Harry's first Quidditch match loomed, but the Chamber of Secrets mystery offered no solid leads. With no clues about Colin's petrifier, Harry was swept up in the daily grind. Quidditch brought structure to his studies, making his days feel full and purposeful.
Sirius's letters grew less frequent but denser with information. Harry, withholding details about Pansy's love potion, his clash with Ron over Muggle prejudice, and Slytherin's Nimbus 2001s, wrote about Colin's petrification, his selection as Chaser instead of Seeker, the Duelling Club, Dobby, and the phrase "Chamber of Secrets." Sirius was adamant Harry steer clear.
The Chamber of Secrets is a tale some Slytherins used to scare students from other houses. They say Salazar Slytherin left a monster in Hogwarts. Likely just a rumor or ghost story, exploited by some fool. Be cautious, but it's not your problem, Harry. Leave it to the teachers.
Sirius's words felt too relaxed. Colin was already a victim, and the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Lockhart, was useless. How could Harry stay calm?
Sirius was thrilled about Harry's Chaser role. You did great, Harry. It stings now, but hold onto that frustration and practice. Your dad was a Chaser too—a damn good one. Scored every match and got swatted by your mum for it.
The mention of his father stirred an itchy warmth in Harry. Fueled by pride in his Chaser role, he trained hard to report a victory to Sirius. But the harder Harry pushed, the quieter Draco became. Normally, Draco would sling barbs at Harry, but now he seemed consumed by his broom.
"Draco's been off lately," Harry said. "Like he's not himself."
The Magical Inquiry Club, sidelined by Quidditch and Duelling Club, rarely met. Today, the six gathered in the library, whispering to avoid Madam Pince's wrath.
"Your focus should be scoring in the match," Zabini said. "Flop, and you'll be a laughingstock."
"Draco'll handle his own issues," Azrael added. "But you need results, Harry. Some don't like that you're not a pureblood fanatic."
"I'm ignoring those voices," Harry said, recalling Pansy's grating smirk. People could believe what they wanted, but he wished they'd keep it to themselves.
"Nimbus is a great broom," Hermione said. "If you play like in practice, you'll be fine, right?"
"Yeah, it's about executing under pressure," Harry replied.
He wasn't underestimating Hufflepuff. Azrael's scouting confirmed they lacked new tactics or players—a stark contrast to Slytherin's meticulous preparation. With Ron present, Harry kept details vague.
"What's wrong, Ron?" Farkas asked, noticing his friend's gloom. "You're awfully quiet."
Ron, usually joking and earning Madam Pince's glares, was buried in a Potions report, helping Hermione find books. Unlike Harry's energy, Ron looked drained.
Something at the dorms? Harry wondered. Did his brothers say hanging with us is trouble?
Slytherin's Nimbus 2001s were common knowledge, cementing them as the school's villains. Harry worried Ron faced flak for befriending Slytherins.
"It's Ginny, my sister," Ron said. "She's been off lately."
"That's rough," Farkas said sympathetically.
"Yeah," Ron continued. "She's a terror at home, but shy here."
Harry knew little of Ginny, their paths never crossing due to different houses and years. If Colin hadn't been petrified, he might've learned more through him.
"What, a sister complex?" Zabini teased. "Such a worrier."
"Hey!" Ron snapped.
"Don't poke him," Azrael warned.
It's probably the flying car incident, Azrael thought. Arthur Weasley's fine likely lingered. He didn't say it aloud but had quietly ensured Slytherin girls eased off teasing Ginny—a favor that won him a girlfriend.
"Dorm life's different from home," Farkas said. "Hermione, any advice for her?"
"I struggled last year," Hermione said. "I could relate to Ginny. Failing to make friends early can linger."
"Gryffindor's not as cliquey as Slytherin," Azrael said. "Don't upperclassmen help?"
"Prefects probably advise," Hermione said, "but they're too old for her to open up to."
"I get that," Farkas said.
"The Duelling Club'd be great, but it's mostly upperclassmen," Hermione added. "No first-years."
Harry, concerned for Ron's sister, made a suggestion. "I'll spar with her if you bring her. Might cheer her up."
"She's too young for dueling," Ron said. "Too dangerous, and she's still learning basics. Maybe next year… or the year after."
The other five exchanged glances, sharing a silent thought: He really loves his sister.
