A/N: Hey everyone! I'll address two parts of the last chapter that might have caused a little confusion, and then it's on to the next one!

First, Sarutobi did not summon one of Kakashi's ninken. He only possesses the contract for the apes, as a few of you pointed out. I intentionally didn't specify how Sarutobi created the bulldog, because I was writing from Harry's point of view and he couldn't have known. However, when I was writing I pictured the bulldog as a genjutsu affecting the three of them. There are other ways Sarutobi could have created the same effect, among them a Transformed clone, but a genjutsu is the most elegant solution. Sarutobi's choice of a bulldog is, of course, a nod to Kakashi's ninken, but any summoned animals would have talked.

Second, the animated blackboard was kind of silly, but I was trying to play off of similar teaching moments in the Naruto anime, when the animation becomes very simple in order to demonstrate how chakra works, etc. I always thought it was fun, so I wanted to have Sarutobi do something like it.

Finally, there is a bit of unavoidable canon rehash this chapter. The Quidditch game is entirely a rewrite of canon, which I generally try to avoid when I can. However, as the rest of the chapter will show, things are really beginning to change, and from here on out most canon events will have a significant twist at the very least.

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Naruto

Chapter 10: A New Threat

Narcissa Malfoy, formerly Narcissa Black, loved to entertain guests in Malfoy Manor. She frequently threw lavish dinner parties for such distinguished and important people as the Minister of Magic, Department Heads, and the scions of other powerful Pureblood families. Such get-togethers were a way of showing off her husband's wealth and status, but they were also enjoyable in their own right. As a stay-at-home mother whose son was off at Hogwarts, Narcissa didn't exactly have much excitement in her life. Opportunities to socialize with people in her own set were few and far between, and Narcissa made a point to create them when she could.

However, tonight was not at all like the dinner parties Narcissa usually hosted. There were a few similarities – she was serving dinner, after all. And indeed, many of the people sitting at the table were influential members of the Ministry. But the atmosphere in the Malfoy's grand dining room was closer to that of a clandestine meeting than a casual gathering of society's elite. Almost everyone wore robes with hoods pulled low, their faces cast into shadow.

The reason for this strange behavior was that each and every one of Narcissa's guests tonight had once been in service to the Dark Lord. They were a diverse group, with people in many different situations and careers, but they were tied together by the same mark branded into their flesh. When Lucius Malfoy, their old lieutenant, called them to his manor without explanation, they had no choice but to come. And Narcissa, who would have happily seen the Dark Lord disappear into memory, was forced to play hostess to a meeting of former Death Eaters.

Some of them she had never met before, and some were people with whom she was entirely too familiar. One of them, Rookwood, first gathered enough courage to speak. "Narcissa," he began, his voice full of false confidence and cheer. "It is wonderful to see you again, of course. But I must ask why we were all gathered here today. Lucius is not one to indulge himself in nostalgia."

"Neither am I," Narcissa said crisply. "I do not know why my husband invited you. I can only imagine he has some news for you."

Actually, what Narcissa imagined was far worse, but telling Rookwood would do him no good. Narcissa knew that her husband wasn't responsible for this meeting at all – it was her husband's new master, Orochimaru. Narcissa never failed to experience an equal mixture of anger and terror when she thought of the man. She had only seen him once, but the transformation he had wrought in her husband was horrifying. Lucius Malfoy, one of the richest wizards in Europe and a man with the ear of the Minister himself, was now reduced to a state of near-servitude.

Narcissa could tell that her husband lived in fear of the pale man with the yellow eyes, and that he was doing everything he could to protect his family from coming to Orochimaru's attention. Lucius had even gone so far as to tell Narcissa not to write to Draco.

"I do not know whether Draco is safe at Hogwarts," Lucius had told her once, the fear in his eyes a source of shock and alarm for Narcissa. "Dumbledore was strong enough to keep the Dark Lord at bay, but I don't know if even he is a match for Lord Orochimaru."

That was the moment in which Narcissa realized the depth of the tragedy which had befallen her family.

"I'm doing all I can to keep Draco safe," Lucius had promised her, his steely eyes not leaving hers for an instant. "I told Lord Orochimaru that I will serve him faithfully, but only if he leaves the two of you out of his schemes. He would have killed me on the spot, but he said my love for Draco amused him. He agreed to spare our son, but I don't trust him. His power is so immense, that if he were to try and harm any of us there is no way that I could stop him. The only thing we can do is keep Draco out of our lives as much as possible. He'll stay at Hogwarts for the school vacations, and we must stop writing him unless it's absolutely necessary. Do you understand? It's to protect him."

