I BLAME THE MONKEYS!
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Chapter 15: in which Harry plays quidditch, Hermione thinks he's an idiot and someone plots
I looked out through my host's eyes at the screaming crowds, flags waving, the occasional tussle breaking out between the more enthusiastic students and breathed in the fresh air. It had been so long since I could really breathe! The scent of the snacks that some had brought with them, the permeating odor that comes when people dressed for cold weather huddle in large groups, all so familiar and almost comforting. Suddenly, I felt like gagging when a group of girls pushed their way past him, each having obviously applied far too much perfume in an effort to outdo the others, causing the scents to mix together into a stomach turning stench but managed to control my host's stomach. I would have to remember to ban all perfumes when I ruled.
When I had first created the journal, I had no idea that this fraction of my soul would be conscious and that I had been dooming a part of myself to half a century of boredom. The seemingly endless stagnation had perhaps driven me mad but at the same time, it had given me time to plan, to plan and to prepare should I ever be freed. And now I was on my way to that long anticipated freedom. The idiotic child who writes in my journal is as weak willed as I could have possibly hoped for and my strength was growing faster with every stroke of the quill, and, if things were not already nearly perfect, he seemed to have a thing for writing every single worthless detail of his day. With every drop of ink I grew stronger and stronger and not only has he grown weaker but his body was changing to suit my own. Having to change his body into a more worthy vessel was a bit more of a hassle then I preferred. I almost wish that the sacrifice had been a girl so I could use her potential to create life to make my own body instead of transmuting the boy's body into a vessel suitable for me but his weak will made up for my disappointment. But it was probably better that the sacrifice is male since, in my experience women, even my dear Bellatrix, are too emotional to be reliable and after my long imprisonment I do not have the patience to deal with such creatures immediately.
The brat had already written away so much of his life that I was forced to possess him even more frequently than I had anticipated just to make sure he made appearances at things such as this to keep people's suspicions from being aroused. After all, I had to be cautious. Those pathetic little traps around my illustrious ancestor's gift meant that someone, probably Dumbledore, had expected me, had expected my pet's return despite my framing of that oaf Hagrid and everyone's acceptance of his guilt. Why else would the twinkly eyed fool have intervened in the oaf's trial if he didn't think that the lout was innocent? The death of that whining bitch should have guaranteed a dementor's kiss for anyone but a pureblood but I had underestimated the influence of that lemon drop sucking meddler and from all accounts he had become even more respected and influential.
Still, the juvenile level of those traps did make me suspicious. Surely my former professor would have put up traps that were at least worthy of my time. Did he perhaps leave the traps up to someone else? Someone who didn't take their duty as seriously as they should have? Perhaps the old coot didn't tell anyone why they needed to booby trap a disused girl's bathroom or whoever did put up the traps purposefully made them so juvenile so they could be written off as a prank?
One of the stupid pawns began a scuffle in the row ahead of me, jarring me from my train of thought. I scowled and whispered a wandles hex, ignoring the pain that ran through my host's body. It might cost me a bit of strength, and it might harm what was not yet transfigured to suit me, but it would be worth it when those Neanderthals began to lose their hair and teeth over the next few months.
I looked at the players, floating above the quidditch pitch and felt a smirk form as my eyes landed on one player in particular. I would have to remember to reward Malfoy for his rare instance of foresight in freeing me this year, a year where the Potter boy was in Hogwarts, still young enough to be malleable. The Potters had somehow managed to temporarily get rid of my core self and now I had the chance to figure out how. After all, a ritual that had to use a human at the center, a ritual that had actually managed to deal a temporary setback to me of all people, had to be exceptionally powerful and powerful rituals left behind marks, even eleven years after they were performed. And now I had the opportunity to recreate this ritual and use it for my own purposes.
