Slytherin Raised by Wolfstar: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

By Rosie. Geee

Author's notes:

As a result of Harry being raised by Sirius and Remus, Harry Potter ends up in Slytherin, this is the second in a series, you won't understand what's going on without reading the first. The only thing you need to know is in his toddler years Sirius and Remus could barely make ends meet before Sirius inherited his uncles fortune, that for many months they lived with the Tonks, that Harry has to spend the equivalent of 10 weeks at the Dursley's a year. Sirius wanted Harry to know the children of fellow OotP members so he already is friends with Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George (Prewett's) Susan Bones (Edgar Bones) and Neville Longbottom (Alice and Frank). Andromeda and Ted are like his aunt and uncle, Nymphadora like his cousin/sister, and Lyall Lupin like his grandfather although he doesn't see him often. Also Harry has an adopted little sister named Canini Howling who is a werewolf and her parents were murdered by Fenrir Greyback, she's 9 and three quarters when the story starts and her mother was Eli Burke, granddaughter of Herbert and Belvina and great-granddaughter of Caractacus. Canini’s half Italian on her father's side. At the start of this book Harry's other friends included Allison Runcorn, Theodore Nott, Tracey Davis, and Terence Higgs.

Link to Prequel

Link to Book One

### Chapter One: The Long Summer

Harry was starting to get really annoyed being at the Dursley’s every summer. It had only been a month since he returned and yet Mr Vernon Dursley has started another argument over breakfast at number four, Privet Drive, over a simple owl.

‘Third time this week!’ he roared across the table. ‘If you can’t control that owl I’ll insist she must remain with your godfather!’

Harry tried, yet again, to explain.

‘She’s bored,’ he said. ‘She’s used to flying around outside. If I could just let her out at night...’

‘No, absolutely not.’ snarled Uncle Vernon, a bit of fried egg dangling from his bushy moustache. ‘It was the rule with the brown owl, it’s a rule with this one, no magic communication. If you must talk with someone you ask permission to use the phone.’

He exchanged dark looks with his wife, Petunia.

Harry tried to argue back but his words were drowned by a long, loud belch from the Dursley’s son, Dudley.

‘I want more bacon.’

‘There’s more in the frying pan, sweetums,’ said Aunt Petunia, turning misty eyes on her massive son. ‘We must feed you up while we’ve got the chance...I don’t like the sound of the school food...’

‘Nonsense, Petunia, I never went hungry when I was at Smeltings,’ said Uncle Vernon heartily. ‘Dudley gets enough, don’t you son?’

Dudley, who was so large his bottom drooped over either side of the kitchen chair, grinned and turned to Harry.

‘Pass the frying pan.’

‘You’ve forgotten the magic word,’ said Harry irritably.

Mr Dursley turned purple face at this statement.

‘No magic talk in this house, boy!’

‘I meant “please”, I wanted him to say please.’

‘Just pass him the bloody pan you worthless weed.’

‘Yes sir.’

Harry begrudgingly passed the pan, then as he walked away, viewed Vernon watching Harry closely out of the corner of his small, sharp eyes.’

As long as Harry had known his Aunt and Uncle they had treated him like a bomb that might go off at any moment, because Harry wasn’t a normal boy. As a matter of fact, he was as not normal as it is possible to be.

Harry Potter was a wizard-a wizard fresh from his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was adopted by his godfather and godfathers partner when he was a little over one, but ever since he was four he had to spend his summers with his biological aunt and her family. And they hated him, making him often miserable under there roof.

He missed Hogwarts so much it was like having a constant stomach ache. He missed the castle, with its secret passageways and ghosts, his lessons (though perhaps not Quirrell’s, and definitely not Snape, the Potions master), the post arriving by owl, eating banquets in the Great Hall, sleeping in his four-poster bed in lake-lit dungeon, and especially Quidditch, the most popular sport in the wizarding world (six tall goalposts, four flying balls, and fourteen players on broomsticks).

All Harry’s spellbooks, robes, cauldron and top-of-the-range Nimbus Two Thousand broomstick were forced to be waiting for him in his room at Mould-on-the-Wold cottage as insisted by his uncle. Harry only got to practice his flying on days he was allowed to visit home because of that stupid rule, and he feared he might get kicked off the team if his skill isn’t high enough. Vernon had even wanted to ban Harry’s wand and padlock his owl, Hedwig, but his godfather and guardian Sirius had talked him out of it stating in an emergency he would need both.

Harry looked nothing like his biological family. Aunt Petunia was horse-faced and bony; Dudley was blonde, pink and porky; and of course Harrly looked nothing like large and Necklace Vernon. Harry was small and skinny, with brilliant green eyes and jet-Black hair that was always untidy. He wore round glasses, and on his forehead was a thin, lightning-shaped scar.

It was this scar that made Harry so particularly unusual, even for a wizard. This scar was the only hint of Harry’s very mysterious past, of the reason he had been left in the care of his beloved Paddy and Moony almost eleven years before.

At the age of one, Harry had somehow survived a curse from the greatest dark sorcerer of all time, Lord Voldemort, whose name most witches and wizards still feared to speak. Harry’s parents, both biological and adoptive, had fought against Voldemort, and his mother and father died trying to protect him, but Harry had escaped with his lightning scar, and somehow-nobody understood why-Voldemort’s powers had been destroyed the instant he had failed to kill Harry.

So Harry had been brought up by his godfather Sirius, Sirius’s husband Remus, eventually his little sister Canini, and about a quarter of the year his crazy muggle relatives. His family however had made him believe for years that it was a deatheater named Peter Pettigrew who had killed his parents and was last minute saved by an auror named Alastor Moody.

And then, almost exactly a year ago, the truth slipped and after an enormous fight, learned a great deal more about the true story of that fateful night and the fame that came with it. But now Harry was stuck with the Dursley’s for the summer, back to being treated more like a disliked guest then family.

Being there was never great, but after the adventure filled school year he had just experienced the constant repetitiveness each day made a week feel like an eternity. It didn’t help that the Dursley’s were nasty people, to the outside they appeared as a typical proper British family, but on the inside they were full of anger and spite and they used Harry as there verbal punching bag as he was an outsider and different to the rest of them.

The Dursley’s hadn’t even remembered that today happened to be Harry’s twelfth birthday. Of course, his hopes hadn’t been high, they forgot almost every year. It didn’t matter, Sirius would be arriving soon to whisk him away for the night to celebrate.

Harry didn’t even care when Vernon started going over his plans for rich builder couple coming over that evening as he wouldn’t be there. Instead he headed up to his small bedroom.

He was looking forward to going home for more than one reason, he learned a couple weeks ago that someone or something was stealing his letters. Letters the Tonks’ and his parents swore they sent never arrived and Harry was pretty confident letters he sent were being snatched too. So for his birthday Sirius sent the word out to family to send the letters to him instead of Harry so when he gets home he can actually read them.

Despite knowing things weren’t as they appeared, he felt ever so lonely. He missed his best friends, Tracey Davis, Allison Runcorn, Theodore Nott, and even Terence Higgs. Unlike his family, Sirius couldn’t send letters to them, and there letters were being snatched, so he couldn’t even tell them that he wasn’t ignoring them.

He finished packing a small bag for the night, picked up Hedwig’s cage, and went to the front yard and sat on the cool grass. Soon a motorcycle appeared midair and landing on the road just in front of Harry. A man in his early thirties, with long black hair, grey eyes, and a short stylish beard took off his helmet.

‘Harry Birthday my growing fawn, you all ready?’

‘Yes, I’m so excited.’

‘Hop in Harry. Everyone is so excited to see you.’

Harry got into the side car, Sirius hit the switch that turned them invisible to the muggle eye, and they took off to fly over the countryside.

‘Have you managed to get in contact with any of my new friends?’

‘I’m really sorry Harry, Hedwig knows their locations, not Phasming, I tried looking into there families, but they all seem to be in the high society class and there personal information isn’t public.’

‘And the thing taking the letters?’

‘Remus has determined it’s a magical creature, but of what kind, and it’s reasons he’s not sure. But that isn’t today’s problem. Today is about you.

They continued to talk as they flew over the different counties. Harry tried counting the number of farms but lost count. Eventually they were over a familiar village and before he knew it he was landing in front of Mould-on-the-Wold cottage, his home.

They entered and Harry was pleasantly surprised by the number of people there.

‘Happy birthday Harry!’

There was his other guardian Remus and his little sister Canini of course, but there was his also his childhood friends Susan Bones and Neville Longbottom. There was also Mrs Weasley and four of her children, Ginny, Ron, and Fred and George. Then there was Harry’s adoptive extended family, his grandfather Lyall, and his Aunt Andromeda and Uncle Edward. Finally there was his cousin Nymphadora and someone Harry did not recognize.

‘Fawny, it’s so good to see you. You have grown so much since Easter. I want you to meet my boyfriend, Ben Copper.’

The young man, with brown eyes and blonde hair took Harry’s hand and started shaking it.

‘It’s such an honour to meet you Harry Potter, you are such a hero and one of the reasons I want to be an auror.’

‘Ben, let go of his hand, your going to shake him silly.’

The man did, and embarrassed Nymphadora took him away. Neville then came up to him.

‘Happy birthday Harry, summer been good?’

‘It’s ok,’ he lied, he held out a handmade card. ‘Happy belated birthday, I couldn’t send it yesterday so I saved it for today.’

‘Thanks Harry, and thanks for inviting me. I love my family but they’re all over sixty and it’s nice to spend a day with people my age.’

Harry continued to make the rounds, greeting everyone and listen to them wish him a happy birthday. It really was refreshing from the month he had spent.

For the rest of the afternoon there were enchanted party games, a lot of fun catching up with people he didn’t often get to see, and at the beginning of the evening there was food and cake. By the time almost everyone had left Harry was emotionally exhausted, but also felt his love levels had been topped off. The final guest was Lyall Lupin who stayed for tea.

‘Harry, I am really proud of the bravery you showed last month, I can’t think of any other eleven year old who could have done what you did.’

‘Thank you Paw-Paw, it was very scary, but I wasn’t alone, I had my friends.’

‘Keep your friends close Harry, close friends are what made my son the man he is today. Support them and let them support you.’

Soon it was time for him to leave and before he left Canini and Harry gave him a hug.

‘Canini, I have done many wrong things in my time, but having you in my life was not one of them. Harry, in times when things seem bleakest, let the fire in your brave heart shine through.’

‘Love you Paw-Paw.’

‘Yes, love you Paw-Paw, see you soon.’

‘Goodbye children. And um, goodbye my son.’

‘Goodbye father, stay safe.’

After such a long day Harry was quite tuckered out, and since the Dursley’s would have guests late into the night Harry was allowed to stay and sleep in his own bed. Before he did he remembered something he needed to ask Sirius.

‘Padfoot, where are my birthday letters?’

‘Up in your room. Goodnight son, sweet dreams and happy birthday.’

Harry went upstairs and went towards his bedroom. He had missed it while at hogwarts, and even more so at the Dursley’s. He went inside and closed the door, expecting to see his letter on his bed. There weren’t any letters however, but there was something on his bed.

### Chapter Two: Dobby’s Warning

Harry managed not to shout out, he didn’t want to alarm anyone until he was certain he was in danger. The little creature on the bed was a house-elf, he had large bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. They stared in shocked silence at each other for a moment.

The house-elf slipped off the bed and bowed so low that the end of its thin nose touched the carpet. Harry noticed it was wearing what looked like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm and leg holes.

‘Er-hello,’ said Harry, a bit cautious.

‘Harry Potter!’ said the house-elf, in a high-pitched voice Harry was sure would be heard by Remus or Canini who where on this floor. ‘So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir...Such an honour it is...’

‘Th-thank you,’ said Harry, edging along the wall and standing next to his trunk, next to Hedwig, who was asleep in her large cage. He wanted to know why the house-elf was here, but at the moment all that came out of his lips was, ‘Who are you?’

‘Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf,’ said Dobby.

‘Oh-really?’ said Harry. ‘Er-I don’t want to be rude or anything, but why are you in my room?’

The elf hung his head.

‘Not that I’m not pleased to meet you,’ said Harry quickly, ‘but its really late, so is there any particular reason you’re here?’

‘Oh, yes, sir...it is difficult, sir...Dobby wonders where to begin...’

‘Sit down,’ said Harry politely, pointing at the bed. To his surprise, the elf burst into tears.

‘S-sit down!’ he wailed. ‘Never...never ever...’

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, ‘I didn’t mean to offend you or anything.’

‘Offend Dobby!’ choked the elf. ‘Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard-like an equal-‘

After Dobby collected himself he got back onto the bed, where he sat hiccoughing, looking like a large and very ugly doll. His great eyes fixed on Harry in an expression of watery adoration.

‘You can’t have met many decent wizards,’said Harry, trying to cheer him up.

Dobby shook his head. Then, without warning, he leapt up and started banging his head furiously on the window, shouting, ‘Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!’

‘Don’t-What are you doing?’ Harry hissed, springing up and pulling Dobby back onto the bed.

From his own room Harry heard Remus call out, ‘You alright Harry?!’

‘Yes, um, just looking for something. I’m good!’

Hedwig had woken up with a particularly loud screech and was beating her wings wildly against the bars of her cage. Harry let the door open in hopes that might calm her down.

‘Dobby had to punish himself, sir,’ said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. ‘Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir...’

‘The house you serve?’

‘Yes, the wizard family Dobby serves, sir.’

‘Do they know you’re here?’ asked Harry curiously.

Dobby shuddered.

‘Oh no, sir, no...Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir-‘

‘But won’t they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?’

‘Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for everything, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments...’

Harry was horrified. He knew house-elf’s where servants and to serve a family for life unless freed by there family presenting them clothes, but poor Dobby sounded more like an abused slave then a helpful servant. Harry reached into his pocket and took out a chocolate frog box Nymphadora had given him and held it out to Dobby.

‘I’m sorry, you must be hungry, do you like chocolate?’

‘Chocolate, Harry Potter is gifting Dobby food. Dobby has heard about your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew-’ Dobby took the box, opened it, and ate the tasty treat inside.

Harry, who was feeling distinctly hot in the face, said, ‘Whatever you’ve heard about my greatness is a load of rubbish. I’m not even in the top five percent in my year at Hogwarts, that’s Theo, he’s-‘

But he stopped quickly, because thinking about his friends was painful, especially Theodore who he knew despite no letters was having a far worse summer than Harry.

‘Harry Potter is humble and modest,’ said Dobby reverently, his orb-like eyes aglow. ‘Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over He Who Must Not Be Named.’

‘I was a baby, I don’t really remember it.’

‘Dobby is not talking about eleven years ago.’ Dobby leaned towards Harry, his eyes wide as headlamps, ‘Dobby heard tell, that Harry Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago...that Harry Potter escaped yet again.’

Harry nodded and Dobby’s eyes suddenly shone with tears.

‘Ah, sir,’ he gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he was wearing. ‘Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warm him, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later...Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts.’

There was a silence broken only the breeze on the window and Hedwig trying to get comfortable again in her cage.

‘W-what?’ Harry stammered. ‘But I’ve got to go back-term starts on September the first. I miss my friends, I miss learning more and more about our world, I miss playing quidditch.’

‘No, no, no,’ squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. ‘Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortar danger.’

‘Why?’ said Harry in surprise.

‘There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year,’ whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over.

‘Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!’

‘What terrible things?’ said Harry at once. ‘Who’s plotting them?’

Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically against the wall.

‘All right!’ cried Harry, grabbing the elf’s arm to stop him. ‘You can’t tell me. I understand. But why are you warning me?’ A sudden, unpleasant thought struck him. “Hang on-this hasn’t got anything to do with You-Know-Who, has it? You could just shake or nod,’ he added hastily as Dobby’s head tilted worryingly close to the wall again.

Slowly, Dobby shook his head.

‘Not-not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named , sir-‘

But Dobby’s eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give Harry a hint. Harry, however, didn’t have many more ideas.

‘Is it a follower of his, a deatheater?’

Dobby didn’t confirm this, but Harry knew he must be right as Dobby started once again hitting his head against the wall and Harry had to stop him before anyone heard.

‘Well even if a follower has plans I doubt they could actually make horrible things happen at Hogwarts,’ said Harry. ‘I mean, there’s Dumbledore, for one thing -you know who Dumbledore is, don’t you?’

Dobby bowed his head.

‘With Dumbledore at Hogwarts I am safe, I’m safe to return to my favourite lessons, and safe to reunite with my friends.’

‘Friends who don’t even write to Harry Potter?’ said Dobby slyly.

‘They have, something has just been snatching-hang on,’ said Harry, frowning. ‘How do you know my friends haven’t been writing to me?’

Dobby shuffled his feet.

‘Harry Potter mustn’t be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best...’

‘Have you been stopping my letters?’

‘Dobby has them here, sir,’ said the elf. Stepping nimbly out of Harry’s reach, he pulled a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase he was wearing. Harry could make out today birthday wishes, his own letters, and what looked like letters from Terence, Allison, and Tracey, although suspiciously no Theodore.

Dobby blinked anxiously up at Harry.

‘Harry Potter mustn’t be angry...Dobby hoped…if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him…Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir...’

‘Even if someone wishes to hurt me, it’s all the more reason to go to Hogwarts as it’s safer there than at the Dursley’s.

‘But, sir’ -Dobby’s voice dropped to an urgent whisper-‘there are powers Dumbledore doesn’t…powers no decent wizard…’

And before Harry could stop him, Dobby bounded off the bed, seized Harry’s desk lamp, and started beating himself around the head with earsplitting yelps.

Before Harry could react, Remus came barging in. ‘Harry, are you ok?’

Harry pointed at Dobby. ‘I am, but this house-elf is the thing that’s been stealing my letters.’

Remus drew his wand.

‘Dobby was not supposed to be seen by anyone other than Harry Potter, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.’

With a snap of his finger and a loud popping sound Dobby had apparated, but not before Remus managed to point his wand and chant, ‘Accio letters.’

Dobby was gone, and Harry’s stolen letters resides in Remus’ hand, but Harry had a feeling it’d be a while before he could read them.

‘Why was there a house-elf stealing your letters and was in your room, and why didn’t you call out saying so?’

‘He didn’t seem threatening and I didn’t want to alarm him. He kept trying to warm me though. He couldn’t tell me his master but he implied that a follower of You-Know-Who was going to try and hurt me at hogwarts.’

‘Harry, that is very serious, are you alright?’

‘I am, and just like I told him, there is no place safer than Hogwarts, right?’

Remus looked really nervous, and shaken. It took him a moment before he finally spoke. ‘Yes, no place safer than Hogwarts.’

He told Harry it was far time he went to sleep, but as soon as the door closed Harry sat down and started going through the letters. He separated them into letter he had sent, and letters from his friends and family. He put his families aside as he knew there was nothing earth shattering inside that he couldn’t read later, and instead started opening his friends letters.

Allison wrote four letters so far, one each week since Hogwarts. They talked about her boredom at home, how her father was trying to get her to study books she didn’t like, and how much she missed school. She also wrote how she was for once trying to increase her bond with her mom and seemed to be getting along ok with her.

There were only two letters from Terence, one talking all about a Quidditch match between his local team and the Montrose Magpies, the second letter asking if Harry would like to train with him sometime.

Tracey by far wrote the most, talking all about what here and her family had been up to so far. She sounded very happy in most of them, but in a more recent letter she mentioned how she wasn’t getting any responses from Theodore which she sounded concerned about but chucked it up to him being busy.

In both Allison and Tracey’s most recent letters they sounded really confused and concerned as to why Harry wasn’t responding. Harry organized all the letters he had sent into piles of who they were meant for and tied them together with string, and on each stack attached a new letter that explained what had been happening as well as responding to the contents in there letters. He could only hope they would think he was honest and hadn’t been ghosting them on purpose. He tapped on Hedwigs cage.

‘These aren’t to heavy, are they?’

Hedwig seemed to make a positive hoot and picked up the bundles with her claws and took off.

Unbelievably exhausted, Harry finally got into his pyjamas and tucked himself into bed. He tried to relax knowing that the letter problem was finally solved, but instead he couldn’t get Dobby’s warning out of his head. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamt about the snake on the Slytherin crest chasing him around the dark stone common room.

### Chapter Three: The Guest From Svalbard

Harry wanted to sleep in as much as possible the next morning as he knew that as soon as he got up and ate breakfast he would have to head back to the Dursley’s, but quarter to nine Hedwig dropped letters on his head. The anticipation of finally getting to be in contact with his friends again got the better of him and he sat up to read them.

There were just three, one from Tracey, one from Allison, and one from Terence. Harry opened Terrence’s first.

“Harry, if you didn’t want to write to me you could have just said so.

I’m just messing with you, sounds like an eventful evening. If you are free we should totally see the match between the Kenmare Kestrels and Holyhead Harpies on the 18th, see who’s team truly is the best.

The Harpies are going DOWN!

-T”

Harry laughed and made a mental note to ask if Sirius could take him. He then opened Tracey’s letter.

“Dear Harry,

Thank goodness you are alright, I was starting to get worried, two of my best friends not responding, but you’re all good. I’m still worried about Theo, I went to his family’s house the other day and I wasn’t allowed in, his father said he was sick, we should make a get well soon card and have all three of us sign it and send it to him. Anyway besides a house-elf stealing your letters how have you been? Are there any days this month you’ll be in London so we could hang out?

With happy smiles:

~Tracey”

Harry was glad to hear that Tracey was still her bubbly self. He opened the final letter, Allison’s.

“Glad you’re not dead. I’ve been really practicing my broom riding and chess skills, when school starts we’re going to have to have a competition to see who’s better at the two. See you around.”

Harry was about to respond to this letter when there was a sudden knock on the front door down stairs. The muggle neighbours rarely interacted with them, so Harry was really curious as to who it was and quickly made his way downstairs in his pyjamas to watch Sirius open the door.

The man now standing in there doorway was tall, with fur robes that to Harry seemed both to have a practical use as well as an artistic one.

‘Dobroye utro, ser. I ‘m hear to speak wiz you and your son.’

‘I’m sorry, why do you wish to speak with Harry.’

‘No, not Harry Potter, elso I would like to meet him, no I am hear to talk to your son Canini Howling about attending Institut magicheskogo obucheniya Durmstranga, or Durmstrang Institute for Magical Learning.’

After a quick explanation that Canini was a girl, calling Canini down stairs and the three men plus Canini had sat down in the living room did they continue the conversation. Harry sat in the dining room pretending to eat breakfast but was really just listening in.

‘Canini, you h’ve been born and raised wisin Hogwarts’ region, but being ze daughter of someone who attended Durmstrang you are considered legacy ‘d may choose to attend Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts.’