Narcissa had done everything her husband asked, though it pained her not to be able to write her son. She could only hope that her husband's service would be of short duration, and that Lord Orochimaru would be disposed to reward him by giving him his freedom. Even that was a desperate hope, and Narcissa knew it.

She did not know what Orochimaru was planning with this gathering of former Death Eaters – she did now want to know. She had done her job, and her husband would take over from there. When she saw Lucius enter from the living room, she stood up gracefully.

"Friends, I have taken up enough of your time," she announced to her hooded audience. "My husband has business with you, and I would only be in the way. Thank you for visiting our home, and I wish you a safe trip back."

She left the room, relinquishing the seat at the head of the table to Lucius. He nodded at her as she passed, a tightly controlled gesture that communicated his determination. Narcissa realized her hands were shaking, and hastened to conceal them in the folds of her dress robes.

On her way out of the dining room, Narcissa heard her husband begin to speak. "I have invited you to my home for a very important purpose," Lucius announced. "It is to introduce you to an extraordinary man…" his voice became quieter and quieter, until it disappeared altogether.

As she retreated to the kitchen, Narcissa could not repress a shiver. Orochimaru must be somewhere in the house, waiting for the right moment to address the men and women assembled in the dining room. She did not know what Orochimaru wanted with former Death Eaters, but whatever his reasons, they weren't likely to benefit anyone but him.

Dobby, the Malfoy's House-Elf, approached Narcissa quietly with a cup of tea. She took it without looking at the elf, and raised it with trembling fingers to her lips.

Just as she was about to take a sip, the screaming began. A discordant symphony of pain came from the dining room, unearthly cries of agony ripped from resisting throats. The china cup fell from Narcissa's hands, shattering into a million pieces on the tiled kitchen floor. The scalding tea splashed her, staining her robes and burning her ankles, but she didn't even notice.

oOoOo

Harry had never worked so hard in his life, and he was sure Ron and Hermione could say the same. Professor Sarutobi's training had practically taken over their lives. Every morning they went for a run, where they were chased by various savage beasts. Harry began to think that Professor Sarutobi was in cahoots with Hagrid, because how else would the Defense professor have heard about a three-headed dog? That had been a particularly nasty morning, when all three heads had been snapping at the Gryffindors.

After the run they always meditated, trying to clear their minds as Professor Sarutobi taught them to do. Meditation allowed them to rest their bodies, but it was hard work all the same. Harry kept getting headaches, and he didn't think his mind was getting any more organized. On the contrary, in fact – he felt like his thoughts were getting more scattered by the day.

That was just the beginning of the day. Professor Sarutobi created a schedule for them that worked around their classes and Harry's practice schedule. In the afternoons they worked on spellcasting and martial arts. By the end of those sessions, the trio's arms were generally too tired to even raise their wands. They also had evening sessions three times a week, when Professor Sarutobi generated hypothetical combat situations and quizzed them on how they would approach them.

With training, homework, and Quidditch, Harry had almost no free time to speak of. His body was sore the majority of every day, and his mind ached from overuse. The other Gryffindors, who had started out by being a little jealous, quickly realized that training with Professor Sarutobi was far too close to unending torture for their comfort.

Once they had settled into a pattern, however, Harry kept his promise to himself by inviting Neville to join the morning sessions. When he heard that exercise and meditation would help his magic, Neville joined them with a single-minded determination. He tripped over his own feet more often than not, but after the first week he began to show marked improvement. He was also invaluable when Harry, Ron, and Hermione were practicing the martial arts forms that Sarutobi was teaching them. They practiced on their own in order to make the motions feel natural, and with a fourth person they were able to split up in pairs for more effective sparring.

To Harry's surprise, they soon began to make progress. They could run farther without getting tired, and their spellcasting showed marked improvement. The meditation was as frustrating as ever, but after only a week Harry knew that their bodies were starting to adjust to the new routine. Harry couldn't wait to see what would happen once Professor Sarutobi started teaching them new spells. For the time being, he was just refining their technique with spells they already knew, and making them practice new applications such as hitting moving targets.

