If Harry had ever experienced a more miserable week at Hogwarts, he couldn't recall it.
Since Halloween night, in just seven days, Harry had been tripped, shoved, smacked, and hissed at more in the corridors than he ever had before. On one memorable occasion, someone had shoved Harry so hard he'd smacked the stone wall of the corridor and had to ask Susan to fix his broken glasses. His magic never worked as well when he was on edge, and he'd been on edge all week.
The students all whispered about him as well.
'There he is.'
'I heard he hates Muggleborns.'
'I heard he's been attacking students since day one.'
'The Boy Who Lived is Slytherins Heir? Guess we know how he beat You-Know-Who'.
It didn't seem to matter to anyone how much he said he wasn't the Heir of Slytherin- they hated him anyway. And he thought he'd been used to people hating him, the Dursley's certainly did, but to be hated for something he didn't do? It stung.
The other ones who didn't hate him were the other Slytherins. And he didn't really like the way they acted either. They were treating him like he was some hero of their house. Even Parkinson had tried to talk to him- not that she got a chance, Ron jinxed her hair yellow and she ran away in tears.
His friends were the only people treating him normally. Theo seemed a touch more nervous when he talked to Harry but he hoped that would fade with time. The other kids assured him they believed him and still talked with him in class and studied together like they always had.
"I'm going to drop out," Harry muttered in one of their study sessions after having Colin Creevey shriek at the sight of him and run out of the library.
Ron gave him a sympathetic look but Draco looked scandalized.
"You can't quit! How would you learn magic?"
"We could go to Beauxtabons," Blaise suggested with a grin. "And be surrounded by pretty French girls." He waggled his brows at Harry.
"Ooh, or we could transfer to Ilvermony!" Ron added eagerly. "I've heard that they don't hide their magic in the States nearly as much as we do."
Theo snorted, "America is a joke," he said drily, not even looking up from his parchments. "They don't hide their magic because everyone there is mad."
"Sounds like your kind of place," Blaise winked at Harry.
He recognized what his friends were doing and gave them a small grin.
"P-people will find out the t-truth soon," Neville whispered.
"Yeah," Harry muttered.
The boys all worked on their homework in silence for a while until they were interrupted by the arrival of an excited Hermione and Susan.
"Guess what!" Hermione said as Susan scooted in to a seat beside Harry.
"What's up?" Ron asked her.
"We just had History of Magic," Susan whispered to them, shooting a careful look around their empty section of the library. "And guess what Professor Binns told us?"
"Goblins bad, Wixen good, wars are bloody?" Theo asked with a small smirk.
"Nope," Hermione said, sitting down between Blaise and Draco. "Well, yes. But he told us the legend about the Chamber of Secrets!"
The boys all sat up straight, leaning towards Hermione eagerly.
"Go on then," Blaise said, "what'd he say?"
"He said that the founders, Helena Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, and Rowena Ravenclaw, used to work in harmony together-"
Hermione's likely perfect recital of Binn's information was cut off by an impatient Susan.
"He said Salazar Slytherin created a chamber just for him and his future heirs and put a monster in it to be used to 'purge' the school of 'unworthy students'," she summarized quickly.
Harry thought it was probably a good thing he wasn't the Heir- if he had control of Slytherins monster he'd use it. The next person who pushed him would regret it immediately if he did.
"Soo, Muggleborns?" Ron asked quietly.
Draco and Hermione nodded but Theo looked thoughtful.
"Or anyone who doesn't fit Salazars ideals..." he said slowly. "I mean, the Sorting Hat wouldn't put Muggleborns in our house if the founder thought they weren't worthy to learn magic..."
"Nobody who isn't resourceful and cunning," Blaise added. "That makes more sense."
"Are there Muggleborns in Slytherin?" Neville asked hesitantly.
"Tracy in our year," Susan said immediately.
Harry had a suspicion that Susan was on a first name basis with every student in their year.
"And Emily in fourth year," Blaise added.