‘But why are you talking to me now, instead of next year?’

‘Durmstrang isn’t Hogwarts, our students start ‘t ze age of ten instead of eleven, sen go until zey are eighteen.’

‘Wait, so I could start learning magic a year early. Dads, please can I go?’

‘Now hold on, we appreciate the offer, but Canini has some, um, special learning needs that only Hogwarts can accommodate. Sorry you had to come all this way.’

‘For your information, ze institute checks stuff like ze werewolf registry before ‘ccepting students, we ‘re aware of your daughters condition ‘d ‘re prepared to offer ‘ccommodation zat will keep both her ‘d ze other students safe every lunar rotation.’

Remus and Sirius started at each

other, from Harry’s angle it was hard to tell but it looked like a mix of shock and apprehension.

‘We’ll have to discuss it further amongst ourselves. How long do we have to accept?’

‘Ze twenty-second is ze last day we ‘llow ‘cceptance letters, students ‘re expected to arrive ze twenty-third, ‘d classes begin the twenty-fourth. Here is ze information to write to on whether you ‘ccept or not. Before I go I just want to say I knew your father, Cicero, he was a few years ‘bove me ‘d was good student, Durmstrang would be lucky to h’ve ‘nother Howling in its halls.’

The man finished his tea and soon left. Sirius called out to Harry.

‘This doesn’t involve you Harry, but you’re going to hurt your neck ease dropping from over there, so come take a seat.’

He did as he was told, now all four members of there family were seriously sitting around the living room. Remus started the conversation.

‘Cani, love, the final decision is up to you but before you make a choice we need you to know all the facts. Some of the basic facts are that Durmstrang is over three-thousand kilometres away on the tiny island of Svalbard, and the winters there can reach as low as negative fifteen degrees, and finally you don’t know any Russian.’

‘That’s not that bad, I’ll pack extra warm clothes, I’ll spend the next month learning the language. Why are you so against it?’

Sirius answered this question of hers, ‘Because Durmstrang is known for three things. One, it’s punishments are brutal, two, it specializes in the dark arts, and finally that it was the institute that taught the last darkest wizard, Grindelwald, all that he knows.’

Remus finished it off, ‘And what is not common knowledge but I know from being apart of the Order and my time as an auror is that it’s current Headmaster is an unfairly strict man named Karkaroff who was a Deatheater and only walks free because of a technicality. Canini, we need you to understand this isn’t the Slavic version of Hogwarts, it is a cold and different place.’

‘I know, but if it were the absolute worst you would have told me I can’t go at all. I want to give it a shot, and maybe by going I could learn more about my father. I want to at the very least try.’

Remus looked like he was about to object, but Harry spoke up.

‘I got to know about my parents through you two as you knew them personally, Cani doesn’t have that, but if there is even a chance that some people at the institute knew her dad shouldn’t you let her find out?’

‘Thanks Scarface.’

With a small tear in his eye Sirius finally nodded in agreement. ‘Then if you are sure we will send your acceptance letter and soon we’ll buy you a one way ticket to Svalbard.’

Canini was over joyed, she was excited to get her wand, and learn magic early, but also to learn more about her family or at least experience what they did. Harry wanted to stay, to be apart of this excitement but Sirius had to take him back to the Dursley’s.

The flight back wasn’t so filled with conversation as the flight over had been, Sirius was clearly quite worried.

‘She’ll be fine Paddy, Canini may be small but she is really tough.’

‘I know, but this school is unfamiliar to us so we don’t know how to prepare, and if something goes wrong we don’t know how to help her. Last month when you fought You-Know-Who we were incredibly worried but we knew Dumbledore would keep you safe and Madam Pomfrey would keep you healthy, but if something happens to Canini I don’t know how safe she’ll be.’

‘Dad, she isn’t helpless, you got to let her figure out that stuff on her own. And if something does happen she’ll always have Hogwarts as a back up.’

‘I guess you are right, you can’t stop me from worrying though.’

Soon they landed in front of the Dursley’s, and Sirius hugged Harry goodbye. Harry entered the house, with his once again caged owl, to a very chipper house. Not even Harry entering turned there frowns upside down.

‘Why are you all so happy?’

‘Not that it’s your business boy, but we got the deal from the Mason’s, Majorca here we come.’

Harry didn’t even care, he just went back up to his little room and pulled out his special mirror.

‘Canini, Canini are you there?’

After a second his sister’s face appeared.

‘Hi Harry, did you forget something?’

‘No, just forgot to tell you. I don’t know if they’ll use the same books, but my first year books are up in my room, I want you to have them to help you prepare.’

‘Oh, wow, Scarface you’re the best. Thank you thank you thank you.’

And with that Harry felt very hopeful for the future, that things were looking bright. But unknown to him dark clouds were just over the horizon.

### Chapter Four: At Flourish and Blotts

Life at the Dursley’s continued to be oh so boring, but now that he could receive letters and through the mirror have Sirius respond to them, things weren’t so bad.

Canini had picked up some books on learning Russian, and was also reading the first few chapters of Harry’s year one books and through the mirror was asking Harry to quiz her to see if she was learning any of it. He has glad to help, and it was helpful for him as well because it refreshed his mind of the stuff he learned.

Harry also visited Ron, Ginny, and the twins. Ginny was supper excited because she would be starting Hogwarts soon. The five of them played games the entire afternoon.

On the tenth Harry received an owl from Hogwarts. It was a sunny morning so Harry was in a good mood as he read. The letter told Harry to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King’s Cross station on September the first. There was also a list of the new books he’d need for the coming year. He would need five of his books from the previous year, along with some new ones.

Second-year students will require:

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk

Break With a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart

Gadding With Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart

Holidays With Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart

Travels With Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart

Voyages With Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart

Wandering With Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart

Year With The Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart

Harry found this list rather odd. He happened to have most of Gilderoy Lockhart’s already, and because of that he happened to know that, although they are a good read, they were more novels then textbooks. This made him question the seriousness of the new defence against the dark arts teacher, whoever they are.

Another week came and went, Harry got to visit both Susan and Neville which was fun enough. He also kept in touch with Allison and Tracey and how there summers were going. He also hung out around the park near Privet Drive a couple times and played with some local kids.

On the eighteenth Harry and Sirius took a Portkey to Cork, and along with Terence and his family, watched the match between their teams. Sirius seemed on edge at first being near wealthy predominantly Slytherin people, reminded him of his own family, but soon he realized that the Higgs’ were just as much of Quidditch lovers as him and they got along great. It was close but in the end the Kenmare Kestrels managed to catch the snitch and take the victory.

Before Sirius dropped Harry off, he told him that the next day him and Remus would be taking him and Canini, along with the Weasley’s, to Diagon Alley to get there school supplies. Harry asked if they could stop by Tracey’s flat on the way back and he agreed. Harry went to bed exhilarated he would get to see another of his best friends the next day.

The next morning Harry got up early and quickly made breakfast. He then waited on the front porch for Sirius to arrive, when he did Harry jumped up and once again got into the sidecar of the motorcycle.

‘Ready to get your things?’

‘Yes, can’t wait.’

They took off and turned on the invisibility. It took a little over half an hour to fly from the Dursley’s to London, and much like the route to their home there was a lot of beautiful farm land to see.

‘Now Harry, just like how last year was your big day, today is Canini and Ginny’s so make them feel as special as you did getting your supplies.’

‘Don’t worry Paddy, I will.’

And so they landed in an alleyway, and Harry paid for their parking. The two of them then walked the rest of the way to the Leaky Cauldron. It never got old to Harry how it was invisible to the naked eye one minute, but once you take a couple steps forward it’s there clear as day.

When they entered Remus was talking with Tom, and Canini was having some Leaky House Soup. Harry sat next to his little sister.

‘Are you excited?’

‘I am, but I’m also so nervous, I’ve dreamed about Hogwarts for years, so to be going to a different school I don’t know what to expect.’

‘It’ll be an adventure Cani, one you will get to tell us all about.’

Soon the Weasleys arrived by Floo one at a time. Harry was surprised to see Mr Weasley as he often was very busy at work. He came up and shock Sirius’ hand.

‘Good morning Sirius, that Invisibility Booster still serving you well?’

‘Works like a charm Arthur, good to see you again.’

And so the two families began their journeys to get all the school supplies. They made their way towards Gringotts bank. Harry’s family and the Weasleys got along splendidly ever since he was a toddler, however the main difference between them that Harry sometimes felt awkward about was their wealth gap.

Sirius had inherited his uncle’s fortune when Harry was little, and although Remus has a job they don’t need it to get by. The Weasleys though are a single low income family currently supporting five kids, they often barely make ends meet. Sirius had offered them financial support long ago but they declined saying they could make due on their own. Despite this Harry and his family often try to find little ways to make their life easier and going to Gringotts together was one of them as the Goblins tended to serve a Black quicker then they would a Weasley.

‘Good day Mr Black, how may we be if service to you?’

‘That is very kind, but this family was in front of me. We’ll wait until their business is concluded. We’ll meet you outside when we are done.’

‘Thank you Sirius, dear.’ Said Mr Weasley sweetly.

The Goblin attendant took them towards the vaults, and soon a new one was with them.

‘Do you wish to make a withdrawal.’

‘Yes, we’d like to make a withdrawal from my husband and I’s vault. Vault seven hundred and eleven.’

‘Right this way sir.

The Goblin led them off to their underground vaults. They were reached by means of small, goblin-driven carts that sped along miniature train-tracks through the bank’s underground tunnels. Sirius’ vault was far deeper than most vaults so their decent felt like a breakneck rollercoaster that Harry always enjoyed but made poor Canini sick.

Once they reached their destination and Canini got a second to breathe, she queasily asked a question.

‘How come we aren’t going to my vault, like how we went to Harry’s last year?’

The goblin answered her question, ‘You must be at least eleven to enter your personal vault. Some exceptions are made if the client will be away during the time of their birthday, but your birthday is not for another thirteen and a half months Ms Howling.’

Remus put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry love, your turn will come before you know it.’

Sirius took out a handful of galleons and sickles and then handed most of them to Canini.

‘This is for your entire year. Spend wisely as you won’t be getting any more.’

‘Yes Paddy. Don’t worry, I’ll be super responsible.’

They got back on the cart and started the journey up towards Harry’s vault. Canini hurled along the way but at least it got it out of her system. Harry got his handful of shiny coins from his vault and then they made their way to the surface.

They met up with the Weasleys just outside the marble steps and after a moment of chattering they went their separate ways. Percy muttering vaguely about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan. Mrs Weasley and Ginny were going to a second-hand robe shop. Mr Weasley insisted on taking a couple he had met off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink. Which left Harry’s family to pick up the supplies they needed.

‘We’ll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy school books,’ said Mrs Weasley, setting off with Ginny. She then turned to her children. ‘And not one step down Knockturn Alley.’ She warned.

The Weasley’s headed off, but Sirius stayed for a second and sighed. ‘I never thought I’d do this, but we will actually be entering Knockturn Alley today.’

In unison both Harry and Canini shouted, ‘What?’

‘Canini, a couple of your books won’t be sold anywhere on this street, they’re not exactly forbidden just very very dark. And so the only place I can think of that may have them is in Knockturn Alley.’

Remus looked at the kids very seriously. ‘You won’t touch anything or speak to anyone, you both will stay by our side the entire time. You understand?’

‘Yes Moony.’ They both said nervously.

Knockturn Alley lay just around the corner from Diagon Alley. It is a dark, twisting alleyway devoted to the Dark Arts and often where the more untrustworthy witches and wizards lurked. The roofs of the buildings often overlaps so it was also very dark, cold, and wet in its streets.

They carefully navigated the street until they were passing a shop that was dimly lit and it’s masonry so only it was developing some sort of green goo. They did not stop to enter it however, but because of who was exiting. A tall wizard with long silvery blonde hair, and a child Harry knew all to well.

‘Malfoy.’

But before the two children could start bickering Sirius stood in front of Harry and actually started an argument with the man.

‘Lucius Malfoy!’

‘Sirius Black, it’s been ages. I believe the last we met you were working as a book sales men?’

‘Oh, I remember the last we met was when you got me fired for rightfully knocking you off your entitled...feet.’

‘Well, I never expected to see you here, so far from the light of Diagon Alley.’

‘My daughter has been accepted into Durmstrang Institute and we are picking up a couple of her books.’

‘Your daughter?’

‘Yes, Canini this is your aunt Andromeda’s snivelling brother-in-law.’

Canini nodded

Remus then spoke up. ‘You asked us, now I ask you. What were you doing in the darkest store in this alley?’

‘It’s non of your business, but if you must know I was selling some old possessions that no longer have any value to me. Now come along Draco, their is much more we must be up to.’

‘Yes, come along children, the store we need is just up ahead.’

The store they went to was called Cobb & Webb's and amongst other things it continued copies of Magick Moste Evile which they purchased. On the way back Canini once more froze in front of the store the Malfoy’s had emerged from, but this time she was looking up at the sign.

‘This store is called Borgin and Burkes!’

Harry was quite confused by this statement, but Remus and Lupin looked quite shaken by her saying this. Harry stepped forward. ‘I guess, why are you bringing it up?’

‘Because that’s my mother’s last name, Burke. Why is that Moony?’

‘It was founded by your great great grandfather I believe, we’ll talk about it at home but right now we must get your wand and an owl.’

And so they exited Knockturn Alley back into the light and started buying Canini’s other school supplies. They had to show Ollivander her acceptance letter to prove she wasn’t just trying to get a wand a year early. With his help Canini managed to find a wand just for her, a Holly wood wand with a unicorn hair core.

At the Owl Emporium Harry bought a new toy for Hedwig and some treats. Canini spent a while looking at all the options, but after considering the flying distance and the cold she chose a sleek and beautiful barn owl. She named her Janus.

After an hour from leaving Gringotts, they headed for Flourish and Blotts. They were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:

Gilderoy Lockhart

will be signing copies of his autobiography

MAGICAL ME

today 12:30-4:30 pm

‘Oh my gosh!’ Harry squealed. ‘Lockhart is actually in their?’

Harry was a big fan, he really enjoyed the series, he had almost every one of his books.

The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs Weasleys age. A harassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying, ‘Calmly, please, ladies...don’t push, there...mind the books, now...’

Harry, and his family met up with the Weasleys just inside the shop.

‘Oh, there you are, good,’ said Mrs Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. ‘We’ll be able to see him in a couple minutes.’

Remus gently pulled Mr Weasley closer. ‘We ran into Lucius Malfoy leaving Borgin and Burkes just now.’

‘Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?’ said Mr Weasley sharply.’

‘No, he said he was selling.’

‘So he’s worried,’ said Mr Weasley with grim satisfaction. ‘He must have heard about the raids on suspected dark wizards and is trying to cover his tracks. I’d love to get Lucius Malfoy for something...’

‘You be careful, Arthur,’ said Mrs Weasley sharply with a hint of worry. ‘That family’s trouble, don’t go biting off more than you can chew.’

‘I agree with Molly,’ said Sirius, ‘That man nearly bankrupted me and Remus once, don’t underestimate his influence and spite.’

A muggle looking couple then approached Mr Weasley, he then smiled and turned to introduce them.

‘This is Ian and Michelle Granger their daughter, Hermione, is a gryffindor in Ron’s year. They are both something called dentists.’

‘It means we clean and look after peoples teeth.’ Said Mrs Granger with a bright smile.

A young girl with bushy brown hair then came out from behind her parents.

‘Hello Hermione, I am Sirius Black, one of Harry’s dads. You two must be friends.’

She looked at Harry and with a neutral face spoke. ‘We have had some classes together.’

Sirius and Remus then both shook the Gangers hand’s. ‘As I said, I am Sirius Black, this is my Husband Remus Lupin, and our two children, Harry and Canini.’

‘Nice to meet you all.’

They all then preceded to grab a Lockhart book and get in line. It wasn’t long before the signing started.

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzling white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue which exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard’s hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.

A short, irritable-looking man from the Daily Prophet was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.

‘Out of the way, there,’ he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. ‘This is for the Daily Prophet.’

‘Big deal,’ said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.

Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Ron-and then he saw Harry. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, ‘It can’t be, Harry Potter?’

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly. Lockhart dived towards Harry but Sirius defensively got in the way. Lockhart’s smile faltered for a second but then quietly asked, ‘May I bring him up for a second?’

Sirius looked to Harry, and Harry star struck from one of his favourite authors nodded, and then Sirius stepped aside. Lockhart firmly took his arm and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst into applause. Harry’s face burned as Lockhart shook his hand for the photographer, who was clicking away madly, wafting thick smoke over his family, the Weasleys, and the Grangers.

‘Nice big smile, Harry,’ said Lockhart, through his own gleaming teeth. ‘Together, you and I are worth the front page.’

When he finally let go of Harry’s hand, Harry could hardly feel his fingers. He stood there in shock and awe. Suddenly Lockhart threw an arm around his shoulders and clamped him tightly to his side.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said loudly, waving for quiet. ‘What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time!

‘When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography-which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge-‘ The crowd applauded again. ‘He had no idea,’ Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that made his glasses slip to the end of his nose, ‘that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!’

The crowd cheered and clapped and Harry found himself being presented being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. Harry wanted to ask him so many questions and to thank him, but there were many books and he found himself staggering under the weight. He managed to make his way out of the limelight to the edge of the room, where Ginny was standing next to her new cauldron.

‘Here Ginny,’ Harry said happily, tipping the books into the cauldron except for the non-school related ones. ‘I already got mine, and this way you’ll have brand new books for your first ye-‘

‘Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter?’ said a voice he had only heard an hour ago. He straightened up and found himself face to face with Draco Malfoy. His face yet again in a sneer.

‘Famous Harry Potter,’ said Malfoy. ‘Can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page.’

‘Leave him alone, he didn’t want all that!’ said Ginny, glaring angrily at Malfoy.

‘Potter, you’ve got yourself a girlfriend!’ drawled Malfoy. Ginny and Harry got really at this. Ron and Canini fought their way over, Ron with an armful of Lockhart’s books.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ said Ron, looking at Malfoy as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. ‘Leave my sister alone, Malfoy.’

‘Try making me. You’re hands are too full of those expensive books,’ retorted Malfoy. ‘I suppose you all will go hungry for a month to pay for that lot.’

Ron’s face went as red as his hair. He dropped his books into the cauldron, too, and started towards Malfoy, but Harry and Canini grabbed the back of his jacket. This didn’t stop Canini though from threatening Malfoy.

‘Be lucky I’m not going to Hogwarts as I’d rip you to shreds!’

‘Canini!’ An angry Sirius voice could be heard from across the store, and he wasn’t alone in the act of being disappointed in their children.

‘Ron!’ said Mr Weasley, struggling over with Sirius, Fred and George. The Grangers also followed, although they looked like they were just trying to get to the exit. ‘What are you doing? It’s mad in here, let’s go outside.’

‘Well, well, well-Arthur Weasley.’

It was Lucius Malfoy. He stood with his hand on Draco’s shoulder, sneering in just the same way.

‘Lucius,’ said Mr Weasley, nodding coldly.

‘Look how this establishment has degraded.’ His pale eyes straying to the Grangers, who he then forcefully took Hermione’s copy of The Standard Book of Spells from her arms. ‘Can you even read this, child?’

‘Yes, better than you can.’

‘My word, this is why your family are considered blood traitors Arthur, you are all a disgrace to your pure-blood status for embracing such muts.’

'We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of a wizard, Malfoy,' he said.

Lucius turned his attention from the Weasley's to Sirius. 'You, last I saw you was nearly a decade ago in this very shop, you were desperate and I can see why back then you would need help from the other rock bottoms of the wizarding world, but now you have fortune, and the boy-who-lived ii his rightful house of Slytherin, and yet you still disgrace your family name by being close will these lot.'

'Yeah, well I never got along with your lot anyway, my lot is better.'

'You filthy blood traitor, the great Harry Potter should be disgraced to live under your roof.'

Lucius didn’t get to continue saying anything, even if he wanted too. As Sirius had taken a swing at him and landed a punch right in the eye. Lucius however seemed to be prepared because immediately afterward he elbowed Sirius right in the shoulder.

The crowd stampeded backwards, knocking some selves over, ‘Gentlemen, please-please!’ cried the assistant.

Suddenly a voice boomed, louder than all, ‘Break it up, there, gents, break it up-‘

Hagrid was wading towards them through the sea of books. In an instant he had pulled Sirius and Mr Malfoy apart. Sirius had a cut lip and a dislocated shoulder while Lucius had a black eye and a bloody nose. He was still holding Hermione’s copy of The Standard Book of Spells. He thrusted it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.

‘Here, girl-take your book-maybe you can burn its pages to keep your muggle home warm.’

Pulling himself out of Hagrid’s grip he beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop.

‘Yeh two should’ve ignored him,’ Hagrid said to Sirius and Arthur, almost lifting Sirius off his feet as he straightened his robes. ‘Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that. Cept you of corse Sirius. They aren’t worth listenin’ ter. Bad blood, that’s what it is. Come on now, let’s get outta here.’

Remus quickly came over to Sirius, panicked. ‘You’re hurt!’

‘My shoulder, I’ll be-‘

Remus drew his want and pointed it at Sirius’ shoulder. ‘Episkey!’

There was a terrible cracking sound of Sirius’ shoulder being repaired, and then Sirius howled in pain. As the four family members left the shop Sirius cried out to Remus, ‘Why did you do that?’

‘That was for falling for his bait, I can’t believe you. Do I have déjà-vu because I swear I heard this exact story ten years ago.’

‘I know love, I’m sorry.’

The assistant looked as though he wanted to stop them leaving, but he barely came to Hagrid’s waist and seemed to think better of it. They hurried up the street, the Grangers shaking with fright and Mrs Weasley very angry with Mr Weasley.

‘A fine example the two of you set for the children...acting so childish in public...what Gilderoy Lockhart must’ve thought...’

‘He was pleased,’ said Freed. ‘Didn’t you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he’d be able to work the fight into his report-said it was all publicity.’

All three families than gathered near the hearth in the Leaky Cauldron to say their goodbyes. Remus took Canini home with her and Harry’s supplies threw the floo network, the Grangers left the pub for the muggle street in the other side, the Weasleys one at a time took the floo back to their home the Burrow, leaving just Sirius and Harry.

‘Let’s go see your friend. How about we don’t mention that I got in a fight to the Davis’, ok?’

After a pleasant visit to Tracey’s families luxury apartment to end their chaotic day, Sirius dropped Harry off once more at the Dursley’s. He went up to his room, got in bed and took off his glasses as he was very tired. Just as he was drifting off though a thought found its way into Harry’s head.