I watched as the game started and Potter flew above the rest of the players, searching for the snitch and one of the bludgers came after him from behind, nearly taking his head off. Potter swerved at the last moment and the bludger seemed to be going straight for a Slytherin when it stopped in midair and changed directions, flying back towards Potter. Again the boy missed the bludger by a hair's width and again the bludger stopped in midair in order to continue to try to kill the Gryffindor seeker.
Interesting.
And irritating, if the stupid ball managed to kill the boy then any remains of the ritual would be lost. I fingered the wand I had with me but I couldn't do anything with it. For some reason the stupid twig refused to work for me unless I risked channeling more power than this pathetic body was capable of handling. That and I didn't feel inclined to force it to do anything just yet. If the boy died, well, the ritual wasn't that important. And his death would make things much easier when I revealed myself. Perhaps I could even take credit for the boy's demise myself.
The boy managed to catch the snitch and a grin spread across `my' face as the bludger finally reached the brat, knocking him off balance enough for him to fall off his broom. My eyes widened and I fought the urge to cackle. The boy would finally die!
"Come on Harry!" I made my host shout, "You can do it!"
But then that red headed boy, that damned twin, managed to get to the brat at the last second. My host managed to exert enough will power to make his body jump up and cheer for the Gryffindor beater. I growled and sent a wave of my rage through my host's mind. He bent over in pain, clutching at his head, the head that would be mine.
***
I was going to kill him. I was going to kill him, bring him back to life and kill him again and again until he got it through his thick skull that this was a game! A bloody game, not a reason to risk one's life! It's times like this that I wish I couldn't read lips but I can and I know that it's his fault that this stupid game is still going on instead of being stopped so the teachers can find out what on earth is the matter with that bluder or whatever it's called that won't stop chasing him! Honestly, it's as if the boy doesn't have any sense of self preservation at all!
I winced as he once again barely dodged that awful ball thing and cringed as it instead smashed into the side of Angelina, almost knocking her off of her broom.
"He's so brave," I heard someone sigh and turned slightly to see a little girl with red hair and familiar features. For a moment I wondered who she was until I remembered her from the incident at Gringotts and I made the connection. She was Ginny, Fred and George's sister. It was strange that she was only just now speaking around me. I was under the impression that she liked Harry, I had certainly heard Ron complain about it often enough and Lavender and Parvati were both annoyed by the "yappy little redhead who keeps talking about Harry Potter". And my gossipy roommates also claimed that she had essentially set up a shrine to my emerald eyed best friend. For any girl that liked Harry enough to, or so rumor had it, sneak into the boys' bathroom to pick his hair out from the showers supposedly for this alleged shrine, it would have been logical for her to speak to me, his only close female friend, as a way to get closer to him or at least to make sure that I wasn't competition. Or at least, that was the pattern I was familiar with after the past dozen or so girls had cornered me in the library ever since the troll incident, first to try to keep me away from Harry and then to attempt to make sure I knew he was off limits and that I was no competition for their looks or pedigree or whatever trait they felt they had that made them better than me.
Not that I was competition of course!
I frowned and tensed as Harry continued to lead that stupid bluder on a chase around the field while searching for that tiny golden ball.
"He's a fool," I snapped in reply, unable to stop myself. I could feel everyone turning to look at me, but I kept my eyes on Harry. The wretched bluder almost got him yet again but thankfully he dodged.
"He's Harry Potter!" the red headed girl hissed at me. I still didn't turn to look at her. My eyes were trained on the bluder and its target.
"A name doesn't stop someone from being stupid," I replied as calmly as I could managed, "And that bluder has obviously been tampered with. They should at least postpone the game until it can be fixed."
"But then Slytherin would win!" Ron yelled at me.
"Not if the game was merely postponed," I reasoned, "And who cares anyway? It's just a game, it's not worth Harry being hurt."
"It's not just a game!" Ginny's shrill voice insisted, almost directly into my ear, "It's Quidditch! And we're facing Slytherin!"
I nearly fell over from the volume of her voice. She had obviously inherited her mother's lungs.
