"...enervate."
Harry's eyes shoot open, and he immediately wishes they hadn't. At least when he's out, he doesn't have to feel the hole where his bones used to be.
"Sorry for the rude awakening, Mister Potter, but I need you to drink this." Pomfrey says, holding a vial to Harry's lips.
Harry opens his mouth and allows her to pour the potion down his throat. It takes everything he has in him not to spit it right up again.
"Burns," Harry coughs out after the vial is emptied.
Merlin, who's been coiled around his legs, flicks her tongue worriedly.
Pomfrey grimaces. "I know. No part of regrowing bones is fun, up to and including the potion. Here," she says, holding up another potion.
Harry downs this one as well, sighing in relief as what seems to be a pain-potion kicks in.
"Couldn't you have given that one to me first?" Harry complains, wiping his mouth. Pomfrey raises her eyebrow. "Alright, alright, I know we just went over potion interactions. Doesn't make it feel better."
"Even with the pain potion, I'm afraid you're in for a long night. Lots of aches and growing pains as your nerves reconnect to where they're supposed to go. Why didn't you just heal yourself when you got hit?"
Harry grimaces. "Well, you see, the snitch… okay, it was right there. I thought I'd just grab it really quick, and heal my arm later?"
Pomfrey sighs. "Most of the time you're all Lily. I can even see a little bit of Remus in you! And then you go and pull a move like this, and I remember you're also most definitely James's son."
Harry smiles sadly, reaching out a hand to pet Merlin's scales. Pomfrey sighs again and pats the shoulder of his uninjured arm.
"Your friends are just outside. I'll let them in for a couple minutes, but then you need to try and sleep. Regrowing bones is going to really take it out of you," Pomfrey warns.
"Thanks, Madam Pomfrey," Harry says tiredly.
Sure enough, the second the Hospital Wing doors open, Harry's friends have tumbled into the room.
"Harry!" Hermione cries, rushing towards his bed. "Are you alright?"
"I'm down a couple dozen bones, but can't complain other than that," Harry says, smiling wryly.
Theo narrows his eyes at Harry's lifeless arm. "As far as I'm concerned, he's at two strikes," Theo says.
"Theo. Until Lockhart actively tries to hurt one of us, we cannot justify murder," Harry says firmly. "We have been over this."
"No, Theo is right," Daphne says, eyes cold and hard. "That man is a danger to himself and others."
"At least let me introduce him to my mother," Blaise pleads.
Ron nods vigorously in agreement.
"Can we not do this right now?" Harry says desperately. "Please."
Neville puts a reassuring (if muddy) hand on Harry's arm. "O-of course. Sorry, Harry."
"It's okay," Harry sighs. "I get it, I'm mad too."
"What happened?" Hermione bursts out, seemingly unable to hold it in any longer. "We all saw the bludger. That's not how they're supposed to work, right?"
"No. I don't know what that was," Harry says, yawning widely. "Oliver said it hadn't been tampered with, though."
"May-maybe we'll look into it," Neville suggests. "An-and let you rest."
Harry smiles gratefully at him, and his friends leave after a quick goodbye. Harry closes his eyes, buries his face into Merlin's coils, and lets sleep claim him.
…Only to wake up again, mere hours later.
"Augh," Harry grits out, clutching at his arm. "Fuck!"
It looks like the sun has only just set, and if anything, Harry just feels more exhausted. However, the pins and needles dancing up and down his arm are bad enough that he's not sure how to fall back asleep again.
Harry reaches out, wordlessly summoning a glass of water into his hand from his bedside. He downs it all, then puts it back onto the table.
"Merlin," Harry gasps, closing his eyes tight against the pain.
"Yes?" Merlin says, sounding worried.
"Tell me about your week?" Harry asks, forcing himself to relax.
"Um, okay, well on Monday I spent most of the day swearing at the Giant Squid because I could just tell it was shit-talking about me…"
Harry falls asleep again by the time Merlin gets to Thursday.
…and wakes up again. The moon is high in the sky, and if Harry was to guess, he'd say it's closer to one or two in the morning.
This time, though, the pain isn't what wakes him up (although it is definitely still there). Instead, it's the sound of Merlin's long and low warning hiss, and heavy breathing coming from just beside his pillow.
Harry whips his head to the side and nearly shrieks, catching himself and his magic only just in time: there, inches from his face, are two huge luminous eyes staring unblinkingly at Harry.
Harry sits up, good hand clutching at his chest.
"Dobby!" Harry hisses. "What the hell!"
The house elf dances back, hands anxiously twisting in his white linen tunic. Dobby rocks back and forth on his heels, smiling widely at Harry. He has yet to blink. Are Dobby's teeth sharper than they were last time?
"Dobby warned you," Dobby says. Harry can't decide if he sounds regretful or gleeful. "Dobby warned you not to come back to school and did the Potter boy listen? No! No, the Potter boy did not listen!"
"Dobby, I'm not just going to drop out of school! Besides, I have friends here, if it really is as dangerous as you say it is, I need to keep them safe and I can't do that from home!"