“What did the Malfoy’s sell, did they have anything else sketchy still in there possession, and finally was there another reason they had been in Knockturn Alley today.

### Chapter Five: The Flight To Hogwarts

The end of the summer holidays came quickly after the visit to Diagon Alley. Harry and his parents went to Kings Cross station to see off Canini at platform three and a quarter on the twenty-third, and a week later it was Harry’s turn.

The night before Sirius picked him up so that he could pack. The contents of his travel trunk included all his school books plus a couple recreational ones, his robes, pyjamas and casual wear, additional required school supplies, owl treats, and finally his enchanted two-way mirror. His Nimbus Two Thousand he had in a second case.

Harry was so full of excited nerves that he had a hard time getting tired, but after a long time he finally fell asleep and dreamt of familiar faces and crimson smoke. His nice dream was interrupted by frantic knocking on his door Tuesday September first.

‘Harry, wake up, we over slept!’ Remus said half manic.

‘What?’

Harry shot up and sure enough when he looked at the clock it was half past ten. Harry quickly got dressed while yelling to his parents.

‘What happened?! I thought you had a charm set to wake you?!’

‘We did, never mind that now, we’re going to miss the train! Are you all packed?’

Harry exited his room pulling his truck in one hand and holding Hedwig’s cage in another. ‘Yup, all packed.’

‘Good. We got to go now.’ Remus handed Harry a banana and took his trunk.

They got to the fireplace where there was no Sirius.

‘Where’s Padfoot?’ Harry asked with half a banana in his mouth.

‘He went ahead to flag down a cab. You ready, you got everything?’

Harry suddenly remember two things. His travel bag containing his money, and wand. The second was his invisibility cloak hidden under his bed.

‘Forgot my bag. Be right back.’

‘Hurry!’

Harry ran back upstairs, grabbed the cloak, shoved it in his small bag, and ran back downstairs, his luggage and Remus already through the floo. Harry grabbed a fistful of floo powder and tossed them into the flame turning it emerald green.

‘Leaky Cauldron.’

With that he picked up Hedwig and walked into the magic flames.

The traffic was thankfully light and the three men reached the station with ten minutes to spare. Sirius put his trunk on a trolley, and with his broom case in one hand and travel bag in the other, the three of them started rushing towards platform nine and three-quarters. Harry suddenly stopped however when he heard a familiar voice crying.

‘I need to do something really quick.’

‘Harry, now is not the time.’ Sirius said impatiently.

‘It’s really important, I’ll be there in just a minute I promise.’

Hesitantly they nodded and kept going, while Harry to a few steps back and turned corner to find a young wizard sitting between a potted bush and a bench. He had hair nearly as dark as Harry’s although it was cut military short, skin a few shades darker than Harry, and blueish-grey eyes but you wouldn’t be able to tell because his head was down as he sobbed.

‘Theodore... are you alright?’ Harry asked softly.

The young wizard, startled, suddenly snapped to attention, and tried to quickly dry off his tear stained face.

‘Ha-Harry, I-I’m fine. I didn’t see you there. And don’t call me Theodore.’

‘Right, well we should get going, the train is going to-oh my stars Theodore!’

Theodore had both a black eye and a bruised cheek. Harry had known he had bruises on his arms before, but never his face. Harry suspected that Theodore’s home life was absolutely terrible, but he could never get him to confess.

‘Did you’re father do this?!’

‘No Potter, stay out of it.’

Harry tried a strategy that worked last Easter. ‘Tracey said you were sick, did your sickness cause you to fall again?’

His voice choked up with tears, and not making eye contact he answered. ‘Yeah, I fell a lot. Harry, I-‘

Before he could continue the Weasleys rushed by, Ron noticed Harry and called out to him.

‘Harry, the train leaves in two minutes.’

Out of time Harry took Theodore’s hand and yanked him to his feet, then pulled started rushing to the barrier with Theodore right behind him. They watched Fred go through the tunnel, then Percy, then George, Ginny then went through followed by her mom and dad, then Ron, and when Harry went at half a run towards the barrier-

CRASH!

Harry slammed into the now solid barrier, Theodore proceeded to slam into him, and finally they both fell hard onto their bottoms. People all around them stared and a guard nearby yelled, ‘You boys ok, you shouldn’t be running.’

‘We weren’t looking where we were going, sorry.’ Harry gasped, clutching his ribs as he got up. Theodore was seemingly checking to see if he still had all his teeth.

‘Why can’t we get through?’ Harry hissed to Theodore as he stood and picked up his case.

Theodore stood and looked around but couldn’t find an explanation.

‘Harry, the train leaves in less than a minute, look.’ Theodore pointed at the clock above.

With a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach Harry watched the last few second tick away. Ten seconds...nine seconds...

He put his hand to the barrier and pushed with all his might. The metal remained solid.

Three seconds...two seconds...one second...

‘That’s it, we’re to late,’ Theodore said shocked. ‘We have missed the train.’

They waited a couple minutes, expecting the barrier to open and wizarding families to leave that could help them, but no one emerged. With a lot of eyes still on them from the crash, and no one leaving the barrier, they realized they couldn’t remain waiting there so they started heading for the exit. As they walked Harry started panicking.

‘What do we do, we’ve missed the train, my parents can’t seem to get out just yet, if we aren’t at Hogwarts in a couple hours we’ll most likely be expelled.’

As they reached the outside Theodore pointed to Harry’s case.

‘Is that your broom?’

‘Yes, but I can’t fly it in this broad daylight, that would mean expulsion as well as an investigation from the ministry.’

They stood there thinking for a moment, then an idea hit Harry.

‘Is your stuff already on the train?’

‘Yes, it’s in a compartment.’

‘Good mine is too. The two things that aren’t is my broom, and-‘

He took off his bag and pulled out his invisibility cloak.

‘Harry you’re a genius.’

Harry carefully laid out the large cloaking the ground and then took out his broom.

‘We’ll have to leave the case here. Ok, step onto the cloak and onto my broom and pull the back end of the cloak around you and the broom.’

Theodore did as he was told, and after putting his bag back on he did the same. It wasn’t comfortable but, it would do. The tops of their shoulders and up were still visible, but from the ground no one could see.

Harry tilted the broom upward and instantly they were airborne. He kept rising them until he was positive they were no longer visible from down below.

The ground and the dirty buildings below fell away, dropping out of sight as his broom rose; in seconds, the whole of London lay, smoky and glittering, below them.

‘Now what?’ Harry yelled in the wind, blinking at the solid mass of cloud enfolding them from all sides.

‘I think we got to find the train!’ Theodore yelled back, but it sounded like a whisper, ‘Then follow it to Hogwarts!’

‘We need to get out of this cloud.’

They dropped back beneath the clouds and twisted their heads in every direction, squinting at the ground-

‘I can see it!’ Harry yelled. ‘Right ahead!’

The Hogwarts Express was streaking along below like a scarlet.

‘We got to head north!’ Theodore informed Harry, ‘We can tKe turns keeping it in our sights!’

They shot Up through the clouds. A minute later, they burst out into a blaze of sunlight. It was a different world. The broom skimmed the sea of cold fluffy clouds, the sky a bright, endless blue under the blinding white sun.

Harry jokingly called out to Theodore, ‘I guess we just got to be careful about airplanes!’

‘What’s an airplane?!’

‘A huge metal muggle flying machine!’

‘Yeah, definitely don’t want to run into one of those!’

They both started laughing, Harry was fairly certain this was the first time he had ever heard Theodore laugh and that only made him laugh harder. It was as though they had been plunged into a fabulous dream.

“This,” thought Harry, “is surely the only way to travel.”

Flying past swirls and turrets of snowy cloud, with bright sunlight shining down upon them was the best Harry had ever felt. The only issue was sitting on a wooden stick for hours was not comfortable, but Harry didn’t mind.

They made regular checks on the train as they flew further and further north, each dip beneath the clouds showing them a different view. London was soon far behind them, replaced by neat green fields which gave way in turn to wide, purplish moors, villages with tiny toy churches and a great city alive with cars like multi-coloured ants.

Several uneventful hours later, however, Harry had to admit that some of the fun was wearing off. The scenery was still beautiful, but it didn’t make up for the cold, or that they were hungry and thirsty, and the pain from sitting to long was becoming a true problem. He had stopped noticing the fantastic cloud shapes now, and was thinking longingly of the train kilometres below, where you could buy warm spiced hot chocolate from a trolley pushed by a plump witch. Why hadn’t they been able to get onto platform nine and three-quarters?

‘I think we are almost there,’ croaked Theodore, hours later still, as the sun started to sink into their floor of clouds, staining it a deep pink. ‘Remind me to never ever do this again, I won’t be able to sit for a week. You still got eyes on the train?’

It was still right below them, winding its way past a snowcapped mountain. It was much darker beneath the canopy of clouds, and much colder.

Harry pulled them back upwards where there was at least a little warmth from the sun.

‘I promise I’ll never make us fly nine hundred kilometres on a broom ever again. And if I try, remind me of this.’

The sky became steadily darker, and the stars were blossoming in the blackness. When they flew back beneath the clouds a little while later, they had to squint through the darkness for a landmark they knew.

‘There!’ Harry shouted, making Theodore shake from the startle. ‘Straight ahead!’

Silhouetted on the dark horizon, high on the cliff over the lake, stood the many turrets and towers of Hogwarts castle. Harry landed them where he knew no one would currently be, Hagrid’s hut, as he would be leading the first years to the castle.

Once on the ground they each just took a couple minutes stretching out their incredibly sore legs and bottoms. Then Harry stuffed his invisibility cloak back into his bag, and took out his uniform.

‘We’ll have to spit it. You get the robe since your shirt is similar to uniform, and I’ll get the uniform shirt.’

Theodore put the robe on and Harry switched his shirts. He then picked up his broom and they started making their way quickly to the castle. It hurt at first to walk, but as they continued it helped relieve the tension from sitting.

They entered the castle and cracked the Great Hall door open a smidge and the two peered inside.

Innumerable candles were hovering in mid-air over four long, crowded tables, making the golden plates and goblets sparkle. Overhead, the bewitched ceiling which always mirrored the sky outside, sparkled with stars.

Through the forest of pointed black Hogwarts hats, Harry saw a long line of scared-looking first-years filing into the Hall. Ginny was amongst them, easily visible because of her vivid Weasley hair. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall, a bespectacled witch with her hair in a tight bun, was placing the famous Hogwarts Sorting Hat on a stool before the newcomers.

Every year, this aged old hat, patched, frayed and dirty, sorted new students into the four Hogwarts houses (Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin). Harry well remembered putting it on, exactly one year ago, and waiting, petrified, for its decision as it muttered aloud in his ear. For a few seconds he thought it would listen to him and put him in Gryffindor, like everyone in his biological family and adoptive had been – but he had ended up in Slytherin, along with Tracey, Allison, Theodore and Terence. Last term, Harry and his friends had helped Slytherin regain all the points they had lost, as well as win the Quidditch cup.

The two opened the door just a little further and snuck in and quickly sat next to their friends who were shocked to see them. Harry his his broom under the table.

‘Where were you two, you weren’t on the train?’ Tracey whispered.

‘We’ll explain when the feast starts. How many kids have been sorted so far?’

‘Thirty-six, also Snape is looking for you guys.’

Sure enough as Harry’s eyes wandered past him to the staff table Snape was missing. There was Dumbledore, the Headmaster, sitting watching the Sorting, his long silver beard and half-moon glasses shining brightly in the candlelight. Several seats along, Harry saw Gilderoy Lockhart, dressed in robes of aquamarine. And there at the end was Hagrid, huge and hairy, drinking deeply from his goblet. Indeed though there was no Snape.

Professor McGonagall called out the last of the names.

‘Urquhart, Niall‘ was sorted into Slytherin and then it was ‘Weasley, Ginny,' she became a Gryffindor which saddened Harry a little as he had hoped at least one of his childhood friends would join him in Slytherin, but he was still happy for her and clapped as she took her seat. 'Wilkins, Ella,' became a Slytherin, and then finally 'Yoshioka, Kousuke,' was the final name and he was made a Hufflepuff. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Albus Dumbledore had risen from his seat. He smiled brightly down at the students, his arms opened wide like the year before, as if his pride and joy was to see all the students sitting before him.

'Welcome. Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And they are: Halfpace! Serendipity! Eloquence! Marshmallow! Thank you.'

He went back to his seat. Harry and everybody else clapped and cheered. And as Harry looked down he saw that the feast had begun as the golden plates were now full of food. Absolutely starving him and Theodore ravenously took anything that was in front of them and wolfed it down. After a couple minutes they slowed down to a reasonable pace and where ready to answer their friends questions.

‘The barrier closed right in our faces, the train hadn’t left yet so I’m not sure what happened.’ Harry started.

‘Then we waited but no one was exiting so we assumed it would be a while until anyone could help us. So we took Harry’s broom and cloak and flew here by watching the train.’

‘You guys flew all the way here on a broom, by yourselves?’ Tracey said in shock.

‘Trust us, we’re never doing it again if we can help it.’

They kept eating for another couple minutes, but then Allison looked up with a nervous face.

‘Um, Harry...behind you.’

Harry turned around to see a vicious Professor Snape. Harry was almost certain there was steam coming from his ears. Professor McGonagall was right next to him. Snape snarled a request at them.

‘You two,’ he started, his voice was like acid, ‘come with me.’

Harry passed the broom to Allison discreetly and then with Theodore rose and fallowed the two Professors. They lead them to outside the Great Hall. McGonagall lost her temper the second the door was closed.

‘Where have you two been, he have been in a panic trying to find you, Professor Snape has been searching the entire grounds trying to find you!’

‘Your friends claim you weren’t even on the train. I am curious to hear your excuse.’ Snape said coldly.

Harry though quickly and used every ounce of charisma he had.

‘That’s ridiculous. We were both on the train, he just didn’t sit with our friends. And when we arrived we both really had to use the bathroom. We’ve been in the boys bathroom this entire time.’

‘The bathroom?’ McGonagall said, sounding not so convinced.

‘Yes, we drank to many pumpkin juices.’ Theodore said, trying to back up Harry.

Snape looked to Harry, ‘Where then, are your robes?’

‘I packed them in my trunk by accident. I’ll have them in class tomorrow, I promise.’

McGonagall turned to Snape. ‘I don’t believe them either but we can’t prove anything.’

‘True, but they admitted to other things. You’ll both get detention for improper uniforms, yes Mr Nott I can see you’re not wearing the proper dress shirt, and for not informing a teacher of your location. Now out of my sight, I’ve spent to much energy on you both today.’

Snape left in a huff, leaving them just with McGonagall. ‘We’ll go on, or you’ll miss your supper.’

They were happy to be free, and they return to their seats. Theodore was impressed. ‘That was some smart thinking Harry.’

‘Not smart enough though.’

‘It could have been worse, he could have taken off points or even expelled us. We’re lucky we just got detention.’

Soon the dinner plates turned to dessert and they started enjoying the puddings and ice creams. They were good, but where distracted by their friends still asking questions.

‘How did you get your stuff here, you couldn’t have carried them?’ Asked Allison.

‘Theodore arrived a while earlier and already had his stuff aboard, and my parents made it through the barrier with mine.’

‘And it really just closed on your face? It’s never supposed to do that except for emergencies.’ Tracey added.

‘Yeah, and we’re not sure why, sorry to disappoint.’

Eventually the dessert faded away, Dumbledore told the first years the rules, and after everyone sang the school song Harry was absolutely exhausted. Him and his friends left the Great Hall and started heading for the Slytherin common room.

They fallowed the group of First Years being lead by newly promoted head girl Gemma Farley down the marble steps that lead towards the dungeons. As they descended many portraits waved and greeted everyone back for the new school year. Soon the shining marble steps turned to dark stone as they descended deeper under the school. They all then came to a stretch of bare stone wall, Gemma turned towards the wall and spoke a single word.

'Hemlock.'

Harry watched all the young first years awe as stone door concealed in the wall slid open. Through the door they entered the Slytherin common room which was a long, low underground room with stone walls and ceiling, from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. As always a fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece, and several carved stone chairs where spread out across the room. In the back there were two archways with stairs going up which lead to the bedrooms, and two doors to the bathrooms.

In the corner Harry saw the majority of his Quidditch team discussing something in the corner, however he was to tired to at the moment care. He turned to his friends.

‘I’m sorry, but I have got to get upstairs. I am really tired. I’ll see you all tomorrow.’

‘I’m coming with you Harry.’ Said Theodore, drowsily.

Hey entered the left staircase and hurried up to the third door. Their perfectly sized dormitory comfortably fit the six four-poster beds and a centrally located stove, with their trunks located in front of their beds. Just like the common room there was silver lanterns hanging from the ceiling and medieval tapestries covering some of the stone walls, and a couple of carpets with the Slytherin crest covered the stone floor. What was different from the common room was the fact that there were windows, which showed that they were under the lake, and what looked like a fireplace was an owl sized passage for the massagers to fly up and out of the dungeon.

Theodore just instantly flopped on his bed and passed out, but Harry took the time to write a letter. He realized as they were flying over the countryside that his parents had no idea where he was, and although this letter would be most likely seven hours to late to stop them from panicking, it wouldn’t hopefully put them to ease.

“Dear Paddy and Moony,

I am safe and at Hogwarts. The barrier closed right in my face and after weighting and weighting no one was emerging, so me and my friend Theodore took matters into our own hands. We used my broom, and my cloak (Remus just ask Sirius) and followed the train from above. We landed safely and arrived just in time for dinner. I am so sorry for scaring you.

Deepest apologies,

~Harry”

Harry gave that letter to Hedwig, who took off through the owl tunnel. He then proceeded to get changed and draw the curtains to his bed. He was so tired he hadn’t even removed his glasses before he drifted off to a deep sleep.

### Chapter Six: Battle Of The Seekers

The following day was not much more pleasurable then the one before. After signing up for an interesting sounding extra-curricular class, ghoul studies, Harry went down to breakfast in a good mood but things started to go downhill once he arrived in the Great Hall. The four long house tables were laden with tureens of porridge, plates of kippers, mountains of toast and dishes of eggs and bacon, beneath the enchanted ceiling (today, a dull, cloudy grey). Harry and Theodore sat down next at the Slytherin table next to Allison and Tracey, who were deep in a conversation.

‘You’ll do fine, Allison, you have been practicing all summer and you got the build.’

‘Thanks Tracey.’

‘What are you guys talking about?’ Harry asked curiously.

‘I am trying out for Quidditch Beater after school, three possessions have opened up and I’m hoping one is for beater. The other person competing for the spot is Peregrime Derrick, he’s two years older but six years dumber, I like my odds.’

‘Well I’ll see you on the field tonight. Good luck.’

Daphne Greengrass then sat next to the girls and started her gossiping, ‘Did you hear that a first year Ravenclaw girl fell down the dormitory stairs last night, how hilarious-‘

Harry didn’t really care about gossip and instead turned to his porridge, but he only got a few spoonfuls in when overhead there was a rushing sound and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling the Hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd and Harry watched as Hedwig arrived with red envelope.

‘Oh no,’ Harry said really worried.

Tracey, who had been listening to Daphne, turned around. ‘What, what’s wrong?’

‘It’s that,’ Harry pointed towards the letter, ‘I’ll never gotten a Howler before.’

A Howler is a magical red letter which enchants the written message into the writer's voice, usually at a very high volume, which intensified if the recipient did not open the envelope as soon as it arrived.

‘Why does the morning post have to arrive in such a public space? Ok, here I go.’

Harry reached out with a shaking hand, gently took the letter from Hedwig, and split it open. All three of Harry’s friends covered their ears. He thought for a moment his eardrums would burst; a roar of sound filled the huge Hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

‘...HOW DARE YOU FLY ALL THE WAY TO HOGWARTS! NO NOTE, NO NOTHING BUT YOUR EMPTY BROOM CASE! WE THOUGHT YOU WERE KIDNAPPED! WE SEARCHED ENDLESSLY FOR YOU FOR HOURS, WE WERE ABOUT TO GO TO THE AURORS WHEN WE GOT YOUR LETTER...’

Remus yells, a hundred times louder than usual, making the plates and spoons rattle on the table, and echoed deafeningly off the stone walls. People throughout the Hall were swivelling around to see who had received the Howler and Harry sank lower and lower in his chair that only his jet black messy hair could be seen.

‘...AND THEN WE GOT YOUR LETTER! INSTEAD OF WAITING THE SMALL AMOUNT OF TIME FOR US TO GET OUT AND APPARATE YOU TO HOGSMEADE, YOU TOOK IT UPON YOURSELF TO FLY ALL THE WAY TO BLOODY HOGWARTS! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN HIT BY AN AIRPLANE, YOU COULD HAVE DIED! AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUR CLOAK?! HOW LONG HAVE YOU HAD YOUR FATHERS BLOODY CLOAK AND NOT TOLD ME...’

Harry just wanted to crawl up into a ball and die from the embarrassment and shame. And Remus was right, if they had stopped to think him and Theodore could have just flooed to Hogsmeade or have his parents apparate them their. They did not think their plan all the way through. Remus’ voice then became Sirius’.

‘...I AM SUPPOSED TO BE WRITING HOW DISAPPOINTED I AM IN YOU, AND YES YOU NEEDLESSLY SCARED US, BUT MAN AM I PROUD! YOU FLEW THAT FAR AND WERE ALL RIGHT?! I DON’T THINK JAMES AND I COULD EVER HAVE DONE THAT! JUST THINK IT THROUGH NEXT TIME AND STAY SAFE...’

A ringing silence fell. The envelope, which had dropped from Harry’s hands, burst into flames and curled into ashes. Harry just sat stunned, as though a tidal wave had just passed over him. A few people laughed, but Harry was just glad Snape and McGonagall weren’t in the Hall or they would have had all the proof they needed to expell him and Theodore. Gradually, a babble of talk broke out again.

Harry didn’t quite feel like socializing after that incident, however Terence ran up to him out of nowhere. He looked nervous and panicked.

‘Harry, I’m not supposed to tell you this but your spot on the team is being threatened. If you want any chance of still being Seeker be extra early to tryouts tonight. And don’t tell Flint I told you.’

And with that he ran off, probably to not get caught relaying top secret information. Harry realized that must have been what he saw them talking about last night, Marcus was trying to screw him over for some reason. Harry desperately wanted to deal with this now, but he had Charms class.

Harry, Tracey, Allison, and Theodore made their way up to the third floor of the Training Grounds Tower, and entered the Charms classroom. Just like the previous year they shared the class with the Ravenclaw students in their year and were taught by tiny but genius Professor Flitwick.

