Harry is let out of the Hospital Wing just after lunch the next day, and can't seem to find any of his friends.
So far, it seems like the news of Colin being petrified hasn't quite gotten out (Pomfrey had erected a curtain around the poor boy's hospital bed), and Harry is becoming more and more desperate to make sure his friends hear it from him first.
Preferably before Dumbledore summons Harry in for questioning.
Through a combination of snooping, eavesdropping, and just asking, Harry manages to find out where most of them are: Apparently, the Contessa and Blaise had invited Ron, Theo, and Daphne on a lunch outing of some kind.
Harry is happy for Ron especially (Harry gathers that knowing the Contessa gets you instant access to a truly comprehensive networking system), but thinks that this is really very bad timing on their part.
Harry assumes Neville is out in the woods, but Hermione is just nowhere to be found. Having exhausted all other options, Harry reluctantly turns to the most reliable source he knows: the twins.
Or, he would if he could find them either.
"Hey Percy?" Harry asks, walking up to the older student. He's at his usual study table in the Gryffindor common room.
"Hello Harry. Good to see you up and about after yesterday. How can I help you?" Percy says, smoothly sliding a slip of parchment under one of his textbooks and turning his attention to Harry.
"Er," Harry says. "I was wondering if you know where the twins are?"
Percy looks like he wants to roll his eyes but catches himself just in time. "Last I saw, they were hanging around the Entrance Hall. Do try to discourage whatever mischief it is they're getting up to when you find them, alright?"
"Sure thing," Harry says, backing away. Percy turns back to whatever it is that he was doing. Suddenly, Percy looks up again.
"Say, Harry," Percy starts.
"Er, yeah?" Harry says hesitantly.
"If you see Ginny will you let her know to come talk to me?"
"Er, sure?"
Percy nods, and Harry leaves hurriedly, pausing in an empty corridor to slip his invisibility cloak on. He does not want to risk running into the Headmaster before he finds Hermione.
Harry gets to the Entrance Hall and pauses, looking around. There are a few students milling around, but no twins. Harry narrows his eyes. If he were the twins, he'd want to be in a place with a good vantage point, great visibility, and hidden. That means…
Harry turns his eyes towards one of the higher windows, and his gaze catches on a bit of movement. Yep, that's them. Somehow the twins have climbed or flown up there.
Harry sighs as he pulls out his broom and awkwardly unshrinks it, keeping it under the invisibility cloak. He mounts it, flaring the cloak out so it covers everything, and pushes off the ground.
"Smooth," Merlin hisses tiredly. The cold weather is starting to get to her, like it does every year.
"Shut up," Harry says, floating gingerly up to the window.
He precariously lands, balancing on the edge. The twins are writing a couple equations on a simple spiral-bound notebook, cross-referencing with what seems to be an advanced arithmancy textbook. Instead of quills, they're using ballpoint pens. Harry should ask them where they get their supplies.
Harry suddenly realizes he's made a tactical error. Oh well, nothing for it. He whips the cloak off, and both of the twins have their wands trained on him.
"You guys have great reflexes," Harry says, impressed. The wands vanish. One of the twins (Fred, Merlin helpfully points out) looks sheepish whereas the other (must be George) grins.
"Good to see you-"
"Out of the Hospital Wing-"
"With all your bones-"
"To what do we owe the pleasure?" The twins say together.
"If you want us to prank Lockhart I'm afraid you've come to the wrong place." Fred says, sighing.
"Our mother made us sign a legally binding contract that says we can't touch a single golden hair on his head," George says, rolling his eyes.
"I can't find Hermione anywhere ," Harry says, breezing past the Lockhart stuff. "And it's super important that I find her as soon as possible."
The twins look at each other, eyebrows raised. They seem to have a bit of a silent argument, then turn to face Harry again.
"No problem-"
"Easily done-"
"We just need to borrow that cloak."
"Now?" Harry asks, uncomfortable. The twins shake their heads.
