"ʟᴏꜱᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪɢʜᴛ." ― ᴍᴀʀɢᴀʀᴇᴛ ᴀᴛᴡᴏᴏᴅ, ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟɪɴᴅ ᴀꜱꜱᴀꜱꜱɪɴ
Chapter Nine: Red Rum, Red Hands
The energy in the Great Hall was low, thrumming, nervous. Ruby wondered why. It wasn't like Slytherin ever had nail-biting agony over the outcome of the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game.
Maybe it was just the lingering tension between Blaise and Malfoy. The Slytherin Quidditch captain, Graham Montague (whom Ruby liked much less than Alastair) had put his foot down when Draco Malfoy tried to set up a tryout for Blaise's Seeker position, and now Malfoy, white-faced and livid, was poking the yolk of his poached egg until it bled, Pansy cooing into his ear and Crabbe and Goyle beside them. Ruby had found herself on the other side of the table, along with Daphne, Blaise, and Theodore.
"So, where are we sitting?" asked Theodore with a small, almost anxious smile. "Gryffindor or Hufflepuff stands?"
"Gryffindor," said Blaise, flicking imaginary dust off his robes. "Diggory's full of himself enough without our assistance."
Malfoy snorted. "You'd rather support Potter?"
"What's he ever done to you, Draco?" asked Theodore, as sweetly as a lamb, and Ruby's vision bloomed red, her gloved hand curling into a fist under the table.
You deceitful little—
"Relax," Blaise muttered in her ear all of a sudden, patting her clenched hand until she let go of the fist. "Let Draco wind himself up and watch him go."
It wasn't Draco Malfoy whom Ruby was concerned with, though.
"Right, shall we go?" asked Daphne, as unruffled as ever. Pansy only sneered at her as she got up, and neither group of Slytherins made any motion to join with the other, splitting off as they made their way out of the Great Hall.
It was colder than it looked up on the stands. Ruby pulled her scarf tighter around her shoulders to stay warm as they weaved through the crowd of Gryffindors regarding them suspiciously.
"There you are!" cried Lavender, flinging her arms around Ruby's neck, assailing her with a cloud of melon-y, peach-y scent.
As Lavender released her, Ruby noticed Parvati standing off to the side, giving Theodore an accusatory glare.
"Don't worry, no Malfoy," said Ruby as she slipped over to stand between Parvati and Lavender.
Behind her, Blaise had already whipped out his pair of binoculars, adjusting the focus. It wasn't long before the two teams entered the pitch to raucous applause, Ruby wincing at the Gryffindors' deafening enthusiasm, surrounding her on all sides.
She could just make out Madam Hooch's tiny form between Angelina Johnson and Cedric Diggory, all the way down on the short, spare grass before them.
"Captains, shake hands!" Hooch's magically magnified voice resounded through the whole pitch, and though Ruby found sports boring, she couldn't help but feel a swell of anticipation.
"Mount your brooms!"
The twin lines of crimson and canary yellow were perfectly still.
A shrill, ear-splitting screech sounded out, and the fourteen players shot towards the grey, overcast sky; the crowd roared. Lavender seemed to be paying rapt attention to the swirling colours despite her disinterest in Quidditch.
"Dopplebeater defence," Blaise murmured, peering through his binoculars as Fred and George Weasley struck a Bludger at the same time, sending it zooming away at an incredible speed towards a Hufflepuff Chaser.
"… narrow dodge there by Macavoy, mind you, she did drop the Quaffle… wait, there's a scuffle… it's Angelina Johnson with the Quaffle now, what a flyer that girl is…" Lee Jordan's familiar voice rang through the whole stadium.
Ruby glanced over at Lavender, but she clearly wasn't watching Angelina, not even as the Quaffle shot through Hufflepuff's centre hoop and the Gryffindor stands screamed their approval. She tracked Lavender's gaze for a few seconds, then realised what — whom — she'd been watching so intensely: handsome Cedric Diggory, circling high above the pitch as he searched for the Snitch.
"Not supporting Gryffindor after all, then?" Ruby teased, and Lavender playfully smacked her.
Parvati looked over, and scowled. Blaise lowered his binoculars, mirroring the expression.
"I don't see what's so great about Diggory," he said, rolling his eyes, and Parvati looked at him as if with newfound admiration.
Ruby snorted. "After all, he can't be prettier than you, right, Blaise?"
She knew he probably could detect the sarcasm in her tone, but Blaise's fatal flaw was that he was simply too vain to resist a compliment.
"I'm glad we agree. Exactly my thoughts," he said, with a pleased hum, before replacing the binoculars.
Ruby turned her attention back towards the pitch; the middle was a blur of Chasers and Beaters, the Quaffle and Bludgers zoomed back and forth as Lee called out names and points (how was he keeping up?), the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff stands screaming in exchange. However, her attention was drawn to high above them, with Harry aimlessly searching the pitch, his lips pressed tightly together, eyes narrowed in concentration.
"…Diggory and Potter are two talented Seekers, but who will spot the Snitch first?" Lee asked, holding the crowd in suspense as he paused. "You'll remember they didn't get to finish their match last year, so all eyes are on you, Diggory!"
