Evasion

For several days after the attack on Mrs. Norris, the students spoke of nothing else. Whispered conversations filled the Great Hall, the Gryffindor common room, the grounds, and the corridors. Harry and Ginny were accustomed to people pointing at them when they passed, but the dark looks and suspicious whispers brought back painful memories of the summer.

Mr. Filch had taken up station in the second-floor corridor. The first time Harry and Ginny climbed the nearby stairs, the caretaker was scrubbing at the writing on the stone wall. However, when they walked by again later, the red letters still shone dully in the torchlight. Filch was perched on an old stool beneath them, watching the students as though he expected the perpetrator to return to the scene in broad daylight. Ginny and Harry, remembering his crazed accusations against them, steered well clear of the bitter old man.

The only person who seemed unconcerned about the attack, at least visibly, was Professor McGonagall. She met with them the following afternoon as usual, and she did not ask them any more questions about their experiences the previous night. Instead, she set them to practicing the throw-dough conjuration, and the three of them only talked about the spell. Ginny and Harry appreciated the respite, and they suspected that their Head of House had planned it that way.

Aside from that, however, Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermione spent hours discussing what they had seen and what Ginny and Harry had heard.

“Maybe it was Peeves,” Ron suggested at dinner on Sunday.

“Peeves?” Hermione asked. “How could it possibly be Peeves? Professor Dumbledore said that only really Dark magic could have done that to Mrs. Norris.”

“No, not that,” Ron said, waving his fork energetically. “I mean the voice. Maybe it was his idea of a joke. Find some way to make only one or two people hear it, and lead them off across the castle chasing nothing.”

“He was at the party, though,” Ginny pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean anything. He can go through walls, can’t he? It’d be easy for him to beat us out of the dungeons.”

“It doesn’t make sense, Ron,” Hermione said. “Why would Peeves lead them right to the place where Mrs. Norris had just been Petrified?”

“Well . . .” Ron said, chewing as he thought. “Maybe it was just coincidence. We don’t know exactly where the voice was coming from, do we?” He turned to Ginny and Harry. “You were just running down that corridor because you thought it was the right direction.”

Harry shook his head. “We heard it from there, though. It wasn’t just running along ahead of us . . . it was above us to begin with. That was obvious in the Pensieve.”

“How far above, though?” the red-haired boy persisted. “Could’ve been loads of places, and you’d have still ended up there.” He shrugged. “Or maybe it was Peeves’ way of telling someone about the attack. You know he wouldn’t just float up to Dumbledore and say it.”

“Maybe,” Ginny said. Looking up, she met Hermione’s eye. The older girl, like Harry and Ginny, still seemed to think that the voice had something to do with the attack. Mischievous as he was, Peeves was not nearly subtle enough for such a trick.

After lunch, Hermione said that she wanted to visit the library, and she hurried off before anyone could ask why. She only rejoined the other students for dinner that evening, and she left again after a hurried breakfast the next morning. For two days, Harry and Ginny only saw their friend at meals, in lessons, and at bedtime. Each time they asked, Hermione would only say that she was looking for something.

When Hermione hurried away after their last lesson on Tuesday, Ginny stopped in the corridor and stared after her. What can she be doing? She doesn’t have any essays or projects that we don’t.

Dunno, Harry said. It’s a lot of time in the library, even for her.

Ginny nodded absently. Come on.

“Ron,” she said as they started down the corridor, “we’re going to see what she’s up to.”

“Good luck,” he called after them.

Harry and Ginny walked up and down the aisles of the library, and they finally found Hermione sitting at a tiny table in a dusty alcove. A tall stack of books waited at her elbow, and she was flipping through a small, thick tome with nimble fingers.

“Hermione?” Ginny asked, sitting across from the other girl. Harry stood behind Ginny with his hands resting lightly on her shoulders.

Hermione did not look up or slow her fingers. “Hmm?”

“What are you looking for?”

“Just . . . a detail. Don’t worry about it.”

Harry leaned over Ginny’s shoulder and put one hand flat on their friend’s book, blocking her view of the text. “Hermione!” he said. She snapped her head up to face him, a startled look on her face. “If you tell us what you’re looking for, we can help you find it,” he said. “It’s not a detail if you’re carrying on like this. We’ve hardly seen you in days!”

Hermione blinked a few times and then sighed. “It’s just . . . I read something in Hogwarts, A History, and now I’ve forgotten it. I hate forgetting things. It’s very frustrating.”

Harry shook his head. Only for her . . .

. . . because it almost never happens.

“Err . . . why don’t you just check Hogwarts, A History, then, instead of all of these?” Ginny waved at the towering pile of books.

“I left it at home,” Hermione said, falling back into her chair with another sigh. “I couldn’t fit it in my trunk, not with all of Professor Lockhart’s books, and I knew that there were several copies here in the library. But they’re all checked out already.”

“What are these, then?” Ginny asked.

“All of the books I could remember that were used as references for Hogwarts, A History.”

Harry eyed the pile of books. There were at least twenty. Have I mentioned lately that she’s a bit scary?

Terrifying, sometimes.

“I don’t mean to sound stupid, Hermione,” Harry said, settling into the third chair between the two girls, facing the back wall of the alcove, “but why don’t you ask your parents to send your copy?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” Harry asked.

Hermione busied herself re-tying her bushy ponytail and spoke without looking at them. “Because they’re Muggles. It’s easy enough to send them something with a school owl, but they can’t readily get to any owls themselves. If they want to send me a letter, they have to write it really quickly and send it with the same owl I used to write to them.”

“But . . . they sent your birthday presents last year and this year,” Ginny said.

Harry nodded. “Christmas, too.”

“Yes, and to do that, they had to go to London, have Tom let them into Diagon Alley, and then hire an owl at the post office. We haven’t found a closer post yet, if there is one. I’m not going to ask them to do all that unless it’s absolutely necessary.” She finally looked up at them with an odd expression. “It’s just not as easy for us as it would be for magical families.”

Ginny bit her lip, and Harry ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry, Hermione,” he said. “We really didn’t think about that.”

“It’s not your fault. Why should you think about it? You’re both from magical families. Originally, anyway. And now. Mostly.”

Harry put his hand on Hermione’s elbow to draw her attention. “Why didn’t you just ask to borrow Hedwig?” he asked. “She went to your house loads of times over the summer.”

Hermione gave a weak smile. “She’s not just a mail-carrier, Harry. She’s your friend, and she obviously thinks for herself. It didn’t seem fair to ask you to get her to fly all that way just for me.”

“She’s an owl, Hermione,” Ginny said, fighting a grin. “She likes to fly. It’s what they do.”

“Come on,” Harry said, making a decision instantly. “We’ll go up to the Owlery, and you can ask her yourself. If she doesn’t want to do it, she’ll tell us.” He pulled Hermione up by her arm, and the three of them started towards the entrance to the library.

“But . . . can she carry that book all by herself?” Hermione asked.

“Dunno,” Ginny said. “We can ask her that, too.”

Thirty minutes later, Hedwig was winging her way towards Cambridge. Hermione was effusively grateful for the opportunity to receive a real letter from her parents along with the book, and Harry and Ginny realised how little their friend must hear from her parents during the school years.

Excitement sparkled in Hermione’s eyes all the way back to the common room, and Ginny smiled behind her friend’s back. We should write to Mum and Dad again soon.

Yeah, once Hedwig’s back and rested.

After dinner that evening, Hermione let herself be pulled into the twins’ Potions group again. Harry and Ginny marvelled that she looked so happy while discussing the proper way to eviscerate an earthworm, but they were glad to see her out of the library. They did not have long to ponder the situation, however, because they had to leave for Quidditch practice. With a wave to Ron, who was deep in conversation with Seamus and Dean, they left for the pitch.

As Wood had promised, Ginny flew for the team’s entire practice while Harry watched from the stands. Although she always enjoyed flying through him and regularly flew during practice or afterwards, chasing the Snitch around for two uninterrupted hours on the Nimbus was an unmitigated joy. At the end, when she had caught the Snitch for the fourth time, she landed next to Wood and the crate of balls.

“Looks like you’ve been getting enough practice after all,” he said, taking the Snitch from her.

Ginny beamed, and the smile stayed on her face all the way up to the castle.

Maybe he won’t be so keen to have us fly at the same time, Harry said.

Could be. It’d still be great, though.

Two days later, in spite of the upcoming Quidditch game, students were still whispering to each other about Mrs. Norris and the Chamber of Secrets. The tenacity of the rumours puzzled Harry and Ginny; usually, even a dramatic event like Mrs. Norris’ Petrification would have become old news without any new information to keep people’s interest.

Near the end of breakfast that morning, the post owls flew into the Great Hall in a swarm of colours, calls, and flapping wings. Hedwig was among the group, clutching one end of a rope tied about a brown parcel. She deposited the package on the table between Hermione and Ginny.

“Thank you, Hedwig!” Hermione said happily, offering the owl a bit of bacon.

“Say, Hedwig,” Harry said, suddenly inspired. “If Hermione wants to send a letter or something in future, would you mind if she went and talked to you herself? Ginny and I are always happy to see you, and we’ll go along if we can, of course.”

Hedwig bent over and snatched another bit of bacon off of Hermione’s plate, bobbing her head as she held it in her hooked beak.

“I think that’s ‘yes,’” Ginny said, grinning.

“Oh, thank you so much,” Hermione said, petting the owl’s head. “You can have all the bacon you like.”

Hedwig made a sort of clucking sound around her meal, leaned over to brush her head against Ginny’s fingers, and soared out of the hall again.

Hermione picked up the package and tore it open without her usual care for the paper. Inside, as promised, was her copy of Hogwarts, A History. The book evoked strong memories for Harry and Ginny, but they focused on Hermione’s obvious pleasure as she tucked the tome into her bulging bag.

“Aren’t you going to look up whatever-it-was?” Harry asked.

She shook her head. “I’ll have to do it at lunch. We don’t want to be late for Transfiguration.”