Their days melted into one another, adopting a familiar pattern of training, eating, studying, and then training some more. They all developed ravenous appetites, eating nonstop to restore the energy that they expended in training. At first, their energy level over-all dropped, so much so that Oliver Wood commented with concern that Harry did not seem himself in Quidditch practice. But once their bodies adapted, they found themselves feeling better, sharper. Wood told Harry that whatever he was doing, he should keep it up, because his flying was improving in leaps and bounds. And Ron told Hermione that he didn't even mind homework as much as he used to, because "it didn't make his head hurt nearly as much as meditation."

They were all growing, and if their progress was slow it was there all the same.

It was at that time, two weeks into their training, that Hermione gathered up the courage to ask Professor Sarutobi for a favor.

"A signed permission slip?" he asked when she approached him one day after class. "Why would you need such a thing?"

Hermione didn't quite meet Professor Sarutobi's eyes. "We're researching a potion, but the only book with information about it is in the Restricted Section. We need a Professor's permission to look at it."

Harry and Ron watched with their hearts in their mouths, but Professor Sarutobi only signed a slip of paper and gave it to Hermione. As they were walking away, relieved that they had gotten away with it, Sarutobi called out to them. Ron jumped almost a foot in the air.

"Be careful," he said to them, his voice sounding amused. "I trust the three of you, but there are many who would see your interest in restricted knowledge and get the wrong idea. Please don't betray my trust in you."

They nearly fell over themselves assuring him that they had only the best intentions, and it took Harry and Ron a considerable amount of effort later to keep Hermione from coming clean about the whole plan.

In the end, however, they prevailed, and later that night they left together for the library. Madam Pince examined their permission slip like a bank manager with suspected counterfeit money, but could find nothing wrong with Professor Sarutobi's signature. She waved them through, only warning them that if they strayed in the Restricted Section, or took a peek at any book other than the one on Hermione's note, they would not enjoy the consequences.

Hermione found the book and opened to the Table of Contents, locating the Polyjuice Potion with admirable efficiency. When she began reading the ingredients and steps necessary to brew the potion, Harry and Ron began to lose motivation for the project. It took almost two months to brew, and some of the ingredients were extremely rare. Ron was all for trying to find another way, and even Harry was beginning to think that perhaps their Invisibility Cloak would be a suitable alternative. But Hermione was unmoved.

"Of course it's difficult!" she huffed, exasperated. "Everything worthwhile is. But this is the best way to investigate Malfoy without getting caught. If we start brewing soon it'll be ready by Christmas, which really isn't that far away. Come on, you two! Are you really going to give up so easily?"

That was enough to get Ron to swear that he would make the Polyjuice Potion or die trying, and Harry gave his support as well. They were already waking up at the crack of dawn every day to train, so surely they could find a few minutes every now and then to brew a potion.

Hermione recorded the Polyjuice recipe with the utmost precision in a notebook she kept in her robes, and once she was done they said goodbye to the Restricted Section. Harry could feel Madam Pince's beady eyes following them all the way out into the hallway.

oOoOo

With the approach of the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, the entire castle caught Quidditch fever. Even gossip about the Heir of Slytherin took a back seat to the students' favorite sport, and the competing shows of House pride lightened the atmosphere in the hallways and common rooms considerably.

Wood was making the team practice like mad, the threat of their opponents' new brooms hanging over their heads. Harry began to consider Quidditch practice in the same light as training with Professor Sarutobi. They practiced through the cold, the rain, and the mud, until at last the morning of the match arrived.

Harry had butterflies in his stomach, but they were more from excitement than nerves. Slytherin had better brooms, but Harry had faith in his team. They flew better together, and their teamwork would be enough to offset a slight speed disadvantage. Harry knew, however, that ultimately the only thing that mattered would be catching the Snitch before Malfoy.

Wood took him aside right before the match, his eyes boring holes into Harry's soul. "It's all on you, Potter," he said solemnly. "We'll make sure you've got a decent lead, but you've got to catch that Snitch. End this game quickly, or die trying."

Harry gave Wood his best salute. While the team made their last-minute preparations, Harry scanned the crowd for his friends. The Gryffindors were a block of red and gold, and their cheering voiced combined with the noise from the rest of the crowd to become an indistinguishable wall of sound. Harry could make out Ron, Hermione, Neville, and even Ginny. The first-year was sticking close to her brother, looking more excited and happier than he could remember seeing her this year.