Hermione looked uncomfortable and Harry was suddenly reminded that she was the only muggleborn at their table so he hastily changed the subject.
"Are you ready for practice tomorrow?" he asked Draco.
As he'd hoped, the subject of the upcoming opening Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor drew everyone in. They argued and debated on tactics and the odds and the subject of Muggleborns and monsters was put to rest for a while.
Of course, as Harry skidded to a halt at practice the next evening, late and with a bloodied nose, the subject wouldn't stay at rest.
"This is ridiculous!" Flint spat after seeing Harry. "Who did it this time?"
"Dunno," Harry mumbled, shamed by his own weakness. "They snuck up on me then ran off, didn't they?"
He was pretty sure it had been a few older Ravenclaw boys though. It was hard to be positive when you were being shoved in to a wall. It was harder to hit back then too.
"Everyone! Come here! Now!" Flint called, blowing sharply on his whistle.
The rest of the team landed and Draco immediately came to Harry's side.
"Go to Snape," he said, his grey eyes stormy and fierce. "Or curse them."
"Or kill 'em," one of the other chasers, Warrington, said.
"Then I'm expelled and they win," Harry scowled. "Dumbledore's already watching me."
He'd noticed the Headmaster staring intently at him during meals, and even in the halls sometimes. His intense stares were usually accompanied by a quiet presence prodding into his mind- which he closed each time with a vicious snarl towards the old man.
Hermione said it was illegal to legilimize a minor without their consent but clearly, as usual, Harry seemed to be the exception to the rules.
"New plan," Flint announced. "Potter goes no where alone tonight or before the game tomorrow. The last thing we need is to be down a seeker because Potter's too noble to hit back."
"We'll be down a seeker permanently if Dumbledore bans him from playing or expels him," Draco sneered. "A fight between a Slytherin and Gryffindor- who do you think is going to be punished?"
The rest of the team murmured in agreement, they were all too aware of the prejudice against their house.
"Either way- Potter, you are to have two people with you at all times. Quidditch members only, got it? I don't care if they put you in the hospital after the match, but until then I need you," Flint said.
Harry glared at him but nodded silently. He didn't need body guards, he wasn't weak, but he did need witnesses.
After setting up a schedule, Draco offered to be one of the ones with him at all times, Flint had them all in the air for two hours of hard practice.
Harry was relieved to have an intense practice. All he had to do was fly and focus on the snitch. All his constantly swirling thoughts stayed on the ground. He never felt as free as he did when he was in the air.
Unfortunately, as soon as he landed and walked back to the castle with the team, he could feel that familiar edge creeping back up.
It was different being surrounded by his teammates as they made their way through the castle. Even the ones who didn't like him, like Flint, still gave nasty looks at every person they passed.
He didn't know if it was because they thought he was the Heir or because they didn't want to lose their seeker. He supposed it didn't really matter, no one had the bullocks to harass him when he was surrounded by a wall of green. He could still feel the edges- but they were a little softer now.
Soft enough for him to make a decision. The next person who touched him was going to regret it, Dumbledore be damned. He wasn't going to be a victim to a bunch of posh prats who thought they could hurt him. He wasn't going to be scared of them. He was stronger and more powerful- they had no idea.
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 Flint would say if they lost, but also at the idea of facing a team from the house that seemed to be attacking him the hardest.
After half an hour of lying there with his insides churning, he got up, dressed, and waited in the common room for Draco and Flint to head to breakfast.
His outlook for the day brightened considerably when he saw all his friends, including Luna Lovegood, waiting at the Slytherin table wearing green scarves and hats. Well, Neville wasn't wearing any green, but that was to be expected since they were playing his house.
"Harry! Draco!" Susan squealed, "Are you so excited? Nervous?"
"Hungry and ready to win," Draco said, filling a plate.
"Oh you'll win," Luna said confidently.
Hermione scoffed, "Because the nargles told you so?" she said skeptically.
Luna ignored her hateful tone and smiled serenely. "No, because Harry and Malfoy are the best players in the castle."
