Since the disastrous episode of the pixies, Professor Lockhart had not brought live creatures to class.
"So, basically, your not doing any practical work," Cedric said.
"You're class probably isn't doing practical work either," Hermione said.
"Which means that chances of learning anything from DADA this year is low," Cedric said. "I guess that means that I'll have more time on my more important homework."
Instead, he read passages from his books to them, and sometimes re-enacted some of the more dramatic bits.
"I wonder if he would care if we didn't show up," Harry said.
"You, most likely," Hermione said. "Me, however, I'm sure I can get away with it."
Harry pouted at her.
He usually picked Harry to help him with these reconstructions; so far, Harry had been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse,
"Probably by talking louder than him," Luna said. "That would probably cure the villager because he wouldn't be able to get a word in otherwise."
a yeti with a head-cold,
"Can yetis get head-colds?" Hermione asked.
"I don't think so," Cedric said.
and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him.
"Since vampires are unable to eat – they can only drink things – that doesn't sound like he dealt with the vampire very well," Cedric said.
Harry was hauled to the front of the class during their very next Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting a werewolf. If he hadn't had a very good reason for keeping Lockhart in a good mood, he would have refused to do it.
"Seems you're going to get Lockhart to get you a note," Luna said.
"Nice loud howl, Harry – exactly – and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced – like this – slammed him to the floor – thus – with one hand, I managed to hold him down –"
Cedric began to laugh, loudly.
"What is it?" Hermione asked him.
"Just that Lockhart thinks that he could not only tackle a werewolf, but hold it down with one hand," Cedric said. "Where's wolves are a bit stronger than your average person. You'd have to be extremely strong yourself in order to hold them down, and a strength like that would show physically. Lockhart has never been described, by anyone I know, as extremely muscular."
"with my other, I put my wand to his throat – I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm – he let out a piteous moan – go on, Harry – higher than that – good – the fur vanished – the fangs shrank – and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective – and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks."
"Werewolves change every full moon. There's no way to stop it," Cedric said.
The bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet.
"Homework: compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!"
"Hope you enjoy the book, Hermione," Harry said. She did the mature thing, and stuck her tongue out at him.
The class began to leave. Harry returned to the back of the room, where Ron and Hermione were waiting.
"Ready?" Harry muttered.
"Wait till everyone's gone," said Hermione nervously.
"Yeah, you really don't need people wondering what your doing," Cedric said. "They might decide to remember you doing that and cause problems for you."
"All right ..."
She approached Lockhart's desk, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand, Harry and Ron right behind her.
"Er – Professor Lockhart?" Hermione stammered. "I wanted to – to get this book out of the library. Just for background reading." She held out the piece of paper, her hand shaking slightly.
"I'm probably nervous that he might see through me," Hermione said.
"Sadly, as mentioned before, the fact that you're asking him to sign something is probably all that's needed," Luna said.
"But the thing is, it's in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it – I'm sure it would help me understand what you say in Gadding with Ghouls about slow-acting venoms ..."[/b]
"I don't see the book having much about slow-acting venoms, though I think the adding the in a mention of his book will help you there," Cedric said.
"Ah, Gadding with Ghouls!" said Lockhart, taking the note from Hermione and smiling widely at her. "Possibly my very favourite book. You enjoyed it?"
"Oh, yes," said Hermione eagerly. "So clever, the way you trapped that last one with the tea-strainer ..."
"I honestly can't see him being clever enough to think of that on his own," Cedric said
"Well, I'm sure no one will mind me giving the best student in the year a little extra help," said Lockhart warmly, and he pulled out an enormous peacock quill.
"I'm sure almost all of the teachers at the school would do that themselves if Hermione asked the right questions," Cedric said. "I can't see them doing it for something outside of their subject, though."
"Yes, nice, isn't it?" he said, misreading the revolted look on Ron's face.
"Somehow, I don't think he misread it so much as his deluded mind is unable to understand what the look is," Cedric said.
"I usually save it for book-signings."
He scrawled an enormous loopy signature on the note and handed it back to Hermione.
"So, Harry," said Lockhart, while Hermione folded the note with fumbling fingers and slipped it into her bag, "tomorrow's the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you're a useful player. I was a Seeker, too. I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players ..."
"Okay, that right there shows that, once again, he's talking crap," Cedric said, shaking his head. "He not only hasn't seen you on a broom, but anyone who has will have probably told him that you're the best they've seen."
"Ah, but remember, Lockhart's so full of himself that it's impossible for anyone to be better than he is," Hermione said, a small smirk on her face.
Harry made an indistinct noise in his throat and then hurried off after Ron and Hermione.
"I don't believe it," he said, as the three of them examined the signature on the note, "He didn't even look at the book we wanted."
"That's because he's a brainless git," Luna said. "Though, it really doesn't matter, since you got what you needed.
"That's because he's a brainless git," said Ron. "But who cares, we've got what we needed."
"Seems Ronald and I have the same thoughts," Luna said. "Though, Hermione, I don't think you'll book self will be happy to hear that."
"I don't think my book self will either," Hermione said.
"He is not a brainless git," said Hermione shrilly, as they half-ran towards the library.
"Just because he said you were the best student in the year ..."
They dropped their voices as they entered the muffled stillness of the library. Madam Pince, the librarian, was a thin, irritable woman who looked like an underfed vulture.
Cedric sniggered. It was, once again, a rather apt description of someone he'd seen before.
"Moste Potente Potions?" she repeated suspiciously, trying to take the note from Hermione; but Hermione wouldn't let go.
"Hermione, he'll sign anything if you ask him to," Luna said, not unkindly.
"I don't think my book self knows that," Hermione said, sighing. And it was so obvious, too.
"I was wondering if I could keep it," she said breathlessly.