Fred and George clapped Harry on the shoulder, for once not even bothering to tease him. They wanted this win just as badly as the rest of Gryffindor.

Madam Hooch stepped out onto the pitch, her windswept hair waving erratically. Both teams mounted their brooms and took their positions, eyes locked on her silver whistle. Malfoy caught Harry's eye and made a slashing gesture across his throat with one finger. Harry turned away contemptuously.

"I want a clean game," Madam Hooch declared, looking particularly at Marcus Flint. Harry saw that Flint was also giving him the evil eye, and realized that the seventh-year must still be angry about getting hit by his Petrificus Totalis during Sarutobi's detention. The memory of that moment brought a smile to Harry's face, which only enraged Flint more.

Madam Hooch blew a short blast on her whistle. "Begin!"

Harry was off like a shot, trying simultaneously to gain altitude and keep an eye on the action with the quaffle. He was dividing his attention between the Slytherin chasers and his search for the Snitch, so he was caught almost completely by surprise when a bludger came out of nowhere and almost took his head off. Fred Weasley saved his neck when he came swooping in, swinging his bat and sending the bludger careening off towards Marcus Flint.

"All right, Harry?" Fred yelled. But Harry didn't answer, because he saw the bludger curl around in a tight arc and come directly back towards him. He took off at top speed to another corner of the pitch, but the bludger followed him like a scent hound.

A roar went up from the stands as students saw Harry being shadowed by the bludger. Harry heard Hagrid's voice rise in astonishment, but he was too busy dodging for his life to hear what he said. Fred and George broke off from the rest of the game, devoting their attention to keeping Harry safe from the rogue bludger. Meanwhile, the Slytherin beaters gained sole control over the remaining bludger, using it to keep the Gryffindor team from disrupting their chasers' formation. With that advantage, plus the extra speed from their Nimbus 2001's, the Slytherin team was scoring almost at will.

When Wood signaled for a time-out, Harry had already narrowly missed being knocked off his broom several times, and Gryffindor was far behind on the scoreboard.

"What's going on?" Wood demanded.

"That damn bludger won't leave Harry alone!" Fred snarled. "Someone must have tampered with it."

"We can't call the match without forfeiting," Wood said, his eyes growing worried.

"Forfeit? No way!" Harry declared. "Fred, George – stop covering for me. I can handle it. The rest of the team needs your help to keep the Slytherin chasers from scoring so much. I can avoid the bludger and look for the snitch on my own."

"Are you sure, Harry?" George asked, concern in his voice. "That bludger isn't messing around."

Harry nodded his head emphatically. "Neither am I. I can do this."

"You heard the man," Wood said. "He'll handle it. The rest of you, let's pick it up. We're flying scared out there. Remember that we're the better team. Katie, Alicia, Angelina, don't try to race the Slytherins. Pick your moments, and when we have the quaffle make sure we only go for the sure passes. Fred and George, make sure they can't accelerate for fear of flying right into a bludger. Understood?"

They formed a circle and put their hands in. After a shouted "Gryffindor!" they re-mounted their brooms, and the game started once again. This time, Harry was on his own, and the bludger seemed even more determined to get him. The crowd was beside itself, as one half cried out in fear for Harry, while the other half was cheering on the bludger.

Harry's determination to deal with the bludger himself helped his team immensely in the first few minutes. Fred and George were much more skilled than the Slytherin beaters, and they began to do an excellent job of negating the Slytherin chasers' speed advantage. The Gryffindor chasers' teamwork began to pay off as well, and they managed to put a few points on the scoreboard.

But Harry knew that it would all be useless if he couldn't shake the bludger long enough to catch the snitch. As things were, he was too busy flying evasive maneuvers to even look for the blasted thing, let alone catch it.

While Harry was executing a barrel roll to avoid a particularly nasty fly-by, Draco came over to taunt him.

"Having a little trouble there, Potter?" he gloated.

Harry swallowed his response, because he saw the tell-tale glint of gold hovering near Draco's face. It was the first time he'd seen the snitch all game, and he wasn't going to risk tipping Draco off. He tried to make his way closer without looking like he meant to, but in so doing he forgot about the bludger for a moment too long. It had circled around behind him, and the first inkling Harry got of its presence was a warning shout from the crowd. The next thing he knew blinding pain shot through his arm, and then the bludger flew off past him, preparing to circle around and finish the job. The pain jarred him into action, and Harry spurred his broom towards Malfoy at top speed. He made a desperate grab with his uninjured hand and snagged the snitch with his fingertips.