Flitwick started by asking how all their summers had went, but then dived right into course load. He taught a long lecture on chapter chapter six dealing with the Skurge Charm. By the end he assigned a small research paper on the history of the spell.

After class he attended his first day of ghoul studies, which was in the Serpentine Corridor on the third floor and dealt with the study and history of ghouls, ghosts, and poltergeists. It was very fascinating but the class couldn’t end quick enough as Harry needed to get to Quidditch try outs.

After the class ended he gathered all his gear, quickly ate an early supper with Allison, and then made a beeline for the Quidditch Stadium in the north end of the grounds. When they got to the Stadium only Marcus Flint had arrived. Flint took one look at Harry and cackled a chilling laugh.

‘What are you doing here Potter, you’re off the team?’

‘Because you never dismissed me as Seeker.’

‘True, but I didn’t need to. You quit, remember, you lost our house all those points and then resigned from the team.’

‘But you denied my resignation, you said you still needed me.’

‘I said you would be our Seeker until the seasons final game and afterwards I’d decide your fate, I have decided your fate. Besides, I don’t need you anymore, we have a new Seeker now.’

‘Who?’ The only person Harry could think of that could replace him was Terence, but Terence had been the one who warned him so he didn’t understand. Not until another voice spoke from behind him.

‘Me!’

Harry turned around. Standing behind him was the silvery-haired weasel he hated the most, Malfoy.

‘I sent a letter to Flint a week ago stating my interest in joining, and wouldn’t you know it your spot was vacant.’ He said with a devious smirk.

Allison nearly blew a fuse at him. ‘You bribed your way onto the team.’

Harry didn’t understand, ‘What do you mean he bribed them?’

She pointed at Malfoy’s broom and the six other brooms on the grass next to Flint. They were sleek, highly polished, jet black, with golden writing on each handle spelling the words “Nimbus Two Thousand and One”.

‘I can’t believe it, you bought your way onto the team. Do you even want to be a Seeker?’

‘I did no such thing, these are just a donation from my father, and for the record as I stated last year I love to fly.’

Harry couldn’t deal with Malfoy right now, he knew fighting him would achieve nothing, instead he turned to Flint.

‘Tryouts haven’t officially begun yet, so he isn’t technically the Slytherin Seeker yet. Let me tryout and the better Seeker gets the spot.’

‘Yeah, no I am in charge of how tryouts are done, you can’t tell me what to do.’

Allison stepped forward. ‘Let me put it a way you’ll understand, you want to win the Quidditch cup, so you need the best players, test them both and take the better Seeker. Otherwise you may loss this year.’

Marcus seemed to struggle to use the few brain cells he had, but after what looked like a deep and intense thought process he slowly nodded. ‘Fine, after initial trials I’ll clear the field and release the Snitch, first to catch it is Seeker, that is my final decision on this.’

Malfoy’s visible confidence just plummeted, and he became even more pale then he already was.

‘W-w-what?!’

‘You heard me Malfoy. Now on the bench with both of you, it’s time to test the other try outs.’

Soon a handful of Slytherins arrived and Flint had them all perform a really physically challenging set of Quidditch moves, then split them up into those trying out for Beater and Chaser. Harry watched Allison’s excellent performance, she was smaller than the other guy trying out, but she really knew how to put force into her strikes and Harry was pretty confident she’d get the spot. As for the Chasers none of them particularly stood out, they were all good, but none were excellent.

After an hour Marcus Flint ordered them all to the bench and called Harry and Draco forward. As they both approached their captain Malfoy elbowed Harry in the ribs hard, but he pretended it didn’t hurt so that it would annoy Malfoy. The two held their brooms ready, Flint held the Snitch in one hand and a whistle in the other.

‘I am going to get you both to look down as to not see the direction the Snitch takes off, once I judge enough time has passed I’ll blow this whistle and the first Seeker to grab the Snitch gets to keep the position. Now heads down you immature worm bags.’

Both Harry and Draco put their heads down, Harry expected him to cheat somehow but his head stayed down. They both heard the sound of the Golden Snitch take off, they gripped their brooms tightly and waited. After ten seconds they heard Flint blow the whistle and they both immediately mounted their brooms and kicked off. The race was on.

Harry took off like an eagle, but Malfoy took off like a falcon. Despite Harry being pretty confident he was more skilled, it was fact that Malfoy had the better broom. Harry went high into the sky to get a better vantage point, and Draco stayed closer to the ground and circled the stadium.

Minutes passed and Harry was starting to get dizzy from darting his eyes back and forth so much looking for the Snitch, but then straight ahead in the far distance he saw it, a quick golden blur. He took off towards it as fast as he possibly could, Malfoy must have saw this and took off like a bullet towards Harry. In almost an instant he was neck to neck with Harry, and a smirk on his face told Harry he now saw the Snitch as well.

Of course it wouldn’t be so easy as first to the Snitch wins, the Snitch itself was giving them a challenge as it flew close to the speed of sound and never in a straight line. They both chased it around. Draco was always in the lead however whenever the Snitch instantly changed directions it took Draco and extra second or two to do the same, where as Harry did it almost as fast as the Snitch did.

Then, in a very reminiscent moment of when Draco and Harry first faced off on a broom, the Snitch dived towards the ground, and the two second years dived right after it. Draco was a gaining on the Snitch faster than Harry could, Harry put all that he could into going faster but it wasn’t possible.

The ground was approaching very fast, both boys had their hand extended to try and reach the golf ball sized Golden Snitch. The wind was rushing by them so quickly it made Harry’s eyes water, but he then realized his big round glasses were breaking some of that wind because Draco was squinting trying to still keep his eyes on the Snitch as the ground got eerily close.

They had to pull up or the were going to crash, but Harry used Draco’s couple second delay and temporarily impaired vision to his advantage. Draco pulled up, giving Harry the couple seconds he needed to snag the Snitch and pull up himself. He landed and proudly showed the golden ball to Marcus.

‘Look, I did it, see.’

‘Yes Potter, I have bloody eyes. Now you and Malfoy it with the others while I decide which three of you eight are joining the team.’

They both sat down on the bench, Allison gave Harry a thumbs up. ‘You did excellent Harry!’

‘You did too, you are getting Beater for sure.’

Harry than turned to Malfoy and did something he thought he’d never do. He put out his hand.

‘Draco, I underestimated your abilities, you were actually better than I thought out there. May the best wizard win?’

Draco looked at Harry’s hand for a second, seemingly contemplating if he should take it or not. Finally he didn’t, but he did respond.

‘May the best wizard win.’

After another couple minutes Marcus Flint marches over.

‘Ok, I have decided that Potter stays Seeker, Runcorn you got Beater, and Malfoy I have decided you would make a good Chaser. Now I don’t submit these results for another week so don’t give me a reason to change my mind or one of these five failures will replace ya. Now clean up and get back to the castle before I report you as out past dark.’

Harry and Allison were overjoyed, but Malfoy clearly was not happy. He did manage to get one more spite at Harry, he picked up one of the new brooms and said, ‘Looks like my dad bought an extra by mistake, I’m going to have it returned.’

So everyone on the team was going to have a Nimbus Two Thousand And One but him. He didn’t really care though because his broom was still far better than most on the other three teams and had sentimental value as well. He and Allison returned to the common room where they shared their news with Tracey, Theodore, and Terence.

‘Oh that is great news Alli, also counting you Terence now half the Quidditch team is under fourteen. I think that makes history.’ Tracey said excitedly.

‘Yeah, I think you’re right,’ Terence said a little red in the face, ‘Also Harry I’m sorry I couldn’t warn you earlier, I couldn’t jeopardize my own position on the team, but I’m really glad you made it.’

‘I’m just glad you warned me. Thanks Higgs.’

The five of them celebrated into the night, and although it had been a day full of stress, in the end it wasn’t as bad of a first day as he had thought. But shadows he didn’t know surrounded him were plotting, and those Harry had come to care about were in more danger then he could ever imagine.

### Chapter Seven: Gilderoy Lockhart

Thursday they had double Herbology with Ravenclaw, so after he finished breakfast Harry, Tracey, Allison, and Theodore left the castle together. They crossed the vegetable patch and made for the Greenhouses, where the magical plants were kept. It was a warm September day so they were all in a positive mood as they arrived. Professor Sprout was waiting for them all by the Greenhouse they used the previous year.

'We'll be in Greenhouse Three today loves.' said the professor in an equally positive mood.

Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes, and her fingernails would have made stuck up Aunt Petunia faint.

There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in Greenhouse One before-Greenhouse Three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Harry caught a whiff of damp earth and fertiliser, mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling.

Harry had just entered the Greenhouse when Gilderoy Lockhart stuck his head inside. He wore sweeping robes of turquoise, and his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trimming.

‘Professor Sprout, is Harry Potter in your class? I’ve been meaning to have a word with him. It’ll be but a moment.’

The joyful woman smiled. ‘Yes of course, but have him back soon, this is an important lesson.’

Harry went to the door and Lockhart closed the door behind him. Harry then composed himself and tried to speak.

‘Sir, I am a big fan, I meant to tell you at Flourish-‘

‘Harry,’ Lockhart interrupted, his large white teeth gleaming in the sunlight as he shook his head. ‘Harry, Harry, Harry.’

Not expecting this, Harry was speechless.

‘When I heard-well, I figured out your little rouse, and of course it is all my fault. Could have kicked myself.’

Harry had no idea what he was talking about, but him saying he figured out what him and Theodore did was very worrying. He was about to beg Lockhart not to tell when he continued, ‘Don’t know when I’ve been more shocked. Pulling a prank on the teachers to get attention, I knew at once why you’d done it. Stood out a mile. Harry, Harry, Harry.’

It was remarkable how he could show every one of those brilliant teeth even when he wasn’t talking.

‘Gave you a taste for fame and attention, didn’t I?’ said Lockhart. ‘Gave you the bug. You got onto the front page of the paper with me and you couldn’t wait to feel a similar rush again.’

‘Oh no, Professor, see –’

‘Harry, Harry, Harry,’ said Lockhart, reaching out and grasping his shoulder. ‘I understand. Natural to want a bit more once you’ve had that first taste – and I blame myself for giving you that, because it was bound to go to your head – but see here, young man, you shouldn’t be scaring your teachers to try and get yourself noticed. Just calm down, all right? Plenty of time for all that when you’re older. Now because this was partially my fault I already put my name in to be the one giving you detention. The next time you want to do something daring try to be for the greater good and not some Slytherin trick.’

He gave Harry a hearty wink and strode off. Harry stood stunned for a few seconds, then, remembering he was supposed to be in the greenhouse, he opened the door and slid inside.

Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the centre of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different coloured earmuffs were lying on the bench. When Harry had taken his place between Theodore and Tracey, she said, ‘We’ll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?’

To nobody’s surprise, Theodore’s hand was first into the air.

‘The Mandrake, also known as Mandragora, is known for being a powerful restorative,’ said Theodore, he sounded tired and wasn’t putting much effort in disguising the fact he had just read ahead in the textbook. ‘It’s used to cure people who have been transfigured or cursed.’

‘Good job Nott. Three points to Slytherin,’ said Professor Sprout. ‘The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?’

Tracey timidity put up her hand, she knew a wide variety of things, but Herbology wasn’t her strongest class.

‘Because it’s deadly to hear a Mandrake cry? I think,’ she said almost like a question.

‘Precisely. Take another three points,’ said Professor Sprout. ‘Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young.’

She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in colour, were growing there in rows. Harry had never seen a Mandrake before, but he had heard of their magical power, he was disappointed by how unremarkable they looked.

‘Everyone take a pair of earmuffs,’ said Professor Sprout.

There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that fit or were their favourite colour.

‘When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered,’ said Professor Sprout. ‘When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right, earmuffs on.’

Harry snapped the earmuffs over his ears. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put a pink fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled up hard.

Harry let out a gasp of surprise that no one could hear. Instead of roots, a small, muddy and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs. Harry never knew their existed such a humanoid plant.

Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up and removed her own earmuffs.

‘As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won’t kill yet,’ she said calmly, as though she’d just done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. ‘However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I’m sure none of you want to miss such a fine day, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.

‘Four to a tray–there is a large supply of pots here–compost in the sacks over there–and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it’s teething.’

She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

Already a group of four, Harry, Tracey, Allison, and Theodore just huddled closer together and talked.

‘Lockhart is pretty cool, isn’t he?’ saidTracey to Harry, as they began filling their plant pots with dragon-dung compost. ‘I have read all his books, and I remember you saying you have too Harry. What did he want to tell you?’

‘It was weird, it was like he was taking the blame for what me and Theo did, but he clearly didn’t even know what it was we did. He is really cool though, but I just get the feeling he doesn’t know much about teaching.’

‘Well if he’s half as good as he is in his books I’m sure he’ll be fine. We’ll find out for sure tomorrow.’ Said Theodore confidently.

After that they didn’t have much chance to talk. Their earmuffs were back on and they needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes. Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn’t. The Mandrakes didn’t like coming out of the earth, but didn’t seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists and gnashed their teeth; Harry spent ten whole minutes trying to squash a particularly fat one into a pot.

By the end of the class, Harry, like everyone else, was sweaty, aching and covered in earth. They made their way back to the castle for a quick wash and then the Slytherins hurried up to the Great Hall for lunch.

As they started eating Allison started up a conversation.

‘I misplaced my time table. What do we have today and tomorrow?’

Theodore responded, ‘Well tonight we have Astrology, and then tomorrow we have History of Magic and Defence Against the Dark Arts.’

‘Well I hope his lessons are more educational than his books,’ said Allison in a frustrated voice.

Tracey got defensive, ‘What do you have against his books?’

‘Nothing really, they seem like ok adventure novels, just not text books. But like I said, I prefer learning from a teacher not a book so I hope his lessons are better than his books.’

They all kept talking and eating, Terence came and sat with them eventually and him, Harry, and Allison discusses Quidditch. When they finished lunch all five of them moved out into the courtyard as Sprout was right that wasting a day like today was a bad idea. Soon though Harry became aware that he was being closely watched. Looking up, he saw the very small, mousey haired boy in Gryffindor robes, staring at Harry as though transfixed. He was clutching what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera, and the moment Harry looked at him, he went bright red.

‘All right, Harry? I’m – I’m Colin Creevey,’ he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. ‘I’m in Gryffindor. D’you think–would it be all right if–can I have a picture?’ he said, raising the camera hopefully.

‘A picture?’ Harry repeated blankly.

‘So I can prove I’ve met you,’ said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forwards. ‘I know all about you. Everyone’s told me. About how you survived when You Know Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you’ve still got a lightning scar on your forehead’ (his eyes focused on Harry’s hairline), ‘and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures’ll move.’ Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, ‘It’s brilliant here, isn’t it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad’s a milkman, he couldn’t believe it either. So I’m taking loads of pictures to send home to him and my little brother. And it’d be really good if I had one of you m–’ he looked imploringly at Harry, ‘–maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?’

Despite being embarrassed Harry was about to agree when a voice came from across the courtyard.

‘Signed photos? You’re giving out signed photos, Potter?’

Loud and scathing, Draco Malfoy’s voice echoed around the courtyard. He had stopped right behind

Colin, his large and thuggish cronies, Crabbe and Goyle were by his side.

‘Everyone queue up!’ Malfoy roared to the crowd. ‘Harry Potter’s giving out signed photos!’

‘No, I’m not,’ said Harry angrily, his fists clenching. ‘Shut up, Malfoy. The kid just wants one photo.’

‘You’re just jealous,’ piped up Colin, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe’s neck.

‘Jealous?’ said Malfoy, who didn’t need to shout any more; half the courtyard was listening in. ‘Of what? I don’t want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don’t think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself.’

Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly.

Allison pipped up, ‘You seemed to think it did when you introduced yourself at the castle last year.’ She then started doing a Malfoy impression, ‘Ooo, Harry Potter, shake my hand, please be my best friend forever and ever. What? You have standards, well fine I didn’t think you were cool anyway.’

The kids watching laughed at her mockery of him, even Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering. Draco normally had very light and pale skin but he was now on the verge of becoming a tomato as he was that red from anger.

‘You be careful Runcorn,’ sneered Malfoy, ‘I’d hate for an accident to happen to you on the field.’

‘What’s all this?’ Gilderoy Lockhart was striding towards them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. ‘Why are all you kids crowded around?’

Harry started to speak but he was cut short as Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulders and thundered jovially, ‘Shouldn’t have asked! We meet again, Harry!’

Pinned to Lockhart’s side and burning with humiliation, Harry saw Malfoy slide smirking back into the crowd. Lockhart noticed Colin with his camera and practically beamed.

‘Come on then, Mr Creevey,’ said Lockhart, beaming at Colin. ‘A double portrait, can’t say fairer than that, and we’ll both sign it for you.’

Colin fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind them, signalling the start of afternoon classes.

‘Off you go, move along there,’ Lockhart called to the crowd, and he set off back to the castle with Harry, who was wishing he knew a good vanishing spell, still clasped to his side. Harry just wanted to go study, write to his sister, or take a nap to be ready for midnight Astrology, but Lockhart was dragging him along.

‘A word to the wise, Harry,’ said Lockhart paternally as they entered the building through a side door. ‘I covered up for you back there with young Creevey. If he was photographing me, too, your schoolfellows won’t think you’re setting yourself up so much ...’

Deaf to Harry’s stammers, Lockhart swept him down a corridor lined with staring students and up a staircase.

‘Harry, Harry, Harry. You got to stop picking fights. I know you want to be famous, but their are many other ways to do that which don’t involve other people’s misery. People are going to think you’re trying to be the next Dark Lord. Perhaps try and follow in my footsteps, try saving the day instead of being the one the day needs saving from–’ he gave a little chortle, ‘I surprise myself with how poetic I can be sometimes.’

They had reached Lockhart’s classroom and he let Harry go at last. Harry yanked his robes straight and headed back towards the dungeons so he could get some peace and quite. Lockhart was really starting to get on his nerves, which was sad because he used to be one of his favourite authors.

The next day for the morning Harry had the ghost teacher Professor Binns for History of Magic. Mr Binns was very knowledgeable, but incredibly boring. Harry sometimes has to sneak sweets into the class to use the sugar to keep him awake.

Afterwards he had Defence Against the Dark Art with Lockhart. He tried to set aside the previous day but just in case he tried to find a seat at the very back of the class, where he busied himself with piling all seven of Lockhart’s books in front of him, so that he could avoid eye contact with the real thing.

He shared the class with Gryffindor, so besides his regular friend group he also had Ron and Neville by his side. When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell.

Lockhart reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom’s copy of Travels with Trolls and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

‘Me,’ he said, pointing at it and winking as well, ‘Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five times winner of Witch Weekly’s Most- Charming-Smile Award, but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!’

He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.

‘I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books, well done. I thought we’d start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about, just to check how well you’ve read them, how much you’ve taken in ...’

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, ‘You have thirty minutes. Start – now!’

Harry looked down at his paper and read:

1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favourite colour?

2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s secret ambition?

3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart’s greatest achievement to date?

On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:

54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart’s birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?

Harry knew a lot of the answers, but he was beginning to agree with Allison, this had very little to do with Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected in the papers and rifled through them in front of the class. ‘Tut, tut – hardly any of you remembered that my favourite colour is lilac. I say so in Year with a Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully – I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples – though I wouldn’t say no to a large bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky!’

He gave them another roguish wink. Poor Tracey was staring at Lockhart with an expression of shock and disappointment on her face; Gryffindor students Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter. The girl from Flourish and Blotts, Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention, and gave a start when he mentioned her name.

‘... but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions – good girl! In fact –’ he flipped her paper over, ‘full marks!’

Ron, Pansy Parkinson, and a couple other Gryffindors snickered at Hermione’s know-it-allness. Harry usually didn’t participate but he admitted it was funny how desperately she always tried to impress the teachers.

Lockhart with a grim started looking through his twenty students sitting in front of him. ‘Where is Miss Hermione Granger?’

The bushy haired girl raised a trembling hand.

‘Excellent!’ beamed Lockhart. ‘Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so, to business ...’

He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

‘Now – be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm.’

In spite of himself, Harry leaned around his pile of books for a better look at the cage. Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Dean and Seamus had stopped laughing now. Theodore just looked very bored.

‘I must ask you not to scream,’ said Lockhart in a low voice. ‘It might provoke them.’ As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

‘Yes,’ he said dramatically. ‘Freshly caught Cornish pixies.’

Seamus Finnigan couldn’t control himself. He let out a snort of laughter which even Lockhart couldn’t mistake for a scream of terror.

‘Yes?’ he smiled at Seamus.

‘Well, they’re not – they’re not very – dangerous, are they?’ Seamus choked in a thick Irish accent.

‘Don’t be so sure!’ said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. ‘Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!’

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, and their voices were much higher, almost like nails on a chock board. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and pulling bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

‘Right then,’ Lockhart said loudly. ‘Let’s see what you make of them!’ And he opened the cage.

It was pure chaos. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and shirt collar and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom in a matter of seconds.

They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, upended the waste bin, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks, Hermione had dashed out of the room in terror, and Neville was swinging from the candelabra in the ceiling.

‘Come on now, round them up, round them up, they’re only pixies ...’ Lockhart shouted.

He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand and bellowed, ‘Peskipiksi Pesternomi!’

The spell seemed to have absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized Lockhart’s wand and threw it out of the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who fell a second later as the candelabra gave way.

The bell rang and there was a mad rush towards the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Harry, Theodore, Allison, and Tracey, who were almost at the door, and said, ‘Well, I’ll ask you for to just nip the rest of them back into their cage.’ He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.

‘This is a nightmare?’ complained Allison, as some of the remaining pixies started ripping the curtains.

‘I can’t believe how incompetent in teaching he is,’ said Tracey sadly, immobilising several pixies at once

with one of her many clever random spells, a Freezing Charm. As she froze them the rest helped stuff them back into their cage.

After what seemed like forever they finally managed to lock all the pixies back into a cage. It had been a very eventful first week and he decided to end it with writing about it to his parents, sister, and Nymphadora. He also included in Canini’s letter words of encouragement as she had written saying she was enjoying classes but every student knew her condition, he told her to use it to her advantage and that she could do this.

As Harry went to sleep that night he couldn’t help think about how disappointing Lockhart was. Growing up he had read every single one of his books, he had written him fan mail. On particularly hard summer nights at the Dursley’s he often had thought “What would Lockhart do,” and now he felt like he had to question his faith in his hero.

### Chapter Eight: Mudbloods and Murmurs

Harry was quite glad to finally have reached the weekend. Draco had been such a jerk the last couple days, Lockhart kept popping up randomly, and although he meant well the little Gryffindor kid was a little annoying. Harry had been looking forward to some rest and relaxation for Saturday but those plans were thrown out the window at six in the morning.