Professor McGonagall’s lesson passed smoothly enough as they all practiced Transfiguring water into pumpkin juice, but the double Potions lesson that followed was even more wretched than usual. Snape had made it clear that he still suspected the four Gryffindors of some wrongdoing in relation to Mrs. Norris’ Petrification, and he had not relaxed his attitude at all in the intervening days.

“Today,” he said, his cold drawl echoing slightly in the silent room, “we will revisit the Warming Draught you were supposed to have learned last year. It is not difficult, even by your standards, but it does require careful attention to brew properly. In particular, you must follow the instructions precisely, moving from step to step in precise order, with no deviations. For some, this may be quite simple, as it should be. For others, I am sure it will be more . . . challenging.

“Brewing this potion will require the entire lesson if you work quickly and carefully. You should be prepared to drink your own potion at the end of class. Begin.”

Harry and Ginny were confident that they could brew the Warming Draught again. Hermione could undoubtedly do it in her sleep, and even Ron looked optimistic. None of them, however, had counted on Professor Snape’s ‘assistance.’ Four times during the lesson, he stopped between their desks and demanded that each of them explain what they were doing, why they were doing it, and how they could have done it better. The first time, all four of them were able to give fairly correct answers, though Snape still sneered at them all.

By Snape’s fourth visit, however, they had spent so much time explaining their potions to Snape that they had fallen well behind in the actual brewing. He wasted no time in pointing out their ‘predictable laziness’, which nearly had Hermione in tears.

Finally, the lesson ended. Hermione had somehow managed to finish the potion, but the other three still had not added the final ingredient.

Snape prowled around the room, examining potions. Of the ten Slytherins in the class, seven earned five house points each for their potions, even though Crabbe’s was clearly yellow instead of orange. When he was finished with the other Gryffindors, he stepped in front of Hermione’s cauldron.

After peering into the potion and wafting its vapours into his face, the sallow man straightened. “Given the elapsed time since I last checked this potion, it is impossible for you to have produced this result by following the proscribed procedure. Five points from Gryffindor.”

Hermione looked ill. “But, sir, I was able to-”

“Be quiet! I do not care.”

Snape moved to Ginny’s potion, and from there he peered at Harry’s. “I see that neither of you even reached the final stage of preparation,” he said, his lips turning up in a sneering smile. “Clearly, I should never have allowed you to advance to this level. Five points each from Gryffindor.”

Ginny hid her sigh. What’s that, negative eighteen points for this week?

You knew it was coming.

At last, Snape moved to Ron’s desk. Ginny’s brother had not reached the final step either, and his potion was murky and lumpy rather than opalescent and smooth. The professor took one look into the cauldron, backed up a step, and bared his teeth. “Drink it,” he said.

Ron paled. “What?”

“Drink it,” Snape said, enunciating each word with spitting precision.

With shaking hands, Ron picked up a vial and dipped it into his potion. He looked desperately at Harry and Ginny, but they shrugged. They had no idea how they could help him.

As they watched, Ron visibly steeled himself, pinched his nose closed with one hand, and poured the contents of the vial down his throat with the other. Immediately, sweat began to form on his brow, and his lips turned an angry red colour. “Water!” he said, his voice an agonized wheeze. “Water!”

The Slytherins erupted in mocking laughter, and Snape’s cruel smile widened. “Beverages are not allowed in my classroom, Weasley. Clearly, you did not listen to me last year or today, and you did not bother to read the instructions. I am hardly surprised. Ten points from Gryffindor, and detention tonight after dinner. Class dismissed.”

Harry, Ginny, and Hermione packed up their things quickly, and Harry shoved Ron’s into his bag. The taller boy was fanning his open mouth, sweat pouring down his face, and tears were leaking out of his eyes. Traces of steam drifted out of his nose each time he exhaled. Together, Ginny and Hermione managed to steer him out into the corridor. There, Hermione Transfigured a vial into a large glass, and Ginny filled it with water from her wand.

Ron gulped down six glasses full of conjured water before he was able to speak. “Bloody . . . hell. That was . . . awful.”

“Let’s go,” Hermione said. “That water won’t last long. You need to eat some bread or something to soak up the potion.”

They climbed up to the Great Hall, and as soon as they sat down at the Gryffindor table, Ron pulled the bread off of a sandwich and stuffed it into his mouth. For several minutes, he alternated between bread and water, his face gradually returning to its normal colour.

“All right, Ron?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “S’like a really nasty pepper or something.”

Hermione nodded compassionately. “If you added the mooncalf milk too late, you probably just made a sort of highly concentrated hot sauce.”

“Thanks a bundle,” Ron wheezed, glaring at Hermione. “That makes me feel so much better.”

“Sorry,” Hermione said, looking contrite.

As Ron cooled himself with another sandwich — this time with the filling included — Hermione pulled out Hogwarts, A History. Harry and Ginny ate their lunches and watched as she flipped through the book and then read a single page, a look of intense concentration on her face. After a minute or so, she laid the book flat on the table and looked up at them with a triumphant smile.

“Well?” Harry asked. “Did you find it?”

“Yes,” Hermione said.

“Tell us, then,” Ginny said. “What put such a bee in your bonnet?”

The brown-haired girl leaned forward and lowered her voice. “The Chamber of Secrets.”

Harry and Ginny both straightened abruptly. “What?”

“When I first saw that, I was sure I’d read something about it somewhere, and I thought it was in this.” She tapped the book under her palm.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ginny asked.

“Well, I wasn’t completely sure, and I didn’t actually remember any of the details, so it wouldn’t have been much use.”

“Go on, then,” Ron said, refilling his glass with water. “What’s it say?”

They all leaned in as Hermione spoke in a whisper. “You know about the four founders, right?” They nodded. “Well, according to this, Salazar Slytherin decided that only students from all-wizarding families should be allowed to attend Hogwarts. Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, and Rowena Ravenclaw disagreed, especially Gryffindor, and they all got pretty heated about it. Finally, Slytherin left the school and never came back.”

“And the Chamber of Secrets?” Harry asked.

“Well, that part’s a legend, as Dumbledore said, but it’s in the book. Supposedly, Slytherin built a secret chamber somewhere in the castle. When he left, he sealed it so that only his true heir would be able to open it again. Then, the heir would be able to release the monster Slytherin left in there, and the monster would purge the school of everyone who Slytherin thought was unfit to learn magic.”

“So this chamber is open?” Ron asked. “That’s what the writing means?”

“It certainly seems to. Whether or not it’s true . . .” Hermione shrugged. “It’s just a legend. The book says that no-one has ever found any sort of secret chamber.”

The scarlet words on the wall of the corridor flashed in Harry and Ginny’s minds. “’Enemies of the heir,’” he said. “It means Muggle-borns, doesn’t it?”

“Probably,” Hermione said.

Ron raised his eyebrows at her. “Doesn’t that worry you?”

“Well . . . I suppose it does, a bit. It could just be a legend, though.” She tilted her head towards the High Table. “Besides, Professor Dumbledore’s here. Even people who don’t like him admit that he’s the greatest wizard of the century.”

“Let’s hope he stays here, then,” Ginny said.

“The Heir of Slytherin,” Ron said thoughtfully. Then he snorted. “Two Knuts says I know who that is.”

“Malfoy,” Harry and Ginny said together.

Ron nodded. “Right in one.”

“Seems the sort, doesn’t he?” Hermione asked. “But I’m really not sure. Would the real heir be quite so obvious about it?”

“’Course it’s him,” Ron said. “You heard him that night. He was practically giddy.”

“But he was in the Great Hall,” she said. “How could he have done it?”

“I told you, Hermione,” Ron said. “He got someone else to do the dirty work for him.”

Hermione looked shocked. “You don’t really think he’d do Dark magic like that, do you?”

“You don’t know his family,” Harry said. “Everyone knows they were big supporters of Voldemort, and-”

Ron’s whole body twitched. “D’you have to say the name?”

“- and we saw Lucius Malfoy in that Dark Arts shop, remember? Said he was selling stuff, and I bet it wasn’t his old Chocolate Frog cards.”

A quiet voice from behind Ron pulled their attention away from the conversation. “Got your copy from home, have you?” Harry and Ginny looked up and saw the twins leaning over Hermione’s shoulder at the book. “We’ve been trying to find one, just like everyone else, but the swotty Ravenclaws are hoarding them all.”

“Apparently they all bolted to the library before breakfast on Sunday,” George said.

“Mind if we look, Hermione?” Fred asked.

She passed the book to them, and they scanned it quickly. George handed it back to her. “That’s interesting, isn’t it?”

“Hardly surprising, though,” Fred said. “It figures that Slytherin himself started the whole pureblood mess.”

“Keep a close eye on that book, Hermione,” George said. “People who’ve seen it are telling the story, but lots of people want to read it for themselves.”

Hermione nodded and tucked the book back into her bag. “We’ve got to go, anyway.”

“Do you honestly think that Binns would notice if we were late?” Ron asked as the twins left the Hall.

“It doesn’t matter, Ron. We’re supposed to be there, and if we’re not we might miss something really important.”

The two of them stood up and headed for the doors without stopping their conversation. On the other side of the long table, Harry and Ginny walked in silence.

She’s right, isn’t she? Ginny asked. I bet Dumbledore can handle any sort of monster, even if he is completely frustrating about some things.

Probably. Won’t hurt to keep an eye out, though. She’s with us all the time, anyway.

On their way back to Gryffindor tower from History of Magic, the four friends once again passed by the corridor where Mrs. Norris had been attacked. This time, however, the stool where Filch kept watch was empty.

Want to-?

Yeah.

Ginny and Harry slipped out of the group of second-year Gryffindors, pulling Ron and Hermione with them. Ginny took a long time re-tying her shoe, and when she finally straightened they were alone in the corridor. “Let’s have a look around,” she whispered.