"On a future date. No longer than one day, no less than an hour. No questions asked, none answered." Fred surmises.
"Er," Harry says.
He hates owing things to people, but he really really needs to find Hermione.
"I need to be able to refuse if it's life-or-death," Harry decides.
The twins look at each other and George shrugs.
"Sure," George says. "If by giving us the cloak for the day consigns you or another to death, you can refuse and we'll collect another day. That's reasonable."
"Reasonable for Harry Potter," Fred mutters grumpily. George elbows him.
"Deal, then," Harry says. The twins give him identical grins.
"Alrighty, Harry-"
"Just close your eyes-"
"Turn around-"
"Your snake, too-" (At this, Merlin slithers into her satchel, saying something about taking a nap.)
"And we'll have your answer in no time!"
Harry well and truly hates having to resort to the twins, and this is exactly why. Their methodology is mysterious and they want to keep it that way, which is fair, but Harry doesn't like to do what the twins say on general principle. He'd learned that lesson early on- if you trust the twins, you're getting pranked ninety-five percent of the time.
Fortunately the twins are good on their word.
"Alright, Harry-"
"Nothing to worry about!"
"Hermione is just in the bathroom-"
"The haunted one, on the second floor."
Harry wastes no time swinging the invisibility cloak back on and jumping off the window sill. He's about a quarter of the way down when a thought strikes him, and he floats back up. The twins have already gone back to their notebook.
"Do you know where Ginny is? Percy wanted to know."
Fred jumps at Harry's disembodied voice, but George doesn't look up from the notebook.
"If Percy wants to know where Ginny is, he can ask us himself," George says.
"Alright. Thanks, bye!"
"See you around, Harry," the twins say as one.
Harry thinks about flying the whole way there, but would prefer not to risk the invisibility cloak falling off. Flying at a slow pace with it on is awkward enough. Instead, Harry dismounts and shrinks the broom as he speedwalks to Myrtle's bathroom.
What is Hermione doing in there? On Halloween she seemed familiar with it, maybe she and Myrtle are friends? Harry hopes not. He'd prefer not to interact with the off-putting ghost girl today. Harry has enough to worry about.
Harry suppresses a shudder as he walks past the scene of the crime. The words are only half-scrubbed away and Harry wonders why they haven't just been vanished.
Maybe Filch wants to clean it himself? As a sort of… revenge cleaning?
Harry gets to the door with the out-of-order sign on it and notices the floor is dry. Myrtle's either out, or in a good mood. He hopes it's the former. Harry takes a deep breath and pushes the door in.
"Heremione, are you in-"
Harry freezes at the scene before him. There, sitting cross-legged in front of a bubbling cauldron, is Hermione.
Her hair is tied back and she has three open books spread out around her. In one hand is a bubbling beaker and in the other is a big wooden spoon. Next to her is a basket full of assorted potions ingredients.
Hermione doesn't even look up from whatever recipe she's reading, just continues to slowly pour the contents of the beaker into the cauldron, tongue poking out of her mouth in concentration.
None of that is what has Harry pausing. No, the most baffling part of the whole scene is a wide-eyed Parkinson who looks to have been in the process of dissecting a mummified frog.
Parkinson's short black bobbed hair is held out of her face with some bobby pins, and the sleeves of her button-up are rolled up. She has a smudge on her cheek and one of her immaculate eyebrows looks a tad singed. Parkinson is staring at Harry with an expression of shocked outrage.
"Uh," Harry says again, unsure of what else there is to say. At least Myrtle doesn't seem to be here.
Parkinson breaks out of whatever stupor she'd been in and smoothly pulls her wand out as she stands up, leveling it at Harry.
"I really am sorry, Hermione," Parkinson says, eyes not leaving Harry's face. "But you do understand why I have to kill him, right?"
Hermione doesn't move or say anything as she continues to concentrate, just blows a puff of escaped hair out of her face.
"I mean," Harry says, going a bit cross-eyed as he stares at the wand-point in his face. "You can try?"