The bludger was still on his heels, so Harry went into a steep dive. His landing was not smooth, due in part to the crippling pain in his arm, and also to the reckless speed he was drawing on to evade the bludger. He tumbled off his broom, only to see that the bludger was still homing in on him, growing larger with each passing second.

There was a popping sound, and then Professor Sarutobi stood before Harry, his white robes billowing. He made a hand gesture and a wall of rock jutted out from the ground. The bludger couldn't dodge in time and collided with the barrier, pulverized into millions of tiny shards. The crowd had gone silent, watching with bated breath as the bludger approached Harry. Now the students went wild, celebrating the fantastic catch but also the quick action by the Defense Professor. Harry let out a sigh that immediately turned into a wince of pain. Now that his adrenaline rush was dying down, it was becoming very clear that his arm was seriously injured.

Professor Sarutobi turned to Harry, a frown twitching at his lips, but a kind light in his eyes. "I am still adjusting to many parts of your culture, but I have to admit that I don't understand the appeal of Quidditch."

Harry could only smile weakly. "It's usually much better than that, sir."

He had no time to say anything else because he was mobbed by the Gryffindor team. Fred and George almost broke his other arm before they realized that hoisting him onto their shoulders probably wasn't a good idea.

"You did it, Harry!" Wood yelled, tears streaming down his face.

"We did it!" Harry yelled back. His classmates were storming the pitch, while the Slytherin team was retreating to the changing rooms in a foul humor. Harry would have given all the galleons in his vault at Gringotts to hear the dressing-down that Malfoy was sure to get from Flint.

Professor Sarutobi remained by his side during the post-victory mayhem, and his imposing presence kept the celebrating Gryffindors from being too careless with their injured Seeker.

Sarutobi nodded gravely to Harry. "When you're ready, I think perhaps I should take you to the Hospital Wing. Your injury is not life-threatening, but without proper care it may worsen."

Harry was a little put off by the Professor's light tone. His arm might not be shattered, but at least one bone was definitely broken, and besides that it bloody hurt! Professor Sarutobi was being awfully cavalier about it, if you asked him. But then, Harry guessed that to the Professor this would simply be good training. Dealing with pain, and all that. So he gritted his teeth through the pain, and shrugged off Ron's hand when he offered to help support him to the Hospital Wing.

Harry left for the Hospital Wing in a crowd of ecstatic Gryffindors, and as he made his way up to the castle he couldn't keep the smile off his face. You can keep your fancy broom, Malfoy, Harry thought with satisfaction. It only makes victory taste that much sweeter.

oOoOo

Madam Pomfrey seemed to share Professor Sarutobi's dismissive attitude towards Harry's injury. She sniffed when she saw his broken arm, and said that she treated worse wounds every day. She waved her wand casually over his arm, and with an audible pop the bones realigned correctly. There was a flash of pain, and then the agony in Harry's arm subsided to a dull ache.

"Still, best if you stay in the Hospital Wing overnight," Madam Pomfrey added after poking and prodding his arm with the tip of her wand. "I'll give you a round of potions to restore your strength and make the bones heal well, and in the morning you'll be better than ever."

Harry had a strategy session with Professor Sarutobi that night, but the Professor told him he could skip it as per Nurse's orders. Even in his home village, he said with a smile, hospitalization is an acceptable excuse for missing training. Then he warned Harry sternly not to make a habit of it.

That night Harry slept fitfully, dreams of rogue bludgers and giant snakes intruding on his slumber. Then he dreamed he saw a pair of eyes, wide and round as saucers, and heard a voice that said, "Harry Potter" several times, insistently, in a squeaky, high-pitched voice. Then he woke up and realized it wasn't a dream. The House-Elf Dobby perched on his bed, bending over Harry so that his long nose almost touched Harry's own.

"Dobby!" Harry exclaimed, then swallowed his words as Dobby shushed him violently and looked around the room in terror. "Dobby!" Harry hissed, keeping his voice quieter this time. "What are you doing here?"

"Harry Potter shouldn't be here!" the elf said wretchedly. "It's too dangerous for him here!"

The dots were starting to connect themselves in Harry's brain. Dobby had levitated the cake in an effort to keep Harry from going to Hogwarts, and now that Harry thought about it that had only been the first in a series of incidents. "It was you!" he whispered, suddenly growing angry. "You closed the barrier to Ron and me. You made us miss the train!"