"Oh, come on," said Ron, wrenching it from her grasp and thrusting it at Madam Pince.
"It seems that your crush on Lockhart irritates him," Harry said.
"It probably irritates you, too," Hermione said, pointing it out to Harry.
"But I don't seem to be bickering with you about it a lot," Harry said. Hermione frowned at that. It was true, Ron was the one who seemed to bicker with her a lot over it. She wished she knew why.
"We'll get you another autograph. Lockhart'll sign anything if it stands still long enough."
Madam Pince held the note up to the light, as though determined to detect a forgery, but it passed the test.
"How does she knew if it's a forgery or not. I mean, it's not like you're going to magic it if your trying to forge a signature," Hermione said. "At least, I wouldn't."
"I think teachers have a special type of ink that shows if something is forged or not," Cedric said. "Otherwise, if a students gets a teacher's signature, they could just forge the signature."
She stalked away between the lofty shelves and returned several minutes later carrying a large and mouldy-looking book. Hermione put it carefully into her bag and they left, trying not to walk too quickly or look too guilty.
"If your trying not to do that, you most likely failed," Cedric said. "People who try that don't do too good."
Five minutes later, they were barricaded in Moaning Myrtle's out-of-order bathroom once again.
"Thinking about it, that is the best place for you to do what you're planning on doing," Cedric said. "I mean, it's the last place anyone in their right mind would go, which means you'll be guaranteed some privacy. The only think you'll have to deal with is the ghost, and, well, I don't see Myrtle bothering you all that much."
Hermione had overridden Ron's objections by pointing out that it was the last place anyone in their right minds would go, so they were guaranteed some privacy. Moaning Myrtle was crying noisily in her cubicle, but they were ignoring her, and she them.
"Seems your right," Harry said.
Hermione opened Moste Potente Potions carefully, and the three of them bent over the damp-spotted pages. It was clear from a glance why it belonged in the Restricted Section. Some of the potions had effects almost too gruesome to think about, and there were some very unpleasant illustrations, which included a man who seemed to have been turned inside out and a witch sprouting several extra pairs of arms out of her head.
The four's faces went green at the effects of some of the potions.
"Here it is," said Hermione excitedly, as she found the page headed The Polyjuice Potion. It was decorated with drawings of people halfway through transforming into other people. Harry sincerely hoped the artist had imagined the looks of intense pain on their faces.
"Somehow, I don't think they did," Hermione said.
"This is the most complicated potion I've ever seen," said Hermione, as they scanned the recipe.
"Considering that you're only in second year, it makes sense that you haven't seen anything more difficult yet," Cedric said.
"Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed and knotgrass," she murmured,
"Those are easy enough to get, they're in the student store-cupboard," Cedric said.
running her finger down the list of ingredients. "Well, they're easy enough, they're in the student store-cupboard, we can help ourselves. Oooh, look, powdered horn of a Bicorn – don't know where we're going to get that ... Shredded skin of a Boomslang – that'll be tricky, too –"
"You might find those two in Snape's store-cupboard, meaning you'll have to figure out how to steal it without him realizing it," Cedric said.
"and of course a bit of whoever we want to change into."
"You mean we have to drink something with a bit of people in it?" Harry said. "Ew."
"How did you think the potion was going to work," Cedric said. "You'll basically be drinking the essence of a person."
"Excuse me?" said Ron sharply.
"Yeah, that would catch anyone off guard," Harry said.
"What d'you mean, a bit of whoever we're changing into? I'm drinking nothing with Crabbe's toenails in it ..."
"Actually, I think hair is what's usually used," Cedric said. "Easier to get to, after all."
Hermione continued as though she hadn't heard him.
"How nice of you," Harry said.
"I probably don't care to argue right then, and it does seem like we spend a lot of time arguing," Hermione said.
"We don't have to worry about that yet, though, because we add those bits last ..."
Ron turned, speechless, to Harry, who had another worry.
"I'm probably thinking about just how were going to get what we can't really get easily," Harry said.
"D'you realise how much we're going to have to steal, Hermione? Shredded skin of Boomslang, that's definitely not in the students' cupboard. What're we going to do, break into Snape's private stores? I don't know if this is a good idea ..."
"That's not going to go over well with me," Hermione said. "Doing this potion will help me in a way, as it'll distract me from the fact that I could possibly be the one attacked next if there is more attacks. In my mind, risking getting caught stealing for Snape doesn't compare to possibly being attacked."
Hermione shut the book with a snap.
"Well, if you two are going to chicken out, fine," she said. There were bright pink patches on her cheeks and her eyes were brighter than usual. "I don't want to break rules, you know. I think threatening Muggleborns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy, I'll go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in ..."
"Nice, make them feel guilty," Cedric said.
"My book self is probably surprised, since I'd probably never thought I would see the day when you were he one persuading our group to break the rules," Harry said.
"I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be persuading us to break rules," said Ron. "All right, we'll do it. But not toenails, OK?"
"How long will it take to make, anyway?" said Harry, as Hermione, looking happier, opened the book again.
"It'll probably take awhile; most difficult potions do," Cedric said.
"Well, as the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days ... I'd say it'd be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients."
"That's not too bad," Cedric said. "And, if you're lucky, there won't be many attacks before you get it finished."
"A month?" said Ron. "Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!"
"Apparently, it's not good enough for him," Hermione said, frowning. From the way Ron sounded, he probably expected her to be able to do it quickly.
But Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously again,
"Ron's getting on my bad side, very quickly," she said.
and he added swiftly, "But it's the best plan we've got, so full steam ahead, I say."
"It's not the best one, it's the only one that you have at the moment," Cedric said.
"Somehow, even though he says that, I get the feeling that Ron's not really willing to just go with that plan," Harry said.