They crept towards the place where they had found Mrs. Norris. The writing on the wall had not faded at all, and the words gleamed dully in the torchlight. Harry and Ginny examined the walls and floor, looking for any sign of what might have attacked the caretaker’s cat.

“Scorch marks,” Harry said, pointing to a pair of blackened spots on the stone floor.

“They might’ve already been there,” Hermione said as she inspected the torch bracket. “The floor was covered in water, remember?”

“Yeah.”

Ginny stopped at a window when movement in the topmost pane caught her eye. Over a dozen spiders milled around on that pane, all fighting to get outside through a crack in the glass.

“Ron,” she said, “stay over there.”

Her brother was staring at a door several yards down the corridor, but he looked up when she spoke. “Why?”

“Spiders.”

He squeaked and whipped his head around, trying to look in all directions at once. “Where?”

“Over here, on the window,” Ginny said, keeping her voice as calm as she could. “Not anywhere near you. And they’re all trying to get out, not trying to get in.”

“Trying to get out?” Ron repeated weakly, his eyes locked on the window, even though he could not possibly see the spiders from his angle.

“Yes, Ron. Just stay over there, all right?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll just . . . check down here. For clues.”

“Ron?” Hermione asked, looking puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like spiders,” he said in a strained voice.

“You don’t? But we use them all the time in Potions.”

“Those are dead. I like them just fine dead. But when they’re alive . . .” He shuddered. “I don’t like the way they move.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, nodding slowly. “All right.” She walked over next to Harry and Ginny and spoke in a whisper. “Is he okay?”

Ginny shook her head slightly. “One of the twins’ favourite tricks when we were little was to turn things into giant, moving spiders. They got my stuffed dragon when I was five, and they got Ron’s teddy bear when he was even younger than that. I got over it after a while, but Ron . . .” She shrugged. “He really doesn’t like spiders.”

“He’s arachnophobic?”

“Is that what you call it when spiders make you behave like that?” Harry asked. “If so, then yes.”

“Just don’t make him come over here, and don’t joke around about the spiders going over there,” Ginny said. “He’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

“All right,” Hermione said, casting a furtive glance at Ron. “What are they doing up there, anyway? I’ve never seen spiders act like that.”

“Leaving, I’d say, but I can’t imagine why,” Harry said.

“Ginny?”

All three of them turned to face Ron. He was still standing next to the same door.

“Yeah?” Ginny said.

“Maybe you should go in here and look around.”

Curious, Harry and Ginny left the window. When they got closer, they recognised the door to a girls’ toilet. “Why?”

“The floor was all wet that night, wasn’t it?” Ron asked. “I bet the water was coming from in there, but I’m not about to go in and look around.”

Hermione laughed. “Oh, don’t worry, Ron. Nobody ever goes in there if they can help it. That’s where Moaning Myrtle lives.”

Ron glanced at Harry and then returned his gaze to Hermione. “She’s the one we avoided at the party?”

“Yes. I suppose we can put up with her long enough to ask if she saw anything.”

Hermione opened the door, and they all filed into the room. Ginny had only been in the room twice during her first year, and no one had painted the chipped stalls or repaired the cracked tiles since then. The window was dirty, the floor was damp, and the entire place smelled slightly of mildew.

Ginny and Hermione crept forward, and Hermione pointed at the last stall in the row. When they reached it, Hermione pushed open the door. The back of the toilet was surrounded by what looked like fog. “Hello, Myrtle,” she called.

The fog surged upwards, and the shape of a girl emerged from the toilet. She was rather squat, with thick glasses and a few silvery pimples. “What do you want?” Myrtle asked.

Hermione smiled brightly. “We’re . . . ahh . . . just visiting you.”

Harry waved Ron forwards, and they moved to stand behind Ginny and Hermione.

Myrtle sailed upwards until her head was just below the high ceiling. “What are they doing here?” she demanded. “This is a girls’ toilet!”

“They wanted to visit, too, Myrtle,” Ginny said. “We told them how nice your toilet is, and they wanted to see it.”

“It’s quite lovely,” Harry said, trying to help placate the sensitive spirit. Ron shot him a disgusted look.

“So you’ve come to tease me, have you?” Myrtle said, pouting sadly.

Hermione waved her arms and shook her head. “No, Myrtle, honestly. We just wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk about what? How ugly I am?” Myrtle sniffed loudly. “How horribly stupid I am?”

“No!” Ginny said. “We just wanted to know if you saw anything odd on Sunday night. A cat was attacked right outside your door.”

Myrtle swooped down until her insubstantial nose was only inches from Ginny’s. “What do I care?” she whined. “Why should I be bothered about some stupid cat? I’m dead, you know!”

“It’s pretty obvious, yeah,” Ron muttered.

“I heard that!” the ghost screeched, her depression flashing to fury. “Is it funny, teasing a dead person? That’s all people ever did, even when I was alive. ‘Myrtle’s too stupid for magic.’ ‘Let’s play keep-away with her glasses.’ And now it’s just the same! ‘You’re dead, Myrtle, did you notice?’ I did notice that I’m . . .” With a wail of grief, Myrtle spun in the air and dived into her toilet, splashing water all over the cubicle.

“Come on,” Hermione said. They walked back towards the door, leaving Myrtle howling in the pipes.

“No wonder she’s dead,” Ron said. “If she wasn’t, someone would definitely kill her.”

Hermione pushed open the door and led them out of the toilet. “I told you she was awful.”

Harry and Ginny were last out of the room, and as soon as the door swung shut behind them, a loud voice made them jump.

“Ronald Weasley!”

All four of them spun towards the stairwell. Percy was striding towards them, his robes flapping and his prefect’s badge shining in the torchlight. “What were you doing in there? That’s a girls’ toilet!”

Ginny stepped around Ron and Hermione, and Harry followed her to face Percy. “We were talking to Myrtle,” Ginny said forcefully.

Percy paused. “Myrtle?” he asked, confused.

“Yes, Myrtle,” Ginny said. “She’s the ghost who lives in there. No one ever uses it as a toilet anymore.”

The tall boy shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. It’s a girls’ toilet, and boys should not be going inside. It’s impolite, at best, and it’s against the rules.”

Ginny’s nostrils flared, and she clenched her fists to avoid reaching for her wand. “We were just talking to Myrtle. You know, being nice to her. You might try it sometime.” She locked her gaze on Percy’s face. “Being polite to a girl, I mean.”

Her straight-laced brother froze, a slightly panicked look on his face. “I . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t!” Ginny shot Percy a scathing look and then turned her back to him. “Come on.” With one hand in Harry’s and the other on Hermione’s arm, she led them to the stairwell and upwards towards Gryffindor tower.

“Blimey, Ginny,” Ron said when they were out of earshot. “What was that?”

And what happened to staying out of his personal life? Harry asked, grinning.

“It was the truth,” Ginny said, still storming up the stairs. “We were talking to Myrtle, we tried to be nice to her, and Percy’s a raging git.”

He asked for it, she told Harry.

I know he did. Did you see his face?

Yeah. Ginny smirked slightly. I probably shouldn’t have said it, but it felt good anyway.

Harry put his arm around her shoulders, and they both slowed to a more normal pace. You can apologise someday.

She snorted and leaned into his embrace. Not likely, but maybe.

“Are we missing something?” Hermione asked from behind them.

“Not really,” Harry said.

Ron whispered something to Hermione, but Harry and Ginny did not try to listen. They did not need any reminders of how Percy had treated them over the summer.

When they reached the common room, they had a few minutes left before they could leave for dinner. The four of them hunched around a table, whispering and keeping a close eye out for other students.

“How d’you think Malfoy did it?” Ron asked. “Opened the Chamber, I mean.”

“We don’t know it’s him,” Hermione said.

“Fine,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “Let’s just use his name because it’s easy to say.”

Hermione shook her head. “It could be almost anyone, Ron, and we shouldn’t start blaming him until we know a bit more.”

Ron turned to face Harry and Ginny squarely. “So what d’you reckon?”

“His family’s really old, isn’t it?” Harry asked.

“The secret’s probably been passed down through his family for the last thousand years,” Ginny said. “He and his dad finally decided to try it out or something.”

“Why now, though?” Hermione asked. “Why not open it before?”

Harry answered as casually as he could. “Who knows? They could be trying to scare everyone enough that Malfoy can win at Quidditch, or something else stupid like that.”

The brunette sighed and tapped one finger against her lip thoughtfully. “It would really help if we knew it was him. Hush, Ron, I’m serious. If we knew for sure, we could watch him and try to work out how he’s controlling the monster. If we stop him doing that, the rest doesn’t matter.”

“But how do we prove it?” Ginny asked.

“Well . . .” Hermione’s eyes darted all around the room and the surface of the table, as they often did when she was thinking hard. “There is . . . there is one way I can think of.”

Harry leaned forward. “What?”

She looked up at him and shrugged. “Ask him.”

“Oh, yeah, that’ll work,” Ron said, shaking his head. “’Say, Malfoy, are you the Heir of Slytherin? We’re doing an article on Slytherin bigotry for the Prophet. Here, speak into my wand so I can be sure to hear you.’ We’re the last people he’d tell, no matter what.”

“He’d tell us if he thought we were his friends.”

Hermione’s statement stopped the other three cold. Ron gaped at her, and Harry and Ginny tried to think of a way they could have misunderstood her.

“I’m not going to cosy up to him,” Hermione said. “Look, there’s this potion called Polyjuice Potion. Remember Professor Snape talking about it?”

“No,” Ron huffed.

“It’s a potion that allows the drinker to take on the physical appearance of someone else. It’s the ultimate disguise. If we look like Draco’s friends, he’ll tell us anything. And if he’s not the Heir of Slytherin, he might know who is.”

“Really?” Harry asked. D’you remember Snape talking about that?

No, Ginny said. We were too busy being arrogant or something, I’m sure.

“Really,” Hermione answered him. “I’m sure it’s extremely complex, but if we could do it . . .”

“Can we, then?” Ginny asked. “Can we brew it?”