Dobby nodded miserably, shrinking away as though he expected to be hit. "Yes," he admitted. "But it was for Harry Potter's own good!"

"Then the bludger," Harry said, beginning to be more than a little ticked off. "Was that you?"

"Yes."

"Were you trying to kill me?" Harry exploded – albeit very quietly. "That's some way of trying to keep me safe."

"Not kill you, sir, never kill you. Dobby only hoped that if you were injured, then perhaps you would be sent back to your aunt and uncle…"

Harry made an effort to gather his wits. He had the rest of the year to go, and he did not want to be dodging Dobby's well-intentioned sneak attacks until final exams. Somehow he had to figure out what Dobby knew, and then reassure the poor elf.

But that was when Harry realized – Dobby said there was something dangerous happening that year at Hogwarts. Could it be…

"Dobby," Harry began, making his voice as gentle as he could, "do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"

Dobby flinched at the title, and nodded vigorously. Harry smiled with relief. "Then you're behind the times," he said quickly. "The monster of the Chamber was unleashed, and the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor killed it in about ten seconds. No one's going to get hurt because of the monster in the chamber. I know the Heir is still free, but it has to be a student and no student will be able to try anything with the professors all on full alert. Honestly, Dobby, I'm all right. You need to stop this-"

But Dobby was shaking his head more violently with each word that Harry said. Finally he couldn't stand it anymore, and interrupted Harry with a despairing squeak.

"Dobby is glad the monster is dead, sir, but that is not the only danger. There is a new danger, worse than the Chamber could ever be. A hundred, a thousand times worse! Harry Potter will only be safe if he leaves Hogwarts!"

Harry was distinctly annoyed at this point. How many life-threatening disasters could Hogwarts experience in a single year? This was getting ridiculous.

"Can you tell me what the danger is, Dobby?" Harry asked cautiously. When the elf started looking around for hard objects, Harry stopped his immediately. "That's ok, I understand. Don't do anything you'd have to punish yourself for."

It made it decidedly difficult to argue against the House-Elf, but Harry couldn't chance anyone coming along and ending the conversation before he said what he wanted to Dobby.

"Listen, Dobby," Harry said, waiting until Dobby stopped eyeing the stone wall and gave him his full attention. "I appreciate you trying to keep me safe. I really do. But this has to stop. No matter what you do, I'm not going back. Do you think I'd leave my friends alone to face this danger without me? Dobby, if anything happened to them when I was away, I would never, ever forgive myself. Some things are even more important than living, because without them life doesn't mean anything."

Harry saw Dobby about to respond, and kept going in a rush. "That's not all. You have to promise me you won't do anything else to try to injure me, ok? What if the danger came when I was lying in the Hospital Wing? I wouldn't even be able to run away because you injured me."

Dobby was looking more and more ashamed of himself. "Don't even think about going over to that wall," Harry warned. "Look, I really appreciate you looking out for me. But Hogwarts is my home, and Ron and Hermione are like my family. Abandoning them is something I wouldn't do even if I knew it was the only way to live. So will you promise to stop with the attacks?"

Dobby let out a great sigh, and his ears flopped down dejectedly. "Dobby promises. Dobby only hopes that Harry Potter does not come to regret this decision."

"Harry Potter hopes the same thing," Harry said lightly, a little amazed that he had gotten through to the well-meaning elf. "Now, look after yourself, all right? It sounds like you're closer to this danger than any of us. Be careful!"

Dobby started to cry, getting hot, wet tears all over Harry's bedsheet. "Harry Potter truly is a great wizard, to care so for others. Even for wretched Dobby! Oh, Dobby must go…"

But before he left, Dobby gave Harry one last warning. "Tell Professor Dumbledore that danger comes, a danger far more terrible than the Chamber of Secrets. Even more deadly than You-Know-Who himself!"

"Worse than Voldemort?" Harry gasped. Dobby let out a terrified squeak at hearing the name.

Dobby hesitated, looking like he wanted to say more, but then pulled away. "Dobby must not say any more- Dobby must go!"

He disappeared with a crack, leaving Harry more confused than when he'd appeared. A danger more deadly than Lord Voldemort… what could it be?

Dobby's words stayed with Harry all night, echoing in his mind and conjuring images of faceless horror. Needless to say, he didn't get much sleep that night.