However, while Hermione was checking that the coast was clear for them to leave the bathroom, Ron muttered to Harry, "It'll be a lot less hassle if you can just knock Malfoy off his broom tomorrow."
"Um, actually, if it was him, antagonizing him would not be the best idea – or, rather, antagonizing him more that you already do. He just might decide to take it out on someone or you," Cedric said.
Harry woke early on Saturday morning and lay for a while thinking about the coming Quidditch match. He was nervous, mainly at the thought of what Wood would say if Gryffindor lost, but also at the idea of facing a team mounted on the fastest racing brooms gold could buy.
"Harry, you'll be fine," Hermione said. "Based on what Cedric has said about it before, and what my book self said, just because the brooms are faster doesn't mean that the people riding them are better."
He had never wanted to beat Slytherin so badly.
"Somehow, I get the feeling that you'll be feeling the same way in the other years as well," Cedric said.
After half an hour of lying there with his insides churning, he got up, dressed, and went down to breakfast early, where he found the rest of the Gryffindor team huddled at the long, empty table, all looking uptight and not speaking much.
"They must be feeling just as nervous as you are," Cedric said.
As eleven o'clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadium. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air.
"I hope that it doesn't start raining," Cedric said. "that can be hard to play in."
Ron and Hermione came hurrying over to wish Harry good luck as he entered the changing rooms. The team pulled on their scarlet Gryffindor robes, then sat down to listen to Wood's usual pre-match pep talk.
"Slytherin have better brooms than us," he began, "no point denying it. But we've got better people on our brooms. We've trained harder than they have, we've been flying in all weathers –" ("Too true," muttered George Weasley. "I haven't been properly dry since August")
There was some sniggering at George's comment.
"– and we're going to make them rue the day they let that little bit of slime, Malfoy, buy his way onto their team."
"Somehow I think it's going to be you, Harry, who gets the most pressure from that," Hermione said.
Chest heaving with emotion, Wood turned to Harry.
"It'll be down to you, Harry, to show them that a Seeker has to have something more than a rich father. Get to that Snitch before Malfoy or die trying, Harry, because we've got to win today, we've got to."
"Knew it," Hermione muttered before the rest of what Wood just told Harry entered her mind. "Wait, did he just say to die trying to get the Snitch? Is he an idiot? What the heck is going on in his head?"
"So no pressure, Harry," said Fred, winking at him.
"No, that's a lot of pressure," Harry said, sighing. The more he heard about the way Wood was, the less he wanted to be under his leadership, for lack of better term. While it did sound like he would enjoy flying, and while the game Quidditch sounded okay, he wasn't sure if he would really care to play it if he did end up in Gryffindor, or if the other captains were like Wood.
As they walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten,
"It's that way all of the time," Cedric said.
but the Slytherins in the crowd made their boos and hisses heard too.
"I wouldn't be surprised if they used a sonorus charm," Cedric said. He knew just how loud the pitch could get and also knew that, with three quarters of the school cheering for one team, the only way for the Slytherins to be heard would before them to use magic to make them loud enough for such a purpose.
Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary.
"I get the feeling that they were trying to break each other's hands," Luna said.
b]"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch, "three ... two ... one ..."
With a roar from the crowd to speed them upwards, the fourteen players rose towards the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch.[/b]
"I probably want to end the game as quickly as possible," Harry said.
"All right there, Scarhead?" yelled Malfoy, shooting underneath him as though to show off the speed of his broom.
"Is that the best he can do?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes. "That's an insult that Dudley's used more than enough times for me not to be bothered by it."
"So, basically, Malfoy's thinking he's coming up with an original insult, but, instead, says something that a Muggles says," Hermione said. "I wonder what he would do if he knew just how much like a Muggle he's acting like."
"He'd probably get insulted and whine about how it's not true," Cedric said.
Harry had no time to reply. At that very moment, a heavy black Bludger came pelting towards him; he avoided it so narrowly that he felt it ruffle his hair as it passed.
"Close one, Harry!" said George, streaking past him with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back towards a Slytherin. Harry saw George give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey, but the Bludger changed direction in mid-air and shot straight for Harry again.
"I think we've found the rogue Bludger," Hermione said.
"Yeah, Bludgers usually don't act like that," Cedric said.
Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard towards Malfoy. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry's head.
Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed towards the other end of the pitch. He could hear the Bludger whistling along behind him. What was going on? Bludgers never concentrated on one player like this, it was their job to try and unseat as many people as possible ...
Fred Weasley was waiting for the Bludger at the other end. Harry ducked as Fred swung at the Bludger with all his might; the Bludger was knocked off course.
"That's done it!" Fred yelled happily, but he was wrong; as though it was magnetically attracted towards Harry, the Bludger pelted after him once more and Harry was forced to fly off at full speed.
"Okay, that Bludger has definitely been tampered with," Cedric said.
"Do you think one of the Slytherins tampered with it?" Hermione asked.
"I don't think so, unless they were the last to use them, but I think Madam Hooch checks them to make sure that they weren't tampered with after each practice, and they stay locked up in her office until there needed again."
"Well, if not the Slytherins, then who? I mean, who would want to try and kill Harry, other than Voldemort," Hermione said, adding on the last part when it looked like Harry was about to mention that.
"Who says that it's supposed to kill him," Luna said. "It could just be supposed to injure him."
"You think whoever tampered with the Bludger wants to send him to the hospital wing for a few days," Hermione said, a bit sceptically.
"Or to St. Mungo's," Luna said.
"Either way, I think that we should continue reading to find out," Harry said, before they could really begin to get into the subject. He really wanted to know if he was going to have an injury or not – there were five other books, after all, meaning that he had a good chance of not dying because of a bludger.
It had started to rain; Harry felt heavy drops fall onto his face, splattering onto his glasses. He didn't have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until he heard Lee Jordan, who was commentating, say, "Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero."