‘Draco! Potter! Grab your equipment and get dressed! We’re having practice!’ Captain Marcus Flint yelled into their dormitory. Not only did he wake up Harry and Draco, but also Theodore, Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini.

‘Bloody hell Flint, it’s not even dawn.’ Malfoy complained as Harry was already getting changed.

Despite knowing it would do nothing Harry added, ‘I swore the Gryffindor team had the field for practice today?’

‘They used to, but I convinced Snape to give it to us. Now stop your complaining and get to the field!’

When he found his emerald team robes and pulled on his clock for warmth, Harry went down the spiral staircase to the cold stone common room, his Nimbus Two Thousand on his shoulder. He was just about to walk through the enchanted wall when Malfoy called out.

‘Potter! Wait up!’

‘Hurry up Draco, and quiet down, anyone not awake from Flint is going to be from your yelling.’

They started climbing the hundreds of stairs together. Harry would have preferred if they did it in silence but Malfoy broke that desire.

‘Are all practices this early?’

‘Practices are when we don’t have class so they are often either really early, in the afternoon, or late into the evening. Normally though he only makes practice this early to punish us, but I think today he just wants to mess with the Gryffindors.’

‘So they aren’t usually this early?’

‘Draco, Quidditch is a commitment, it’s not always a convenience. So if you can’t commit to odd hour practices go back to bed now and Adrian Pucey will happily take his spot back.’

But Malfoy kept walking up the steps, thankfully though he went the rest of the way without opening his mouth.

They were the last to reach the Slytherin team changing room, Allison, Terence, Flint, Bletchley, and Bole were already there. Everyone other than Flint still looked half asleep.

Lucian Bole was lying down on one on the benches, and Terence put his left shoe on his right foot before noticing it his mistake.

‘You two, you’re late. Finish getting ready and listen up.’

Everyone gathered around except Harry and Malfoy, but they were still listening.

‘We are winning again this year, I am making sure of it. We will continue to train longer and harder. And I have plans in place for all of your punishments if we lose just a single game. Trust me though, those punishments will seem like a vacation if we lose more than just one game. I better be seeing improvement by every team member every week or it’ll be laps around the entire grounds.’

He then went into lectures about strategies he had seen in professional matches over the summer and how they should be replicating them as much as possible. Bole started drooping off again, and even Allison was doing the head nodding of a person who was just barely staying awake.

After half an hour of listening to Flint babbling on, he finally started winding down. He transitioned into what he must have thought was a motivational speech but to all who heard it sounded like a threat.

‘This is my last year so I want us to win no matter what. And this year we got an extra advantage thanks to Draco’s father, but if I see any of you playing with your brooms instead of practicing I’ll beat you with it. Now let’s get to the field!’

They had been in the changing room so long that the sun was up properly now, although remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium. As Harry walked onto the pitch he could see that the Gryffindors were preparing to start practice, he realized Flint never told them they had been rescheduled.

Harry’s childhood friends Fred and George were talking to surprisingly Colin Creevey when George spotted them. He pointed at Flint.

‘Because they’re here in person.’

‘I don’t believe it!’ The Gryffindor captain Oliver Wood, who was already flying on his broom, hissed in outrage. ‘I booked the pitch for today! We’ll see about this!’

Wood shot towards the ground, landing rather violently in his anger, and staggering slightly he made his way towards their team.

‘Flint!’ Wood bellowed at their captain. ‘This is our practice time!’ We got up specially! You can clear off now!’

Marcus Flint, who likely had some troll blood in him, was much taller than Wood. He closed the distance between him and Wood, and looked like he was about to fight him when a cunning smile crossed his face.

‘Plenty of room for all of us, Wood.’

The Gryffindor Chasers Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had come over too. Seemingly to back Wood up.

‘But I booked the pitch!’ said Wood, positively spitting with rage. ‘I booked it!’

Harry was starting to feel awkward, Flint really had pulled their field time right from under their nose. He knew Flint would never actually allow it but he wish they could train side by side just for today.

‘Ah,’ said Flint, ‘but I’ve got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch pitch, owing to the need to train their new Chaser and Beater.’

‘You’ve got a new Chaser and Beater?’ said Wood, distracted. ‘Where?’

Draco and Allison stepped forward to make themselves known. Fred took one look at Draco and his nose scrunched up.

‘Aren’t you Lucius Malfoy’s son?’ said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike. ‘You tried to beat up my little brother in August.’

‘I did not touch a hair on his head, but he was a ravenous beast who tried to tear me to shreds. Harry, you saw.’

Fred, plus every other Gryffindor was now staring at him. He was on the spot and just said the first thing that came to mind.

‘I’m staying neutral in this. Can’t we just both practice?’

The Gryffindor Seeker, a fourth year named Kenneth Towler, spoke up.

‘Yeah, no. We don’t want you spying and learning our strategies.’

Malfoy, already energized from insulting Fred and his family, turned to Towler with a jerking smirk from ear to ear.

‘No one wants your strategies, you filthy mudblood,’ he spat.

Harry knee Malfoy was the kind of wizard who would say that, but it still caught him off guard. Harry became very mad, and so did everyone else. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George from hitting him, but Malfoy still got punched in the face, not by they twins, but a Slytherin.

Terence now stood above the fallen Draco, his knuckles red from the impact. Draco had been knocked to the ground but otherwise seemed ok, no bloody nose or dislocated jaw. Which was a shame because Draco shutting up would be very soothing at the moment.

Colin Creevey took a picture, and just looked really confused at the whole manner. ‘What’s a mudblood?’

Absolutely furious, Malfoy yelled. ‘It’s what you and that half-whit Seeker are you little parasite! All you mudbloods are going to pay for this!’

‘Oh, shut up Malfoy!’ Harry finally said, but the damage was done. Tears were streaming down little Colin’s cheeks and all the Gryffindors were retreating before any more trouble could occur.

Flint helped Malfoy up, then the captain turned to Terence. ‘What in bloody blazes were you thinking Higgs! Bench! Now! I have half a mind to kick you off but we’re going to need you if we’re going to win this year.’

Terence was clearly upset, but didn’t say anything. He just made his way to the bench, Harry almost swore his face conveyed satisfaction, as though he thought it was worth it.

After this Harry didn’t quite feel like practicing, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Over the next two hours they trained harder than Harry had ever remembered them train. About an hour in Tracey and Theodore arrived to watch, and sat next too Terence.

Finally, after several hours they finished up and after Harry changed he went to see Terence and his other friends. Allison was right behind Harry.

‘Terence, are you ok? What happened out there.’

His head was in his hands. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

Tracey spoke up, ‘Harry, he’s pretty shaken up. I don’t think we should go back to the common room as Draco may be waiting with his gang.’

‘We planned on going to Hagrid’s, let’s go there until everyone is cooled down.’ Harry suggested.

‘Yes, let’s go there.’

Harry helps Terence up and all five of them headed for Hagrid’s hut which wasn’t very far from the Quidditch stadium. They walked up to the front door and knocked.

Hagrid appeared almost at once, looking a bit grumpy, but his expression softened when he saw them.

‘Bin wonderin’ if you’d come ter see me-come in, come in-thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again. He’s bin botherin’ me.’

Hagrid spotted Terence, who he hadn’t met, and gave a questioning look to Harry who quickly responded.

‘This is my good friend Terence, we’ve had a rough morning and need a place to calm down. Is it ok if we all come in?’

Hagrid was often uneasy with Slytherin students, never really trusted them, but he came to trust Harry and so he opened his door wider so they knew they were all welcome. They all crossed the threshold into the big one-room cabin, which had an enormous bed in one corner, a fire crackling merrily in another. They all sat down on the giant sized chairs and bed.

‘Would some tea help?’ Hagrid offered.

‘Yes, thank you sir.’ Tracey said kindly.

Hagrid cheerfully bustled around, making them tea. His boarhound, Fang, was slobbering over Harry.

‘What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?’ Harry asked, scratching Fang’s ears.

‘Givin’ me advice on gettin’ kelpies out of a well,’ growled Hagrid, moving a half-plucked rooster off his scrubbed table and setting down the teapot. ‘Like I don’ know. An’ bangin’ on about some Banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I’ll eat my kettle.’

Harry didn’t know Hagrid as much as he’d like, but he never thought he’d criticize a Hogwarts teacher. Harry also didn’t quite believe what he said, yes Lockhart wasn’t the best teacher, but that didn’t mean he didn’t do what he said he did in the books. Harry decided to speak up.

‘I know he’s a bit eccentric, Hagrid, but Lockhart isn’t that bad. Why else would Dumbledore hire him?’

‘Cause he’s desperate, Dumbledore is. Gettin’ very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren’t too keen ter take it on, see. They’re startin’ ter think it’s jinxed. No one’s lasted longer than a year fer decades.’ Hagrid seeming didn’t want to discuss the subject anymore, he turned his attention to Terence. ‘So tell me, what ‘appened that ya needed tea an a safe place ter calm down?’

Terence was indeed now calm, but he kept looking at his tea instead of anyone else. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

Allison decided to recap instead. ‘Draco Malfoy, a nasty rich kid who’s our new Chaser, called the Gryffindor teams muggle-born Seeker a Mudblood, Terence punched Malfoy in the face. Malfoy has a handful of nasty friends so we’re laying low until we think it’s safe to return to the dungeons.’

‘Well I see now why ya wanted ter hit em, but I can’t see why ya actually did it.’

Terence suddenly stood up, once again red in the face with anger. ‘Because I am sick of hearing stuck up “pure-blood” Slytherins degrading others they deem less. Muggle-borns, half-bloods, and hybrids, we all have just as much magical potential as pure-bloods and yet every single day I hear someone from our house insult them for something they have no control over as they were born into it.’

Theodore was now standing, ‘Watch what you say, Higgs, I’m proud to be pure-blood.’

‘Well you and the Weasley’s might be an exception, but most pure-bloods don’t care about anything else but their status, they think about nothing else and do terrible things to try and keep them pure. It’s also driving their families to extinction, the “Sacred Twenty-Eight” are more like the “dwindling Twenty-Four” but it is commonly believed that most of them aren’t as pure-blood as they claim.’

Theodore, now getting quite red in the face himself, responded pretty harshly. ‘You take that back Higgs.’

‘I will not.’

Harry thought he might have to break up a fight, but Theodore backed away and headed for the door. ‘I need fresh air, I’ll be in the library.’

Once he was gone Terence turned to Hagrid, ‘See, that is what I can’t take much more of. Pure-blooded Slytherin entitlement.’

‘Ey, yer right young man. There ain’t a witch or wizard alive that doesn’t have muggle or tainted blood somewhere, an it’s true there ain’t a spell a pure-blood can do that a muggle-born can’t, but ya shouldn’t be usin’ yer fists ter prove yer point. It could gettcha inter a lot of trouble.’

‘Yeah Terence,’ Tracey said with concern, ‘If Malfoy tells Snape or Pomfrey you could get detention.’

Allison then spoke up, ‘That’s not the worst, if Draco decides to tell his father he would certainly find away to have you expelled, or punished in another nasty way.’

Terence finally looked guilty. ‘Ok, you are all right, I won’t hit him again. But that fecker deserves to have his entitled asal slapped around a bit.’

‘Good to ‘ear,’ said Hagrid cheerfully, he than turned his attention to Harry. ‘Harry, Igotta bone ter pick with yeh. I’ve heard you’ve bin givin’ out signed photos. How come I haven’t got one?’

Quite annoyed at this, Harry uninteresting raised his voice.

‘I have not been giving out signed photos!’ he said hotly. ‘If Lockhart’s still putting that about –’

But then he saw that Hagrid was laughing.

‘I’m on’y jokin’,’ he said, patting Harry genially on the back and sending him, face first, into the table. ‘I knew yeh hadn’t really. I told Lockhart yeh didn’ need teh. Yer more famous than him without tryin’.’

‘Bet he didn’t like that,’ said Harry, sitting up and rubbing his chin.

‘Don’ think he did,’ said Hagrid, his eyes twinkling. ‘An’ then I told him I’d never read one o’ his books an’ he decided ter go.’ He then held out a plate to his guests, ‘Treacle toffee?’

Everyone took a piece, and Harry who had experience with Hagrid’s toffee before took the smallest piece as the stuff was strong enough to glue your job shut. After they started chewing away Hagrid pointed towards the door.

‘Come an’ see what I’ve bin growin’,’ said Hagrid. Harry said yes while the others just nodded, most likely because they couldn’t say yes if they tried. Harry finished the last of his tea and the four of them joined Hagrid at the door.

In the small vegetable patch behind Hagrid’s house were a dozen of the largest pumpkins Harry had ever seen. Each was the size of a large boulder.

‘Gettin’ on well, aren’t they?’ said Hagrid, clearly proud of his work. ‘Fer the Hallowe’en feast ... should be big enough by then.’

‘What’ve you been feeding them?’ said Harry curiously.

Hagrid looked over his shoulder to check that they were alone. ‘Well, I’ve bin givin’ them – you know – a bit o’ help.’

Harry noticed Hagrid’s flowery pink umbrella leaning against the back wall of the cabin. Harry didn’t know much about the umbrella, but he knew anytime something magical happened around Hagrid the umbrella was usually close by. Hagrid wasn’t supposed to use magic. He had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, but Harry had never found out why, although admittedly he never really put in the effort to find out.

‘Is it some kind of growing charm, or potion, enchanted plant food’ asked Tracey excitedly, ‘Because if it’s the first I’d love to learn it.’

‘It’s a charm, but I don’t think I could teach it to ya, but maybe Flitwick could,’ Hagrid said with a bit of a laugh, ‘It’s funny, actually, that little girl from Flourish an Blotts said the same thing yesterday.’

‘What girl?’ Harry asked, ‘Ginny?’

‘Na, she wasn’t a Weasley. I don’t actually know her name now dat I think about it. Anyway she was jus’ exploring the ground when I bumped inta her, but she gave me the feeling she was lookin’ for someone or somethin’.’

They all talked a bit longer than said there goodbyes to Hagrid. It was nearly lunchtime and as Harry had only had one bit of treacle toffee since dawn, he was keen to go back to school to eat. They walked back up to the castle in a far better mood than when they had left the Quidditch stadium.

They had barely set foot in the cool Entrance Hall when a voice rang out. ‘There you are Mr Potter.’ Professor McGonagall was walking towards them, looking stern. ‘You and your friend Mr Nott will be doing your detentions this evening.’

Harry sighed but knew it had to be done. ‘Ok Professor, I’ll go tell Theo to meet me at Lockhart’s classroom.’

‘Oh no Mr Potter, while you will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail, Mr Nott will be with Mr Filch polishing the silver in the trophy room.’

‘Oh no, can’t I go and do the trophy room too?’ said Harry.

‘Any punishment with friends isn’t much of a punishment at all,’ said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. ‘Professor Lockhart will expect you at eight o’clock sharp. Good day Mr Potter.’

Harry slouched into the Great Hall followed by Tracey and Allison, Terence had to leave to go change out of his Quidditch uniform, they went and sat beside Theodore who was eating his lunch and looked equally upset. Harry didn’t fancy his shepherd’s pie as much as he’d thought. It hadn’t felt like there detention was real until McGonagall gave them the specifics.

‘Knowing Filch he’ll probably have me there until midnight.’ Theodore complained.

‘The detention is only supposed to take an hour, so don’t give him a reason to extend it.’

‘I know how to clean a lot of things by hand, but silver is not one of them.’

‘I’d swap with you,’ said Harry hollowly. ‘The Dursley on occasion had me clean the house, which included their antique silver plates. I already asked McGonagall to put me with you though and she denied me so I doubt she’d let us switch either.’

Saturday afternoon seemed to melt away, and in what seemed like no time, it was five minutes to eight, and Harry was dragging his feet along the second-floor corridor to Lockhart’s office. He took a deep breath and then knocked.

The door flew open at once. Lockhart beamed down at him.

‘Ah, here’s the scallywag!’ he said. ‘Come in, Harry, come in.’

Shining brightly on the walls by the light of many candles were countless framed photographs of Lockhart. He had even signed a few of them. Another large pile lay on his desk.

‘You can address the envelopes!’ Lockhart told Harry, as though this was a huge treat. ‘This first one’s to Gladys Gudgeon, bless her, she is a huge fan of mine.’

The minutes snailed by. Harry let Lockhart’s voice wash over him, occasionally saying, ‘Mmm’ and ‘Right’ and ‘Yeah’. Now and then he caught a phrase like ‘Fame’s a fickle friend, Harry’ or ‘Celebrity is as celebrity does, remember that’.

The candles burned lower and after what seemed like forever the hour was finally up. He had to tell Lockhart this however as he was completely focused on the fan mail.

‘Look at the time. I’d never have believed it-the time’s flown, hasn’t it?’

Harry didn’t answer however, his wrists were incredibly sore and he just wanted to get back to the dungeon and rest.

Tracey and Allison were waiting for him back in the common room, Theodore got back not much later. They both talked about their detentions.

‘I never want to see a silver trophy again,’ complained Theodore, who smelled like strong polish. ‘I also don’t want detention with Filch again, period.’

‘Yeah, and I’m glad tomorrow is Sunday, as I don’t think I can hold a quill again for a little while.’

They all started laughing, the four of them told jokes and other stories until they were completely exhausted. About an hour later they went there separate ways and went to bed. Draco was thankfully already asleep, hopefully meaning he wasn’t so bent on revenge that he’d stay awake to ambush them.

Despite his exhaustion it took Harry a long time to get comfortable and fall asleep, and when he finally did it was a very light sleep.

A little before midnight he was then woken up by a very faint sound. It was a voice, a voice to chill bone-marrow, a voice of breath-taking, ice-cold venom.

‘Come...come to me...let me rip you...let me tear you...let me kill you...’

Harry gave a huge jump and almost cracked his head on the bed board.

‘What?’ he said loudly, his heart now pumping a mile a minute. He than realized something though. ‘Draco! Draco, is this your idea of revenge?! Scaring me half to death in the middle of the night?!’

‘Potter, what in bloody blazes are you talking about?’ To Harry’s surprise Malfoy’s voice sounded groggy, unmistakably like someone who just woke up.

Harry then called to Theodore. ‘Theo, Theo are you awake?’

‘I think we all are mate, what are you screaming about?’

They went down to the common room where they were completely alone. ‘I heard a voice, it said it wanted to kill. Did you hear it too?’

‘I didn’t hear anything Harry, are you sure it was a voice?’

‘I heard it as clearly as I hear you. It said that it was coming and that it wanted to kill.’

Theodore seemed worried, but then managed to calm a bit. ‘Were you asleep when it started?’

‘Well yes, but the voice is what woke me up, I didn’t dream it.’

‘Harry, sometimes right when I’m falling asleep or just starting to wake up I am conscious but still dreaming images or sounds, perhaps the same just happened to you.’ He said this with a lot of confidence, ‘Until it happens again I’m going to say you had a small waking nightmare. It’s really late, let’s go back to sleep.’

And so they went back to their beds, but Harry couldn’t sleep for several more hours. He knew what he heard, and it was coming to kill.

### Chapter Nine: The Deathday Party

October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the matron, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup Potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterwards. Someone who could not get Pepperup Potion was Canini, she had written about all that she had learned and how well her Russian was getting, but that she had caught a cold from the freezing temperatures and the school’s doctor didn’t treat anything unless it got very serious. He sent a package of a couple sweets he had been holding onto and wrote saying to just hang on a couple more months.

Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flowerbeds turned into muddy streams and Hagrid’s pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. An unmeasurable amount of rain and mud couldn’t stop Marcus Flint however from drilling them in Quidditch until they practically lived, breathed, and sleeped Quidditch.

It was after one of these practices on a rainy Friday afternoon a week before Hallowe’en Harry and Allison, passing through the Entrance Hall to get to Slytherin dungeon, were completely drenched to the skin and splattered with mud. Even aside from the rain and wind it hadn’t been a happy practice session. Mid practice they realized they had been spies on and Marcus had to chase the guilty parties away, but never saw who it was.

As the two young Quidditch players hurried inside they came across somebody who looked just as preoccupied as they were. The Gryffindor’s ghost, Sir Nicholas, also called Nearly Headless Nick by his house, was staring morosely at the ground as he floated along, muttering under his breath, ‘...I can’t believe this...not my fault the axe was dull...’

Harry didn’t like his own house’s ghost, but he tried to be friendly with the others when he saw them.

‘Hello Sir Nicholas.’

He wore a dashing, plumed hat on his long curly hair, and a tunic with a ruff, which concealed the fact that his neck was almost com- pletely severed. He was pale as smoke, and Harry could see right through him to the stone wall beside him.

The ghost looked up, ‘Sorry children, didn’t see you there. Harry Potter, right? And I don’t believe I have been introduced to you miss.’

‘Runcorn, Allison Runcorn, Sir.’

‘You look troubled, young players,’ said Nick, folding a transparent letter as he spoke and tucking it inside his doublet.

‘So do you,’ said Harry.

‘Ah,’ Nearly Headless Nick waved an elegant hand, ‘a matter of no importance ... it’s not as though I really wanted to join ... thought I’d apply, but apparently I “don’t fulfil requirements”.’

In spite of his airy tone, there was a look of great bitterness on his face.

‘But you would think, wouldn’t you,’ he erupted suddenly, pulling the letter back out of his pocket, ‘that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?’

‘Oh – yes,’ said Harry, who didn’t mean to get into the ghosts troubles but now didn’t want to appear as rude.

‘I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had all been quick and clean, and my head had come off properly, I mean, it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule. However...’ Nearly Headless Nick shook his letter open and read furiously.

‘We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have parted company with their bodies. You will appreciate that it would be impossible otherwise for members to participate in hunt activities such as Horseback Head-Juggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret, therefore, that I must inform you that you do not fulfil our requirements. With very best wishes, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore.’

Harry was still processing the hit forty-five time comment when a fuming, Nearly Headless Nick stuffed the letter away.

‘Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on, Mr Potter! Most people would think that’s good and beheaded, but oh no, it’s not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore.’

Nearly Headless Nick took several deep breaths and then said, in a far calmer tone, 'So, what's bothering you two? Anything I can do?'

'No,' said Harry. 'It has just been a really rough couple days with the rain, training, and so many people getting si-'

The rest of Harry's sentence was drowned out by a high-pitched meowing turning the corner. Harry turned and found himself gazing into a pair of lamp-like yellow eyes. It was Mrs. Norris, the skeletal gray cat who was used by the caretaker, Argus Filch, who was in an endless battle against the students.