"Excuse me?" Parkinson says, lowering her wand slightly. She sounds offended.
"Oh, no," Harry says, backtracking. "I'm sure you're more than capable of killing just about whoever you want when you put your mind to. It's just that, well, I'm sort of like… like a cockroach." Harry explains.
Parkinson's expression goes bewildered.
"No you aren't," Hermione says absently. Harry waits, but that seems to be the extent of her contribution to the conversation right now.
"I kind of am, though! People keep trying to kill me and it just doesn't work. We're up to, what; five, six murder attempts?"
"Bludger?" Hermione asks absently, brow furrowed in concentration.
"Sort of," Harry says. "I'm counting it and the troll as one."
"Okay," Parkinson decides, pocketing her wand. "I'm only counting four, so I'm not killing you until you tell me everything."
Harry supposes that's fair.
"Done!" Hermione says triumphantly as the potion goes a brilliant blue color.
"Good one!" Harry says. "With what?"
"Experiment," Hermione says, waving him off. She closes the books. "Anyways, you can't tell anyone about this."
"I don't know what this is," Harry assures her.
Hermione snorts before clambering up to her feet. "So, you figured out the bludger thing?"
Harry abruptly remembers why he'd been so desperate to find Hermione and gets a twisty feeling in his stomach.
"Uh. You should stay sitting actually, I think."
Hermione narrows her eyes and sinks back to the ground. Harry sits as well, leaning against a stall door.
Parkinson hesitates, then sits down too. Hermione raises an eyebrow at her and Parkinson glares at her.
"He knows about this thing."
"No I don't," Harry interjects. "I have no idea what this is."
Parkinson turns her glare on him. "It's an unofficial potions club. And I wasn't talking about that , I was talking about the… the friendship ."
She whispers the last word and Hermione lets out a loud laugh. Parkinson flips her the bird.
"Oh! Cool," Harry says happily.
" Anyways , as I was saying, he knows about our thing so I get to know about his thing."
"Pansy, you know everything about everyone all of the time," Hermione points out.
"Obviously not," Parkinson says plaintively. " Six murder attempts?"
"I don't mind," Harry shrugs. "If Hermione trusts you, I trust you too. Also," he adds, "you're probably just missing the dead unicorn one. I only count six if the troll and the bludger are their own attempts."
"Gryffindors," Parkinson mutters.
Harry isn't sure if she's referring to the murder attempts or the trusting thing.
"You can call me Harry," Harry adds. "And don't worry, I can keep a secret." Probably.
Parkinson rolls her eyes. "Pansy," she mutters. Then she points threateningly at Harry. "We are not friends. The first-name thing is for convenience only ."
Harry grins and Pansy groans.
"Okay!" Hermione says impatiently. "Bludger?"
"House elf," Harry says grimly.
Hermione and Pansy stare.
"That explains nothing ," Pansy says after a moment.
Harry sighs. "Daphne is going to be pissed," he mutters.
"Sounds like it," Hermione agrees.
"So, there's this house elf that's been trying to keep me from coming to school."
"Ohhh," Hermione says in understanding. Harry really appreciates how quick she is on the uptake.
"Yeah, the train thing was him. He also kept me from getting my letters at the beginning of summer. The bludger was his last attempt to get me out of Hogwarts."
"But why?" Hermione asks.
"He insisted there's some danger here at Hogwarts. I brushed it off as a prank of some kind, but then. Well. Remember Mrs. Norris?"
"You mean the thing that happened one week ago? The other thing you brushed off as a prank," Hermione asks flatly. Harry cringes. "I do remember that, yes."
"No one had gotten hurt yet! I just wanted a normal year," Harry protests.
"Who got hurt?" Pansy jumps in.
"Harry," Hermione tells her. "Lost thirty-three bones, remember?"
Pansy shakes her head. "Harry doesn't count himself." She looks at Harry, eyebrow raised. "Right?"
Harry grimaces and Hermione smacks his arm, furious.