“I’m not sure,” Hermione said, tapping her lip again. “I tried to look it up out of curiosity, but the recipe isn’t in just any Potions book. The only one I know for sure has it is Moste Potente Potions, and it’s in the Restricted Section.”

“Bugger that, then,” Ron said, slouching forward onto the table. “No professor’s going to give us a note to get a book from there.”

Hermione coloured slightly, but something had lit in her eyes. “I thought of that,” she said. “But what if we convinced a professor that we wanted the book as . . . as a reference item? You know, for background reading.”

“Nobody’s that thick,” Ron said.

Harry and Ginny’s thoughts clicked into place. “You think he’d do it?” she asked.

“I think it’s worth trying.” Hermione coloured a bit more. “He’s always been quite nice to me when I’ve spoken to him after class.”

“And it wouldn’t surprise him at all that you wanted to do a bit more reading, would it?” Harry finished for her. “Learn about some wonky potion he used to whiten his teeth while fighting off hags with his other hand?”

“Lockhart?” Ron said and then grinned. “Yeah, he’d buy that in an instant. Let’s do it.”

“All right,” Hermione said. “I’ll speak to him after tomorrow’s lesson.”

After dinner that evening, Ron went off to his detention with Snape, and Hermione, Harry, and Ginny worked on an essay for Professor Sprout. A few minutes after ten o’clock, Ron stomped back into the common room and dropped heavily into his usual chair.

“How was it?” Harry asked.

“Awful. The man’s a lunatic.” The tall boy straightened as he warmed to his topic. “First, he had me write ‘I will not ignore instructions’ on the wall of his classroom a hundred times in Everlasting Ink. Then he made me scrub it all off with nothing but a towel and a bucket of water.” He held up his hands, showing fingers stained and smudged with grey. “I’m never going to get it off of me, now.”

“Here, let me try,” Ginny said. She drew her wand and said, “Tergeo.” When she ran the tip of her wand along the fingers of Ron’s left hand, some of the grey colour siphoned away from his skin, but his hands were still far from clean.

“Where’d you learn that?” Ron asked. “I tried Scourgify, but all it did was rub me raw. That one barely even tickled.”

Ginny shrugged. “Mum showed it to me ages ago.”

“Isn’t there a special charm for removing ink stains from skin, though?” Ron asked. “Hermione?”

She looked affronted. “What? I’ve never heard of a charm like that.”

“No, he’s right,” Ginny said. “I just can’t remember it.”

Harry and Ginny thought for a long moment, and then they both sighed as realisation came. “Stay here,” Ginny said. “We’ll have it off in a minute.”

Resigned, Ginny crossed the room and climbed up to her dormitory. After a bit of digging in her trunk, she pulled out a copy of Lockhart’s Charms from the Charming. The unopened volume had been part of the stack Lockhart had shoved into Harry’s arms at Flourish & Blott’s.

It just had to be in here, didn’t it? Harry asked.

Makes sense, when you think about it, Ginny said wryly. He’d have ink up to his wrists after answering all of that mail.

She went back down to the common room, but Parvati’s voice stopped her as she crossed the room. “Hey, Ginny!”

Ginny stopped and turned to find Parvati and Lavender sitting on a nearby sofa, an issue of Witch Weekly spread across their laps. “Hi, Parvati. What’s up?”

“Do you and Hermione want to watch the match with us on Saturday?” she asked. “I thought you two might want to get away from Ron while Harry’s playing. Padma and some others are going to be there this time, too.”

Harry leaned over and whispered to Hermione. “Want to sit with Parvati and Lavender for the match? We can probably beg off if you don’t.”

She blinked at him for a moment, but then she looked up and spotted Ginny standing near the other two girls. “Oh.” She shrugged. “Sure.”

Ginny had pretended to consider the question for a moment. “Is it all right if my friend Luna comes, too? I was planning to meet up with her.”

“Fine with us,” Lavender said. “I don’t think I’ve met her, though.”

Ginny grinned. “She’s fun. We’ll be there, and I bet Hermione will want to come along, too.”

“Great!” Parvati said, smiling. “We’ll all go down together after breakfast.”

After nodding and waving, Ginny made her way back to the table. “Here, Hermione,” she said, shoving the book in front of her friend. “New spells to learn. The Ink Removal Charm is in there somewhere.”

Hermione dived happily into the book, and five minutes later, Ron’s hands were as clean as Ginny could ever remember seeing them.

The next afternoon, after their Defence class, Ginny, Ron, and Harry lingered near the doorway of the classroom while Hermione approached Lockhart’s desk. “Excuse me, Professor,” she said.

“Hello again, Miss Granger,” Lockhart said, smiling his toothy smile. “What can I do for you today?”

Hermione took a deep breath. “Well, I was re-reading Year with the Yeti -”

“Ah, yes. One of your favourites, is it?”

Harry spotted Hermione’s faint blush from across the room. “Yes, it is,” she said eagerly. “I was thinking about the potion you used to make yourself fit in with the yeti.”

“The Embiggening Embalmment!” Lockhart said, nodding knowingly. “An extremely complex potion, that one.”

“Yes,” Hermione said again. “I’m sure it’s beyond my ability to brew it, of course, but I’m very curious about how the gelatinous ingredients can be saturated with the powdered ingredients without losing their salinity.” The professor blinked, but Hermione did not seem to notice as she looked down at the parchment in her hand. “I wouldn’t want to trouble you about it, but the full recipe is in this book. Only it’s in the Restricted Section of the library, you see, so I need a professor’s permission to -”

“Say no more!” Lockhart said, surging to his feet and pulling a garish peacock-feather quill out of his desk. He took the parchment, signed it with a great flourish, and handed it back to her. “There you are! After all, who am I to interfere with the curiosity of the best student in her year?”

Hermione’s face darkened to the shade of Ginny’s hair, but her eyes were wide and bright. “Thank you!”

Lockhart grinned patronisingly. “Go on, then. I’m sure you want to get to the library just as soon as possible.”

Nodding and beaming, Hermione backed away from him until she bumped into one of the student desks. Then, with a last wave, she spun around and hurried to the back of the room.

Ron guffawed loudly once they were far enough down the corridor that Lockhart would not hear them. “I can’t believe he fell for that!”

Hermione, still grinning, said, “What do you mean?”

Ron opened his eyes as wide as they would go and looked up as though he were speaking to Hagrid. “I’m so curious about how the gooey ingredients can be stirred up with the ground ingredients without losing their stupidity!” He blinked rapidly and clasped his hands together at his chest. “What a wonderfully delightful load of rubbish!”

Harry and Ginny choked back their laughter. Though it was not kind, Ron’s impression was accurate in some ways.

“As it happens,” Hermione said, her grin fading and her eyes hardening, “he did use an Embiggening Embalmment to blend in with the yeti, and it is a very difficult potion for the entirely valid reasons I mentioned. And, if you must know, the recipe is in Moste Potente Potions.”

She stomped away, pulling Ginny along by the arm. Ron and Harry fell in behind them, and Ron muttered, “I don’t care, it was still funny.”

Harry glanced up at the girls, but Hermione’s angry stride was carrying them away from the two boys. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I’m never going to admit it again, though.”

Wise choice.

They reached the library in near-record time and cautiously approached Madam Pince’s desk. The sharp-nosed woman looked down at them all with narrowed eyes. “Yes?”

“Excuse me, Madam Pince,” Hermione said. “I’d like to get a book from the Restricted Section. I have the proper note here, signed by a professor.”

Pince pulled the parchment out of Hermione’s fingers and examined it. She held it up to the light, tapped it twice with her wand, and then sniffed. “Wait here,” she said, and then she disappeared into the stacks at the back of the room.

A few minutes later, she returned, carrying a large, ancient-looking book. The cover was encrusted with mould, and the edges of the pages were spotted with black and green.

“Thank you,” Hermione said, taking the book and holding it to her chest. “Err . . . could I have the note back, please?”

“No,” Pince said. She laid the note on her desk and waved her wand over it. The bit of parchment vanished in a burst of orange fire.

Hermione looked crestfallen as they walked back towards the doors to the library. “Don’t worry, Hermione,” Ron said. “We’ll get you another autograph. Lockhart’ll sign anything if it stays still long enough. You could get him to sign your forehead, I bet.”

“That’s ridiculous, Ron,” Hermione snapped. She did look somewhat more cheerful, though.

The book we gave her is autographed, Ginny said.

Do you want to remind her of that right now?

Ah, no. Thanks, though.

When they got back to the common room, Hermione pored over the smelly old book, and Harry and Ginny waited as patiently as they could. “This is the most complicated potion I’ve ever seen,” she said when she looked up from the book. “It’s . . . there’s a lot to it.”

“Can you brew it?” Ginny asked.

Hermione pulled a lock of her hair into her mouth and began to chew it absently. “I’m not sure. Hang on.”

She read for another minute or so, and then she dug a parchment and quill out of her bag. Harry watched curiously as she wrote ‘Polyjuice Potion’ at the bottom of the parchment. Then, just above it, she wrote ‘i.p. — add target element’. She continued up the page, consulting the book frequently and writing things like ‘1 h.p. — sprinkle powdered lacewings (2tbsp/60min)’ and ‘17d10h.p. — reduce heat to simmer.’

When she finally put down her quill, the parchment was full from bottom to top with notes, each preceded by one of the odd numerical notations. “All right,” she said, still staring at what she had written, “I think we can do it.”

“What is that, Hermione?” Harry asked, pointing at the parchment.

“It’s a Potion Plan,” she replied, looking puzzled.

“A what?”

“A Potion Plan. Fred showed me how to make it.” She cocked her head to the side. “I thought everyone made these for complicated potions.”

“Err . . . no,” Ginny said. “I’ve never heard of one.”

“Me neither,” Ron said. “Wouldn’t be the first time the twins kept a secret.”

Hermione shrugged. “Well, we haven’t done anything yet that really calls for one of these.”

“That’s a relief,” Harry said. “What’s it do, though?”