Harry grinned at her as he poured a cup of coffee and Draco turned rather pink.
"Thanks Luna," he said puffing his chest out proudly. "Call me Draco, please."
As eleven o'clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadium. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. Their friends walked with them until it was time for the boys to enter the locker rooms.
"Make sure you beat Gryffindor, okay?" Ron said seriously. "I bet the twins that you would win."
"We will," Draco said. "But then you have to split your winnings with us."
Harry entered the locker room still laughing at Ron's gobsmacked expression. Draco was excellent at exploiting deals; he probably learned from his Dad.
The team pulled on their green Slytherin robes, then sat down to listen to Flint's pre-match pep talk.
"Listen up!" he called. "I don't care what anyone else says- we've been the winning team for the last 8 years now and I don't expect to start losing today!"
The team all clapped, nobody wanted to lose their streak of getting the Quidditch Cup.
"We have the better brooms," Flint continued. "But more importantly- we have the better players. So let's go out there and show them that we could kick their arses on any broom, any field, any day of the week!!"
Everyone cheered loudly, energized by their captains speech.
They entered the field, looking impeccable in their robes with their matching brooms, and got in position.
"I want a nice clean match!" Madam Hooch, the quidditch referee, said sternly to Flint and the Gryffindor captain, Oliver Wood.
Flint and Wood shook hands, 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 upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch.
A heavy black bludger was almost immediately knocked in his direction, he had to dive quickly to avoid being crushed.
"I'll try again, eh Potter?" One of Ron's brothers, either Fred or George flew by after the bludger and winked at him.
Flint had warned him that the other teams would try and get him out first. Luckily they had spent quite a few hours during practice every week of Harry dodging bludgers. He suspected the beaters enjoyed hitting them towards him more than they were supposed to.
He shook his head and got back to searching for the snitch. Harry felt heavy drops fall onto his face, splattering onto his glasses. He didn't have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until he heard Lee Jordan, a fourth year Gryffindor who was commentating, say, "Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero —"
Make my glasses impenetrable, he thought fiercely, hoping for some sort of break to be able to see.
Thankfully his spell seemed to have worked- his glasses cleared and he was able to see once again. Unfortunately, as soon as he turned in the air he had to dodge yet another bludger aimed his way.
"Go higher!" Adrian Pucey, one of the teams' beaters, yelled at him as he hit the bludger towards the Gryffindor seeker.
Harry flew up higher, cheering loudly when he heard Draco scored two more goals for Slytherin. They were up eighty-twenty, he needed to find the snitch.
He saw the Gryffindor seeker make a steep dive and his stomach dropped as he recognized the glint of gold the other boy was chasing after. Harry immediately dove down for the snitch, ignoring the noises of the other players and the crowd.
All that mattered was grabbing that golden ball.
He leaned forward on his broom and urged it faster, he was nearly neck and neck with the Gryffindor boy.
The snitch was so close.
Harry stretched his arm out to grab it and-
BAM!
He let out a gasp of pain when a bludger made contact with his outstretched arm. Harry could hear Flint howling for a foul on the Gryffindor beater but it didn't matter because-
"YES!"
Harry grabbed the snitch and held it high with his left arm, his right was now dangling uselessly at his side. He tried to land using just his legs but wound up falling from his broom. He heard a yell from the crowd as he fell and Lee Jordan, bitterly, announcing Slytherin's win.
With a splattering thud he hit the mud and rolled off his broom. His arm was hanging at a very strange angle; riddled with pain, he heard, as though from a distance, a good deal of whistling and shouting. He focused on the Snitch clutched in his good hand.
And he fainted.
He came around, rain falling on his face, still lying on the field, 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 crowd of Slytherins pressing around them. "Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm."
"Don't fucking touch me," he moaned. "I'll do it myself."
He grit his teeth and focused on his magic, Fix my arm. Heal the bone.
Nothing happened.
This wasn't the first time his magic refused to work- it was harder to channel it when he was blinking away white spots of pain.
He tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible. He heard a familiar clicking noise nearby.
"If you keep taking my photo I'm going to kill you," he said loudly, looking towards the first year Gryffindor with the camera, Creevey.
"Lie back, Harry," said Lockhart soothingly. "It's a simple charm I've used countless times —"
"I'll go to Snape" said Harry through clenched teeth.
"I'll get him Harry," said a muddy Draco, who couldn't help grinning even though his friend was injured. "Great catch, Harry, I knew you'd do it!"
"Snape. Now." he told Draco.
"On it." Draco took off sprinting through the crowd.
Through the thicket of legs around him, Harry heard Fred and George Weasley apologizing to Ron.
"- accident, mate."
"Tell that to Harry," he heard Ron snort.
"Stand back," said Lockhart, who was rolling up his jade-green sleeves.
"No — don't —" said Harry weakly, fighting back the urge to faint again, but Lockhart was twirling his wand and a second later had directed it straight at Harry's arm.
A strange and unpleasant sensation started at Harry's shoulder and spread all the way down to his fingertips. It felt as though his arm was being deflated. 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 realized as the people above him gasped and Creevey began clicking away madly. His arm didn't hurt anymore — 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 — and Madam Pomfrey will be able to — er — tidy you up a bit."
As Harry got to his feet, he felt strangely lopsided. Taking a deep breath he looked down at his right side. What he saw nearly made him pass out again.
Poking out of the end of his robes was what looked like a thick, flesh-colored rubber glove. He tried to move his fingers. Nothing happened.
Lockhart hadn't mended Harry's bones. He had removed them.
"I'm going to kill you," he hissed.
He felt a stab of satisfaction as Lockhart paled slightly and took off quickly.
"Come, Potter, Hospital Wing."
Harry let out a sigh of relief as he heard Professor Snape cut through the crowd with Draco by his side.
"Sir can't you just fix it?" Harry asked pleadingly.
Snape gave him a sympathetic grimace, "I can heal a fracture, I cannot regrow bones."
"I'm going to kill Lockhart," he said.
Snape gave him a small smile as he slowly put a guiding hand on his shoulder.
"And I will assist you."
Harry entered the Hospital Wing with Draco, Susan, Hermione, Blaise, and Professor Snape with him.
"Absolutely not," the Hospital Matron said when she saw them. "One student can stay with the patient- I doubt he needs an entire entourage."
Draco turned towards him but Susan already grabbed Harry's hand.
"I'll stay," she offered.
He gave her a grateful nod and the rest of his friends left after congratulating him again on his win.
"Perhaps next time you can catch the snitch without the theatrics," Snape said drily as his friends trailed out.
Harry gave him a cheeky grin, "I'll do my best."
Madame Pomfrey bustled over to Harry and he held very still as she examined him right arm.
"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. Susan squeezed his left hand briefly.
"I'll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful," said Madam Pomfrey grimly, throwing Harry a hospital gown. "You'll have to stay the night..."
Harry glanced at gown she gave him.
"Not a chance," he said flatly.
"Excuse me?" Madame Pomfrey said, affronted by his refusal. "It's standard procedure Mister Potter-"
"Poppy surely Potter can wear his own clothes to sleep in?" Snape interrupted. "We can sever the sleeve so you can monitor his left extremity."
Harry grit his teeth and stared hard at the wall, thankful it was only Susan with him instead of everyone else. He didn't want to look pathetic in front of anyone, weak, but... but he wasn't going to sleep in a new place in only a gown either. Especially with only one useful arm. Anyone could attack him and he'd be at a clear disadvantage.
"Fine," Madame Pomfrey sighed. "If Professor Snape will remove the sleeve on your shirt you may wear what you have on. The robes have to go though."
Harry nodded silently at her as he took off his outer Quidditch robes. Flint would kill him if he cut the sleeve off it anyway.
Susan held up his left arm as Snape carefully murmured a spell to remove the sleeve of his shirt.