Everyone's attention turned to the two Seekers performing a delicate, precise dance around each other, careful to stay far apart.
"What do you think, Ruby?" asked Theodore, his cold voice somehow gliding over the roar of the crowd, as Ginny Weasley scored a goal for Gryffindor, to her ears. "Will Diggory's hard work beat Potter's talent?"
"Harry works hard," said Ruby reflexively, not even sparing him a look.
How dare he how dare he how dare—
"Oh, he's spotted it," said Blaise from behind her, his voice giddy with anticipation.
"Who?" asked Parvati.
There was no answer because Harry and Cedric both seemed to dive in unison, robes snapping in the wind after what must be the Snitch near the ground, far too small to see.
"Now, the technique Potter's using's called a Spiral Dive—" Blaise began.
"Shhh," said Parvati, almost dangling over the railing. "They're so close!"
The two Seekers were neck and neck, hands outstretched, pressing themselves flatter against their brooms—
Then they both pulled up. Hard. The Snitch must have slipped away.
"Well, wasn't that hair-raising?" called Lee, and the stadium cheered in approval. "It's still anyone's game, sixty to eighty, Gryffindor to Hufflepuff — but Johnson's currently doing her best to make that score even."
The tension in Harry's shoulders as he rose was clear even from far away. The Gryffindor stands yelled encouragement, but he seemed indifferent, unhearing as he watched the swarming chaos of red and yellow below. Cedric looked similarly contemplative.
And then, it happened.
Cedric dove.
"Diggory spotted the Snitch!" called Lee. "With Potter in pursuit — no, where's Potter, why's he just sitting there? Earth to Potter!"
"Why isn't he following?" asked Parvati, the wind from Cedric plummeting blowing her hair back from her face.
She was right; Harry was just sitting there, casual as you please.
What if something's wrong?
"Wronski Feint," Blaise supplied. "At least, that's what Diggory's attempting. But Harry knows there's nothing down there."
Indeed, Harry's face was tilted towards the sky, scanning the clouds with a tense, quiet determination.
Is that really what he's doing?
Cedric pulled up from his sharp dive, empty-handed.
"… Weasley passed to Bell… Bell to Johs— No, intercepted by Applebee, and—"
Harry shot upwards, wind snapping through his crimson robes, clearly having seen the Snitch; confusion and excitement rippled through the crowd. Realising that Harry wasn't behind him, Cedric stared up, and Ruby felt the air rush back at her as he followed Harry high above the stands, the Hufflepuffs cheering his name.
"… Potter in pursuit of the actual Snitch, never mind… Diggory could still catch up, though; he's only a broom's length behind… the gap's narrowing, ladies and gentlemen, this is a real race!"
Yes, Cedric was catching up. But Harry already had the lead, and he was smaller, faster — the grip on his broom was looser, as if he wasn't hundreds of feet in the air as he followed what must be the Snitch darting left and right, zigzagging almost casually.
The crowd was suddenly quiet, everyone watching Cedric and Harry battle it out in silent awe. All Ruby could hear was the blood rushing in her ears.
Two hands shot out.
Then it was over.
The stadium erupted into deafening cheers, the change almost vertigo-inducing.
"I didn't see!" said Ruby breathlessly. "Who won?"
"…and that's the Golden Snitch caught by Potter," Lee Jordan cried as the Seekers descended. "Gryffindor wins, two-thirty to one hundred!"
Parvati screamed with joy right into her ear. If Ruby thought the Gryffindor stands had been loud before, the victory cry was like standing directly in front of an eight-foot-tall subwoofer.
"…what a match!" Lee could just barely be heard over the cheers. "Incredible flying from both Seekers today, if there's one thing Potter and Diggory know how to do, it's put on a show…"
"Can't beat talent when it works hard," shouted Blaise over the cacophony. "Thought you knew that one, Theo?"
Theodore's scowl only lifted Ruby's spirits as she watched the Seekers; Cedric, ever the good sport, was clapping and beaming at Harry, mouthing something that she had no way of hearing.
The euphoric energy in the stands was heart-soaring, electrifying. Even Blaise had been swept up in the excitement, and Daphne had broken into a rare smile, although Theodore somehow still looked smug.
She caught Harry's blinding grin as his teammates surrounded him, punching the air in triumph and yelling, his hand thrust in the air, silver wings fluttering between his red fingers — red fingers.
Ruby felt the air go cold and still. Her mind went utterly blank but for one thing, her vision narrowing to a single point, the cheers going silent.
She dashed out of the stands, her feet flying on the stairs, not hearing whoever was behind her as she sprinted towards the Gryffindor Quidditch team as if a Dementor was chasing her, stomach squeezing in panic, mouth dry.
The bloodstained Snitch rolled by her foot, but Ruby kicked it to the side and slipped into the cluster of shocked, red-robed people. She could barely breathe.
"Harry!"
He turned, still grinning, still blissfully unaware of his bloodied hand or the strange, grey cast of his face.