“It’s just a schedule, really.” She pointed at the bottom of the parchment. “You start by putting in the potion you’re trying to make. Then you use the instructions and work backwards, marking when you need to do the different things required to brew the potion. So, see, an hour before you want the potion to be ready, you have to start sprinkling ground lacewing flies into the potion, and you do that for the whole last hour.”

Harry and Ginny studied the list, starting from the bottom, and they could see the sense of it. “All right,” Ginny said. “So the total time is . . .” They followed the notations to the top of the page. “Thirty-two days?”

“Minimum,” Hermione said, nodding. “That’s if you have all of the ingredients ready to go at the right times. If you don’t, there are stages where the potion can just simmer, but then it takes longer overall.”

“A month?” Ron asked. “Seriously? Malfoy could have attacked half the school by then!”

“Do you have a better idea?” Hermione asked, looking around the table at them. “Fine, then. I think we should do this.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair and shared a reassuring glance with Ginny. “Okay,” he said. “What ingredients do we need?”

Hermione put her finger on a list in the book. “There are quite a lot of them, but only a few are problematic. Luckily I’ve got a bit of bicorn horn that should work. Boomslang skin, though — that’s going to be pretty tricky to get. And, of course, a bit of whomever we want to change into.”

“A what?” Ginny asked.

“How do you expect the potion to know who we want to look like?” Hermione said, as though the answer were perfectly obvious. “We tell it by adding a bit of them.”

“So if we want to look like Crabbe and Goyle,” Ron said, gesturing between himself and Harry, “we have to put their fingers in there or something?”

“No, Ron. Honestly. It can be anything. Most people use hairs.”

“How’re we going to get those?” Harry asked.

Hermione waved her hand. “We’ll think of something. That’s a detail.”

A detail?

I’m not sure I want to hear about the hard part.

“I’ll start rounding up the rest of the ingredients,” Hermione said. “I’ll have to check to make sure we have the right quantity and that nothing’s rotted. Once that’s done, we can get started.”

“Have you thought about where we’ll brew it?” Ginny asked.

You know she has.

Yeah, but this way we don’t sound completely stupid.

“I think we can use Myrtle’s toilet,” Hermione said. “We can leave a cauldron simmering in there for weeks, and no-one will notice. I’m sure she won’t tell anyone. No-one talks to her to begin with.”

Harry and Ginny thought about it, but they couldn’t think of any real objection. “All right, then,” Harry said. “Let us know when you’re ready, and tell us if we can help.”

At dinner that evening, all of the students were talking about the Quidditch match, and at least half of the Gryffindors stopped near Harry’s seat to wish him luck or offer bits of advice. Oliver Wood came by no less than four times, going so far as to remind Harry to fly higher than the rest of the team so that he could see more clearly. On their way out of the Hall, Ginny stopped at the Ravenclaw table to invite Luna to sit with the other girls at the Quidditch match. With a distracted smile, Luna agreed.

By breakfast the next morning, the Polyjuice Potion had completely slipped out of Harry and Ginny’s minds. They went down to the Great Hall in their red Quidditch robes, and they spent the whole meal trying to ignore the Slytherin team’s smug looks and occasional bursts of mocking laughter.

They wouldn’t be laughing if they didn’t have those brooms, Harry said.

Bet they would, Ginny replied. We just wouldn’t care as much.

Fred and George had been spying on the Slytherin team, and the Gryffindors knew just how fast the Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones were. Even Marcus Flint, who was taller and thicker than the rest of his team, looked like nothing more than a green blur as he flew up and down the pitch.

“Stop worrying about it,” Hermione said, drawing Harry and Ginny’s attention as she read their faces. “Just because they have brand new brooms doesn’t mean they’re going to win.”

“Doesn’t hurt,” Ron muttered around a mouthful of toast.

“You’re not helping, Ron.”

Forty-five minutes before the game, Harry squeezed Ginny’s hand under the table and stood up. “See you after the game,” he said to Ron and Hermione.

“Good luck, Harry,” Hermione said.

Ron grinned. “Knock him off his broom if you can. That’d save some time.”

Harry left the castle and started towards the pitch. The air was moist and the sky was ominously overcast, but overall it was pleasant for a late autumn day in Scotland. He arrived at the pitch, pulled his Nimbus Two Thousand out of his locker, and sat down to wait in the meeting room. Wood was already there, studying his charts as usual, and the older boy merely nodded to acknowledge Harry’s arrival.

A few minutes later, Seamus and Dean walked past Ginny, Ron, and Hermione on their way out of the Hall. “Ready, Ron?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, just a mo’,” Ron said, spooning a last bite of cereal into his mouth. He drained the bowl noisily, wiped his mouth, and stood up. “You two coming?” he asked Ginny and Hermione.

“We’re watching with Lavender and Parvati today,” Ginny said. The two girls were sitting further down the table, finishing their breakfasts.

Ron shrugged. “Suit yourselves.”

The three boys joined the growing stream of students leaving for the match. Ginny glanced up and down the Gryffindor table, but she did not see any other red robes.

Almost on cue, Katie, Alicia, and Angelina entered the meeting room and sat on the bench behind Harry’s. Wood nodded at them, too, but the girls continued their whispered conversation. A few minutes later, the twins arrived, casually twirling their red and gold Beaters’ bats.

Finally, much later than Ginny would have preferred, Parvati and Lavender stood up and waved. Ginny caught Luna’s eye and nodded, and all five of them headed for the Entrance Hall. By the time they left the castle, the group of girls had grown to seven.

“Everyone, this is my friend Luna,” Ginny said. “She’s in first-year. Luna, these are Lavender, Parvati, Susan, and Hannah.”

“Padma’s coming, too,” Parvati said, “but she’s down at the pitch saving seats. You already know her, right?”

Luna nodded. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you all.”

The girls climbed up into the stands with Parvati in the lead. They found Padma, who was sitting in the front row in the middle of a long open space. She grinned weakly and waved them over.

“You don’t know how hard it is to save eight seats on the front row,” Padma said to Parvati as they all sat down, looking surprised at the size of the group. “I almost had to hex a couple of fifth-year boys.”

“Thanks, Pad,” her twin said. “Do you know everyone?”

Padma glanced around the group for a moment. “I think so. From lessons, at least. Hi, Hermione.”

“Good morning,” Hermione said.

“Do you lot do this every match?” Ginny asked.

“We haven’t before with this many people, but I hope we will from now on,” Parvati said. “The Ravenclaws all sit together when they’re playing, though, and they don’t let anyone else sit with them. So there’ll be fewer of us then.”

“Really?” Ginny asked. “I never knew that.”

“Nor did I,” Luna said. She turned her calm gaze on Padma. “Why do we do that?”

Padma looked at Luna cautiously. “Err . . . I don’t know.”

“Will it matter for the Gryfflepuff game?” Parvati asked Hannah and Susan.

Susan snorted in laughter. “Gryfflepuff?”

”Padma made it up,” Parvati said, grinning, as she nudged her twin playfully. “It’s shorter.” For a moment, Ginny was reminded forcefully of her own twin brothers.

“Why not ‘Huffledor,’ then?” Susan made a face and waved off the twins’ response. “Never mind. That sounds even sillier.” She looked at Hannah and then shrugged. “Anyway, I don’t think anyone will mind where we sit as long as we’re cheering for the proper team.”

Ginny glanced up and down the bench, grinning. “Everyone is for Gryffindor today, though, right?”

“We’d better be,” Hannah said. “We’re too close to your robes for anyone to believe anything else.”

The girls giggled. “I never want Slytherin to win,” Hannah said, “even if it means cheering for Gryffindor.”

Harry and Ginny were distracted when Wood cleared his throat loudly. “All right, gents and ladies,” he said. “We all know what we’re up against. Slytherin have got the better kit, but we’ve got the better flyers. We’ve been practicing harder, in all weather conditions, and we have more experience as a team. Get out there, fly like I know you can, and show them that rich daddies don’t win Quidditch matches.”

Wood turned to Harry. “It’s all down to you, Harry. Malfoy’s new, and he’s not as good a flier, but that broom’ll be hard to catch. Your job is to teach him that his broom won’t automatically make him a good Seeker. There’re no points on the board yet, so just get that Snitch before he does or die trying. If we don’t win this one, we’ll have a hard time competing for the Cup, and I want to keep it in Gryffindor where it belongs. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Harry said, nodding. I still wish he would pick a different motto.

Me, too, Harry.

“Let’s go, then.”

The team flew out onto the pitch and took their starting positions. On the grass at the centre of the pitch, Wood and Flint shook hands, though neither of them looked especially pleased about it. Then Madam Hooch released the Bludgers and the Snitch, waited until the tiny golden ball had disappeared, and tossed the Quaffle into the air.

The acceleration of the Slytherins’ brooms made it impossible for Gryffindor’s Chasers to beat them off the mark, and the Snakes took possession immediately. Flint and his team-mates soared down the pitch, well ahead of the Gryffindors. Fred caught up with a Bludger that had been close by to begin with, and he sent it pelting towards the Snakes’ Chasers. Unfortunately, he had not fully compensated for the acceleration of their brooms, and the heavy iron ball sailed harmlessly behind them.

Flint carried the Quaffle in towards the goal, feinting left and right, and Oliver watched him carefully. When the Slytherin captain finally tossed the Quaffle, Wood made a spectacular dive and reached in the proper direction, but he simply was not fast enough. The ball soared past his fingers, and Slytherin scored.

Harry pulled his attention away from the action and flew a few yards higher. Malfoy was doing laps at the level of the stands, demonstrating the awesome speed of his broom along the long sides of the pitch and braking smoothly to round each end. Harry knew that the blond boy could not possibly be looking for the Snitch at that speed.

“. . . and the Quaffle is stolen by Pucey in spite of a nice switcheroo hold by Alicia Spinnet of Gryffindor. We truly are playing brooms against players today, folks, and thus far the brooms are winning. Pucey heading down the pitch . . .”