A single tear rolls down Dobby's cheek despite the grin (grimace?) still frozen on the elf's face.
"Yes. The Potter boy is noble," Dobby admits. "Very noble. And yet! Who is to look out for the Potter boy while the Potter boy does his saving?"
"My friends look out for me, too! Look, Dobby, why are you here?" Harry asks, desperately ready for this whole interaction to be over.
Dobby cocks his head to the side. "The Potter boy should have gone home when Potter missed the train," he says slowly. "The Potter boy did not. The Potter boy cheated."
Harry grimaces. That all but confirms his suspicion that the wayward house elf had been behind the apparition issue.
Dobby continues, "Dobby thought the bludger might do the trick, but the Potter boy is wily."
Dobby leans forward, hands clasped behind his back.
"Dobby tells the Potter boy one last time: the Potter boy must go home. If Potter ignores Dobby's warning, then the Potter boy is in great danger."
"The bludger was you?" Harry asks disbelievingly. "You know what would keep me out of danger? You not trying to kill me! Fuck!"
Dobby's lamp-like eyes grow brighter in the darkness, and his bat-like ears twitch.
"Dobby warned the Potter boy, and Dobby is beholden to the rule of three," Dobby whispers cryptically.
"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened before. History will repeat itself, the Potter boy will die, and Dobby will do no more meddling."
With that, the elf snaps his fingers and blinks out of existence.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Harry says, willing his heart to calm. "Why you like to hang out with house elves is beyond me, Merlin."
"Shush! Someone is coming," Merlin hisses, ignoring Harry.
Harry lies down hurriedly, trying to slow his breathing.
"You should be nicer to that Elf," Merlin berates quietly as Harry listens to the footsteps making their way towards the Hospital Wing. "You don't need to heed his warning, but he also didn't need to go out of his way to warn you at all."
"That's on him, then," Harry hisses grumpily, then shuts up as the doors to the infirmary swing open.
Harry watches through narrowed eyes as Dumbledore and McGonagall stride into the room, levitating what looks to be a statue behind them.
Dumbledore is wearing a very cartoon-y nightcap and dressing gown, which would be funny in any other circumstance, and McGonagall looks as though she's come from a nightly patrol.
"Get Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore says grimly.
McGonagall nods, going into Pomfrey's office. Harry tries to make out what (or, more likely, who) is laying on the bed, but it's too hard from his laying down position.
Harry hears a sharp intake of breath from Madam Pomfry. "What happened?" She asks quietly.
"Another attack," Dumbledore says. "Minerva found him on the stairs."
"We think he was trying to sneak in and visit Mister Potter. There was a plate of grapes next to him."
Harry's heart has been sinking further and further with every word the adults utter. Someone's been petrified, that much is obvious, but who? And why? Harry hadn't heard a voice this time, but he was also out cold until Dobby had woken him up.
Harry can't take it any more: he needs to know who's laying in that hospital bed.
"Merlin," Harry hisses quietly, so quietly he's not sure he hears her. "Who is it?"
Merlin lifts herself up carefully and quietly, angling her head so she gets a good look (or maybe smell?) at the student.
"The annoying camera boy," Merlin says, lowering herself back down onto Harry's chest. "He's still holding the camera up."
"Okay," Harry breathes out. He hates himself just a little bit for the relief flooding his chest.
"Petrified," Madam Pomfrey confirms.
Dumbledore leans down and wrenches the camera from the boy's stiff hands.
"You think he got a picture of the attacker?" McGonagall asks, surprised.
Dumbledore pops the camera open, and Harry doesn't need to see to know the camera is broken beyond repair: he'd recognize the smell of burning plastic anywhere.
"Or not," McGonagall says tiredly.
"Melted…" Pomfrey says, sounding baffled. "What…"
"What does it mean?" Dumbledore prompts. "It means the Chamber of Secrets has indeed been opened again."
Pomfrey clamps her hand over her mouth, horrified. McGonagall just stares at Dumbledore.
"Albus," she starts. "You cannot possibly think…"
Dumbledore sighs. "I do not know who else it could have been."
"He's been in the Hospital Wing, asleep, all day!" McGonagall says, disbelievingly.
Harry's heart stops.
"Nevertheless," Dumbledore says. "The alternative is impossible."
Harry is totally lost. Alternative?
"Well," Pomfrey says finally. "You'll have to wait to conduct your interrogation," Harry's stomach flips uncomfortably. "My patient needs to rest, as he's currently regrowing around thirty bones."
Harry feels his chest fill with warmth- Pomfrey clearly thinks Harry is innocent.
"Very well," Dumbledore says after a moment. He nods to the two women. "Poppy, Minerva."
"Goodnight, Albus," McGonagall says.
With that, Dumbledore turns and leaves the room. Harry lets out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.
"It's not Potter," Pomfrey says firmly.
"No," McGonagall agrees. "But it is someone. You know what happened the last time the Chamber opened…"
"We all do," Pomfrey says.
Harry doesn't, but it's not like he can say that. He does know one thing, though: he needs to talk to his friends as soon as possible.