"He's brilliant, isn't he?" crowed Angelina, patting his red-covered shoulder with a matching grin.
Ruby couldn't speak, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth with panic, heart stuttering against her ribcage. She could only point.
Harry must have seen the fear in her eyes because he slowly lifted his hand to his face, his smile fading, only now noticing the dark red coating his fingers, the gash in his palm still dribbling blood — too much.
"Here." Ruby felt someone subtly shove her back as they moved between her and Harry.
Numb with panic, she darted to the side.
It was Malfoy, a white handkerchief gently pressed between his hand and a shocked Harry's; the latter not sure whether or not to extricate himself from the former's grip as he mopped up the blood. The Gryffindor team faltered in confusion, all regarding Malfoy with suspicion.
Harry looked particularly disorientated as he gazed at Malfoy, who was cleaning the wound with surprising confidence and skill, as if he did this all the time.
"Hey, get off him!" snapped Ginny Weasley, her bright hair whipping like a comet's tail as she leaned around Harry and Angelina to glare at Malfoy. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Making sure your star Seeker doesn't pass out from blood loss," said Malfoy, as if that explained his sudden appearance. "Really, Weaselbee, you should be thanking me."
Ruby's gaze darted between the two boys, her hand going to her wand out of instinct. This didn't make sense, none of it made sense, not with her mind clouded with dread, she couldn't think, couldn't reason it out, why was Malfoy here—
Ginny looked similarly agitated; Angelina seemed to be supporting Harry; Fred and George's faces were absolutely furious. But they were all silent and frozen. It was as if they were all under a spell.
Malfoy tucked the blood-soaked handkerchief into his pocket and pulled out a fresh one.
Who carries a handkerchief under the age of fifty, never mind two?
Something about it made her skull itch.
The Chamber. Years ago, when she'd stopped Riddle's life from flowing out of his body, her hands stained red for the first time with his blood.
She knew what blood that poured from cursed wounds looked like. That was no regular cut.
"He's bleeding too much." Her voice came out weaker than she thought.
Harry glanced finally away from Malfoy and back down at their hands, Malfoy tying the second handkerchief around his hand into a makeshift bandage with almost expert precision.
"Yeah, you think?" asked Fred, surging forward. "Shove off, Malfoy, let his sister deal with it."
Malfoy glanced up at Fred, a smirk playing on his mouth, expression coldly amused. "I didn't see her doing anything about it. Besides, Potter's not complaining, are you, Potter?"
As Harry stared blankly at Malfoy, glass-eyed, as if in a daze, Ruby's stomach lurched.
She stepped forward.
Just as Professor McGonagall stormed into view, her robes billowing around her, Cedric Diggory on her heels. McGonagall's exacting, analytic gaze took in the scene, darting from the furious Weasleys to Harry and Malfoy in the centre, eyes widening with concern.
Ruby felt herself relax, her breathing slow. Now everything would make sense. The Head of Gryffindor House was nothing if not precise and highly competent.
"Mr. Malfoy, step away," she said firmly; her tone brooked no argument.
Malfoy's fingers stopped adjusting Harry's bandage, and he said nothing and stepped away, expression perfectly placid, but he didn't take his eyes off Harry.
Maybe he finally learnt some self-control at Durmstrang, thought Ruby.
"Well?" asked Professor McGonagall, sweeping forward to inspect Harry's injury, looking around accusingly at the Gryffindor team. "Why are you all standing around? Mr. Diggory, take Mr. Potter to the Hospital Wing immediately."
Ruby wondered if McGonagall had come to the same conclusion as Harry's blood continued to darken the handkerchief, watching Angelina pass Harry to Cedric. Harry leaned heavily on Cedric as he stumbled backwards, steadied only by the Hufflepuff's arm wrapped firmly around his torso, his shoulders slumping, eyelids fluttering.
She felt like she was going to be sick. She had to do something, say something, but her whole body was frozen.
"Quickly!" snapped McGonagall as George rushed to Harry's other side.
"I'm fine!" said Harry, swinging around, forcing his eyes open and swatting at George in a half-hearted show of bravado. "It's only a cut, it was probably just a prank."
"It's not a very funny one," said George, wrinkling his freckled nose.
Ruby glanced behind her. Malfoy was still watching Harry's retreating back, lips slightly parted, gaze almost longing. Their eyes locked, and Ruby glared, her stomach squeezing again.
"What's Malfoy's deal?" she muttered, crossing her arms.
"I thought you'd like to know," began a voice in her ear — Ruby nearly jumped out of her skin. It was Blaise, he must have been the one to follow her out of the stands. The binoculars dangled around his neck, and he was holding the bloodied Snitch gingerly between his forefinger and thumb. "Draco only got to the stands halfway through the game. I wonder what he was doing."
I wonder, thought Ruby darkly.
And then, she set off in the direction of the Hospital Wing.
Harry was barely holding onto consciousness by the time he stumbled into the Hospital Wing, balanced between George and Cedric's too-warm bodies.
Or maybe he was too cold.