Lee Jordan’s commentary rolled on. The usually-exuberant boy sounded both excited and resigned at the same time, dulling his sharp wit.

Slytherin scored twice more before Wood adapted enough to block one of their shots. Each time one of the Gryffindor girls got their hands on the Quaffle, they were all but run down by the Slytherin Chasers.

They’re getting better, though, Ginny said, careful not to disturb Harry’s concentration. Angelina’s learning to dodge them.

Malfoy pulled out of his fast laps and zipped across the pitch to fly a few feet above Harry’s head. “So nice of you lot to show up,” he drawled. “We’d always prefer to beat a team that actually played, even if it doesn’t matter in the end.”

“How would you know?” Harry called back. “You’ve never even played before, much less won anything.”

“And you’ve never won anything you actually deserved.” Malfoy put on a burst of speed and pulled away, scanning the pitch below him.

Idiot, Harry muttered. He’s still going too fast to really find anything.

A distant whoosh warned Harry that a Bludger was on its way, and he dipped out of its path easily. George appeared nearby and swatted the heavy ball back towards the Slytherins, and Harry watched it disrupt their formation. “Keep your head down, Harry!” George shouted.

Harry nodded and returned to his search. Moments later, another whoosh came from his left, and he dived again to avoid the Bludger. This time Fred flew by to retrieve it. “Looks like you’re magnetic today,” he called. “Didn’t I tell you to lay off the cologne?”

“Couldn’t help it,” Harry said in the traditional response. “I just love hospital food.”

Fred smacked the Bludger away again. “Well, leave off. We’re trying to break one of those fancy brooms.”

A minute later, however, Harry dodged another Bludger.

No one even hit that one towards you, Ginny said, giving the Bludger her full attention.

Happens sometimes, I suppose.

Fred sent the Bludger away again, but it was only halfway to George when it looped around and headed back for Harry. “Blimey!” Fred said. “What’s wrong with this thing?” He kept station next to Harry and batted the Bludger away twice more.

It doesn’t happen that many times in a row.

“Someone’s . . . tampered . . . with this . . . Bludger,” Fred said, panting after yet another rapid swing at the heavy iron ball.

“You can’t tamper with a Bludger, can you?” Harry asked both Fred and Ginny. “They’re protected.”

“Shall I write that on your headstone?”

You are not getting hit by that thing, Ginny said flatly.

Harry knew all too well that getting hit by a Bludger would hurt them both. I don’t plan to.

“That’s the ticket, Potter,” Malfoy shouted as he flew past again. “Hide behind your Beater and wait for the Snitch to come to you!” He soared away, his laughter drifting behind him.

It was true. Harry had not been able to really look for the Snitch at all with Fred constantly flying around him, and he could not get too far away from Fred without having to dodge the Bludger.

“Harry!” Fred called. “Head to ground. We’ve asked for a time out.”

Harry looked over his shoulder and saw the rest of the team soaring towards the base of the Gryffindor goals. Fred pelted the Bludger towards the Slytherins, and the two green-robed Beaters began batting it back and forth between them.

What’s the score? Harry asked as he flew down to Wood and the others.

Sixty-ten, Ginny said. Angelina got around the Chasers once, and Bletchley still can’t guard more than one hoop at a time. Wood’s finally starting to block them, though.

Well, that’s something.

“We’re getting flattened,” Wood said sharply as Harry and Fred reached the team. “Why aren’t we getting more Bludgers in there to disrupt their offence?”

“Because I’m trying to keep Harry in the air,” Fred half-shouted. “One of the Bludgers has been after him all game. I swear, Wood, it’s been tampered with.”

“What do you mean? They look fine now.” Wood pointed across the pitch towards the other team. The Slytherin Beaters were still hitting the Bludgers back and forth between them with no apparent difficulty.

Fred shook his head. “I’m telling you, Wood, one of them hasn’t left Harry alone. I’ve beat it off at least a dozen times, and it just turns around and comes right back towards him.”

“Call Madam Hooch,” George said. “Get her to stop the game and inspect the Bludgers.”

“We can’t do that!” Wood shouted, looking horrified. “They might reschedule the game, and we’d have to start all over!”

“Better that than lose Harry,” Fred said.

A plan was quickly taking shape in Harry’s mind. What if -?

Ginny frowned, but she nodded mentally. The Slytherins’ laughter carried clearly to where she was sitting. Fine. But you will not get hit, do you hear me?

We won’t. Whatever it takes.

“Look,” Harry said, facing the twins. “I can outrun that Bludger, but I can’t find the Snitch if someone’s always flying around me with a bat. Let me handle the Bludger, and you two can concentrate on the Slytherins.”

“What?” George cried. “Be serious, Harry. That thing could kill you!” He and Fred both looked completely flabbergasted.

“But it won’t,” Harry said. “I’m positive I can avoid it.” He tried to give Fred and George a significant look. “I’m sure Ginny would say the same thing if she were playing.”

Fred gave him a very hard stare, but then he sighed. “Fine.”

“That’s settled, then,” Wood said. “Harry, find that Snitch as fast as you can, but watch out for yourself. If that Bludger really is enchanted, there’s no telling what else they might try.”

The team re-mounted their brooms, but George grabbed Harry’s shoulder. His face was fierce as he leaned in to whisper in Harry’s ear. “You be careful,” he said. “If that Bludger hits you, I swear . . .”

Isn’t he sweet? Ginny asked.

“Thanks, George,” Harry whispered. “We’ll be fine.”

Hooch blew her whistle to restart the game, and the Snakes immediately sent both Bludgers towards the Gryffindor Chasers. Harry climbed back up to his searching altitude and resumed his pattern. Sure enough, in less than a minute, a Bludger came soaring towards him.

Hang on, he muttered.

He waited until the Bludger was just behind him, and then he dipped sharply. The iron ball flew over his head, turned, and then arrowed straight towards him. This time he swerved and accelerated, forcing the Bludger to change directions before it could try to catch up to him.

Harry soared across the pitch, staying well above the Chasers and Beaters and flying as quickly as he could without being completely oblivious to his surroundings. When the Bludger got too close, he changed directions, taking advantage of his superior manoeuvrability.

“Very nice, Potter!” Malfoy shouted, paralleling Harry for a moment as they flew down the pitch. “Maybe they’ll give you an award for broom-dancing.”

The other Seeker turned abruptly and dove towards the Gryffindor goalposts. Harry followed Malfoy’s trajectory with his eyes, but he did not see any hint of the Snitch, so he stayed on his course and maintained his speed. A moment later, Malfoy zipped around a shouting Wood and flew back up to the top of the pitch.

Fine, if he wants to be that way, Harry said. Keep an eye on the Bludger.

Ginny, who had hardly looked away from the Bludger since the game had resumed, gave him the mental equivalent of a smack on the shoulder. Fly, idiot. Don’t make us wrong about this.

Harry bent low over his broom and brought a bit more speed out of his Nimbus. Ginny watched as the Bludger stopped gaining on him and flew along five or six yards behind the tail of his broom.

She distantly registered Parvati’s voice. “Ginny? Ginny?”

“Don’t bother,” Hermione said. “Once the match really gets going, you can’t talk to her.”

“D’you think Harry’s all right?”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Hermione said, a hint of worry in her voice.

With the Bludger in steady pursuit, Harry swept around one end of the pitch and then started a long, shallow dive towards the other players. At that moment, the Slytherin Chasers were once again soaring across the pitch with the Gryffindors struggling to keep up. From his vantage point, Harry could tell that the girls were not going to catch the larger Slytherin boys, but that suited him nicely.

With no need to manoeuvre and more room to build up speed, Harry was able to catch up to the green-robed Chasers. When he was above them and a bit ahead, he leaned forward into a moderate dive, building up even more speed as he crossed the Slytherins’ path just a few yards ahead of them.

One of the large boys made a startled noise, and Flint growled. “Nice try, runt!”

Harry kept to his dive, and the Bludger followed him. Seconds after he had passed in front of the Slytherin formation, the Bludger flew directly between them. Ginny watched as it glanced off of Adrian Pucey’s thigh, and his yelp of pain drew the others’ attention. They broke formation to avoid the careening ball, and their speed plummeted.

“What the hell?” Flint roared, looking back at Pucey and then down at Harry.

At that moment, Katie Bell, the smallest of the Gryffindor Chasers, caught up to Flint and batted the Quaffle out of his grip. She caught it herself after a quick dive, and then she headed towards the Slytherin goals with no-one in pursuit.

Yes! Harry said. Derrick sent the other Bludger after Katie, but it sailed harmlessly behind her and into George’s range.

Katie zigged and zagged once she was in scoring range, and Bletchley wobbled on his broom as he tried to keep up. From only a few yards away, Katie threw the Quaffle across her body to the furthest goal, and it went through while the Slytherin Keeper was still completely out of position.

“Gryffindor scores!” Lee shouted. “That’s eighty-twenty, and it looks like the Slytherins might have lost their momentum. Amazing work by the Gryffindor Seeker!”

Flint was shouting at Hooch at one side of the pitch, but Harry merely smiled. The Slytherins could not possibly protest their Chaser being hit by a Bludger. The whole point of Bludgers, after all, was to avoid them as they tried to hit you.

Harry turned his attention back to the sky as play resumed, looking for a glint of gold against the grey clouds.

Harry! Ginny screamed.

Re-focusing on her instead of the pitch, he saw the rogue Bludger coming at him from the side. It was only a few feet away, flying at top speed, and there was no time to avoid it. Bending over his broom, he braced himself, and Ginny closed her eyes. With fierce concentration, they Shifted Harry one foot ahead of where he had been. The Bludger’s passage whipped his robes as it zipped behind his back, but he was already accelerating away.

Lee’s voice reached Ginny as she sat frozen with her eyes still squeezed shut. “Incredible!” he said. “A truly amazing burst of speed from Harry Potter. But that’s no surprise, folks. Potter’s going to be a world-class Seeker, and his Nimbus Two Thousand is still a world-class broom. It just goes to show that nobody can buy skill. Of course, clearly some people will try, such as certain lousy, no-talent Slyth-”

“Jordan!” McGonagall’s voice called warningly.

