctantly made her way over to the stream, rolling up her sleeve and determinedly glaring at the stream whilst she recited the Gaelic verse with careful precision.

"Oi Harry," George called.

"We just put these under our pillows tonight?" Fred asked.

Harry nodded, looking up at the greying scarlet sky. "The stones are fetched at dusk, and they should begin to work at midnight. Just make sure you're in bed by then."

"Yes mum."

"We don't know what we'd do without you,"

"Sweet mother dearest."

Harry scowled. "I hope you get sent a vision of your own bloody, gruesome deaths."

He rolled his eyes as the pair of redheads feigned anguished tears.

Having finished collecting her dreaming stones, Hermione trudged over to them, gesturing toward the bleeding western horizon. "We need to get back, now, before someone notices we're not at the feast."

Harry sniffed. "It's not a crime to miss the Halloween feast, Hermione."

She rolled her eyes. "When you're the one doing it, anything could be a crime. I can name at least five teachers and prefects off the top of my head who would take points even if you just left to go to the loo."

"Fine, fine," Harry relented, pouting, "Let's go. You coming Luna? The feast won't wait all night for us, you know!"

The blonde girl smiled serenely, spinning slightly as she stumbled over to them, the company of two Ravenclaws and three Gryffindors then beginning to make their way back to the castle. "I think the dreaming stones are early this year – I just had a dream that the nargles invited me to a ball and danced with me…I was wearing purple slippers." She leaned over to Harry's side, whispering, "But the wrackspurts crashed the party - they put strange things in the punch..."

Harry grinned. "That sounds like a very fun party, Luna. I should like to be invited when it happens," he said, as the group of five traversed the slightly rolling, windswept hills that embraced the outer walls of the castle, nearing the door that led to one of Fred and George's many secret passageways that sneaked out of the castle. It was a short, dingy passage that delved through the castle wall, opening up behind one of the statues in the corridor not far from the Great Hall, the windows of which were already glittering with light and liveliness, the Halloween feast clearly well underway.

"Race you to the castle," Fred and George told each other with a grin simultaneously, when the passage door came into view, before darting off, Luna following them with a dainty gait and calling,

"Do be careful that you don't step on any moon frogs!"

"Yeah, they'll eat your toes off!" Harry added.

"I don't know why you indulge her like that – you're never even polite to most people," Hermione suddenly murmured beside him. "And then, when she says these silly things, you…"

"I what?"

"You play right along! It's ridiculous!"

Harry glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow. "Can you prove anything she says wrong?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Of course not, but –"

"Then Luna is entitled to believe what she likes – you shouldn't begrudge her for it."

Hermione sighed. "That still doesn't explain why you let her go off and think what she likes without saying a word about it, when you're always so obstinately opinionated about everything else."

"I only correct people when they're being idiots or they're wrong – Luna is neither…she's just different. I don't know why no one seems to understand that." He held open the wooden, iron hinged door for Hermione, following her in. "Most everyone thinks she's insane, and won't even talk to her…it's…I dunno…"

Hermione smirked slightly, "Aw…is Harry actually feeling sympathy for someone? Perhaps he wants to save the poor damsel in distress? Sweep her off her feet and carry her away?"

"No! I just don't like it, is all."

Hermione nodded knowingly. "Sure, whatever you say."

"Oi, you two!"

"Slow pokes!"

"Hurry up, or you'll miss the feast!"

Harry chuckled when he heard Fred and George's shouts from the corridor, ducking through the trap door and weaving about the statue, finding them waiting on the other side, with Luna in the middle of a staring match with one of the other statues on the far side of the corridor.

"Honestly," Fred started.

"You'll never accomplish anything in life at that pace."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on, we've got a feast to invade – cakes to capture, puddings to pillage, sweets to sack, pumpkin juice to –"

:…rip…tear…kill…:

"Harry?" Hermione frowned, looking over to the black haired boy, who had frozen stiff in the middle of his sentence, arms suddenly limp by his side, fingers twitching anxiously.

"Oi, mate?"

"You alright?"

Harry snapped out of his daze, finding even Luna staring at him. "I…"

:Blood...blood...I smell blood...kill...kill...:

Harry sucked in a harsh breath. "It's back..." He glanced down the dusky, flickering shadows of the corridor that the hissing voice had echoed down from, unable to resist the sudden urge to follow it in favour of fleeing.