Madam Pomfrey actually shrieked when she caught sight of him, dropping the bandages she was holding and dashing over to attend to him.
"What happened?" Her hand went to his forehead. Also too warm. Harry winced.
"Not quite sure," said Cedric, voice strained with concern. "He's lost a lot of blood."
"He needs— oh dear, he's going into shock*.*" Harry swayed on his feet, only Cedric and George's arms keeping him upright. The edges of his vision darkened, like an old photograph. "Lay him down, keep him warm."
And with that, Madam Pomfrey's frantic footsteps disappeared into the back of the room, likely seeking out potions.
"Still with us?" asked Cedric.
"Yeah," Harry forced out, but his head was still swimming, vision darkening.
"Come on, let's…" George seemed to trail off, and then the next thing Harry knew, the bed was under him, the ceiling above him, and the two older boys peering over him.
"Where're the blankets?"
"It's soaked with blood."
"Harry, stay with us, alright?"
He only barely registered something binding itself tightly around his wrist, making his injured hand throb uncomfortably. His head hurt; his whole body felt like it was made of lead.
"All of it, now." Madam Pomfrey was back, pushing a vial of something into his good hand. It was thick, metallic, and made him gag, but he forced it down.
Slowly, the world grew sharper and his ears no longer felt as if they were stuffed with cotton, his limbs a little less heavy. Harry turned his hand — his right arm was stretched out on the white sheets, streaked with red, a tourniquet wrapped around his wrist. He couldn't see his hand; thankfully, Madam Pomfrey was bent over it, her wand moving rapidly as she murmured something inaudible.
"Where is he, let me see him!"
It was Ruby, kneeling on the floor, her blurry face very close to his, Ron and Hermione hovering behind her. Her warm hand brushed the hair away from his face to touch his forehead, just as Madam Pomfrey had done.
"Doing alright, mate?" asked Ron, hovering closer.
"Yeah," said Harry. "Never been better."
Cedric laughed nervously, and Hermione tugged the blankets further up over him.
"You're grey," she said, horrified. "What happened?"
"Not now, Hermione," said Ron.
"Here, look," said another voice, dropping the Snitch, streaked with brown, drying bloodstains, into Hermione's hand. Harry recognised the voice a second later — Blaise Zabini. What was he doing here?
"Maybe someone stuck a razor blade in it?" Hermione mused, turning it over.
"No," said Harry, his voice hoarse, head still throbbing. He still remembered the feel of victory — the satin-smooth surface of the Snitch in his hand.
"Yeah, you're right," Hermione muttered. "You would've stopped bleeding by now."
"Could be cursed," pointed out someone else in a soft, Scottish accent, and Harry caught a flash of long, shiny black hair. Cedric looked up sharply and Harry followed his gaze to Cho Chang.
"Slow down," said George. "We're talking about some next-level tampering — razor blades, curses — do you know how hard it is to tamper with Snitches? They have Flesh Memory, for—"
All four Seekers stared at him accusingly (Harry tried his best).
"You—" Cho started.
"You've tried to tamper with the Snitch?" Hermione nearly shrieked.
The silence in the Hospital Wing was deafening; even Madam Pomfrey glanced up from Harry's wound.
"Well, it was a long time ago, it was just a bit of a laugh second year to annoy Oliver, and it didn't even work!" said George defensively. "It was Fred's idea, anyway."
"I'm sure it was," said Hermione darkly, and Harry thought she might be making a mental note to lay into him later.
"Why're you all looking at me?" asked George, throwing his hands up. "It was years ago, and it was a bit of a joke—"
"Sometimes your jokes go a bit too far, though," said Cho, her concerned gaze flicking from George to Harry, and his breathing seemed even shallower.
Ron shot Cho a dirty look. Harry felt a little affronted himself; George had helped carry him here; for crying out loud, he wouldn't do anything like this.
"Alright," said Hermione, trying to guide the conversation back to being productive. "Let's say Cho's right about the curse. Is there some way to avoid triggering the Flesh Memory?"
"Everyone handles the Snitch with gloves until it's released into play," said Blaise. "But bypassing the Flesh Memory's only the first step if you wanted to tamper with a Snitch."
"How does he know so much about tampering with Snitches?" asked Ron, eying him suspiciously. Blaise gave him a supercilious look in return.
"Better yet," someone else added, "why not make a whole new Snitch?"
Harry hadn't noticed Anthony, a blurry shape by the window slowly becoming clearer as he moved closer.
Cho looked doubtful. "Can we be sure it's even the Snitch that did it?"
"Same hand, only happened after Harry caught it," said Hermione confidently. "Occam's razor."
"And what about making a new Snitch?" Anthony asked again, a bit impatient at that.
"Well, it'd be really complicated," said Hermione, in the tone she used when trying to let someone down easy. "Artificing isn't exactly a simple task, there'd have to be a lot of time and expertise involved."
"You're all thinking about this wrong," said Ruby, finally tearing her eyes away from Harry. Everyone looked startled, even Cedric. "It's not about how this happened, because it already has. Someone did tamper with the Snitch. A lot of curses are triggered by touch."