The Slytherins' superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs,
"Actually, I get the feeling that Fred and George are concentrating more on you than the rest of the team, meaning that the other Bludger is probably being used in helping to stop the Gryffindor from scoring," Cedric said.
and meanwhile the mad Bludger was doing all it could to knock Harry out of the air. Fred and George were now flying so close to him on either side that Harry could see nothing at all except their flailing arms
"See," Cedric said.
and had no chance to look for the Snitch, let alone catch it.
"Someone's – tampered – with – this – Bludger –" Fred grunted, swinging his bat with all his might at it as it launched a new attack on Harry.
"We need time out," said George, trying to signal to Wood and stop the Bludger breaking Harry's nose at the same time.
Wood had obviously got the message. Madam Hooch's whistle rang out and Harry, Fred and George dived for the ground, still trying to avoid the mad Bludger.
"I wonder what's going to happen when you land. I mean, is the Bludger going to continue trying to go after you or is something else going to happen," Cedric said.
"What do they do when there is usually a time out?" Hermione asked.
"Just hang around. But with the way the Bludger is acting, it's debatable if that one will or not," Cedric said.
"What's going on?" said Wood, as the Gryffindor team huddled together, while Slytherins in the crowd jeered. "We're being flattened. Fred, George, where were you when that Bludger stopped Angelina scoring?"
"Trying to keep the other one from murdering Harry," Luna said.
"Why didn't they split up, have one cover Harry and the other cover the rest of the team?" Hermione asked.
"Probably because they see Harry as a brother," Cedric said. "He's their brother's best friend, they've probably gotten to know him quite well – and, somehow, I get the feeling that, even if they called you 'the Seeker' in the first book, it wasn't done maliciously. And, well, when it comes to family, reason kind of disappears with them."
"So, basically, becoming friends with them would be hard to do if I decided not to become friends with Ron, and I show signs on not liking him," Harry said. While some of his opinions about Ron had changed since the first book, Harry couldn't really see them becoming close as they seemed to be in the first and this book. He wondered if it was the fact that he would have real friends this time around that made him think that.
"I can't realy see that happening," Cedric said. "I can see them becoming friends with you, even if you're not friends with Ron. I mean, their friends do not have to be friends with their siblings, after all."
"We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger murdering Harry, Oliver," said George angrily. "Someone's fixed it – it won't leave Harry alone, it hasn't gone for anyone else all game. The Slytherins must have done something to it."
"Seems they think it's the Slytherins as well," Hermione said.
"But the Bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch's office since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then ..." said Wood, anxiously.
"I think that right there suggests that Gryffindor was the last to use them, so, unless Slytherin broke in to Madam Hooch's office – and, sadly for them, I don't think they could keep from being caught if that happened – it's something else that has interfered with the Bludger," Cedric said.
Madam Hooch was walking towards them. Over her shoulder, Harry could see the Slytherin team jeering and pointing in his direction.
"Listen," said Harry, as she came nearer and nearer, "with you two flying round me all the time the only way I'm going to catch the Snitch is if it flies up my sleeve."
"Hey, considering that it's you, that's not an impossible thing to happen," Hermione said. "I mean, it did end up in your mouth in the previous book."
"I don't think I would be that fortunate a second time," Harry said.
"Go back to the rest of the team and let me deal with the rogue one."
"I think that would be the best, since the only other option is to ask for an inquiry, which would cause you to forfeit the game, and I can honestly say that Wood would probably attempt to murder you if you did that," Cedric said.
"Yeah, without them around, and with your eyes, you could manage to keep from letting the Bludger attacking you while finding he snitch," Hermione said.
"I think it's safe to say that this is where a reserve would come in handy," Luna said.
"True," Hermione said.
"Don't be thick," said Fred. "It'll take your head off."
Wood was looking from Harry to the Weasleys.
"He's probably wondering if he should do as you say or not," Cedric said. "I mean, he's probably on your side because he wants the same thing, but, at the same time, he knows that the twins would probably attempt to murder him if he does what you say to do."
"Oliver, this is mad," said Alicia Spinnet angrily. "You can't let Harry deal with that thing on his own. Let's ask for an inquiry –"
"No, I don't think I would want that," Harry said. "With how I am about Malfoy in the book, I wouldn't want him winning anything over me, even if the win would be by default."
"If we stop now, we'll have to forfeit the match!" said Harry. "And we're not losing to Slytherin just because of a mad Bludger!"
There was some sniggering at that. It was a funny way to describe the Bludger.
"Come on, Oliver, tell them to leave me alone!"
"This is all your fault," George said angrily to Wood. "'Get the Snitch or die trying' – what a stupid thing to tell him!"
"I think he suspects that you're only willing to do what you're doing because of what Wood told you," Cedric said.
"No, it's because of Malfoy," Harry said. He was quite sure on that fact.
Madam Hooch had joined them.
"Ready to resume play?" she asked Wood.
Wood looked at the determined look on Harry's face.
"You won't be letting him say no, will you," Hermione said. Harry shook his head.
"All right," he said. "Fred, George, you heard Harry – leave him alone and let him deal with the Bludger on his own."
The rain was falling more heavily now.
"Let's hope that it's only rain," Cedric said.
On Madam Hooch's whistle, Harry kicked hard into the air and heard the tell-tale whoosh of the Bludger behind him. Higher and higher Harry climbed. He looped and swooped, spiralled, zig-zagged and rolled. Slightly dizzy, he nevertheless kept his eyes wide open. Rain was speckling his glasses and ran up his nostrils as he hung upside down, avoiding another fierce dive from the Bludger. He could hear laughter from the crowd; he knew he must look very stupid, but the rogue Bludger was heavy and couldn't change direction as quickly as he could. He began a kind of roller-coaster ride around the edges of the stadium, squinting through the silver sheets of rain to the Gryffindor goalposts, where Adrian Pucey was trying to get past Wood …
"You know, if you're going to be doing that, you might as well try and get it to aim at the Slytherins while you're avoiding it," Cedric said. Harry snorted; now there was an interesting suggestion.