'You and Ms Runcorn should probably leave,' said Nick quickly. 'Filch isn't in a good mood-he's got the flu and is grumpy from having to clean a lot of mud lately, if he sees you dripping even more mud all over the place-'

'Right,' said Harry, backing away from the dirrection Mrs. Norris was comming from, but not quickly enough. Drawn to the spot by the mysterious power that seemed to connect him with his foul cat, Argus Filch quickly turned the corner, wheezing and looking wildly about for the rulebreaker. There was a thick tartan scarf bound around his head, and his nose was unusually purple.

‘Filch!’ he shouted, his jowls aquiver, his eyes popping alarmingly as he pointed at the muddy puddle that had dripped from Harry and Allison, Quidditch robes. ‘Mess and muck everywhere! I have had enough of this constant filth. You kids have no respect. Potter, Runcorn, follow me!’

So with their heads low Harry and Allison followed Filch through the winding corridors. Harry did think it was ironic though, that by leading them further into the castle him and Allison were increasing the amount of mud on the floor.

Harry nor Allison had ever been inside Filch’s office before; it was a place most students avoided. The room was dingy and windowless, lit by a single oil lamp dangling from the low ceiling. A faint smell of fried fish lingered about the place. Wooden filing cabinets stood around the walls; from their labels, Harry could see that they contained details of every pupil Filch had ever punished. Fred and George Weasley had an entire drawer to themselves. A highly polished collection of chains and manacles hung on the wall behind Filch’s desk. He often complained to those that he punished that long ago Hogwart’s used to suspend students by their ankles for several hours and Dumbledore won’t let him reinstate the punishment.

‘Filth,’ he muttered very frustratingly, ‘so much filth and grime everywhere...I’m sick of it...where are those report forms...yes...’

He retrieved a large roll of parchment from his desk drawer and stretched it out in front of him, dripping his long black quill into the ink pot.

‘Names...Harry Potter and Allison Runcorn...Crime...’

‘We did nothing wrong, we didn’t drag mud in on purpose.’ Allison protested, pretty fed up with their situation.

‘You may think it’s nothing, children, but to me it’s an extra hour scrubbing!’ shouted Filch, a drip shivering unpleasantly at the end of his bulbous nose. ‘Crime...befouling the castle corridors...suggested sentence...’

Dabbing at his streaming nose, Filch squinted unpleasantly at Harry, who with bated breath for his sentence. He would reluctantly be willing to just clean up the mud trail they left, but knowing Filch he’d give a punishment far worse than their offence.

But as Filch lowered his quill, there was a great BANG! on the ceiling of the office, which made the oil lamp rattle.

‘PEEVES!’ Filch roared, flinging down his quill in a transport of rage. ‘I’ll have you this time, I’ll have you!’

And without a backwards glance at Harry, Filch ran flat-footed from the office, Mrs Norris streaking alongside him to chase away the school’s poltergeist.

Harry didn’t much like Peeves, but couldn’t help feeling grateful for his timing. Hopefully, whatever Peeves had done (and it sounded as though he’d wrecked something very big this time) would distract Filch from Harry.

‘We should leave,’ Allison said with annoyance on her round face, ‘This place reminds me too much of my dad’s office.’

‘No, we should stay,’ Harry said after thinking a moment, ‘If we aren’t here when he returns he might double our punishment for evading arrest.’

Allison begrudgingly agreed and sat on top of one of the filing cabinets and Harry sank into a moth-eaten chair next to the desk. There was only one thing on it apart from his half-completed form: a large, glossy, purple envelope with silver lettering on the front. With a quick glance at the door to check that Filch wasn’t on his way back, Harry picked up the envelope and read:

“Kwikspell

A Correspondence Course in Beginners’ Magic”

Intrigued, Harry’s curiosity got the best of him and he carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the sheaf of parchment inside. More curly silver writing on the front page.

“Feel out of step in the world of modern magic? Find yourself making excuses not to perform simple spells? Ever been taunted for your woeful wandwork?

There is an answer!

Kwikspell is an all-new, fail-safe, quick-result, easy-learn course. Hundreds of witches and wizards have benefited from the Kwikspell method!

Madam Z. Nettles of Topsham writes:

‘I had no memory for incantations and my potions were a family joke! Now, after a Kwikspell course, I am the centre of attention at parties and friends beg for the recipe of my Scintillation Solution!’

Warlock D. J. Prod of Didsbury says:

‘My wife used to sneer at my feeble charms but one month into your fabulous Kwikspell course I succeeded in turning her into a yak! Thank you, Kwikspell!’”

Fascinated, Harry quickly showed it to Allison who chuckled a bit at its contents. Why on earth did Filch want a Kwikspell course? Did this mean he wasn’t a proper wizard? Allison was just reading out loud ‘Lesson One: Holding Your Wand (Some Useful Tips)’ when shuffling footsteps outside told them Filch was coming back. Quickly stuffing the parchment back into the envelope, Harry threw it back onto the desk just as the door opened.

Filch was looking triumphant.

‘That vanishing cabinet was extremely valuable!’ he was saying gleefully to Mrs Norris. ‘Their is only two in the whole castle, we’ll have Peeves out this time, my sweet.’

His eyes fell on the two of them and then darted to the Kwikspell envelope which, Harry realised too late, was lying two feet away from where it had started.

Filch’s pasty face went brick red. Harry braced himself for a tidal wave of fury. Filch hobbled across to his desk, snatched up the envelope and threw it into a drawer.

‘Have you–did you read–?’ he spluttered.

‘No,’ Harry lied quickly. Allison shuck her head to also say no.

Filch’s knobbly hands were twisting together.

‘If I thought you’d read my private...not that it’s mine...for a friend...be that as it may...however...’

Harry was staring at him, alarmed; Filch had never looked madder. His eyes were popping, a tic was going in one of his pouchy cheeks and the tartan scarf didn’t help. Allison looked as though she was trying her best to be a statue as to not give him a single reason to react.

‘Very well...go...and don’t breathe a word...not that...however, if you didn’t read...go now, I have to write up Peeves’ report... go ...’

Amazed at their luck, the two friends sped out of the office, up the corridor and back to the Entrance Hall where this all started. To escape from Filch’s office without punishment was probably some kind of school record.

‘Harry! Harry! Did it work?’

Nearly Headless Nick came gliding out of a classroom. Behind him, Harry could see the wreckage of a large black and gold cabinet which appeared to have been dropped from a great height.

‘I decided to help and so I persuaded Peeves to crash it right over Filch’s office,’ said Sir Nicholas eagerly. ‘Thought it might distract him–’

‘Was that you?’ said Harry gratefully. ‘Yeah, it worked, we didn’t even get detention. Thanks, Sir Nick!’

As a thank you Harry and Allison decided to spend the next little while talking to Sir Nicholas, Allison hadn’t really interacted with him before so she had many questions and he had many answers. Nearly Headless Nick however, Harry noticed, was still holding Sir Patrick’s rejection letter.

‘I wish there was something I could do for you about the Headless Hunt,’ Harry said genuinely concerned.

Nearly Headless Nick went still, and looked as though he were contemplating something. Finally he carefully spoke.

‘But there is something you could do for me,’ said Nick, a little bit excited. ‘Harry–would I be asking too much–but no, you wouldn’t want–’

‘What is it?’ said Harry.

‘Well, this Hallowe’en will be my five hundredth deathday,’ said Nearly Headless Nick, drawing himself up and looking dignified.

‘Oh,’ said Harry, not sure whether he should look sorry or happy about this. ‘Right.’

‘I’m holding a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. Friends will be coming from all over the country. It would be such an honour if you would attend. Miss Allison and any of your close friends would be most welcome too, of course–but I dare say you’d rather go to the school feast?’ He watched Harry on tenterhooks.

‘No,’ said Harry quickly, ‘I’ll come–’

‘I can’t believe it! Harry Potter, at my Deathday Party! And,’ he hesitated, looking excited, ‘do you think you could possibly mention to Sir Patrick how very frightening and impressive you find me?’

‘Of–of course,’ said Harry.

Nearly Headless Nick beamed at him.

Harry and Allison then said their goodbyes and headed down to the Slytherin common room.

‘Sorry, Allison,’ Harry finally said, ‘I should have asked if you wanted to go before I agreed.’

‘It’s ok, it seems interesting.’

They arrived at the enchanted wall and entered their underwater stone dormitory. They found Theodore and Tracey and filled them in on what happened.

‘Well this death day party sounds intriguing,’ said a focused Theodore, ‘If I have all my homework done I think I’ll go, it will be interesting to see this ghost custom.’

Tracey however shivered, ‘I don’t know, it sounds like there’ll be lots of decapitated ghosts, a nearly decapitated one is enough for me.’

In their cold, dark common room, only lit by a dozen enchanted lanterns, Harry explained the other event that had occurred. How they had been caught by Filch and barely escaped, Harry did leave out the part about the letter though, as if a rumour spread Filch would know who started it.

By the time Hallowe’en arrived, Harry was regretting his rash promise to go to the Deathday Party. The rest of the school were happily anticipating the annual delicious Hallowe’en feast; the Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, Hagrid’s vast pumpkins had been carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in and there were rumours that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment.

‘Harry, don’t chicken out,’ Allison said bossily. ‘If you aren’t at the Deathday Party Sir Nicholas will probably be upset, and we can’t afford another spirit being mad at us.’

So, at seven o’clock, Harry, Theodore, and Allison walked straight past the stairway that would have lead the the Great Hall, and directed their steps instead towards the dungeon Sir Nicholas had specified.

Before they got far a familiar voice called out to them.

‘Wait,’ said Tracey, ‘I am coming. My curiosity got the better of me.’

The passageway leading to Nearly Headless Nick’s party had been lined with candles, though they weren’t the cheerful ones found upstairs: these were long, thin, jet-black tapers, all burning bright blue, casting a dim, ghostly light even over their own living faces. The temperature dropped with every step they took. As Harry shivered and drew his robes tightly around him, he heard what sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard.

‘What is that horrible noice?’ Theodore asked, covering his ears.

‘I think it’s supposed to be music?’ Allison responded.

They turned a corner and saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.

‘My dear friends,’ he said mournfully, ‘welcome, welcome...so pleased you could come ...’

He swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside.

It was an incredible sight. The dungeon was full of hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people, mostly drifting around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dreadful, quavering sound of thirty musical saws, played by an orchestra on a black-draped platform. A chandelier overhead blazed midnight blue with a thousand more black candles. Their breath rose in a mist before them; it was like stepping into a freezer.

‘This is incredible,’ Theodore whispered.

‘Shall we have a look around?’ Harry suggested, wanting to warm up his feet.

‘Yes, but probably best we don’t walk through anyone,’ said Tracey, still a bit nervous, and they set off around the edge of the dance floor. They passed a group of gloomy nuns, a ragged man wearing chains, and the Fat Friar, the cheerful Hufflepuff ghost, who was talking to a knight with an arrow sticking out of his forehead. Harry wasn’t surprised to see that the Bloody Baron, their gaunt, staring Slytherin ghost covered in silver blood-stains, was being given a wide berth by the other ghosts.

‘Stop,’ said Tracey and Allison in unison, then Allison continued. ‘Turn around, turn around, we do not want to have to interact with Moaning Myrtle–’

‘Who?’ said Harry, as they backtracked quickly.

‘She is this crazy depressed ghost that haunts one of the girls’ toilets,’ said Tracey.

‘She haunts a toilet?’

‘Yes. And she’s been throwing such bad tantrums this year that no one has been using it, that and she keeps flooding the place. I do feel sorry for her sometimes though.’

‘I’m starving,’ Harry interrupted, ‘Does anyone see food?’

Tracey pointed to the other side of the dungeon were there was a long table, also covered in black velvet.

They approached it eagerly, but soon stopped in their tracks, horrified. The smell was quite disgusting. Large, rotten fish were laid on handsome silver platters; cakes, burned charcoal black, were heaped on salvers; there was a great maggoty haggis, a slab of cheese covered in furry green mould and, in pride of place, an enormous grey cake in the shape of a tombstone, with tar-like icing forming the words:

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington died 31st October, 1492

Harry watched, amazed, as a portly ghost approached the table, crouched low and walked through it, his mouth held wide so that it passed through one of the stinking salmon.

‘Can you taste it if you walk through it?’ Harry asked him curiously.

‘Almost,’ said the ghost sadly, and he drifted away.

‘They must have let it rot to try and give it a stronger flavour,’ Theorized Theodore while pinching his nose in disgust.

‘Theo, stop talking. We got to move or I am going to vomit,’ said Allison queasily.

They barely had time to turn around before a little man swooped suddenly from under the table and came to a halt in mid-air in front of them.

‘Hello, Peeves,’ said Harry very cautiously.

Unlike the ghosts around them, Peeves the poltergeist was the very reverse of pale and transparent. He was wearing a bright orange party hat, a revolving bow-tie and a broad grin on his wide, wicked face.

‘Nibbles?’ he said sweetly, offering them a bowl of peanuts covered in fungus.

‘We’re not really hungry right now Peeves,’ said Allison, still trying to hold her food down.

‘Heard you talking about poor Myrtle,’ said Peeves, his eyes dancing. ‘Rude you was about poor Myrtle.’ He took a deep breath and bellowed, ‘OY! MYRTLE!’

‘Peeves, you bloody monster, don’t tell her what we said, she’ll scream the rest of the semester,’ Tracey whispered in a panic. ‘Oh no, she’s floating this way–um, Happy Hallowe’en, Myrtle.’

The squat ghost of a girl had glided over. She had the glummest face Harry had ever seen, half-hidden behind lank hair and thick, pearly spectacles.

‘What?’ she said sulkily.

‘I said Happy Hallowe’en, Myrtle?’ said Tracey, trying to sound her cheery self but failing. ‘I don’t see you out of the bathroom often.’

Myrtle simply sniffled.

‘Miss Davis and Runcorn was just talking about you–’ said Peeves slyly in Myrtle’s ear.

‘They were just saying–saying–how well the blue candlelight reflects off your glasses,’ Harry said quickly to the miserable ghost, staring at Peeves with a look begging him not to keep talking.

Myrtle eyed them all suspiciously.

‘You’re making fun of me,’ she said, silver tears welling rapidly in her small, see-through eyes.

‘We weren’t–I promise–Theo, didn’t I just tell Harry how nice Myrtle’s glasses look in this light?’ said Tracey desperate.

‘Oh yes, Tracey is a kind soul,’ Theodore said very quickly.

‘She really did,’ said Harry before being cut off.

‘Don’t lie to me,’ Myrtle gasped, tears now flooding down her face, while Peeves chuckled happily over her shoulder. ‘D’you think I don’t know what people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!’

‘You’ve missed out “spotty”,’ Peeves hissed in her ear. Moaning Myrtle burst into anguished sobs and fled from the dungeon. Peeves shot after her, pelting her with mouldy peanuts, yelling, ‘Spotty! Spotty!’

‘That was depressing,’ Tracey said with a lot of guilt in her voice.

Nearly Headless Nick now drifted towards them through the crowd.

‘Enjoying yourselves?’

‘We are,’ they all lied.

‘Not a bad turnout,’ said Nearly Headless Nick proudly. ‘The Wailing Widow came all the way up from Kent.’ He then tipped his hat to Tracey and Theodore, ‘You must be Harry’s friends, not often I meet friendly Slytherins. You two are?’

‘I am Theo Nott, and this is Tracey Davis.’

‘Good to meet you both...It’s nearly time for my speech, I’d better go and warn the orchestra ...’

The orchestra, however, stopped playing at that very moment. They, and everyone else in the dungeon, fell silent, looking around in excitement, as a hunting horn sounded.

‘Oh, here we go,’ said Nearly Headless Nick bitterly.

Through the dungeon wall burst a dozen ghost horses, each ridden by a headless horseman. The assembly clapped wildly; Harry started to clap too, but stopped quickly at the sight of Nick’s face.

The horses galloped into the middle of the dance floor and halted, rearing and plunging; a large ghost at the front, whose bearded head was under his arm, blowing the horn, leapt down, lifted his head high in the air so he could see over the crowd (everyone laughed) and strode over to Nearly Headless Nick, squashing his head back onto his neck.

‘Nick!’ he roared. ‘How are you? Head still hanging in there?’

He gave a hearty guffaw and clapped Nearly Headless Nick on the shoulder.

‘Welcome, Patrick,’ said Nick stiffly.

‘Live ’uns!’ said Sir Patrick, spotting Harry, Tracey, Allison, and Theodore and giving a huge, fake jump of astonishment, so that his head fell off again (the crowd howled with laughter).

‘Very amusing,’ said Nearly Headless Nick darkly.

‘Don’t mind Nick!’ shouted Sir Patrick’s head from the floor. ‘still upset we won’t let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say–look at the fellow–’

‘I think,’ said Harry with purpose, remembering why he’s there and that he might not get another opportunity afterwards, ‘Nick’s very–frightening and–er–it’s not his fault their is still a thread of flesh keeping his head on.’

‘Ha!’ yelled Sir Patrick’s head. ‘Bet he asked you to say that!’

‘If I could have everyone’s attention, it’s time for my speech!’ said Nearly Headless Nick loudly, striding towards the podium and climbing into an icy-blue spotlight.

‘My late lamented lords, ladies and gentlemen, it is my great sorrow...’

But nobody heard much more. Sir Patrick and the rest of the Headless Hunt had just started a game of Head Hockey and the crowd were turning to watch. Nearly Headless Nick tried vainly to recapture his audience, but gave up as Sir Patrick’s head went sailing past him to loud cheers.

Harry felt very sorry for Sir Nicholas, this was supposed to be his special day, but Harry was very cold now, and despite the stench of the room he was quite hungry.

‘Harry, I think I need some fresh air,’ Allison muttered, her teeth chattering and her skin a sickly green, ‘The cold and the smell are really starting to get to me.’

So as the orchestra started to play again and the ghosts swept back onto the dance floor, Harry and his gang turned to the way they came.

‘Let’s go,’ Harry agreed.

They backed towards the door, nodding and beaming at anyone who looked at them, and a minute later were hurrying back up the passageway full of black candles.

‘I’ll take Allison outside for some fresh air and perhaps to vomit,’ Harry said, getting a bit tired from the evenings activities, ‘You too go to the Hall and get a couple plates of food to bring down to our dormitories to eat.’

Tracey and Theodore nodded and they all started making the journey up the stairs. They had just made it about half way up when Harry heard it.

‘...rip...tear...kill...’

It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice he had heard in Lockhart’s office.

He stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with all his might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway.

‘Harry, you faint now too–?’ Asked Theodore all concerned.

‘It’s that voice again–shut up a minute–’

‘...soo hungry...for so long...’

‘Listen!’ said Harry urgently, and his three friends froze, watching him.

‘...kill...time to kill...’

The voice was growing fainter. Harry was sure it was moving away, that it was moving upwards. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped him as he stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upwards? Was it a phantom, to whom stone ceilings didn’t matter?

‘This way,’ he shouted, and he began to run, up the stairs, into the Entrance Hall. It was no good hoping to hear anything here, the babble of talk from the Hallowe’en feast was echoing out of the Great Hall. Harry sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor, Tracey and Theodore clattering behind him.

‘Harry, where are you go–’

‘SHH!’

Harry strained his ears. Distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, he heard the voice:

‘...I smell blood...I SMELL BLOOD!’

His stomach lurched. ‘It’s going to kill someone!’ he shouted, and ignoring his two friend’s bewildered faces, he ran up the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen over his own pounding footsteps.

Harry hurtled around the whole of the second floor, Theodore and Tracey panting behind him, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

‘Theo, what did Harry mean by voices, and can we slow down so poor Ally can catch up?’ said Tracey, catching her breath. Theodore then turned to her

‘I don’t know, he had a nightmare last month, but I didn’t hear anything then and I didn’t hear anything...’ But Theodore was interrupted by the caught up Allison giving a sudden gasp. It wasn’t a gasp of catching one’s breath however, it was a gasp of shock. Still as pale as the ghosts they had just left behind, Allison pointed down the corridor.

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached, slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

‘Something – something is hanging below?’ said Harry with a quivering voice.

As they edged nearer, Harry almost slipped over: there was a large puddle of water on the floor. Tracey and Theodore grabbed him, and they inched towards the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All four of them realised what it was at once, and leapt backwards with a splash.

Mrs Norris, the caretaker’s cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.

For a few seconds, they didn’t move. Then Allison finally threw up the little food that was in side her.

After a couple seconds of Allison hurling, Theodore shakingly turned to Harry, ‘We need to get out of here, right now!’

‘Theo,’ Tracey said with a start, ‘Shouldn’t we try and find a teacher–’ Harry nodded in agreement awkwardly, but Theodore quickly shook his head.

‘We can’t risk it,’ he started. ‘We are Slytherin’s, they’ll immediately think we did it, that and me and you Harry are already on incredibly thin ice. We have to move.’

But it was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told them that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.

The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Harry, Tracey, Theodore, and a now empty Allison stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students, pressing forward to see the grisly sight.

Then someone shouted through the quiet.

‘Enemies of the heir, beware! You’ll be next, Mudbloods!’

It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd to get a better look, his cold eyes alive with realization, his usually bloodless face flushed as he grinned at the sight of the poor hanging, immobile cat.

### Chapter Ten: The Writing on the Wall

‘What’s going on here? What’s going on?’

Most likely from hearing Malfoy’s shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

‘My cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs Norris?’ he shrieked.

And his popping eyes fell on Harry and Allison.

‘You!’ he screeched, ‘You! You’ve murdered my cat! You’ve killed her! I’ll kill you both! I’ll–’

‘Argus!’

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In a matter of seconds, he had swept past Harry, and his friends, and detached Mrs Norris from the torch bracket.

‘Come with me, Argus,’ he said to Filch calmly but seriously. ‘You too, Mr Potter, Mr Nott, Miss Runcorn, and Miss Davis.’

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

‘My office is nearest, Headmaster-just upstairs–please feel free–’

‘Thank you, Gilderoy,’ said Dumbledore.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape.

As they entered Lockhart’s darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; Harry saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back to watch the drama unfold. Dumbledore laid Mrs Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Harry, and friends exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching. Allison sank most of all as she was still recovering from the retching she had done.

The tip of Dumbledore’s long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs Norris’s fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: it was as though he was trying hard not to smile. And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making in Harry’s opinion rather dim-witted suggestions.

‘It was definitely a curse that killed her–probably the Transmogrifian Torture. I’ve seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn’t there, I know the very counter-curse that would have saved her...’

Lockhart’s comments were punctuated by Filch’s dry, racking sobs. He was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs Norris, his face in his hands. As much as he detested Filch, Harry couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for his situation, though not nearly as sorry as he felt for himself. If Dumbledore believed Filch, he and Allison, perhaps Tracey and Theodore too, would be expelled for sure.

Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs Norris with his wand, but nothing happened: she continued to look as though she had been recently taxidermized.

‘...I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadougou,’ said Lockhart, ‘a series of attacks, the full story’s in my autobiography. I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets which cleared the matter up at once...’

The photographs of Lockhart on the walls were all nodding in agreement as he talked. As the minutes ticked on Harry was getting less and less hopeful that this would have a positive outcome for him and his friends.

At last Dumbledore straightened up.

‘She’s not dead, Argus,’ he said softly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented. Harry breathed a sigh of relief himself.

‘Not dead?’ choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs Norris. ‘But why’s she all–all stiff and frozen?’

‘She has been Petrified,’ said Dumbledore (‘Ah! I thought so!’ said Lockhart). ‘But how, I cannot say...’

‘Ask them!’ shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tear-stained face to Harry and Allison.

‘No second-year could have done this,’ said Dumbledore firmly. ‘It would take Dark magic of the

most advanced –’

‘They did it, they did it!’ Filch spat, his blotchy face purpling. ‘You saw what they wrote on the wall! They found–in my office–they knows I’m a–I’m a–’ Filch’s face twisted up horribly. ‘They know I’m a Squib!’ he finished.

‘I never touched Mrs Norris!’ Harry said loudly, uncomfortably aware of everyone looking at him, including all the Lockharts on the walls. ‘Allison didn’t either, she was overwhelmingly nauseated at the time. That and we didn’t know the letter meant you were a Squib, I just thought you were bad at magic.’

‘Rubbish!’ snarled Filch. ‘He saw my Kwikspell letter!’

‘If I might speak, Headmaster,’ said Snape from the shadows, and Harry’s sense of foreboding increased; he was sure nothing Snape had to say was going to do him any good.

‘Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time,’ he said, a slight sneer curling his mouth as though he doubted it, ‘but we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why were they in the upstairs corridor at all? Why weren’t they at the Hallowe’en feast or down in their common rooms?’

Harry, Tracey, Theodore, and especially Allison all launched into an explanation about the Deathday Party, ‘...several ghosts saw us, the ones from the castle that saw us were Myrtle, Sir Nick, and Peeves the poltergeist, they will all tell you we were their almost all evening–’ Allison said, sounding like a detective from those muggle things called movies.

‘But why not join the feast afterwards?’ said Snape, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight. ‘Why go up to that corridor?’

All three looked at Harry, they knew only Harry knew why they were in that corridor.

‘Because–because–’ Harry said, his heart thumping very fast; something told him it would sound very far-fetched if he told them he had been led there by a bodiless voice no one but he could hear, ‘because we had insulted Myrtle and wanted to try and apologize, but when we got to her floor I thought I heard a ruckus and my curiosity got the better of me,’ he said.

‘Why not do this after supper? Myrtle wasn’t going anywhere’ said Snape, a triumphant smile flickering across his gaunt face. ‘I didn’t think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties, you must have been starving.’

‘We were hungry before we arrived at the party, but the food you mentioned turned our stomachs pretty quick,’ said Allison, who was starting to get quite annoyed.

Snape’s nasty smile widened.

‘I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful,’ he said. ‘It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Slytherin Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest, I know a student who can replace him.’

‘Really, Severus,’ said Professor McGonagall sharply, ‘I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. I agree they are hiding something, but I don’t think it is that they are guilty. They were found with no blood on their hand or wands out, so if we ask the ghosts what time they all left I have a feeling we’ll find that there was no way they could get upstairs, petrify Mrs Norris, paint the message, and clean up before the rest of the students arrived. There is no evidence at all that Potter or his friends have done anything wrong.’

Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light blue gaze made Harry feel as though he was being X-rayed.

‘Innocent until proven guilty, Severus,’ he said firmly.

Snape looked furious. So did Filch.

‘My cat has been Petrified!’ he shrieked, his eyes popping. ‘I want to see some punishment!’

‘We will be able to cure her, Argus,’ said Dumbledore patiently. ‘Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made which will revive Mrs Norris.’

‘I’ll make it,’ Lockhart butted in. ‘I must have done it a hundred times, I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep–’

‘Excuse me,’ said Snape icily, ‘but I believe I am the Potions master at this school.’ There was a very awkward pause.

‘You may go,’ Dumbledore said to Harry, Tracey, Allison, and Theodore.

They went, as quickly as they could without actually running. When they were a floor down from Lockhart’s office, they turned into an empty classroom and closed the door quietly behind them. Harry squinted at his friends’ darkened faces.

‘D’you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?’

‘Absolutely not,’ said Theodore, without hesitation.

‘Harry until we figure out what it is you heard we can’t tell the teachers, otherwise you’ll look even more suspicious. For now Dumbledore is right, you are innocent because they have no proof otherwise, don’t give them anything that’ll look incriminating.’

Something in her voice made Harry ask, ‘You do believe me, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ said Allison quickly. ‘Theodore mentioned this happened before I don’t think you are making it up. However – from what I’ve learned from my father this situation doesn’t look good for you unless evidence that backs up your story appears. And hearing weird voices no one else can isn’t going to help your case...’

‘I know it sounds weird,’ said Harry. ‘The whole thing’s weird. What was that writing on the wall about? The Chamber has been opened...what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I believe I have heard my father mention it once,’ said Ron slowly. ‘I remember him talking about it when talking about his school days, but I don’t remember what he said about it.’

Tracey finally piped up,‘ And can someone explain to me what a Squib is, I never have heard my mother say that before?’

Knowing Allison or Theodore might say something offensive without meaning too Harry decided to answer Tracey’s question. ‘A Squib is a person who was born into a wizarding family but doesn’t have any magic powers. Most Muggle-born wizards and witches are descendants of Squibs. But I think Filch is trying to do something impossible, no amount of magic courses can teach you something you don’t have. I can’t believe I’m saying this but I feel sorry for him, he’s probably just trying to find a way to keep up with all us magical students.’

‘I don’t,’ said Allison, ‘If he had magic I don’t there would be a student in hogwarts not constantly in detention.’

A clock chimed somewhere.

‘Midnight,’ said Harry. ‘We’d better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame us for something else.’

For the following couple of days, the two hundred and eighty students could only seem to talk about the attack on Mrs Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone’s minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back. One morning Harry had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with “Mrs Skower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover” but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone, meaning they probably had some kind of enchantment mixed in with them. In the rare moment Filch wasn’t guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like breathing loudly and looking happy.

A lot of students were also upset by the attack. A first year Ella Wilkins who’s hogwarts pet was a pet kept trying to come up with excuses for her to be with her in class to keep her close, Justin Finch-Fletchley kept randomly hyperventilating, and Hermione Granger was not her eager to please self, often keeping quiet in class and no longer instantly answered questions when asked. The attack really was making everyone a little on edge.

Harry also found that students were starting to act oddly around him. Theodore, one of his closest friends, suddenly started spending almost all of his time either in the library or the owlery. One Monday Snape held him back after Potions class to scrape tubeworms off the desks, and afterwards on his way to the library he saw Justin Finch-Fletchley, coming towards him. However just as Harry had opened his mouth to say hello Justin caught sight of him, turned abruptly and sped off in the opposite direction.

Harry found Tracey and Allison near the back of the library, measuring their History of Magic homework. Professor Binns had asked for a three-foot long composition on "The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards".

‘This is brutal, no matter how many words I add I still come up short, I still need three inches...’ said Tracey very frustrated.

'That's nothing, I have all I can possibly say written down and I am still almost a foot short,' Allison complained, letting go of her parchment, which sprang back into a roll, ‘and some how perfect Theodore is already done with several inches extra. Where does he find the time?’

‘Where is he?’ asked Harry, grabbing the tape measure and unrolling his own homework.

‘I think in the history section,’ said Tracey helpfully, pointing along the shelves, ‘looking for a specific book and failing. He's getting pretty obsessed with whatever it is.’

Harry then told the girls about Justin Finch-Fletchley running away from him.

‘Don't think to much about it Harry, you barely know Justin, he's probably just intimidated by Slytherins he doesn't know,' said Ron, scribbling away, trying to cram as many words in as possible.

Surprisingly Theodore then emerged from between the bookshelves. He looked very irritated, Harry was hesitant to talk to him in fear it would set him off. He didn't have to worry though as Theodore himself started the conversation.

‘It is completely ridiculous, every single copy of "Hogwarts: A History" have all been checked out,’ he said, sitting down next to Harry and Allison. ‘And it will be weeks before one is available as there is now a long waiting list. I sent a letter home asking for my copy to be sent along, but so far no luck.’

‘Why do you want it?’ said Harry.

‘I am guessing it is the same reason other students wants it,’ said Theodore, ‘to learn about the Chamber of Secrets.’

‘The message on the wall? I never heard of any chamber until the attack, what is it?’ said Harry quickly.

‘I don't really know, like I said my father isn't answering my letters, but I had heard him mention it before,’ said Theodore, becoming really frustrated. ‘But I have racked my brain and I think I remember something, he said that in his third year the chamber was opened and that someone was murdered, that is all I recall however.’

Harry wanted to hear more about this, but Allison, struggling with this particular assignment, changed the subject.

‘Hey Theo, can you lend my your paper so I can look over it,’ she asked desperately.

‘What? No, I am not in a position to be caught helping someone cheat,’ said Theodore rather harshly. ‘Besides, you have had over a week to work on it.’

‘Most of that time I’ve been at Quidditch practice, we got an extra week thanks to that lightning storm and so we need to practice extra hard for Saturday’s game. That and I am not asking to copy what you wrote, I just need to know I am going in the right direction.’

There final class for the day was at two o’clock and all four of them made their way to the History of Magic classroom, Allison and Theodore arguing educational ethics the whole way there.

History of Magic was the dullest subject on their timetable. Professor Binns, who taught it, was their only ghost teacher, and the only interesting thing that ever happened in his classes was when he occasionally entered the classroom by emerging through the blackboard. Ancient and shriveled, the popular rumour was that he didn’t know he had died for years. He had simply got up to teach one day and left his body behind him in an armchair in front of the staff- room fire; his course content and text book requirements had not varied in the slightest since.

Today’s class was just as boring as ever. Professor Binns opened his notes and began to read in a flat drone like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly everyone in the class was in a deep stupor, occasionally coming round long enough to copy down a name or date, then falling asleep again. He had been speaking for half an hour and Harry could barely keep his eyes open when he was awoken by a voice other than the long deceased Professor Binns.

‘Professor? I have a Hogwarts history question.’

The voice had come from none other than Justin Finch-Fletchley, who Harry could not believe was taking the risk of interrupting Professor Binns.

But Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of his deadly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looked amazed, not mad.

‘Mr–er–?’

‘Finch-Fletchley, Sir. I thought that you out of any of my teachers may have the answer, what is the history of about the Chamber of Secrets,’ asked Justin in a hesitant voice.

Suddenly everyone was awake and paying attention, Draco nearly hurt his head from the whiplash; Harry’s old friend Susan Bones dropped her quill and was frantically trying to pick it up so she could write down his response, and Theodore was now staring at Binns like what was about to come out of his ghostly mouth was the holy grail.

Professor Binns blinked. ‘My subject is History of Magic,’ he said in his dry, wheezy voice. ‘I deal with facts, Mr Finch-Fletchley, not myths and legends.’ He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk snapping and tried to continue his beyond boring lecture, ‘In September of that year, a sub-committee of Sardinian sorcerers–’

He stuttered to a halt. Theodore has risen his hand to ask a question.

‘Mr Nott?’

‘Please Professor, sir, it isn’t entirely a legend, I heard it was a big deal in the forties, but it also must have been mentioned in Hogwarts history before than?’

Professor Binns was looking at him in such amazement, Harry was sure no student had ever interrupted him before, alive or dead.

‘Well,’ said Professor Binns slowly, ‘yes, one could argue that it has been mentioned in this school’s history many times before, I suppose.’ He peered at the class as though he had never truly noticed they were there before. ‘However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale ...’

But the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns’s every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. Harry could tell he was completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest.

‘Oh, very well,’ he said slowly. ‘Let me see...the Chamber of Secrets...You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago–the precise date is uncertain–by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution.’

He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued, ‘For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school.’

Professor Binns paused again, pursing his lips, looking like a wrinkled old tortoise.

‘Reliable historical sources tell us this much,’ he said, ‘but these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic.’

There was silence in his class as he finished telling the story, but it wasn’t the usual, sleepy silence that filled Professor Binns’ classroom. There was unease in the air as everyone continued to watch him, hoping for more. However Professor Binns looked faintly annoyed.

‘The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course,’ he said. ‘Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible.’

But the class wasn’t satisfied with his answer. Justin Finch-Fletchley immediately asked a new question.

‘Sir, what do the legends say the ‘horror within’ the Chamber is exactly?’

‘That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the heir of Slytherin alone can control,’ said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice.

The class exchanged nervous looks.

‘I tell you, the Chamber does not exist,’ said Professor Binns, shuffling his notes. ‘There is no Chamber and no monster.’

‘Sir?’ Asked Theodore nervously, ‘there is a flaw in your logic. If only Slytherin’s true heir can open it then there is no way those that searched for it could find it, could they?’

‘Nonsense, Nott,’ said Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. ‘If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven’t found the thing–’

‘But, Professor,’ piped up Allison, ‘No headmaster could find it as they would probably need Dark Magic to open it –’

‘Just because a wizard doesn’t use Dark Magic, doesn’t mean he can’t, Miss Runhome,’ snapped Professor Binns. ‘I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore–’

‘But the legend clearly states you must be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore could never–’ began Tracey Davis, but Professor Binns had had enough.

‘That will do,’ he said sharply. ‘It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to history, to solid, believable, verifiable fact!’

And within five minutes, the class had fallen back into a collective near catatonic state.

'Why did it have too be Salazar Slytherin,' Tracey told the others after class as they fought their way through the teeming corridors at the end of the lesson to drop off their bags before dinner. ‘All four founders were medieval witches and wizards, and yet it had to be Salazar who made a death chamber. The other students are going to hate us even more now.'

'Well technically medieval times didn't start for about seventy-five years after Hogwarts was founded, but I understand what you are saying,' Theodore concluded. 'And clearly he did not get his wish as even his house only has a handful of pure-bloods and is mostly half-bloods.'

'Yeah,' said Allison, agreeing with what Theodore just said, 'We all had a choice on what house we wanted to be in.'

Theodore and Tracey nodded in agreement, but Harry didn’t say anything. His stomach had just dropped unpleasantly with the secret he had been hiding from them since his first day the previous year.

Harry had never told his friends that he had begged the Sorting Hat to put him into Gryffindor, because that was the house his whole family was in, as well as his childhood friends the Weasley's, but it wasn't to be. He could remember, as though it was yesterday, the small voice that had spoken in his ear when he’d placed the Hat on his head a year before.

'You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that-yes?' The hat had said.

But Harry, who had grown up hearing of Slytherin house’s reputation for turning out dark wizards, had thought desperately, ‘Not Slytherin!’ but the Hat had made up its mind and said, ‘Better be SLYTHERIN!’

As they were shunted along in the throng, Colin Creevey went past. ‘Hiya, Harry!’

‘Hello, Colin,’ said Harry automatically.

‘Harry–Harry–a boy in my class has been saying you’re–’

But Colin was so small he couldn’t fight against the tide of people bearing him towards the Great Hall; they heard him squeak, ‘See you, Harry!’ and he was gone.

‘Who is that tiny kid and what was he saying to you?’ Theodore questioned.

'That was Colin Creevey, he was the Gryffindor kid who kept wanting to take pictures of me, remember? My guess would be that his friend is spreading a rumour that I am the heir of Slytherin,’ said Harry, his stomach dropping another inch or so, as he suddenly remembered the way Justin Finch-Fletchley had run away from him at lunchtime.

‘Well he is probably wrong,’ said Theodore in disgust. 'The Potter's come from a long line of Gryffindor's, and you mother was the first in her line, it is highly unprobable that you would be Slytherin's heir.'

The crowd thinned and they were able to climb the next staircase without difficulty.

‘Do you really think that there is a Chamber of Secrets Theo?’ Tracey asked.

‘I do, my father is many things but he doesn't tell stories, so what I heard him say must have actually happened,’ he said with a frown. ‘That and Dumbledore, one of the most powerful wizards ever couldn’t cure Mrs Norris and is the only one who didn't dispute the existence of the chamber, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her was much more powerful than a single human.’

As he spoke, Harry finally realised they were no longer heading in the direction of the Dungeons, but of the floor of the attack.

'Theo, where are we going?'

'I saw Filch patrolling downstairs, which means he isn't guarding here. I want a closer look.'

They turned a corner and found themselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened. They stopped and looked. The scene was just as it had been that night, except that there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stood against the wall bearing the message ‘The Chamber has been opened.’ They looked at each other. The corridor was deserted.

‘Can’t hurt to have a poke around,’ said Harry, dropping his bag and getting to his hands and knees so that he could crawl along, searching for clues.

‘Scorch marks!’ he said. ‘Here–and here –’

‘Now this is strange!’ said Allison. ‘Harry, come look...’

Harry got up and crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. Allison was pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack in the glass. A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside. Harry beckoned the other two to take a look.

‘This is rather odd behaviour for spiders,’ said Theodore curiously. 'Its November so usually the opposite should be happening.'

They got back to looking around. Harry couldn't really see anything else, but then he realised there was something he wasn't seeing.

‘Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone’s mopped it up.’

‘I remember it being about here,’ said Theodore pointing at a spot on the floor. ‘Just about level with that door.’

He reached for the brass doorknob but suddenly withdrew his hand and his cheeks flushed a little.

‘What’s the matter?’ said Harry.

‘Mate,’ said Theodore embarrassed, ‘it’s a girls’ toilet.’

‘Oh, Theo, I know where we are now,’ said Allison looking around. ‘That’s Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Harry your lie to get us out of trouble was more believable than we thought.'

'Come on,' said Tracey opening the door, 'It'll only be Myrtle in their. W should have a look around inside.’

And ignoring the large ‘Out of Order’ sign, she opened the door.

It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom Harry had ever set foot in. Under a large, cracked and spotted mirror were a row of chipped, stone sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the cubicles were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.

Tracey whispered for the boys to be quiet and set off towards the end cubicle. When she reached it she said, ‘Good evening, Myrtle, how are you today?’

Harry and Theodore however got curious and went to look. Moaning Myrtle was floating on the cistern of the toilet, picking a spot on her chin.

‘This is a girls’ bathroom,’ she said, eyeing Theodore and Harry suspiciously. ‘They’re not girls.’

‘They aren't,’ Tracey agreed. ‘But they aren't doing anything, they just wanted to admire-er-the retro design of this room.’

She waved vaguely at the dirty old stone sinks and the damp floor.

‘Ask her if she saw anything,’ Harry mouthed at Tracey.

‘What are you whispering?’ said Myrtle, staring at him.

‘Nothing,’ said Harry quickly. ‘We just wanted to ask–’

‘I wish people would stop talking behind my back!’ said Myrtle, in a voice choked with tears. ‘I do have feelings, you know, even if I am dead.’

‘Myrtle, that's not why we are here,’ said Tracey. ‘Were are here to–’

‘Not why you're here! That’s a good one!’ howled Myrtle. ‘My life was nothing but misery at this place and now people come along ruining my death!’

‘We wanted to ask if you had seen anything out of the ordinary lately,’ said Allison, breaking her silence, ‘because there was an attack on Hallowe'en just outside your door.’

‘Did you see anyone near here that night?’ said Harry.

‘I wasn’t paying attention,’ said Myrtle dramatically. ‘Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I’m–that I’m–’

‘A ghost,’ said Theodore sarcastically.

Myrtle gave a tragic sob, rose up in the air, turned over and dived head first into the toilet, splashing water all over them and vanishing from sight; from the direction of her muffled sobs, she had come to rest somewhere in the U-bend.

Harry and Ron stood with their mouths open, but Tracey looked somewhat satisfied, ‘Honestly, that was the most I ever heard Myrtle talk before breaking down in tears.’

'Let's get out of here, this place makes me uncomfortable.' said Allison, first to the door.

Before the others could make it to the door themselves Allison slammed the door behind her. They were about to shout at her when her reasoning became clear. They heard her in a loud voice say, 'Weasley, what are you doing here?'

'I am a Prefect on patrol, but that bathroom is out of order, what were you doing in their Slytherin?' It was Percy, Ron's older brother and a stickler for the rules. If he finds Harry and Theodore in the restricted girls bathroom right across from where the attack happened they would be expelled for sure.

'I desperately had to pee, this was the only bathroom near by.'

'I heard other voices. Who else is in there with you?'

'Well,' Allison said, trying to hide the panic in her voice, 'Their is Moaning Myrtle, and my friend Tracey who also had to pee.'

Allison then called out them, 'Trace? Are you done washing your hands yet!'

'Yes, I am coming.'

Harry and Theodore quickly hid behind the door as Tracey exited the bathroom. After a moment the door closed once more and he heard Percy ask one more question.

'Why are their four bags here instead of two?'

'Have you never had Mr Binns? We gives so much work. That and Lockhart made us buy eight books. We need two bags each.'

'Very well,' Percy finally said, 'but it is getting late. Have supper and go to your common room.'

The two boys then listened to the sound of two people walking away. Knowing Percy was probably waiting for them to show their faces they waited silently. Over the next twenty minutes they heard several people walking by, including one that sounded like a girl crying, but even once it was again quiet on the other side of the door they did not leave. Finally Allison knocked on the door.

'He is gone. It is safe to leave now.'

The two boys exited and the three of them quickly made their way down stairs.

'That was brilliant quick thinking Allison,' Harry complimented. 'You probably saved me and Theo's necks.'

'You're welcome, just don't put me in that position again. Promise?'

'I'll try my best.'

'Good. Now we brought your bags downstairs and while I went to liberate you Tracey went to collect food before deserts were brought out so we'll be eating in the common room.'

When they reached the Slytherin common room and finished eating they all decided to at least attempt to get some of their homework completed. Allison and Theodore threw themselves into their potions homework that dealt with calculating the correct amount of ingredients for an upcoming assignment based on the amount of wolfsbane in it. Harry and Tracey however were less focused, they were still high off of the rush of adrenaline from their small discoveries and daring escape. Finally Tracey had enough and slammed her text book down. To Harry’s surprise, Theodore followed suit.

‘So who do you think is the Heir of Slytherin,’ she asked in a quiet voice, continuing the conversation they had been discussing after History of Magic.