Yes. Harry recalled Riddle mentioning that over the summer.
Ruby continued. "There's only two people who could ever activate that curse — Harry and Cedric."
Harry, already nauseous, felt his stomach flip over.
"Come on, that's—" Ron started in a disbelieving tone. "How would that even work?"
"No, she's right, Ron," said Hermione, nodding along. "Curses can be designed to be activated in specific conditions. For example, Bill was telling me about flesh-activated curses they use as anti-theft devices in some of the vaults in Gringotts. And going by what Blaise said, everyone but the Seekers uses gloves, anyway. It's, well, almost the perfect opportunity to target someone."
"Why would anyone bother with Cedric?" asked Ron. "Sorry, no offence," he tacked on, as if not being considered worth an assassination attempt was an aspersion.
"None taken," said Cedric, somewhat shakily.
Hermione looked sheepish. "Umm… you see… whoever cursed the Snitch probably calculated Harry had a higher chance of catching it, and therefore…"
"Poor Cedric," said George lightly. "Can't catch a break, can you, mate?"
Someone could have hurt Cedric trying to get to me, thought Harry with a pang of guilt, even as Cedric laughed nervously again, with a sympathetic glance at Harry, which made him want to squirm.
His hand was still throbbing with pain. Was he still losing blood? Even after the Blood-Replenishing Potion, he still felt lightheaded and weak — just an hour ago, he'd been on top of the world.
Harry's eyelids drooped as everyone around him started to argue, their worried faces growing blurrier and blurrier.
"We need to come up with a plan—"
"We don't even know what's going on!"
"Enough!" said Madam Pomfrey, drawing the curtains around his bed with a sharp shing! "Go discuss your conspiracy theories elsewhere, Harry needs his rest!"
As the curtains entombed him and he listened to the sounds of everyone getting up as Madam Pomfrey shooed them out, Harry missed their chatter already.
"How is he?" asked Dumbledore as Ruby slipped past the double doors and into the familiar, comforting surroundings of the Headmaster's office.
"He's—" Ruby paused. Not exactly fine. "He's been better, Professor Dumbledore."
"I don't doubt it," said Dumbledore, getting up from behind his desk, hands folded in front of him, something lurking beyond his serene expression. Worry? Anger? Something else entirely?
She couldn't stop the next words from tumbling out. "Do you know who cursed the Snitch?"
Dumbledore regarded her over his half-moon spectacles with a quizzical expression. "That is a very specific accusation. May I ask how you arrived at that conclusion?"
By now, Ruby was used to Dumbledore's penchant for evasiveness and leading questions. She wandered over to her usual chair, tucking her feet up under her.
"It's just something we came up with in the Hospital Wing, it's the only thing that makes sense."
That penetrating, blue gaze was still looking straight through her. At least she was used to that, too.
"I see," said Dumbledore slowly. "And do you have this Snitch?"
Ruby pulled the bloodstained Snitch (Hermione had been loath to part with it) out of her pocket, the silver wings fluttering feebly in her gloved hand, and offered it to Dumbledore. It floated across the gap between them to hover above his hand.
He flicked his wand, as if it were an afterthought, and the various silver instruments lying around the office came alive with a low whirrr. Ruby leaned forward as Dumbledore's eyebrows furrowed in concentration, the Snitch's wings beating harder, as if trying to escape, but caught in a strong current.
One of the silver instruments emitted a puff of noxious red smoke, wafting down gently. The scent of blood was in the air.
Is that good or bad, Ruby wanted to ask, but she feared she might upset the process if she broke his concentration.
"This Snitch is indeed cursed," said Dumbledore, opening his eyes as if he had been in a trance, but his voice was grim. "The exact nature, I have yet to discover. Would you mind if I held onto it for a few days?"
Ruby shook her head wordlessly, sinking deeper into her armchair.
"Someone's trying to kill him!"
"It would appear so." The Snitch floated down to the cluttered desk, wings finally still.
"He could have cursed it, couldn't he?" pressed Ruby. She didn't need to elaborate on the he.
"He will not," said Dumbledore. "No, not quite. He cannot."
What does that mean? Ruby wanted to ask, but she didn't press it.
"I will keep searching for a suitable explanation," said Dumbledore. "Do try to get some sleep."
"Thanks, Professor," said Ruby weakly. He turned around to retrieve something from the desk, and there was nothing more to say, so she left.
Someone called her name as she emerged from the gargoyle stairs, and she turned. Lavender and Parvati were standing by the staircase — or at least, Parvati was, Lavender was perched on the railing and anxiously chewing on her red and gold painted nails.
"Hermione said Harry was in the Hospital Wing," said Lavender, her forehead wrinkling in concern as Ruby drew closer. "What happened?"
Ruby, still reeling, the image of Harry's blood-covered hand still seared into her brain, took a second to collect her thoughts.
"Someone cursed the Snitch," she said, leaning across the railing.
"That's horrible!" Lavender spluttered. "Who would do that?"
"Well," Parvati began, looking between Lavender and Ruby, "Harry does have a lot of enemies."