A whistling in Harry's ear told him the Bludger had just missed him again; he turned right over and sped in the opposite direction.
"Training for the ballet, Potter?" yelled Malfoy, as Harry was forced to do a stupid kind of twirl in mid-air to dodge the Bludger. Off Harry fled, the Bludger trailing a few feet behind him: and then, glaring back at Malfoy in hatred, he saw it, the Golden Snitch. It was hovering inches above Malfoy's left ear – and Malfoy, busy laughing at Harry, hadn't seen it.
"Idiot," Cedric said. He looked over to Harry. "I think you'll be able to get to it before he notices it's there."
For an agonising moment, Harry hung in mid-air, not daring to speed towards Malfoy in case he looked up and saw the Snitch.
"Harry, he'd probably think you were attacking him if you did that," Hermione said. "And don't stand still! You have Bludger attempting to hurt you."
"I think he forgot about that," Luna said, having looked and read the next word.
WHAM!
"I guess, next time, I'll need to remember that, should it happen," Harry said.
He had stayed still a second too long. The Bludger had hit him at last, smashed into his elbow, and Harry felt his arm break. Dimly, dazed by the searing pain in his arm, he slid sideways on his rain-drenched broom, one knee still crooked over it, his right arm dangling useless at his side. The Bludger came pelting back for a second attack, this time aiming at his face.
"I think that right there says that whoever tampered with it doesn't want you hurt; they want you dead," Cedric said.
Harry swerved out of the way, one idea firmly lodged in his numb brain: get to Malfoy.
"Nice," Hermione said, shaking her head.
Through a haze of rain and pain he dived for the shimmering, sneering face below him and saw its eyes widen with fear: Malfoy thought Harry was attacking him.
"Sadly, I don't think you would really attack him without provocation; you seem to noble to do something like that," Cedric said.
"What the –" he gasped, careering out of Harry's way.
"He was so concerned with making fun of you that he missed his chance of getting the Snitch," Cedric said, shaking his head.
Harry took his remaining hand off his broom and made a wild snatch; he felt his fingers close on the cold Snitch but was now only gripping the broom with his legs and there was a yell from the crowd below as he headed straight for the ground, trying hard not to pass out.
"Yeah, passing out in the air is not a good idea," Cedric said.
With a splattering thud he hit the mud and rolled off his broom. His arm was hanging at a very strange angle. Riddled with pain, he heard, as though from a distance, a good deal of whistling and shouting. He focused on the Snitch clutched in his good hand.
"Aha," he said vaguely, "we've won."
And he fainted.
"Nice, Harry," Hermione, giggling. Harry shook his head at her, looking over to Cedric, who was also laughing, and, finally at Luna, who was giggling as well, though she stopped when she saw Harry looking at her.
"I hope you didn't harm you arm any more," Luna said. "But it is funny how you're last words are about winning the game."
He came round, rain falling on his face, still lying on the pitch, with someone leaning over him. He saw a glitter of teeth.
"Oh, no, not him," Harry said, moaning.
"Please, let someone get Harry out of there," Hermione said, though she had the feeling that what she was praying for wasn't going to be happening.
"Somehow, I don't think that'll happen, since, as a teacher, he'll probably not let them do so," Cedric said.
"Oh no, not you," he moaned.
"Doesn't know what he's saying," said Lockhart loudly,
"I think he does know what he's saying," Hermione said.
to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around them. "Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm."
"No," Harry said. He looked at Cedric. "Is there any rule that says that only the nurse can heal you?"
"Technically, yes, though the patient can wave that right," Cedric said. "However, I don't think Lockhart would imagine that rule is one he has to listen to, so I don't he'll bother even thinking about it."
"No!" said Harry. "I'll keep it like this, thanks ..."
"Well, we at least know that I said no to him," Harry said glumly.
He tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible. He heard a familiar clicking noise nearby.
"Somehow, I don't think Harry'll want a photo of himself with a broken arm," Hermione said.
"I don't want a photo of this, Colin," he said loudly.
"Lie back, Harry," said Lockhart soothingly. "It's a simple charm I've used countless times."
"Yeah right," Harry said, frowning. He wondered what damage Lockhart was going to do to him; he didn't doubt that it would happen. Lockhart just did not inspire confidence in him.
"Why can't I just go to the hospital wing?" said Harry through clenched teeth.
"Perhaps you should get someone to help you stand up so that you can," Hermione said.
"Yeah, since no one seems to be willing to help take you to the hospital wing since a Professor is there," Cedric said.
"He should really, Professor," said a muddy Wood,
"Wood really should be helping you, then, not standing there saying that you should," Luna said.
who couldn't help grinning even though his Seeker was injured.
"Of course, not. You still managed to make a fantastic catch with the Snitch," Hermione said. "I don't think Wood really thinks there is anything better than that."
"Great capture, Harry, really spectacular, your best yet, I'd say."
Through the thicket of legs around him, Harry spotted Fred and George Weasley, wrestling the rogue Bludger into a box. It was still putting up a terrific fight.
"I think someone should stun it if it's doing that," Cedric said. "Whoever tampered with it must realize that not only are you still alive and relatively okay, but you're also not going to be flying around in the air any more, meaning that they don't have the chance to cause harm to you."
"Stand back," said Lockhart, who was rolling up his jade-green sleeves.
"Someone better stop him," Harry said.
"No – don't –" said Harry weakly, but Lockhart was twirling his wand and a second later had directed it straight at Harry's arm.