"Hey, Harry! Wait! Wait up!"

"Oi, mate whatchya runnin' off for?"

Harry vaguely registered the pattering of the other four's footsteps behind him, but squashed the urge to go back and deter them as he suddenly came to a halt, caught in a dead end, walled in by sheer stone that should have been blank, clean of all but dust and the dancing light of the torches – but it wasn't.

Several gasps broke out from behind him, and he did not have to look over his shoulder to perceive the horrified, bewildered looks marring the Gryffindor's faces, and grimly fascinated one on his housemate's; for above them, large, sweeping letters of dripping crimson, glittering in the shimmering light of the dim torches were written the words:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE

"H-Harry?" Hermione asked shakily from behind him, the shuffling of her feet making a splashing sound in the puddle coating the floor. "W-what is this?"

"I don't know," Harry murmured, reluctantly stalking nearer to the hairy, bedraggled shape hung from the base of one of the torches, frowning uneasily when he recognized it. "But this…this is Mrs. Norris."

"The cute kitty-cat with the pretty red eyes," Luna sighed sadly.

"Oh no...oh no," Hermione whispered. "Who on earth could have done this?"

Harry simply continued to stare at the cat.

"Er, mate, we should get out of here," George suddenly spoke up, followed by, Fred's, "We don't want to be found in the middle of this."

"Whatever this is," Harry muttered, but then stilled, as the rushing sound clattering footfalls bellowed down the corridor.

Luna tilted her head to the side. "Too late. Unless we try walking through that wall…" her eyes trailed off down the corridor.

Within moments, the five of them were surrounded by a crowd, filling the corridor with hushed voices and quickly paling faces. Many of the upper years looked starkly horrified, recognition flashing in their eyes as they read the script on the wall, whilst the lower years mostly looked very perplexed, except one face that Harry immediately, for some reason, picked out of the crowd – Ginny Weasley, whose face had lost all its colour, as she shook silently, looking to be on the verge of a panic attack; only steadied by the strong grip of an invisible force on her shoulders.

Most of the Slytherins, however, did not look nearly as unnerved – in fact, many of them looked cruelly amused by the ordeal. From within the group of Slytherins, a sudden loud, excited voice sounded out,

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

It was Draco, who was immediately cowed by the viciousness of the glare Harry directed at him. The last few weeks, since the incident with Hermione, Draco easily noticed Harry's sudden coldness toward him; they had argued briefly about what had happened a week prior - ironically, it had been Hermione who had broken up the fight - but in the end, nothing was resolved, so the Slytherin had taken to watching his back far more than usual.

Suddenly, another voice called out hoarsely, "What's going on here?"

The crowd of students parted for one frazzled Argus Filch, a look of pure, unadulterated horror coming over his face as he clutched his chest, shrieking, "My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" The man frantically tossed his head about, eyes coming to rest on Harry. "You! You killed her, you murdered Mrs. Norris!"

Harry blinked. Well, that certainly wasn't good.

In the end, Harry had been cleared of all charges – apparently, no second year would have been able to petrify (yes, it was petrified, not killed) a cat like that. Now, despite the fact that it seemed to vaguely imply his incompetence, Harry was quite alright with this judgement, and was not at all eager to be given any more detentions, or lose more house points.

However, the fact that the he, Hermione, Fred, George, and Luna were cleared of suspicion in the professors' eyes did not stop the rumours from spreading. As of the next morning, there were already several theories: that things simply were as they seemed, and the five students were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time; that it was some elaborate prank that Harry and the twins had cooked up, and had coerced the two girls into assisting them; and that the five of them had something to do with the opening of the actual Chamber of Secrets, whatever that was.

Which was yet another thing on Harry's mind. What was the Chamber of Secrets? What did it do? Where did it come from? And who came up with a lame name like the 'Chamber of Secrets' anyway?

Apparently, those very questions had been on Hermione's mind as well, as, once in history class on November the 1st, she immediately staged the inquiry,

"Professor, could you tell us something about the Chamber of Secrets?"