“Just reporting the facts, Professor.” Lee coughed. “And it’s still eighty to twenty, with Gryffindor in possession again.”

Don’t stop! Don’t even slow down! Ginny shouted as she forced her eyes open. I don’t care if you break Malfoy’s broom and catch the Snitch at the same time. Do. Not. Stop!

The idea of catching the Snitch and breaking Malfoy’s new broom had a definite appeal, but Harry knew that his distraction had almost sent them to St. Mungo’s, at the very least. Won’t, he said, re-focusing on the Bludger. Sorry. He reached the end of the pitch, gauged the distance carefully, and then braked as sharply as he could. As soon as he was going slow enough to control the manoeuvre, he performed a tight half-roll combined with a half-twist. The acrobatics left him a bit dizzy, but when he finished he was accelerating away from the Bludger with a nice gap between them.

The first thing he saw was Malfoy, hovering almost motionless in front of a mass of Slytherins in the stands. All of them were laughing, and Malfoy was pointing at Harry as his body shook. What caught Harry’s attention, however, was the glint of gold flashing near Malfoy’s thigh. The Slytherin Seeker’s body was blocking it from the audience’s view, but there it was. The Golden Snitch was less than a foot from Malfoy’s left hand.

Without thought, Harry crouched over his broom and charged. He stopped thinking about the Bludger and the other players and even the score. All he thought about was that glint of gold.

Malfoy’s eyes widened, and he dropped both hands to his broom. With a frantic lurch, he climbed a few feet to get out of Harry’s path. Harry grinned when the Snitch did not move to match Malfoy’s evasion. The Slytherins in the stands gasped and began shouting, but it was too late. Harry flew directly under Malfoy at high speed, and the Snitch collided with his hand with a loud and rather painful smack! He was suddenly glad of the heavy leather gloves Charlie had given him.

Ginny leapt to her feet with the rest of the girls and the rest of her house, all bouncing and waving their arms and screaming. In the midst of her celebration, however, Ginny shouted again. Don’t slow down!

Her warning was well-taken. The Bludger followed him beneath Malfoy’s broom, and even though Harry had not paused, the iron ball was now catching up to him.

What the . . . I’ve never seen a Bludger move that fast! he said, pushing his broom to fly even faster.

Harry flew in a broad arc, maintaining his speed, and reached the edge of the pitch. Without leaving it completely, the best he could do was fly around the edges as fast as he could until someone stopped the Bludger.

“But how do we stop it?” Ginny asked. The twins were trying to catch up to the Bludger to capture it, but it and Harry were now moving much too quickly. Across the pitch, the professors were spread out along the front of the stands. They tracked Harry’s progress with their wands as he moved away from them, but they did not cast any spells.

“I’m not sure,” Hermione said.

Ginny had not realised that she was speaking aloud, but she turned to her friend. “There has to be a way!”

“Does anyone know a spell to stop a Bludger?” Hermione asked, turning to the other girls. “Or just slow it down a bit?”

Most of them shook their heads, but Padma looked thoughtful. “Well . . . I know of one that might work, but I’ve never done it.”

“What is it?” Ginny asked eagerly.

“Well, the incantation is ‘Impedimenta,’” the Ravenclaw said. “I’m pretty sure it’s a swish-and-poke spell. I’ve just never tried it.”

“It’s our best chance,” Hermione said. “Who has the best aim?”

“You do,” Ginny and Hannah said together. Ginny itched to do the spell herself, and her aim was excellent with Harry’s wand, but it was tucked into his Quidditch robes.

I have got to find a phoenix feather.

“All right, then.” Hermione drew her wand and, with a glance at Ginny, leaned out over the edge of the stands to wave at Harry.

Harry dived a bit until he was level with the front row, and he swept closer to the centre of the pitch to give Hermione room to cast. C’mon, Hermione.

He hurtled past the second-year girls, and a blue light flashed out towards him. It only grazed the Bludger, but that was enough. The speeding ball slowed to something less than its normal speed, though it was still too dangerous for Harry to stop safely.

“Yes!” Parvati shouted.

Bring it round again, Ginny said, pulling her own wand and scowling. Close as you can.

The dragon heartstring wand interfered with her aim, but it did not impede her reaction time. Harry looped around and flew a yard from the front of the stands, right at Ginny’s shoulder-level. When the ball passed in front of her, she aimed directly into its path and shouted, “Finite Incantatem!”

The Bludger dropped from the sky and ploughed into the grass as it bounced and rolled to a stop.

“Nice one, Ginny!” Lavender said.

Finally, Ginny tore her gaze away from the pitch and found most of the other girls staring at her with surprise and admiration on their faces. Hermione looked relieved, and Luna wore a calm smile. “Thanks,” Ginny said, still flushed with adrenalin. “That was brilliant, Padma. You, too, Hermione.”

Padma smiled and shrugged. “It was nothing, really.”

Harry flew directly to the opening into the Gryffindor changing rooms. The rest of the team were gathered there, and the twins pulled him off of his broom before he had landed properly.

“Well done!” Fred shouted, pounding him on the back.

Harry nodded. “I thought it had me there for a minute.”

“The Snitch, Harry!” George said, laughing. “You caught it.”

Looking down at his fist, Harry saw the Snitch fluttering weakly between his fingers. “Oh, yeah.”

Ginny accepted hugs from Hermione and then Luna. As the blonde girl stepped back again, she whispered, “Go.”

Nodding, Ginny turned and darted towards the stairs.

Behind her, Susan said, “Where’s she going?”

“Where do you think?” Parvati said, sighing wistfully.

“Brilliant, Potter!” Wood roared. “Incredible flying! No one else at Hogwarts could have done that on any broom in the world! Did you see the look on Flint’s face?”

The game finally caught up with him, and Harry smiled widely. “Yeah. What was the score?”

“One-seventy to eighty,” Alicia said, ruffling his hair. “Thanks to you, of course.”

Harry, still grinning, ducked away from her and faced Wood. “At least it’s a win, right?”

“Absolutely!” the older boy said. “And not a bad spread, all things considered.”

McGonagall rushed over to the team. “Potter!” she said, and Harry could hear the worry in her voice. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Professor,” he said.

“They fixed that Bludger, Professor,” Wood roared. “You saw it. No Bludger acts like that.”

“No Bludger flies like that,” George said. “Did you see it after Harry caught the Snitch? They’re never that fast.”

“I am aware that something was amiss with the Bludger,” McGonagall said. “However, unless I am sorely mistaken, your sister eliminated any possible evidence of tampering.”

Like I care, Ginny said, pushing her way through the crowd at ground level.

“She did.” Dumbledore stepped into the short tunnel, the Bludger floating serenely in front of his wand. Behind him, Professors Lockhart and Snape looked on in silence.

Ginny ran into the tunnel and squeezed between the professors. Without hesitation, she threw herself into Harry’s arms and pressed her cheek against his.

That was awful.

I wasn’t going to let it hit me, Harry reassured her.

Too right you weren’t. That didn’t make it any less scary.

“Ah, Miss Weasley,” the Headmaster said, smiling cheerfully. “My thanks. You’ve just provided us with a rather oddly-shaped doorstop.”

Ginny released Harry and turned to face the adults, still clinging to Harry’s hand. “Sorry, Professor,” she said, not feeling sorry at all. “I just thought it had to be stopped, because it could’ve . . .”

Dumbledore held up his hand. “Fear not, Miss Weasley. Clearly there was something seriously wrong with this Bludger, and clearly it needed to be stopped quickly. I would have done the same thing myself. We can have it re-charmed, as it would have undoubtedly needed that anyway.”

“I can do that for you, Headmaster,” Lockhart said, stepping forward and smiling. “I’ve charmed thousands of Bludgers, you know. The trick is-”

“Thank you, Gilderoy,” Dumbledore said, pushing the Bludger into Lockhart’s stomach until the blond man caught it and stopped talking. “That will be fine.” Lockhart strode away, holding the ball to his chest and staggering a bit with its weight.

“Severus,” Dumbledore continued. “Perhaps you should see to your team. They appear to be somewhat agitated.”

Between the professors’ shoulders, Harry could see out onto the pitch. Near the middle, Flint was shouting at Malfoy and shaking him by the front of his robes. The rest of the team stood nearby wearing thunderous scowls, and Pucey leaned heavily on his broomstick. Snape spun on his heel and stormed out onto the pitch.

Malfoy’s not going to be popular in their common room tonight.

Serves him right, Ginny said. He was an idiot, start to finish.

“There’s no proof, then?” Wood asked angrily. “No way to say which of them jinxed it?”

“No, Mr. Wood.” Dumbledore turned to the Gryffindor captain with a quelling look. “There is no evidence to indicate how the Bludger might have been tampered with, and nothing at all to implicate anyone at this school.”

Oliver looked rebellious, but he nodded.

The Headmaster clapped his hands together. “Well, then. As much as I do enjoy a good game of Quidditch, I am always glad when they do not interfere with lunch. Shall we?”

McGonagall cast a final look at Harry, and then she nodded. The two professors joined the stream of people heading back towards the castle.

“See you lot in the Great Hall,” Wood said, turning towards the changing rooms. “Great game, all of you.”

The Chasers turned to follow him, chatting amongst themselves, leaving Harry, Ginny, and the twins alone in the tunnel. Fred and George stared down at them, their arms crossed. Ginny held Harry’s hand and looked up at them defiantly. “What?” she asked.

“You two’re insane, you know that?” George said.

Harry shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah, it worked,” Fred said. “Brilliant flying and all that. But insane. Absolutely ruddy barking.”

George sniffed loudly. “We’re so proud.”

“You’ve come so far,” Fred said, his grim expression changing to a watery smile. “Soon you’ll be causing mayhem all on your own, without us or any mad Bludgers to help.”