"Does it hurt?" Susan asked softly as Harry resigned himself to climbing in the bed.
"No," he said. "But it doesn't do anything else either."
"Gilderoy is an incompetent moron," Snape said. "I believe I will be speaking with him about his qualifications to cast healing spells on my students."
Susan and Harry exchanged sharp grins at Snape's icy tone. It was almost worth all this if it meant Snape was going to yell at Lockhart. Harry had heard him go off on Gryffindors in their class all the time and he knew he could be scary when he wanted to.
Madam Pomfrey was holding a large bottle of something labeled 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."
Snape scoffed lightly, "Potter barely blinked when the Weasley's shattered his arm, this will be nothing for the child."
The Skele-Gro 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, Harry to quickly gulp down some water.
Snape excused himself as well, promising to check on Harry if he was still there tomorrow afternoon.
"You won though," Susan said with a smile. "And i heard McGonagall give the Weasley's detention for 'disgusting tactics unfitting of a Gryffindor.'"
The door of the hospital wing burst open at that moment. Filthy and soaking wet, the rest of the Slytherin team had arrived to see Harry.
"Excellent, Potter!" Flint said with a sharp smile. "Really excellent! Did you see Wood's face? He was furious!"
"Their beaters got detention and they owe Ron a bunch of money!" Draco added gleefully, the only clean member of the team.
"Here." Pucey thrust two bottles of butterbeer towards Harry and Susan. "Cheers!"
They had brought cakes, sweets, and more bottles of butterbeer; 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 Harry was left alone, with nothing to distract him from the stabbing pains in his limp arm. He cleared his mind and focused on his Occlumency barriers- pain couldn't get through them, until he finally fell in to a fitful sleep.
Hours and hours later, Harry woke quite suddenly in the pitch blackness and instinctively laid still on his bed, keeping his breaths slow and even. He carefully slit one eye open to see what the noise that woke him was.
Dumbledore was backing into the dormitory, wearing a long woolly dressing gown and a nightcap. He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet. 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 heard urgent voices, and then Professor McGonagall swept back into view, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey, who was pulling a cardigan on over her nightdress. He heard a sharp intake of breath.
"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey whispered to Dumbledore, bending over the statue on the bed.
"Another attack," said Dumbledore. "Minerva found him on the stairs."
"There was a bunch of grapes next to him," said Professor McGonagall. "We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter."
Harry's stomach gave a horrible lurch, surely it wasn't one of his friends? 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.
Thank God, he thought, relieved. He would have been furious had it been one of his friends. He thought it was rather fitting he has been attacked if he was on his way here to harass Harry for a photo again.
"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 wrenched the camera out of Colin's rigid grip.
"You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" said Professor McGonagall eagerly.
Dumbledore didn't answer. He opened the back of the camera.
"Good gracious!" said Madam Pomfrey.
A jet of steam had hissed out of the camera.
Harry, three beds away, caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic.
"Melted," said Madam Pomfrey wonderingly. "All melted..."
"What does this mean, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked urgently.
"It means," said Dumbledore, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."
Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth.
Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore.
"But, Albus... surely... who?"
Harry carefully didn't even twitch as he felt a set of eyes land on him.
"Has Mister Potter been here all night?" Dumbledore asked quietly.
"Albus surely you can't place the blame on Potter!" Harry was surprised to hear McGonagall say harshly.
"You believe it was a coincidence that he publicly threatened Mister Creevey the same day he was attacked?" Dumbledore said.
"If every student that Potter threatened was petrified I believe we would have a castle full of statues," McGonagall said drily.
Harry held in a snort; she wasn't wrong.
"The point is moot," Madame Pomfrey said briskly. "Potter has been in bed since the match ended."
"Hmm," Dumbledore hummed, sounding unconvinced. "Then I believe the question is not who, but is how."
Harry had a nasty feeling that the Headmaster thought he'd found the suspect but was only trying to work out how he'd been in two places at once.