The professor, who had seemed even paler than usual that morning, froze, a strange look flashing in her eyes – something of mingled anger, fear, and trepidation, and something else unreadable. After a moment, she opened her mouth. "The Chamber of Secrets is a legendary secret room in Hogwarts Castle, created not long after Hogwart's founding. This school was originally built by four extraordinary witches and wizards: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin." She paused, observing her students' faces, raptly attentive. "While their efforts were harmonious at first, as they attempted to seek out and educate magical children in Britain, Salazar Slytherin grew dissatisfied with the others' methods – he felt that bringing in children with muggle parentage was unsafe and distasteful. In the end, Slytherin's ideals caused a rift between him and the others too great to mend, and he left the school. "

Her eyes fluttered over to the window. "But not before he left something behind. They say…that Salazar Slytherin built a chamber in the school, the Chamber of Secrets, before he left – and within the chamber he stowed an unstoppable weapon, one that could purge the school of all he thought to be unworthy of studying magic. It is said that only his true heir could open the chamber, and that it would be up to this heir to purify the school."

A thoughtful silence hung in the air of the classroom as she finished, many of the students looking far more pale and unnerved than before.

Slowly, Pavarti Patil raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Patil?" Professor Malfoy asked softly.

"It…it's not real, is it? It hasn't actually been opened?"

Professor Malfoy hesitated only briefly, which Harry couldn't help but notice. "There is no evidence that there is a Chamber of Secrets at all – it is most likely only a curious tale meant to frighten the weak of heart, not unlike the stories you were told as children. Centuries have passed, and none among the Hogwarts staff or students have ever found a Chamber of Secrets. There is no reason to believe you ever will."

"Maybe it's hidden," Seamus Finnegan spoke up, "You know, by dark magic. Maybe that's why no one's ever found it."

"Just because a witch or wizard isn't 'dark', Mr. Finnegan, doesn't mean that they are incapable of recognizing or performing dark magic. I can assure you the Headmaster Dumbledore is perfectly capable of casting the Imperious curse, for example. If anything, had Salazar Slytherin used dark magic to hide his chamber, it would have been discovered years ago."

"So..." Anthony said, "There isn't a Chamber of Secrets."

"That is the most reasonable consensus."

"But last night –"

"Was a cruel hoax – and believe me when I say that the culprit will be caught soon and punished harshly." She looked over the uneasy faces of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. "Class dismissed."

Harry cast a knowing glance which clearly unnerved Mrs. Malfoy as he filed out of classroom, Terry and Michael walking beside him.

"Harry!"

He turned about, seeing Hermione, Ron, and Neville approaching as they made their way to the Great Hall.

"Harry, what do you think?" she said.

Harry blinked, nodding at the two boys behind her in greeting. "What do I think about what?"

She scowled. "About the Chamber of Secrets, what Professor Malfoy said."

Harry shrugged.

"Well, I think it's real," Ron Weasley suddenly spoke up from behind them, "I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a sneaky, evil..."

"You never met him," Harry deadpanned.

"But still -"

"I sure hope the chamber isn't real," Neville mused nervously.

Hermione reached over and patted him on the arm. "I'm sure it's just like Professor Malfoy said - a hoax."

"Yeah, right," Harry muttered.

Michael looked between them both, eyes focusing on Hermione. "Are you going to tell us what happened last night? Because Harry won't say a word, and Luna's account is perfectly incomprehensible...something about wrackspurts, moon frogs, and slashkilters..."

Hermione glanced at Harry uneasily. "I…don't really know. We were all just on our way to the Halloween feast, and then…Harry heard something, I guess, and we just found the wall like that. There isn't much to tell…"

"But why weren't you at the feast in the first place?" Terry asked in turn.

Harry interjected here. "I was doing some research in the library with Hermione – Luna was sitting with us. We met Fred and George on the way back…they said something about playing a prank on some Hufflepuffs."

"So you really have no idea what happened?" Terry said disappointedly.

"Nope."

"And you had nothing to do with it?" Michael inquired suspiciously.

"Nothing at all. It was just a bit of bad luck on my part."

"...So rest assured, I shall bravely slay whatever creature haunts this castle, for Gilderoy Lockhart fears no man or beast…"

Harry rolled his eyes as Lockhart continued rant blindly, strutting across the classroom. The entire class, he had paced back and forth, expounding upon his own greatness and how all the students were safe since he would vanquish the monster in the Chamber of Secrets. All that being said to emphasize that Harry was very, very bored.