A strange and unpleasant sensation started at Harry's shoulder and spread all the way down to his fingertips. It felt as though his arm was being deflated.
"Oh, no," Cedric moaned.
"What?" Harry asked.
"If it feels like your arm was being deflated, that probably because it was deflated," he said, adding on at the confused look on Harry's face, "he most likely removed all of the bones in your arm."
Harry groaned.
"Don't worry, Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix it up," Cedric said.
He didn't dare look at what was happening. He had shut his eyes, his face turned away from his arm, but his worst fears were realised as the people above him gasped and Colin Creevey began clicking away madly.
"You just know that something horrible has if people are gasping and Creevey's clicking away like mad," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Of course, if all of his bones in his arm are gone, then I supposed that it probably looks horrible as well."
His arm didn't hurt any more – but nor did it feel remotely like an arm.
"Ah," said Lockhart. "Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken."
"Yeah, but only because there are no bones left," Cedric said dryly.
"That's the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry, just toddle up to the Hospital Wing"
"He's now going to allow you to go to the Hospital Wing. He should have done it earlier," Cedric said. He wanted to make a point towards Hermione about how he hoped that her book self would notice how inept that Lockhart was, but he held his tongue. He didn't know, though, that Hermione herself was hoping the same thing.
"– ah, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, would you escort him? – and Madam Pomfrey will be able to – er – tidy you up a bit."
"I think he means 'Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix my incompetent mistake'," Hermione said.
As Harry got to his feet, he felt strangely lopsided. Taking a deep breath he looked down at his right side. What he saw nearly made him pass out again.
Poking out of the end of his robes was what looked like a thick, flesh-coloured rubber glove.
Harry wrinkled his nose at that, hoping that he would have to deal with that in his real life.
He tried to move his fingers. Nothing happened.
Lockhart hadn't mended Harry's bones. He had removed them.
Madam Pomfrey wasn't at all pleased.
"Yeah, that's probably an understatement," Cedric said. "She hates people doing her work for her, since they most likely never do it properly."
"You should have come straight to me!" she raged, holding up the sad, limp remainder of what, half an hour before, had been a working arm.
"I absolutely hate Lockhart," Harry said.
"I can mend bones in a second – but growing them back –"
"You will be able to, won't you?" said Harry desperately.
"I'll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful," said Madam Pomfrey grimly, throwing Harry a pair of pyjamas. "You'll have to stay the night ..."
Hermione waited outside the curtain drawn around Harry's bed while Ron helped him into his pyjamas. It took a while to stuff the rubbery, boneless arm into a sleeve.
Hermione shuddered at that. She would hate to have to feel it.
"How can you stick up for Lockhart now, Hermione, eh?" Ron called through the curtain as he pulled Harry's limp fingers through the cuff. "If Harry had wanted de-boning he would have asked."
"I don't think I would every want a de-boning," Harry said.
"Anyone can make a mistake," said Hermione,
"Why did I just say that?" Hermione said, rolling her eyes at herself. "I mean, it's true, but it's obvious that he's so incompetent that sticking up for him isn't the right thing to do."
"I think you're book self might be understanding that a little, but, at the same time, you believe in what his books say so much that the fact that he's not measuring up to them confuses you," Luna said. "Also, because you're so used to being right, it's hard for you to admit that you may be wrong about things, especially something like this."
Hermione looked at Luna, knowing instinctively that she was right. She was used to being right that the idea of being wrong made her blood boil and her mind revolt. And, for her book self, she saw Lockhart as being a hero, and, believe that she was right in that, wasn't willing to think otherwise.
It was flaw that she knew she would have to work on.
"And it doesn't hurt any more, does it, Harry?"
"No," said Harry, "but it doesn't do anything else, either."
As he swung himself onto the bed, his arm flapped pointlessly.
Hermione and Madam Pomfrey came around the curtain. Madam Pomfrey was holding a large bottle of something labelled 'Skele-Gro'.
"Skele-Gro?" Hermione said. "What kind of name is that?"
"And adept one, considering what the potion does," Cedric said.
"You're in for a rough night," she said, pouring out a steaming beakerful and handing it to him. "Regrowing bones is a nasty business."
So was taking the Skele-Gro. It burned Harry's mouth and throat as it went down, making him cough and splutter. Still tut-tutting about dangerous sports and inept teachers, Madam Pomfrey retreated, leaving Ron and Hermione to help Harry gulp down some water.
"Yeah, the water sounds like it'll be needed," Harry said, his face making a disgusted look.
"We won, though," said Ron, a grin breaking across his face. "That was some catch you made. Malfoy's face ... he looked ready to kill!"
"I want to know how he fixed that Bludger," said Hermione darkly.
"I know, I'm not thinking properly," Hermione said, noticing Cedric's look at her. "It just makes sense to suspect him for the one thing when we already do for something else."
"We can add that to the list of questions we'll ask him when we've taken the Polyjuice Potion," said Harry, sinking back onto his pillows. "I hope it tastes better than this stuff ..."
"If it's got bits of Slytherins in it? You've got to be joking," said Ron.
"Sad thing is, Ron's definitely got it right," Cedric said. "Since you're basically drinking their essence, and the ones you're planning on impersonating are the nicest of people, you won't be tasting chocolate drinking it."
The door of the hospital wing burst open at that moment. Filthy and soaking wet, the rest of the Gryffindor team had arrived to see Harry.
"Unbelievable flying, Harry," said George. "I've just seen Marcus Flint yelling at Malfoy. Something about having the Snitch on top of his head and not noticing. Malfoy didn't seem too happy."
They had brought cakes, sweets and bottles of pumpkin juice;
"Do they really think they'll be able to party in the hospital wing?" Cedric said, shaking his head and not really expecting an answer. "No way; Madam Pomfrey always going on about her patients needing rest. A party won't help with that."