"Sorry! Sorry," Harry says. Hermione backs off, fuming.
"So? Who got hurt?" Pansy insists.
"Colin Creevey," Harry says.
Hermione's hand shoots to her mouth in horror.
At Pansy's confused look, Harry elaborates, "first-year Gryffindor. Muggle-born." Harry darts a glance at Hermione. "He's alive. Just… petrified. Like Mrs. Norris."
"Oh," Pansy breathes. "The Chamber really has been opened, then."
Harry nods grimly. "That's what Dumbledore thinks."
"You talked to Dumbledore?" Hermione asks, somehow even more horrified than before.
Harry shakes his head hurriedly.
"Overheard him in the Hospital Wing. The house elf woke me up at around one in the morning, told me the bludger had been my last warning, then left right before Dumbledore and McGonagall showed up with Colin."
"Oh," Hermione says, relaxing. "That's good you didn't talk to him."
"Well," Harry starts. "Kind of. Turns out I'm suspect number one in Dumbledore's head. I expect I'm going to be called in for questioning the second he realizes I've been let out from the Hospital Wing."
Pansy looks delighted. "How exciting," she gushes.
Hermione shoots a glare at her.
"This is bad ," Hermione says, before burying her head into her hands. "I knew we should have told someone about the voice! Now we might not have time!"
"Voice?" Pansy asks, perking up even more.
"Priorities, Pansy," Hermione mutters.
"My priorities are fine, thanks," Pansy says snootily.
Harry points at Pansy. "You can't tell anyone about this," he warns, suddenly worried.
"I know," Pansy scoffs. "I won't! I just like to be in the know."
"I'm trusting you," Harry says seriously. Pansy looks a little taken-aback, but she nods. "Okay. Back at the beginning of the year, I heard a voice saying 'rip', and 'kill'. I didn't think much of it,"
Hermione groans loudly, head still in her hands. Harry ignores her.
"Then, I heard it again on Halloween and it led me straight to Mrs. Norris. I was with Neville, and he didn't hear anything."
"Did you hear it last night?" Hermione asks.
Harry shakes his head. "But I was stuck in the Hospital Wing, asleep. Colin had been on his way to visit me, apparently," Harry says, feeling a pang of guilt.
"So," Pansy starts. "We have a monster at Hogwarts that's supposedly controlled only by the Heir of Slytherin. We also have the known Heir of Slytherin, who is hearing voices no one else can hear. Found either at or near the scene of the crime both times."
"Pansy. It is not me," Harry says firmly.
"I'm not saying it is," Pansy assures him. "Just that Dumbledore's suspicion isn't necessarily coming out of nowhere."
"Does Remus know?" Hermione asks suddenly. "About any of this?"
Harry gives her a sheepish smile.
"I don't know why I bother," Hermione grumbles.
"I didn't want to be taken out of Hogwarts, and then the country! Can you blame me?"
"Remus is more reasonable than that, Harry. You can trust him!"
"It's… I'm trying," Harry says quietly. Hermione huffs. "It's hard for me. To trust adults all the time." Hermione rolls her eyes, but she softens.
Pansy looks like Christmas has come early and she's trying really hard not to be excited about it.
"Pansy," Harry says tiredly. Pansy gets a guilty look on her face. "If I ever need a biography written about me, I'm coming to you. Until then, none of this gets out."
This time it's like Christmas has come early only Pansy isn't bothering to pretend to be ambivalent about it.
"I'm holding you to that," Pansy says seriously once she's done being elated. Harry nods.
"Here's what we're going to do," Hermione says abruptly. "We're going to go to Snape, right now. Tell him what we know."
"What's that going to do?" Harry asks. "I doubt Snape knows any better than us as to who the culprit is."
"It'll make me feel better," Hermione says firmly as she packs her bag. Harry can't really argue with that.
"One more thing," Harry says suddenly after a moment. The two turn to look at him; Hermione apprehensively, and Pansy excitedly.
"Can I join your potions club?"