Ruby couldn't argue with that. And besides, that was the problem.
"What if," Lavender said tremulously, "we tried to scry it?"
Parvati whirled on her. "Don't you remember what happened last year, you meff?"
They were both looking guiltily at Ruby now, and Ruby knew she was staring back at them with her permanently red-rimmed eyes, fidgeting with the white gloves that concealed her stained palms. She thought of scrying Riddle in the puddle in her first year and all the trouble that it had brought.
"No," said Ruby. A hot, dry sensation had come into the back of her throat, and her eyes stung. "Besides, Dumbledore's already looking into it. I'm sure he'll figure it out. And…" She trailed off, thinking of Malfoy's strange behaviour, Blaise hovering around… "Sometimes tells me I'll find more answers in the Slytherin common room, anyway."
But from what everyone was saying, cursing a Snitch like that sounds a bit above either of their levels.
Could… could there be Death Eaters involved?
But why? They knew that Harry probably wouldn't bleed to death on the Quidditch pitch, it happened in front of loads of people.
Her mind went back to the night she and Harry snuck into Hogsmeade. Bill might know. Aren't curses his thing, anyway?
"Ruby, you're doing that thing again," said Lavender, snapping her fingers and breaking Ruby out of her reverie.
"What thing?"
"The thing where you come up with a plan and don't tell us," said Parvati in an unimpressed tone. "We might not be able to help with the Slytherin common room, but the other bits…"
Getting other people involved could be dangerous, thought Ruby, but then she relented. It would be nice not to be alone.
"Alright," she said heavily. "But whatever we find out, you have to keep it a secret."
Lavender raised her right hand, face deadly serious. "We will, I swear down."
Bill's office it is, then.
Ruby had luckily managed to avoid the Defence professor's office for most of her time at Hogwarts — the only bearable one had been Sirius, after all. Where the office had been sparsely decorated last year, now you couldn't move for things to look at from all around the world. Some were cheap souvenirs — colourful ornaments, magical postcards with moving scenes stuck to the walls — but there were unique items, too, like the stick of incense filling the room with a warm, spicy scent and eerie-looking pendants and amulets.
Bill flicked his wand, nearly upsetting a statuette of Bastet, and the loud music that had been blaring from the radio shut off.
"Hi, Professor Weasley," Lavender giggled, waving even though they were just in front of his desk. Parvati cast her eyes to the sky.
"Hello, Miss Brown," said Bill, seemingly unperturbed, a hint of laughter in his voice. Then, he turned to Ruby. "Professor McGonagall told me about Harry — how is he?"
"That's why we're here," said Ruby, taking a seat unprompted and leaning forward over the desk. "Dumbledore says the Snitch was cursed. And I thought that's the kind of thing you'd know about, so…" She trailed off.
Bill frowned. "Who has the Snitch now?" he asked, a note of panic in his voice.
"Dumbledore."
The tension in his shoulders dissipated. "Good." And then, for what felt like the hundredth time that day: "What happened?"
"It—" Ruby sucked in a deep breath, the image of Harry's grey face assailing her again.
"We didn't even see it happen," said Parvati and Ruby was grateful for the second to collect herself.
"It was almost right after he caught the Snitch," said Ruby. "His hand was covered in blood, like something — like something sliced it. And then—" She frowned reflexively as the next thing came to her mind "—then Malfoy showed up from nowhere and started playing doctor. It was really weird. I know it was a deep cut, but Malfoy was putting pressure on it and keeping it elevated and everything you're supposed to do—" Ruby stopped suddenly as she fully began to appreciate the strangeness of it.
Malfoy knew something. But was he trying to hurt Harry more — or protect him?
The latter sounded utterly ridiculous.
"It didn't even slow down, or clot, or anything. It just kept gushing out."
Her voice sounded wobbly, and Ruby cleared her throat to steady it. "And then Cedric and George took him to the Hospital Wing, and he was still bleeding when we left—"
She hiccuped, realising her eyes had become wet. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," said Bill, and she felt Lavender's warm, small hand on her shoulder.
Why's it always Harry, thought Ruby angrily, though she knew all the reasons why. It's unfair!
"It was a cut on his hand," said Bill, deep in thought. "Was it pumping? Did you see any flesh or bone in the wound at all? Gaping?"
Ruby didn't even have to think about it; the image was still fresh. "No, no to all of that. Hermione thought it was a razor blade at first. It wasn't very deep, not deep enough to be gushing like that. It actually…" The thought came to her all of a sudden.
"Well, is that worse or better?" asked Parvati, looking rapidly between Ruby and Bill.
"Worse," said Bill quietly, giving Ruby a pitying look. "The bleeding won't stop until the curse is undone. It might not heal."
Every word felt like physical pain.
"But Dumbledore will know what to do, right?" asked Lavender, and Ruby could tell the cheeriness in her voice was artificial.
"You don't get to the age Dumbledore is and do the things he's done without encountering something like this before, so I'm sure he will," said Bill firmly.
Ruby was still considering something from earlier. "B— Professor Weasley, couldn't either Cedric or Harry have touched the Snitch? There isn't a way to target curses to a specific person, is there?"