"Actually, when you think about it – I mean, she did say I was in for a rough night and all – when you think about it, it would be best if she let them have the party, for it would distract me from the pain I'm sure to feel," Harry said.
"True, but she never sees it that way," Cedric said.
they gathered around Harry's bed and were just getting started on what promised to be a good party when Madam Pomfrey came storming over, shouting, "This boy needs rest, he's got thirty-three bones to regrow! Out! OUT!"
"See," Cedric said.
And Harry was left alone, with nothing to distract him from the stabbing pains in his limp arm.
"I should have insisted on the party," Harry said, pouting.
Hours and hours later, Harry woke quite suddenly in the pitch blackness and gave a small yelp of pain: his arm now felt full of large splinters. For a second, he thought it was that which had woken him.
"How can that not be the cause of you waking him," Hermione said.
Then, with a thrill of horror, he realised that someone was sponging his forehead in the dark.
"Get off!" he said loudly, and then, "Dobby!"
"What's he doing there?" Harry asked.
The house-elf's goggling tennis-ball eyes were peering at Harry through the darkness. A single tear was running down his long, pointed nose.
"Harry Potter came back to school," he whispered miserably. "Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter. Ah sir, why didn't you heed Dobby? Why didn't Harry Potter go back home when he missed the train?"
"How does he know you missed the train?" Hermione asked.
Harry heaved himself up on his pillows and pushed Dobby's sponge away.
"What're you doing here?" he said. "And how did you know I missed the train?"
Dobby's lip trembled and Harry was seized by a sudden suspicion.
"It was him!" Hermione exclaimed. "He stopped the barrier from letting you through. And I guess that we were right – chances of you actually getting a letter to the school would have been slim, especially if Dobby was willing to do that."
"It was you!" he said slowly. "You stopped the barrier letting us through!"
"Indeed yes, sir," said Dobby, nodding his head vigorously, ears flapping. "Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter and sealed the gateway and Dobby had to iron his hands afterwards –" he showed Harry ten, long, bandaged fingers, "– but Dobby didn't care, sir, for he thought Harry Potter was safe, and never did Dobby dream that Harry Potter would get to school another way!"
"He's unfair," Hermione said, pouting. "It's hard to be mad at him when you know that he honestly just wants to protect you, and is willing to submit to punishments just to keep you safe."
He was rocking backwards and forwards, shaking his ugly head.
"Dobby was so shocked when he heard Harry Potter was back at Hogwarts, he let his master's dinner burn! Such a flogging Dobby never had, sir ..."
Hermione scowled at that. While Dobby wasn't endeared himself to her with his attempts to keep Harry from school, the fact that, on top the punishments he was giving himself, whoever his masters were also added onto it. It made her sick to know just how some people could treat other beings.
Harry slumped back onto his pillows.
"You nearly got Ron and me expelled," he said fiercely. "You'd better clear off before my bones come back, Dobby, or I might strangle you."
"Harry," Hermione said, a bit reprovingly.
"He won't budge on his position," Cedric said. "With the way he can easily give himself punishments, he's also probably used to getting death threats."
Dobby smiled weakly.
"Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day at home."
He blew his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore, looking so pathetic that Harry felt his anger ebb away in spite of himself.
"Why d'you wear that thing, Dobby?" he asked curiously.
"This, sir?" said Dobby, plucking at the pillowcase. " 'Tis a mark of the house-elf's enslavement, sir. Dobby can only be freed if his masters present him with clothes, sir. The family is careful not to pass Dobby even a sock, sir, for then he would be free to leave their house for ever."
"And that would be a tragedy," Hermione said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
"In way, it would, because whichever family that owns him are those who think image is everything, and having a house-elf showcases that image. Add in that those whom they care to have visit them are probably ones who think it's proper to have a beaten elf, and you've got a society that doesn't care for what happens to the elves because they aren't 'people' to them," Cedric said. "Also, most people won't bother with another's elf, just their own."
Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, "Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make –"
"His Bludger!" almost everyone said, some louder than others.
"I thought so," Luna said. The others looked at her.
"I had a suspicion that he might have been desperate enough to attempt to get Harry hurt enough to go to St. Mungo's, as it would be out of the castle," Luna said.
"I don't think Dobby realizes that, once Harry had been healed, he would most likely have gone back to the castle," Cedric said.
"Your Bludger?" said Harry, anger rising once more. "What d'you mean, your Bludger? You made that Bludger try and kill me?"
"No, he probably would have killed himself if it had killed you," Luna said.
"Not kill you, sir, never kill you!" said Dobby, shocked. "Dobby wants to save Harry Potter's life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here, sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter hurt enough to be sent home!"
"He would have been sent back to the castle after being healed. There is really no way for Dobby to get what he wants," Cedric said.
"Oh, is that all?" said Harry angrily. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you wanted me sent home in pieces?"
"Ah, if Harry Potter only knew!" Dobby groaned, more tears dripping onto his ragged pillowcase. "If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, us dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers how it was when He Who Must Not Be Named was at the height of his powers, sir! We house-elves were treated like vermin, sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir," he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase. "But mostly, sir, life has improved for my kind since you triumphed over He Who Must Not Be Named. Harry Potter survived, and the Dark Lord's power was broken, and it was a new dawn, sir, and Harry Potter shone like a beacon of hope for those of us who thought the dark days would never end, sir ..."
"I guess it's easier to understand why he's so eager to keep you safe," Hermione said. "If you're like that for him alone, I'm almost afraid to know what you're like for other beings."
"And now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, are perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let Harry Potter stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more –"
"It's been open before," Hermione said, unconsciously sitting up straighter.
"Seems like it," Cedric said, though he too was interested; he'd never heard that the Chamber had been opened before.