“Oh, come off it,” Ginny said.

“Fine, fine,” George said. He draped an arm around Ginny’s shoulders and walked towards the tunnel to the castle. Behind them, Fred pulled Harry along in the same way. “At least we got to be part of the adventure for once, and we didn’t even have to try very hard. That’s always a good thing. Now, what will you do for us if we don’t tell Mum and Dad about that little stunt?”

“Never mind that you did it on purpose,” Fred added.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of high spirits. Lunch in the Great Hall turned into an impromptu celebration at the Gryffindor table, with many students from other houses stopping by to offer their congratulations. Penelope Clearwater, with Percy hovering behind her, spoke quite warmly to the twins and smiled at Ginny and Harry. Ginny’s eyes followed the older couple as they left the Hall, and she could not help noticing the wooden look on her brother’s face.

Penelope seems really nice, Ginny said, shaking her head. I don’t get why she likes Percy.

Maybe it’s the glasses.

Ginny snorted in laughter. As she turned back to the conversation around her, she spotted Padma and Luna sitting side-by-side at the Ravenclaw table. Ginny waved at them, beaming. Luna returned her wave with a flutter of her fingers and said something to Padma. The dark-haired girl looked over at Ginny and smiled, though she looked a bit bemused.

Good for them, Ginny said. I hope they become friends.

The team spent most of the afternoon recounting each moment of the game, and Harry was goaded into talking about the mad Bludger from his point of view. Even Hermione and Ginny were dragged into the conversation to talk about their quick thinking and spell-work.

Exhausted and happy, Harry and Ginny fell asleep almost instantly that night. In the small hours of the morning, however, Harry woke abruptly, tense and alert. He was not sure what had woken him, but he had the feeling that something was not right. After listening as carefully as he could and hearing nothing unusual, he raised his head and looked around.

Even without his glasses, Harry recognised Dobby’s huge green eyes staring at him. The house-elf perched at the foot of the bed, his arms wrapped around his knees. Aside from the blinking of his luminous eyes, he did not move at all.

Oh, no . . .

Harry scrambled to put on his glasses, and his motion woke Ginny. They both sat up, and Ginny slipped her hand under Harry’s pillow to rest on his wand.

“Dobby!” Harry whispered. “What are you doing here?”

The elf released a low sort of keening sound. “Dobby must talk to Ginny and Harry Potter.”

“What? Why?” Ginny asked.

“Must talk! Must tell them about . . . about . . .” With a quiet wail, Dobby reached up and smashed his palm into the end of his pencil-like nose.

“Dobby!” Harry said. “Stop that! If you can’t say it, don’t try!”

“Dobby must! Must speak! There’s no other way.” He began to sob, his sniffling and snorting growing louder by the moment.

“Fine,” Harry said. “We’ll talk, okay? But let’s go down to the common room. That way . . . err . . . you can be comfortable, too.”

“Harry Potter wants Dobby to be comfortable!” Dobby cried. “He is too kind, sir, too kind.”

“Right, well . . . come on.”

Ginny pulled the hood of the Invisibility Cloak over her head and then Shifted to the common room. As Harry walked down the stairs with Dobby hopping from stair to stair in his wake, Ginny shed the Cloak, lit the fire with Harry’s wand, and pulled a squashy chair over to face the sofa nearest the fire.

“Here, Dobby,” Ginny said softly when the elf entered the room. She patted the seat of the armchair. “Have a seat.”

Dobby looked up at her, the caution in his eyes giving way to the same sort of adoration with which he usually looked at Harry. “The Lady Potter is gracious and kind,” he said. “Offers Dobby a chair! Never, never . . .” He trailed off into what sounded like happy blubbering.

In spite of herself, Ginny smiled. She patted the chair again, and Dobby crept across the room to perch on its edge. When he was seated, Harry and Ginny dropped onto the sofa facing him, and she tucked the hem of her oversized t-shirt under her knees.

“What’s up, Dobby?” Harry asked, hoping that a casual approach would keep the poor creature from hurting himself.

“It is difficult, sir,” Dobby said. “Terribly difficult. Dobby had hoped he would not have to speak, but . . .” He shook his head and blinked wonderingly at them. “Ginny and Harry Potter are too great. Too clever for poor Dobby. Nothing else worked!”

“Too clever?” Ginny asked, confused. “What do you . . . Hang on. You stopped us getting onto Platform 9 ¾, didn’t you?”

With a low moan, Dobby nodded. “Dobby had no idea they could get to Hogwarts themselves! No wizards can go to Hogwarts like that, even if they can go to other places. How could they do it? But they did!”

Ginny clenched her fists around Harry’s wand, but they concentrated on not reacting too strongly. “You charmed the Bludger, too, didn’t you?” she asked in a tight voice. The connection was suddenly obvious.

“Yes!” Dobby wailed. He dropped to the floor, bent over, and banged his head against the rug, holding his ears in his fists as anchors. “Dobby is so sorry! Such a foul creature Dobby is . . . so sorry . . .”

“That thing nearly killed me!” Harry said, his voice rising in spite of their best efforts.

“No!” Dobby said. He looked up at them with fat tears dripping from the end of his nose. “Dobby would never, ever kill Harry Potter! Send him to hospital, only. Away from Hogwarts. But never kill him!” He banged his head on the floor again.

“But why, Dobby?” Harry asked, sighing. “You don’t have to punish yourself; it’s okay. Just tell us why.”

“There is danger at Hogwarts, Harry Potter!” Dobby climbed back into the chair. “Already it has begun. Danger! Ginny and Harry Potter must go away, far away from Hogwarts.”

Not this again.

Harry leaned forward. “What kind of danger? Do you mean the Chamber of Secrets? The monster?”

Dobby nodded.

“Do you know who’s opened it, then?” Ginny asked. “Do you know who the Heir of Slytherin is?”

The house-elf began to keen again, his lips pressed tightly together.

“Never mind,” Harry said quickly. “Err . . . is it Malfoy? Draco Malfoy? You can just shake or nod.”

At that, Dobby flung himself off of the chair, picked up the poker from the stand near the fireplace, and began jabbing his long feet with the point.

“No!” Harry and Ginny leapt up from the sofa. Harry grabbed Dobby by the back of his smock, and Ginny wrenched the poker out of the elf’s hands.

With Harry holding the little creature in midair, well away from any solid objects, Ginny bent to face him. They hated the thought of losing the answers Dobby might provide, but they could not stand to see him injure himself. “Dobby, you don’t have to answer,” she said gently. “Obviously you can’t talk about any of that stuff. Forget it, okay? If we’re not asking, you don’t have to punish yourself.”

After squirming for a few moments, Dobby settled and nodded. Harry lowered him slowly, watching for any sign that the elf might run for the poker or anything else. When Dobby meekly returned to the arm chair, Harry relaxed and wiped his hands on his shirt.

“Dobby, that thing is filthy,” he said. Rolling her eyes, Ginny reached over and charmed Harry’s shirt clean. “You don’t have to punish yourself over it,” Harry continued quickly. “But you have to admit, it’s awful.”

“Yes, sir,” Dobby said, hanging his head to his knees. “Dobby is not allowed to clean it very often.”

“Why do you wear it at all?” Harry asked. “I could give you a shirt or something instead of that manky old pillowcase.”

Dobby sniffed. “Harry Potter is most generous. But Dobby cannot accept clothes from anyone but his Master, and his Master will never, ever give him clothes.”

Harry and Ginny racked their brains for everything they knew about house-elves, which was not much, but they did not recall anything about pillowcases. “Why not?” Ginny asked. “Surely they’ve got a spare shirt lying around, at least.”

“No, they doesn’t,” Dobby said. He sighed loudly. “If a house-elf’s Master gives him real clothes, then he is free of the Master. Free to leave the house and do whatever he can think of. So no house-elf wears clothes. Master doesn’t even hand Dobby things for washing. He throws them on the floor for Dobby to pick up instead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Dobby,” Ginny replied.

He shrugged. “It is the house-elf’s way. Not all Masters is bad.” He rammed his hand into his nose again and yelped. “Dobby is bad, though. Dobby is bad, bad, bad!”

Ginny and Harry were trying to think up something safe to ask the little elf, but before they got anywhere, he leapt to his feet in the chair. “Dobby must go! The owls needs watering now.”

“Wait, Dobby,” Harry said quickly. “Look, if you ever want to talk to us again, that’s fine, but send us a note or something. If you wake up my roommates while Ginny’s there, we’ll be in loads of trouble.”

Immediately, they realised their mistake. Oh, Merlin, that was stupid.

Dobby’s eyes lit up, but he nodded. “Very well, Ginny and Harry Potter. You is still being too nice to Dobby, but he will do as you asks. Goodbye!” In a flash, the elf was gone.

Harry and Ginny fell backwards into the sofa. We’re going to regret that, she said. You know we are.

Yeah. Stupid of me. Sorry.

She shrugged. I didn’t stop you. It seemed like a good thing to say at the time.

C’mon, let’s go back to bed. There’s nothing we can do about it now, really.

They Shifted back into Harry’s bed, and Ginny carefully rearranged the Invisibility Cloak to cover her body completely. They lay awake for a while, keeping a close eye out for Dobby. The long, active day caught up with them again, however, and soon they fell deeply asleep.

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Fri, 09/25/2009 - 11:56 — NotACat

Embiggening Embalmment

Trying not to snigger here, but this does recall Terry Pratchett's wonderful description of his affliction with Alzheimer's as an "embuggerance". It does also lead one to wonder what exactly the potion does, and just how lucky Harry was to escape having to demonstrate its properties for the class…

Wed, 11/25/2009 - 15:35 — NotACat

Just noticed something worrying

Quote:

she could not help noticing the wooden look on her brother’s face

Is this supposed to be significant?

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Meaning of One, Part Two: Chambers and Secrets - Chapter 14: Evasion by Sovran

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Embiggening Embalmment

Just noticed something worrying