‘It might not be the heir of Slytherin, just someone trying to use the fear that comes with the title,’ Theodore said, equally silently, ‘Someone who is willing to kill for their beliefs.’

‘Well I am not sure about kill yet, but they definitely seem to want all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts. Who in today’s society still cares that much about blood purity?’ Said Allison, but she was met with an immediate irritated response.

‘I do,’ said a grumpy Theodore. ‘The wizarding race is in danger of dying out because of all the watering down of muggles in our gene pool. I think there should definitely be more emphasis on magic folk only marrying magic folk, but unlike the attacker I am not going to hurt someone over my beliefs.’

Harry did not like these words coming out of his friends lips. He would not have been born if his father hadn’t married his Muggle-Born mother, nor would Remus if his dad hadn’t married his muggle wife. It was Tracey though who this really hurt, her father is a muggle and because of hers families fear of blood purists she’s not even allowed to tell anyone she has a brother. She shouted at Theodore.

‘Oh yeah! If you truly care about a persons lineage and not the person themselves how can we know you aren’t Slytherin’s heir?! Unlike Harry you come from a long line of Slytherins.’

Allison put a hand on Tracey’s shoulder and she calmed down a little. Despite all the yelling Theodore answered the question straight.

‘Use some logic Tracey, I was with you, Harry, and Allison the whole time at the Deathday party, and Harry saw me both times he heard that voice that seems to be connected to this somehow, so it obviously wasn’t me doing the voice. I do however have a theory as to who it is.’

‘Well, spit it out.’ Said Harry, still a bit mad at Theodore.

‘Use your brain,’ said Theodore in mock puzzlement. ‘Who do we all know is a Pure-Blood, blood purist, descendent of a longline of Slytherins, who said “You’ll be next, Mudbloods” the moment he saw the message on the wall?’

‘Malfoy.’ The rest of them whispered when he finished speaking.

But Harry wasn’t fully convinced, ‘I want to be clear I am not defending him, but I don’t think it could be Malfoy. He is all bark and no bite, we know this, that and he was definitely asleep when I first heard the voices.’

‘But unlike what you and Theodore believe, I don’t think the voice and the attacker are guaranteed to be connected,’ Allison stated,’ and unlike the four of us we have no proof as too his location when the attack happened.

Harry then chimed in, ‘Even if Draco isn’t evil, his father almost certainly is, my fathers has told me a lot of wicked things about him, so he could be having Draco doing his bidding.’

‘Yeah, and if their is a Chamber then his father could’ve handed him the key,’ said Allison. ‘But their is no way to prove it...’

‘Well,’ said Theodore cautiously, ‘There might be a way. We just ask him.’

‘What? Theo I am really starting to judge your sanity.’ Tracey said with a slight laugh, ‘He wouldn’t tell us in a million years.’

‘We won’t be us. But I still don’t think it’s a good idea. It would be really hard to pull off, and if we fail all four of us would certainly be expelled.’

‘Just spill it Theo.’ Harry begged.

Theodore grinned a devilish grin. ‘All we need to do is brew some Polyjuice Potion.’

‘What’s that?’ said Harry, Tracey, and Allison all together.

‘Snape mentioned it in a lecture two weeks ago–’

‘Do you think we’re all in love with Snape as much as you are?’ Allison half joked, ‘We just pay attention to the stuff that’ll give us a passing mark.’

‘One, I resent that comment about Professor Snape, I just really like potions, second it’s a transformation potion.’

‘Wait, really?’ Asked Harry, very impressed.

‘It is, so just consider this. We could change into, I don’t know, maybe Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy...and...um...oh, Millicent. No one would know it was us. Malfoy would then tell us anything we ask, he loves to brag. He’s probably talking about it with Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini upstairs right now. If only the door to our dorm didn’t have a sound proofing charm.’

‘This sounds a bit good to be true,’ said Tracey, suspiciously. ‘I don’t remember seeing any transformation potions in our text book?’

‘Well,’ said Theodore, turning a little red in the ears, ‘that is the one problem, the only copies of the book are in the Restricted Section. And not even Snape would believe me if I said I wanted to just take a look. Maybe we could manipulate another teacher?’

‘No need,’ Allison said, looking almost proud of herself, ‘I’ll have copy sent to us right away.’

‘What? How are you so confident,’ Theodore asked, ‘What makes you so sure you’re parents will give it to you.’

‘Because,’ she said with a chuckle, ‘My dad has been trying to get me to read dark books for ages to prepare me to be an Auror. The book will be yours Theo within a fortnight.’

### Chapter Eleven: The Rogue Bludger

Obtaining the book was far easier than they had anticipated. On Friday morning Allison’s family owl delivered a stack of books, among them was Moste Potente Potions. They however could not start reading it until after a never ending Lockhart class.

Thankfully there wasn’t much danger anymore in the class as ever since the disastrous class with the pixies, Professor Lockhart had not brought live creatures to class. However they were know constantly at risk of dying from boredom as he now solely read passages from his books to them, and sometimes re-enacted some of the more dramatic bits. It wasn’t always the worst but one of Harry’s issues was that Lockhart usually picked him 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, a yeti with a headcold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him.

Harry was once again hauled to the front of the class, this time being told to act out a werewolf scene. However this was where Harry drew the line, he was not going to do an insulting performance of a werewolf when two members of his family actually were just that.

‘No sir, please pick somebody else.’ And despite Lockhart’s protests Harry managed to pull himself away and sat back down. Malfoy ended up volunteering and took every opportunity to make his representation of a werewolf as demeaning as possible.

‘Nice loud howl, Draco–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–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, Draco–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.’

Harry however wasn’t the only student unimpressed. Dean Thomas sneakily booed a couple times, and Hermione Granger just looked straight up miserable.

The bell thankfully rang soon after 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!’

‘That was ridiculous,’ Harry told his friends quietly as they were leaving the classroom, ‘There is no such spell to turn a werewolf back into a man while the full moon is out. We are learning nothing from him.’

Just as they left the room Malfoy ambushed them. ‘Hey Potter, scared to do a little acting. Or are you just upset because your daddykins does better howling every full moon?’

‘Shut up Malfoy! You know that’s not true.’

‘Yeah,’ he smirked, ‘But I think you’re a lier. My father has told me all the rumours that floated around back in the day, they were never disproven.’

‘They were never proven either. Now shut up or I’ll make sure you never see the pitch Saturday. Come on guys.’

They started making their way towards the library, but as they walked Theodore started asking questions.

‘I knew I didn’t misremember, I had heard the rumours too that one of your adoptive dads was a werewolf. Do you seriously live with a halfbreed?’

Harry turned towards Theodore, his anger rising. ‘I am really starting to get annoyed with your obsession with blood status Theo. We aren’t here to talk about my dads past, we are here to figure out if there is a Chamber of Secrets and if we are in any danger from the monster inside.’

They dropped their voices as they entered the muffled stillness of the library. They reviewed the book for about an hour and soon realised why the Hogwarts copy was 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.

After a few minutes of searching they had found the chapter labeled 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. And speaking of faces, Theodore's was filled with awe.

‘This Potion is remarkable, I have never seen something so complex,’ said Theodore, as he reviewed the recipe. ‘Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed and knotgrass,’ he murmured, while reading the ingredient list. ‘It is not too bad, most of these can be found in the student store-cupboard. However there are two ingredients I am less sure where we can procure some, powdered horn of a Bicorn and Shredded skin of a Boomslang. We will also need a bit of whoever we want to change into.’

‘Pardon?’ said Tracey in shock. ‘Did I miss hear you, a bit of whoever we changing into? Do we need their blood or...’

Theodore interrupted her, ‘No, don’t panic. It says hair does just fine. But I think we may need a safer place to discuss this. If anyone over hears we might get in trouble.’

So five minutes later they found themselves barricaded in Moaning Myrtle’s out-of-order bathroom once again. Their earlier journey had proven that no one ever came in there, so they were guaranteed some privacy. Moaning Myrtle was crying noisily in her cubicle, but they were ignoring her, and she them.

Theodore opened Moste Potente Potions once more, and they all continued reviewing the book. After a couple more minutes they were semi-sure what needed to be done.

‘From what I can tell, the piece of the person is the very last step, so we have time to figure that part out. Am I right Theo?’ Harry asked.

‘Yes, but I have figured out where we’ll get the two other ingredients, and it’s just about as dangerous as the ingredients themselves. We are going to have to steal from Snape’s private stores. I am starting to think this isn’t worth it.’

‘Come on Theo,’ said Tracey, ‘You can’t chicken out now. This person or thing is threatening the inhabitants of this school, and we got to help stop it.’

He looked very hesitant, but he finally nodded. Tracey turned to Harry and Allison.

‘And you two are in as well?’

‘Definitely.’ Said Harry.’

‘This is super risky, of course I’m in.’ Said Allison stoically.

‘Good,’ said Tracey approvingly, she then turned back to Theodore. ‘Once you have the starting ingredients how long will it take you to make this?’

‘Well assuming nothing goes wrong and I do absolutely everything right, then about a month. One of the ingredients must be obtained on a full moon and the other takes 21 days to brew, but after that it won’t need much extra time.’

‘That long,’ said Harry nervously, ‘There could be more attacks by then.’

‘You are the one who wants to do this. It’s either make the potion that’ll likely get us the information that we need, or we try and come up with a less likely to succeed option that if we fail we’ll likely not get a second chance.’

However, while Tracey was checking that the coast was clear for them to leave the bathroom, Harry muttered to Allison, ‘It might be a lot simpler if you just “accidentally” beat a Bludger right at Draco.’

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 Marcus would do to him and the team if they lost, but he wasn’t too worried as his team all possessed the fastest racing brooms gold could buy, even Harry’s was still close to top of the line. After the postponement and all that had happened the last month he was looking forward to blowing off steam in the game. After half an hour of lying there with his insides churning from nerves, he got up, dressed, and went down to breakfast early, where he ate alone, his only company was the Gryffindor team at their table seemingly doing some last minute preparations.

As eleven o’clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadi-um. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. Tracey and Theodore came hurrying over to wish Harry and Allison good luck as they entered the changing rooms. The team pulled on their jade Slytherin robes, then sat down to listen to Flint’s usual pre-match threats.

‘Slytherin is going win, we have better brooms, and better players,’ he began, ‘So you sorry lot have zero excuses for messing up. If I see so much as a hair out of line I’ll make your life a living hell. And so help me if we lose I will give each and every one of you a fate worse than death. Do I make myself clear!’

Chest heaving with fury, Flint turned to Harry.

‘You specifically better be good out their Potter, or your horrible fate will be being expelled from the team. Let us rack up as many points as possible before doing your job, but if you see that Mudblood Seeker going for the Snitch you got to get there first. We have to win this game. Got it?!’

Harry simply nodded, Flint had intimidated him so much his voice was stuck in his throat.

As they walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly boos and hisses, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins in the crowd made their cheers heard too. 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.

‘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.

‘Outcast, eh Potter?’ yelled Kenneth Towler, shooting underneath him. ‘Noticed you’re the only Slytherin without a Nimbus Two Thousand and One. So sad that your own team hates you. Oh wait, that’s nothing new for you.’

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.

‘Good dodge, Harry!’ said Allison, streaking past him with her club in her hand, ready to knock the Bludger back towards a Gryffindor.

Harry saw Allison give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Katie Bell, but the Bludger changed direction in mid-air and shot straight for Harry again.

Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and Allison managed to hit it hard towards Towler. 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...

Lucian Bole was waiting for the Bludger at the other end. Harry ducked as Lucian swung at the Bludger with all his might; the Bludger was knocked off course.

‘That should do it!’ Lucian 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 to try and keep the Bludger away.

It had started to rain; At his current speed Harry felt every heavy drop fall onto his face like a bullet, and he was almost blind from the splattering on 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.’

Thankfully the superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs, but meanwhile the mad Bludger was doing all it could to knock Harry out of the air. Allison was now flying so close to him that Harry could see nothing at all except her flailing arms and he had no chance to look for the Snitch, let alone catch it.

‘Some–Gryffindor–cheater–has–jinxed–the–Bludger–’ Allison grunted, swinging her bat with all her might at it as it launched a new attack on Harry.

‘Perhaps we should call a time out,’ suggested Allison, exhausted, but Harry shook his head.

‘No if we stop the game Marcus will kill us. We might be currently winning, but Towler currently has no obstacles in catching the Snitch. Go work with Lucian to bat the other Bludger at him as much as possible and I’ll start looking for the Snitch.’

She hit the possessed ball away once more, ‘But Harry, this ball isn’t just going to knock you off your broom, it seems to be going for the kill.’

‘I’ll deal with it. Now go.’

Allison flew in the opposite direction and Harry leaned forward 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 Terence was trying to get past Wood ...

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.

‘Are you an entertainer or a Seeker, Potter?’ yelled Towler, 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 Towler in rising hatred, he saw it, the Golden Snitch. It was hovering inches above Towler’s left ear, and Towler, busy laughing at Harry, hadn’t seen it.

For an agonising moment, Harry hung in mid-air, not daring to speed towards Towler in case he looked up and saw the Snitch.

WHAM!

He realized in the most painful way possible that he had stayed still a second too long. The Bludger had finally managed to land a hit, smashed into his elbow, and Harry felt his arm break. Heart pounding, adrenaline pumping, and starting to go into shock from his injury, 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. Harry swerved out of the way, barely able to keep his in distress brain focused on a single goal: grab the Snitch.

Through a haze of rain and pain he dived for the shimmering, daziling ball, hardly noticing Towler’s face eyes widen with fear: Towler thought Harry was attacking him.

‘Hey, stop-’ he gasped, careering out of Harry’s way.

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. From far below there were lots of concerned yells, but Harry never heard them as he blacked out the moment his hand grasped his goal.

He came to on the ground. It was still just his arm in agonizing pain so Harry assumed someone, likely Tracey, used a spell to slow his fall. In shock he could quite understand what was going on, there were people around him but for a while he couldn’t seem to make out who they were or what they were saying, all he could focus on was how his arm hung at a weird angle.

Riddled with pain, he finally started to make out what those around him were saying, but it felt like they were on the opposite side of the field heard, mostly whistling and shouting. He focused on the Snitch clutched in his good hand.

‘Aha,’ he said vaguely, ‘we’ve won.’

And then he once again fainted.

He came round again about a minute later, rain falling on his face, still lying on the pitch, with someone leaning over him. He saw a glitter of teeth.

‘Oh no, not you,’ he moaned.

‘Doesn’t know what he’s saying,’ said Lockhart loudly, to the anxious crowd of spectators pressing around them. ‘Not to worry, Harry. I’m about to fix your arm.’

‘No!’ said Harry, he wanted to ask for Madam Pomfrey, but him mind was still jumbled. ‘I’ll keep it like this, thanks...’

He tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible. He heard a familiar clicking noise nearby.

‘No photo please, Colin,’ he managed to say.

‘Lie back, Harry,’ said Lockhart soothingly. ‘It’s a simple charm I’ve used countless times.’

‘Why can’t I just go to the hospital wing?’ Harry eventually managed to say through clenched teeth.

‘We should really fetch Pomfrey, Professor,’ said a worried Allison, who despite preferring to always appear stoic, looked near faint herself when looking at his arm.

Flint then approached. ‘Ya did good Potter, but suck it up and let the Professor do the charm.’

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.

‘Stand back,’ said Lockhart, who was rolling up his jade-green sleeves.

‘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 fin- gertips. It felt as though his arm was being deflated. 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. 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. That’s the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry, just toddle up to the Hospital Wing–ah, Miss Runcorn, Mr Higgs, would you escort him?–and Madam Pomfrey will be able to–er–tidy you up a bit.’

As Harry got to his feet, he felt strangely lopsided. Allison and Terence started escorting him, and quickly they were joined by Theodore and Tracey. Now feeling more secure by being surrounded by friends, Harry took a deep breath he looked down at his right side. What he saw nearly made him pass out for a third time.

Poking out of the end of his robes was what looked like a thick, flesh-coloured rubber glove. He tried to move his fingers. Nothing happened.

To his horror he realized that Lockhart hadn’t mended Harry’s bones. He had removed them.

Madam Pomfrey wasn’t at all pleased.

‘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 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...’

The others waited outside the curtain drawn around Harry’s bed while Terence helped him into his pyjamas. It took a while to stuff the rubbery, boneless arm into a sleeve.

‘This is the absolute final straw,’ said Harry very frustrated, ’Lockhart has ruined my arm, he is no hero.’

Terence pulled Harry’s limp fingers through the cuff. ‘Harry specifically told him he didn’t want his help and wanted to go to Pomfrey, and now look at the sorry state he is in.’

‘The man is an unqualified nightmare.’ Concurred Allison from the other side of the curtain.

‘How does your arm feel, Harry?’ Theodore asked.

‘I think he means are you in any pain?’ Tracey corrected.

‘No,’ said Harry, ‘but I can’t feel much of anything else from it either.’

As he swung himself onto the bed, his arm flapped pointlessly.

The others and Madam Pomfrey came around the curtain. Madam Pomfrey was holding a large bottle of something labelled ‘Skele-Gro’.

‘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 his friends to help Harry gulp down some water. Theodore pointed at the bottle.

‘Harry, quite a coincidence you are using Skele-Gro, considering it was your ancestor Linfred who invented it.’

‘Wait? He did?’

‘Well yeah, the Potter fortune started with him, you have a lot of potion makers in your family. How do you not know this?’

‘I don’t pay attention to potions class as much as you Theo, and you know I’m being raised by my god father and his husband, they taught me as much as they could about my family but they don’t know everything.’

There was an intense silence between the two, almost like which ever of them broke the silence next would start a full on fight. To ease the tension Tracey spoke out.

‘New topic, it was incredible how you won Harry. I swear Kenneth thought you were about to knock him off his broom.’

‘And how did he get away with jinxing a Bludger. I thought there was extra anti-jinx precautions taken after what happened last year.’ Said Allison deep in thought.

‘I don’t think it was him,’ said Terence. ‘Some of his friends are in my year and they have mentioned how he isn’t strong in charms. This was the work of someone else, someone with powerful enchantment magic.’

Just then the door of the hospital wing burst open at that moment. Filthy and soaking wet, most of the Slytherin team had arrived to see Harry.

‘You were spectacular, Harry,’ said Lucian. ‘To still catch the Snitch after such an injury is almost unheard of.’

The only two team members not present were Filch and Malfoy, which Harry was pleased became he wanted to say something not meant for their ears. ‘Thanks, but you should keep your mouth shut about that, or Marcus will make it a requirement to keep playing after being almost killed.’

‘Yeah, about that,’ started Bletchley, ‘If you want the slime ball that did this just say the word.’

‘We’ll track them down and teach them what happens when you mess with our team.’ Said Bole passionately.

Harry didn’t like violence, but he still appreciated the gesture. ‘Thanks guys, but I am to tired to deal with whoever did it just now.’

The topic of conversation soon turned to the pile of sweets they had brought Harry: cakes, sweets and bottles of pumpkin juice; 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!’

And just like that Harry was left alone, with nothing to distract him from the stabbing pains in his limp arm.

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. 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 are you doing here?!’

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?’

Harry heaved himself up on his pillows and pushed Dobby’s sponge away. ‘You shouldn’t be here Dobby,’ 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 you!’ he said slowly. ‘You messes with my parents alarm and 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 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...’

Harry slumped back onto his pillows.

‘Dobby That is really horrible what they are doing to you, but what you did nearly got Theo and me expelled,’ he said sternly. ‘Or how bad would you have felt if a strong wind had made me and Theo fall to our deaths. You aren’t all that bright, are you?’

Dobby smiled weakly. ‘Dobby is used to insults. Nearly every word out Dobby’s Masters mouth towards Dobby is an insult.’

He began to wipe his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore, but Harry then handed him a tissue from the bedside table to which Dobby used to blow his very long nose.

‘Your family must be very cruel, I was told house-elf servants usually get one modest outfit to wear, but yours isn’t even clothing. Why don’t you fashion yourself a new outfit from left over cloth or materials?’

‘It is forbidden, Dobby can only get a new outfit when Dobby’s Master presents Dobby with clothes. But Dobby’s masters are cruel, and very careful not to pass Dobby even a sock, sir, for then he would be free to leave their house for ever.’

Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, ‘Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make–’

‘Your Bludger?’ said Harry, no longer just frustrated at Dobby, but furious. ‘What d’you mean, your Bludger? You made that Bludger try and kill me, do you know how much pain my arm is in right now?’

‘Yes sir, but Dobby did not try to 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!’

‘Oh, is that all?’ said Harry, adrenaline pumping. ‘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 with the tissue Harry had given him. ‘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...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–’

Dobby then 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...’

Harry couldn’t believe what he had heard. What the school had been speculating for over a month was true, and Dobby had known this would happen since the end of the last school year.

‘So there is a Chamber of Secrets?’ Harry whispered. ‘And you said it’s been opened before, Theo was right? Tell me more, Dobby!’

But Dobby shock his head miserably, Harry than realized something that did not quite make sense. Harry seized the elf’s bony wrist as Dobby’s hand inched towards the water jug and then asked his question. ‘But I’m not Muggle-born, how can I be in danger from the Chamber?’

‘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 –’

‘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?’

‘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. ‘So many of the students here are Muggle-born, I must help protect them if the Chamber really has been opened –’

‘Harry Potter risks his own life for strangers!’ moaned Dobby, in a kind of miserable ecstasy. ‘So noble! So valiant! But he must save himself, he must, Harry Potter must not –’

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.

Moments later Dumbledore was backing into the infirmary, 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. 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.

Soon 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.’

‘The fact that he has his camera with him makes me think he wanted to get some kind of interview with Mr Potter,’ said Professor McGonagall.

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 tightly. Harry was in shock, he wasn’t sure how he didn’t gasp when he saw the sight.

‘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...’

The three of them stared down at Colin. Then Dumbledore leaned forward and carefully pried the camera out of Colin’s rigid grip.

‘You don’t think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?’ asked Professor McGonagall eagerly.

Dumbledore didn’t answer however. Instead he opened the back of the camera.

‘Good gracious!’ said Madam Pomfrey.

A jet of smoke had hissed out of the camera. Harry, three beds away, caught the acrid smell of burnt oily plastic.

‘Melted?’ said Madam Pomfrey confused, ‘all melted...’

‘What does this mean, Albus?’ Professor McGonagall asked urgently.

‘It means,’ said Dumbledore, ‘that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again.’

Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore. ‘But Albus...surely...who?’

‘The question is not who,’ said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin. ‘The question is, how...’

And from what Harry could make out of Professor McGonagall’s shadowy face, she didn’t understand this any better than he did.