"Based on the look on you face, this knowledge isn't known to you," Hermione said.
"No, I've never heard this before," he answered.
Dobby froze, horror-struck, then grabbed Harry's water jug from his bedside table and cracked it over his own head, toppling out of sight. A second later, he crawled back onto the bed, cross-eyed, muttering, "Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby ..."
"He wasn't supposed to mention that," Hermione said, frowning once again.
"So there is a Chamber of Secrets?" Harry whispered. "And – did you say it's been opened before?Tell me, Dobby!"
He seized the elf's bony wrist as Dobby's hand inched towards the water jug. "But I'm not Muggleborn – how can I be in danger from the Chamber?"
"Since you're a half-blood who was Muggle-raised, you kind of are in danger, though I get the feeling that whoever it is that opened the chamber might have you as a specific target," Luna said. "However, I get the feeling that Dobby just doesn't want you there when the danger is there, even if you are not a possible target."
"Ah, sir, ask no more, ask no more of poor Dobby," stammered the elf, his eyes huge in the dark. "Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Harry Potter must not be here when they happen. Go home, Harry Potter. Go home. Harry Potter must not meddle in this, sir, 'tis too dangerous –"
"Which is probably why he's already meddling," Hermione said.
"Who is it, Dobby?" Harry said, keeping a firm hold on Dobby's wrist to stop him hitting himself with the water jug again. "Who's opened it? Who opened it last time?"
"He either doesn't know, or he has probably been ordered not to say anything," Cedric said.
"Dobby can't, sir, Dobby can't, Dobby mustn't tell!" squealed the elf. "Go home, Harry Potter, go home!"
"I'm not going anywhere!" said Harry fiercely. 'One of my best friends is Muggleborn, she'll be first in line if the Chamber really has been opened –"
"That's for thinking of me, Harry," Hermione said, smiling widely at him.
"Harry Potter risks his own life for his friends!" moaned Dobby, in a kind of miserable ecstasy.
"That's an interesting oxymoron," Hermione said.
"So noble! So valiant! But he must save himself, he must, Harry Potter must not –"
"I don't think that'll work. It would be a against how I seem to be in the book," Harry said.
Dobby suddenly froze, his bat ears quivering. Harry heard it, too. There were footsteps coming down the passageway outside.
"Dobby must go!" breathed the elf, terrified; there was a loud crack, and Harry's fist was suddenly clenched on thin air. He slumped back into bed, his eyes on the dark doorway to the hospital wing as the footsteps drew nearer.
Next moment, Dumbledore was backing into the dormitory, wearing a long woolly dressing gown and a nightcap. He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet.
"Oh, no, you don't think –?" Hermione started, looking at the others.
"I think it was an attack," Cedric said.
"I wonder who it was," Harry said.
Together, they heaved it onto a bed.
"Get Madam Pomfrey," whispered Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall hurried past the end of Harry's bed out of sight. Harry lay quite still, pretending to be asleep. He heard urgent voices, and then Professor McGonagall swept back into view, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey, who was pulling a cardigan on over her nightdress. He heard a sharp intake of breath.
"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey whispered to Dumbledore, bending over the statue on the bed.
"Another attack," said Dumbledore. "Minerva found him on the stairs."
"There was a bunch of grapes next to him," said Professor McGonagall. "We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter."
"Do you think you was you or Ron?" Harry asked.
"No, we wouldn't do that, no matter how tempting. No, I get the feeling that it's someone else, some who you're not closed to but thinks the world of you," Hermione said.
"You mean Creevey?" Cedric asked. Hermione nodded.
"He's the only one I can think of doing that," she said.
Harry's stomach gave a horrible lurch. Slowly and carefully, he raised himself a few inches so he could look at the statue on the bed. A ray of moonlight lay across its staring face.
It was Colin Creevey. His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding his camera.
Hermione frowned lightly, taking note of that, though she didn't know why. She just had a feeling that it was important.
"Petrified?" whispered Madam Pomfrey.
"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "But I shudder to think ... If Albus hadn't been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate, who knows what might have ..."
"Didn't they just say that Professor McGonagall was the one who found him," Hermione said, confused. She could have sworn that they had just said that it was McGonagall who found Creevey.
"Yeah, they did," Harry said, just as confused as she was.
The three of them stared down at Colin. Then Dumbledore leaned forward and prised the camera out of Colin's rigid grip.
"You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" said Professor McGonagall eagerly.
"A part of me hopes that they did," Luna said. "But since we don't know the attributes of this snake, it might be better that he didn't."
"I get the feeling that Colin didn't get a picture because whoever is controlling the snake would have probably taken the camera if they had," Harry said.
"Either that, or they think that, if a picture was taken, it can effect whoever looks at it," Hermione said.
Dumbledore didn't answer. He prised open the back of the camera.
"Good gracious!" said Madam Pomfrey.
A jet of steam had hissed out of the camera. Harry, three beds away, caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic.
"Melted," said Madam Pomfrey wonderingly, "all melted ..."
"What does this mean, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked urgently.
"It means," said Dumbledore, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."
"So he knows about it, meaning that he was most likely here when it happened the first time," Hermione said.
Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore.
"But Albus ... surely ... who?"
"Why does that make it sound as if she herself was there when it first opened?" Hermione asked.
"She could have been, or at least, she could have heard about it," Cedric said. "And, if it's either of those, we have a time line as to when these events happened, and thus, can be built upon."
"The question is not who," said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin. "The question is, how ..."
"He knows exactly who did it last time," Hermione said. "Why isn't he saying who it is, though."
"Or doing anything about it," Harry said.
And from what Harry could see of Professor McGonagall's shadowy face, she didn't understand this any better than he did.
"That's the end of the chapter," said Luna, handing the book over to Harry