Finally, very nearly infinitely frustrated, he stuck his hand in the air, clearing his throat loudly. But Lockhart was too involved in his speech to notice.

"Courage is truly a wonderful thing. Why, I still remember back when -"

"Oi! Moron!" Harry tried again through gritted teeth.

This time, the man snapped to attention, causing Harry to smirk. "Oh! Mr. Potter – fifteen points from Ravenclaw for interrupting me –"

Several groans were heard - it was a common belief that Lockhart was too intimidated by Harry to give him detention, so he simply took points.

"- Now, as I was saying…"

"I had a question, professor, about your…vanquishing." Harry pressed on.

Lockhart blinked, but then plastered a ridiculously pleased grin on his face. "Oh? My dear boy, what would you like to know?"

"Well, I was wondering how you were actually going to go about vanquishing this beast, you know."

"Well! First, I would lure it away from the innocent students, and challenge it to a duel! And then, I would fire an incendio spell at it, both debilitating it, and awing it with my power, and causing it to surrender to my greatness!"

"But what if it dodged your incendio, professor?"

He faltered. "What?"

"What if the beast dodged your incendio, professor," Harry repeated, then lapsing into 'lecture mode,' "It's quite a reasonable and likely scenario. Now, hypothetically, if I was the beast, I would be pretty furious, and before you could curse me again, I would immediately go for your legs, so that you couldn't get away. I'd just break them in multiple places, though – or perhaps crush them, both muscle and bone…because if I tore them off, then you'd bleed out immediately. I think I'd go for your arms, next, make sure that you couldn't try anything – I'd probably rip your hands off at the wrist, snapping all the tendons and bones in there, perhaps breaking your arms at your elbows first. And if I were the beast, I'd go for the lower abdomen next – because so long as you didn't bleed out, you could remain alive even after tearing apart your lower body; I've read stories of people burnt at the stake, where their lower body melts away and their entrails fall out while they're still alive. One that note, I'd start by unwinding and tearing out your intestines – depending on the sort of beast, it could eat them as well, I suppose – relishing the hot, thick blood and bits and pieces of mangles tissue and shattered bone. And then, if I was the beast, I'd probably try to scalp you or something before tearing your throat out and lapping up all the blood. So you see, professor, you might want to think through this whole vanquishing plan a little more."

Harry glanced about the classroom, taking in the stunned silence appreciatively. He was hard pressed not to cackle out loud when an extremely pale Gilderoy Lockhart stumbled over to his desk, nearly collapsing against it as he squeaked, "Class dismissed."

As the students quietly filed out of the classroom, Padma immediately muttered, "I think I'm going to be sick."

Mandy nodded rapidly and shot off toward the girl's bathroom.

Anthony turned a sickly pallid face to Harry, snapping uneasily, "That was a bit much, don't you think?"

Harry shrugged. "He was asking for it. Wasting our precious time with nonsense like that."

"Mate," Terry said, "I think you scarred him for life – bloody hell, I think you scarred me for life."

"You'll get over it. And I don't care if he doesn't."

"Well I liked it," Michael (who had been glaring at Lockhart the whole class) put in, clapping Harry on the shoulder, "A perfect end to the lecture, I thought."

"You would," Lisa jumped in, scowling, "Both of you! No tact at all! It's ridiculous."

"Oh, come on, Lisa, don't tell me it didn't feel just a little good – a bit of revenge is good for the soul."

She only sniffed and walked away.

Herbology was a quiet class, with the Slytherins – without the noisy idiocy of the Gryffindors and the amusingness of Neville's inexplicable obsession with plants, Harry found the class quite boring.

Thankfully, it passed quite quickly, and Professor Sprout even let them out a bit early, seeing that they all were beginning to fidget as the dinner hour drew near. Dinner was what Harry had been looking forward to all day, really – he was anticipating some pudding that night, and was hoping for custard for desert. His quick pace toward the Great Hall, however, faltered when he heard a reluctant voice call from behind him,

"Harry?"

He sighed looking over at the other Ravenclaws. "I'll meet you at dinner."

Terry frowned. "You sure? 'Cause…"

"Yeah, I'll be right with you."

Michael shrugged and dragged Terry off, Anthony sparing Harry a warning glare before he followed the others.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked the blonde haired boy tonelessly, noticing that Crabbe and Goyle stood a ways off, apparently trying to spare them some privacy.