Bill shifted a small, engraved jewellery box. "It adds another level of complexity that's not that necessary. Harry catching the Snitch is practically expected at this point, it's the thing he's most known for, aside from — you know."
Transforming into a terrifying shadow monster and surviving the Killing Curse. Catching a ball hardly seems notable as the third item on the list thought Ruby.
"Thanks for explaining everything," said Ruby, and Bill nodded seriously before letting her know she could always come by again if she needed to talk.
After the door was shut behind them, and they were safely out of earshot, Parvati spoke up: "You think Malfoy's got something to do with it, don't you?"
Do I?
He was strange, Ruby reflected. When does Malfoy ever go out of his way to help someone? Why was he so focused, as well?
Then again, he has been a bit weird ever since he came back from Durmstrang.
"If it's as complicated as Bill's saying," said Ruby, remembering that Blaise said he'd arrived late to the match. "I don't think he did it by himself. But he definitely knows something."
"Yeah, that was west… something tells me he didn't do it out of the goodness of his heart," said Parvati.
"Hmm," said Lavender thoughtfully. "What about when he smacked Goyle — or Crabbe, whichever one it was?"
"That doesn't count as an act of kindness, Parvati'd already hexed them both, remember?" asked Ruby. "He was probably smacking them for embarrassing him by association or something."
"But why would he help Harry, then?" Parvati pressed. "Doesn't make sense."
"I don't know," said Ruby darkly. "But I'm going to find out."
The Slytherin common room was far from inviting when she entered. It was just as tense as the table in the Great Hall had been this morning (was it really the same day!). Of course, the green lighting that gave the Slytherin Dungeon the semblance of a lost-long shipwreck didn't help matters.
In-fighting will be punished swiftly and severely. We make it our business to protect our own, Ruby muttered under her breath as she thought of the infamous — and hypocritical — Slytherin Talk every group of first-years received.
The fifth-years were doing anything but honour Rule Number Two.
Malfoy was nursing a cup of hot chocolate by the emerald fire, Crabbe and Goyle lurking behind him like twin rooks on a chessboard to scare off anyone who got too close, even Pansy, apparently. The aforementioned was sitting with Millicent and gave Ruby a nasty look when she walked by. As was to be expected. It was surely a reflex at this point. Theodore and Daphne were playing a quiet game of wizarding chess off to the side. So they've finally buried the hatchet.
What was unexpected was that Blaise didn't flag her down, so he either was avoiding her for some reason or wasn't here. Whichever it was, Ruby couldn't blame him.
Who would want to get involved in this drama unnecessarily? After, it wasn't the 'fun' kind.
She studied Malfoy for a few seconds while she was still yet unseen. He was gazing steadily and directly into the flames, as if unaware of the world around him, occasionally bringing the mug to his lips.
Almost… troubled.
It was a pretty tableau. Ruby could imagine it painted with soft brushstrokes and hung up in an intricate gold frame in the National Gallery, where she and Harry used to go all the time in the Lost Year because it was free admission, with a little white card under it reading 'Boy Contemplating In Front of Fireplace, 1738.' Art school students would mill about, insisting that the pattern on the rug was deeply symbolic or that the boy depicted King Edward the Something-th.
Too bad she was about to destroy it, like slashing a knife through the brittle canvas.
Crabbe and Goyle looked up, gawking stupidly as she crossed the invisible threshold, each footstep an invasion. It wasn't until she was standing directly in front of Malfoy, partially blocking his view of the fire, that he even blinked.
"Potter."
"Malfoy."
The first exchange was more civil than she expected.
"You don't seem yourself today."
Malfoy seemed to ignore her. Heat rose in her face. Had her voice been too quiet? Not forceful enough?
Before she could try again, Malfoy lowered the cup slightly, his usual sneer twisting his sharp features, cold, pale eyes glittering malevolently in the green firelight. "Come to thank me?"
"What should I be thanking you for, exactly?" Ruby shot back without thinking. But there he was, the cruel, mocking Malfoy she knew.
Then what was he earlier?
"You tell me," said Malfoy, reclining on the sofa, the sneer stretching into a smirk.
Ruby fought down the urge to scream, or at the least, pull her hair out from the root.
"I suppose I'm thanking you for your uncharacteristic rush to Harry's aid," she said coldly. "I just wonder how you knew what to do before anyone else even knew what was going on."
"Oh, an accusation!" Malfoy shot upright, nearly spilling the cup of hot chocolate, Crabbe and Goyle snickering behind him. "What did I do, kill him with kindness?"
Crabbe hooted as if that was the funniest thing ever said.
Reassess.
The warmth of the fire steadied her; she planted her feet, cleared her throat.
You should be scared of me. She wished he would see her not as a girl but as something monstrous.
"I don't have an accusation yet." It was as if they were playing a game of Cluedo. "But I do have a theory. I think," said Ruby, inching closer, hating every moment of the amusement on Malfoy's face, like it was all a game to him, "you know more about the Snitch than you want everyone to believe."