"The Duelling Club's a nightmare," Zabini said. "Even Hermione struggles."
"She thrashed Lee Jordan last time," Harry countered.
Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Farkas were improving at the Duelling Club. Learning the Chamber targeted Muggle-borns, Hermione shed her disdain for dueling, diving in with zeal. Her reflexes lagged against Harry or Farkas, but Harry sensed her potential. He won seven out of ten matches now, but the gap was closing. To stay ahead, he'd need a breakthrough—like mastering Protego. He resolved to ask Banarge Vist to teach him.
A month after Colin's petrification, mandrake cultivation for the cure progressed smoothly. At the Halloween feast, Harry and his Slytherin friends—Zabini, Farkas, and Azrael—enjoyed the Great Hall's revelry.
"Ron and Hermione aren't here," Harry noted, glancing at Gryffindor's table. Prefect Galiot's badge had been transfigured into a flower by the Weasley twins. Ron and Hermione, usually bantering with Neville, Dean, or Seamus, were at Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party instead.
"Probably a spooky date," Zabini teased. He and Farkas had a bet on when Ron and Hermione would couple up.
"I think they're just hanging out," Farkas said, glancing at Harry. "What do you think?"
"It's up to them," Harry said. "They're super close, so whatever works."
Harry had no experience with love. If Pansy's love potion was any indication, he'd rather avoid it forever. The potion's artificial obsession wasn't real, but thinking about love made his scar twinge, so he dodged the topic.
"They're just friends," Azrael said, steering the conversation elsewhere to Harry's relief.
Amid Halloween's chaos, Harry grew curious about Ron and Hermione, Zabini's "spooky date" comment echoing in his mind.
What am I thinking? If it's a date, I'd ruin it.
He wanted to see them but lacked the courage to crash the Deathday Party. Uninvited by Sir Nicholas, he wandered the corridors, pausing at the boys' bathroom. As he moved to enter, he collided with a girl exiting the girls' bathroom, her hat falling. It wasn't the lion hat from summer but an eccentric eagle one. Harry recognized her.
"Sorry, I was in a rush… Luna?"
Luna Lovegood, a first-year Ravenclaw, had tear-streaked eyes.
"You're Harry Potter," she said bluntly. "The one who sold his soul to Slytherin."
Luna's quirky, blunt style set her apart. Unlike Colin, she didn't harm others but struggled to read the room.
"Yep," Harry said. "Slytherin treats me well, unlike the other houses."
"Hmm. Looking for Snorkacks?"
"Sure, let's go with that," Harry said.
Since Colin's petrification, non-Duelling Club students kept their distance, so Harry leaned into vague responses. Moaning Myrtle watched enviously from the bathroom. Harry greeted her politely, closing the door to muffle her wails.
"You seemed happier over summer," Luna said, following him.
Harry, unable to bear her tears, lent her a handkerchief, avoiding the topic of her crying. It reminded him of Hermione last year. Instead of returning to the feast, they wandered aimlessly.
"Is it true you guarded the Philosopher's Stone last year?" Luna asked.
"Everyone else did the heavy lifting," Harry said. "I was useless."
"Huh. Not that impressive."
"That's why I'm working to get better."
Seeing Luna's smile return, Harry made an offer. "If you promise not to wear that hat, want to try the Duelling Club? It gets in the way during duels."
"I'll think about it once my Snorkack hunt calms down," Luna said.
As they bantered, a chilling voice hissed, "I'll kill you!"
"Who's there?!" Harry shouted.
"What's wrong?" Luna asked.
The voice—Rip… Swallow…—grew menacing, but Luna heard nothing. Parseltongue! Harry realized, panic rising. He urged Luna back to the feast, fumbling for his handkerchief to transfigure, only to remember he'd lent it to her.
"Luna, go back to the party. It's not safe here."
She didn't budge. "You hear a voice I can't? Can you see Snorkacks?"
"No!" Harry snapped.
The voice faded, seeking new prey. Harry ran toward it, Luna matching his pace with surprising speed. They reached Mrs. Norris, petrified, a message scrawled nearby: "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware."
"What's this?" Luna asked. "Know anything, Harry?"
As the first to find the scene, Harry faced renewed suspicion from the other houses the next day. The only silver lining? Luna started attending the Duelling Club.
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