"Look," Draco began, "I know you're angry about what happened with Granger. I…" He gritted his teeth. "It won't happen again, alright."

Harry stared at him coldly. "It's fine to tell me that, Malfoy, but what about Hermione? You going to apologize to Hermione? At least tell her you regret it or something?"

The blonde boy faltered. "You can't be serious…"

"I am serious, Malfoy, very serious. You've no right to speak to her like that – sure, she insulted you, but we both know it wasn't enough to deserve what you said."

"She started it!"

"That's not the point! You told her that she and her family are as worthless as dirt, and that she doesn't deserve to have magic! Do you really believe that? That because her parents are muggles, she doesn't deserve to be here?"

Draco hesitated, gritting his teeth. "Why's this so important to you anyway?"

"Because she's my friend, and I...she's a good person. She makes mistakes, she says things that she shouldn't - but she admitted it, Malfoy, right in front of you last week, and you just shrugged it off! How's that fair? And moreover, if I just let you say whatever you want to my friend, what does that say about me? It means that Hermione can't trust me!" He almost cringed, saying that, feeling the hypocrisy of his words. All he was doing was proving that Hermione couldn't trust him anyways...he shook his head. "Remember last year? With the troll? Hermione did her best to cover for us, both of us – the only reason we didn't lose a whole lot of points was because she stood up for us. We at least owe her some respect, both of us do."

Draco's cheeks were tinted pink. "I won't apologize to that mu-" He stopped short, a scowl on his face.

Harry glowered back. "Fine, then. How about a wager?"

Draco frowned. "A wager."

"Yeah – a duel. I win, you apologize to Hermione. You win, and we forget about the whole thing."

A sour look came over Draco's face, and Harry could easily see his pride conflicting with his common sense. "If we…do this, you'll tell me what you know about what happened with the Chamber of Secrets?"

Harry blinked, but then rolled his eyes. "Sure."

"Fine, then. Deal. When do we –"

"Now."

"Now?" Draco asked, concern in his voice.

"Yeah, right now – let's get this over with. No witnesses, no seconds, no formalities, let's just fight until one of us gives up."

Draco shakily drew his wand. "Ready?"

Harry drew his own wand. "Of course."

Simultaneously, both boys fired off an expeliarmus, darting out of the way.

Draco immediately cast a couple of hasty stinging hexes Harry's way, which he dodged with a spin.

In retribution, Harry shot a petrificus totalis and an impedimentia in quick succession, using the distraction to dart to the other side of the corridor, quickly followed by a steady stream of Draco's stunners.

Suddenly, though, Harry stopped short and shot to the other side of one of Draco's stunning spells, using the time it took for Draco to turn around to fire a tripping jinx at the other boy's legs.

By the time Draco made it to his feet, Harry had been able to draw up his concentration sufficiently to aim a focused incendio to the corner of his robes.

Startled, Draco let out a panicked shout, and as he frantically attempted to shrug off his robe; but as he did so, Harry called out,

"Locomotor Mortis!"

sending the blonde-haired boy tumbling to the ground.

Desperately, Draco gripped his wand tight and shouted, "Serpensortia!"

"Flagrante!"

Harry had aimed the spell at Draco's wand, causing the boy to drop it as it seared his skin – but not before a long black snake shot out, slithering forward. The snake – a beautiful, but young black mamba, Harry quickly recognized – stopped, though, when it saw him, hesitating, and then turning its gaze back toward Draco, who was lying on the floor and cradling his burnt hand.

Suddenly, the snake, with an obviously angry look on its face, turned around, swiftly making its way back to a very startled and terrified blonde Slytherin.

Harry blanched as the snake turned away, panicking as it continued to near his cousin at an increasing rate – if the serpent was of the magical variety, Draco would be dead within minutes if its powerful neurotoxins entered his system.

:Stop! Don't hurt him!:

The soft, breathy hissing quality of his voice drained the atmosphere of all sound – Harry froze, the snake froze, and Draco froze, all at once. As the mamba slithered to the side submissively and Draco stared at him with undisguised, awed shock, Harry cringed – of all the thoughtless things he could have done...

"Well shit."

Bad luck really did follow him around.

So...uh...thoughts?