Malfoy widened his eyes as if trying to look innocent. "You think I cursed the Snitch?"
Ha! Ruby tasted triumph, like salt on the tip of her tongue. "Who said anything about a curse, Malfoy?"
"So?" asked Malfoy, shrugging. "I'm not a moron, anyone who saw it could work that out."
But his confidence wavered; his demeanour was more serious. She'd done it. She'd shaken him.
Go on, said a little voice. Push harder.
"I don't think you're taking this seriously enough. You don't know just how far I'm willing to go," said Ruby, leisurely peeling off Narcissa's gloves, revealing her stained-red palms — the mark of a Seer pushed beyond their earthly limits. "If you had anything to do with Harry getting hurt—"
For a heartbeat, it seemed to work, his gaze making an uneasy circuit from her red-rimmed eyes to her hands to her eyes again. Even Crabbe and Goyle were silent, unsure of what to make of the situation.
And then, he laughed.
Laughed.
Crabbe and Goyle followed suit, guffawing loudly.
Ruby saw herself marching up to Malfoy, slapping the cup out of his hand, the brown liquid puddling on the stone floor, the splinters painting his hands with blood, poetic justice…
And then what?
"What?" asked Malfoy, smirking. He leaned forward and whispered: "You'll kill me, like Vernon Dursley?"
She opened her mouth, and a horrible, strangled sound came out.
It was Goyle giggling now, high and fast. Ruby felt as if her heart had stopped beating and dropped to the bottom of her stomach. She was in the hallway when Theodore Nott had gleefully blurted out her secret to the whole school. She was ten years old, and Harry was curled up in the darkest corner of Number Four Privet Drive (It will all be over soon. I'm going to kill him), watching wolfsbane steep with the tea leaves.
Of course he knows, everyone knows.
And then she felt rage, red, blinding, irrational rage, the blood rushing, pounding in her skull.
Master your temper, came Bill's words, calm and clear. Temper your fear.
Lose it and he'll win.
"What's wrong, Pyromaniac Potter?" Malfoy taunted, his words seeming to come from far away even though he was right in front of her. "Going to set something on fire?"
Crabbe and Goyle howled with laughter.
She forced down her rage like bitter medicine; the room grew sharper in focus.
"I don't want to fight with you, Draco. That's not what I came over here for." The words that came out of her mouth didn't seem to belong to her. They sounded canned. Parroted.
The smile slowly wiped from Malfoy's face, replaced with confusion when he didn't get the outburst he'd been hoping for.
"I hoped we could talk. But if you don't want to cooperate, let's just say there are other ways of finding out what you've been up to. I'll be watching."
Her red-rimmed eyes bore into his. For a moment, she saw a flicker of genuine fear in his pale gaze, his hands fidgeting around the cup.
Ruby smiled, despite the rage still boiling in her veins, or maybe because of it. "Goodnight, Malfoy — Crabbe — Goyle."
The sound of Malfoy's silence was sweet music to her ears as she swept past, calmly making her way through the common room, waving at Daphne, and descending the stairs that led to the dormitory level below. It was only when she was in the dark corridor, completely alone, that she allowed her composure to drop, sagging with exhaustion from the events of the day.
Her mind raced.
Even if she hadn't lost to him, she hadn't gotten what she wanted — needed — from Malfoy, information. Her proof of his guilt or foreknowledge was tenuous. Harry was still in the Hospital Wing.
Don't abandon all hope. Harry's pulled through worse. He always does. He's not going to die.
Letting that thought steady her, she pushed the door marked 'Fifth Year Girls' open, to reveal a thankfully-empty dormitory.
Hephaestus, her aloof black cat, was curled up on her quilt, like another shadow in the dimly-lit room, with two citrus-coloured eyes. He looked up when she came in, but pretended to be completely disinterested when she sat down, sighing heavily, only to start purring like an old heater when she petted him, her tangled thoughts slowly unravelling.
"What am I going to do, Heph?" She choked back the tears out of reflex, but no point, there was no one to see, now. She was safe. "What's going to happen to us?"
Being a cat, Hephaestus could only lick her hand supportively in response.
The door started to creak open, and Ruby shut the curtains around the bed, encasing herself in a cocoon of darkness.
A/N: Well, wasn't that a rollercoaster!
This was such a fun chapter to write, and genuinely one of the best chapters I've ever written (I think). What was your favourite part? Blaise being Blaise? Both Cedric and Cho appearing? Harry's gallows humor? The Seekers all being in the same room? The Golden Trio & associates conspiracy theorising? The Distaff Trio getting more 'screentime'? More Professor Bill? Ruby and Malfoy going head to head? How guilty do you think Malfoy is? Wonder what Riddle thinks of this and if howhe'll get involved? What about the medal Harry found in Stitches and Draughts last chapter?
… and look who made herself write another Quidditch scene. Lavender's perfume is Sunflowers by Elizabeth Arden (very 90's core as I've been told). I know book!Cho isn't Scottish (to our knowledge, at least), but I love Cho's actress's accent in the movies. Also, had to get all four Seekers in one room at least once in RFMD.