"And besides," the girl went on in a huffy tone, "it's called a bludger, not a bluder. You obviously don't understand anything."
My hands involuntarily formed fists but I took a deep breath and concentrated. Even if I was still trying to piece together exactly what the journals of Harry's ancestors were talking about, what I did know was that all of them were clear that control of one's emotions was a basic principal and after I nearly killed Fred the last thing I wanted to do was loose control. I could feel my magic begin to bubble with my irritation and I could not allow it to get out of control. I took a deep breath and concentrated for a moment, quickly finding my center thanks to long hours of practice and by the time I opened my eyes I felt much calmer, or at least less inclined to smack Ginny, and Gryffindor was ahead though unfortunately Harry was still dodging that ridiculous flying cannon ball.
"Come on," I muttered, ignoring the twin's sister as she continued to go on about the greatness of Quidditch, Gryffindor and the boy who lived while Ron chimed in about the "evils" of Slytherin. A glint of gold caught my eye and I stood up.
"COME ON HARRY!" I screamed, bouncing on the balls of my feet, praying that he'd notice the snitch and get this game over with before his luck ran out
Harry zoomed past the Hufflepuff stand, away from the bludger, where the twit floated on his broom. The obnoxious little toad was laughing at Harry, completely oblivious to everything including the tiny golden snitch floating right behind him. Honestly, I almost wish the inbred little twit would put half the effort into just about anything really as he did into harassing Harry or that he would get a hobby of some sort that didn't involve repeating the same stupid insults over and over again.
Harry raced for the snitch, he was so close! Just as his fingers closed around the tiny golden construct the bludger seemed to gain an extra burst of speed and it hit him in the back, knocking him off balance.
Suddenly, Harry was falling through the air. Someone was screaming and I couldn't seem to move. Oh Merlin he was going to die!
"Aren't you going to stop him?" an airy sort of voice asked. I didn't turn to see who it was, I was too focused on the awful sight in front of me. But the speaker did jolt me out of my inactivity and I concentrated.
Unfortunately, Harry was much, much heavier than the sandbags I had been practicing with and I couldn't stop him. The best I could do was slow his descent to a point where Fred could catch up to him and save him.
"Thank God," I whispered and then collapsed. My last though about going to the library to try to find a spell that would let me find the bastard that tried to hurt Harry, because come hell or high water, the last thing I was going to do was give him another chance to even try to look at Harry the wrong way. The bastard was going down.
***
Dobby is going to die Harry thought for perhaps the thousandth time since he had once more been subjected to the care of Madam Pomfrey. While the young seeker had managed to stay away from Lockhart's treatment since Fred had flown him straight to the hospital wing while he was unconscious, the bludger had managed to not only knock him out but it had also cracked several of his ribs and broke another, causing it to puncture his lung. Madam Pomfrey had immediately fixed his lung but unfortunately the spell she used had an irritating side effect.
He couldn't be exposed to anymore externally applied magic, such as a spell to fix his ribs and Professor Destiny had apparently been too busy to supply the hospital wing with any sort of potion that could fix his ribs with internal magic. So he was stuck in the hospital wing unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to sleep without feeling the dull throb of his cracked ribs. All he had to help deal with the pain were a few potions that Madam Pomfrey had brewed herself, to make up for the lack of pain killing potions that Professor Destiny was supposed to have brewed, unfortunately the potions that Madam Pomfrey made were better for making him too fuzzy headed to think properly instead of making the pain less intense.
At least I have some experience with this even before this mess started Harry thought ruefully, remembering all the times that Dudley had given him cracked or broken ribs. There was no Madame Pomfrey then to fix him up in seconds, just an elderly and extremely gullible school nurse who actually believed that he had to have his ribs taped up at least twice a month because of very violent sessions of dodge ball. Well, the nurse and, as he now knew, his own magic which had apparently sped up the healing process.
He felt a stray thought at the edge of his mind, a blurry memory of being hurt, not by Dudley and his gang or even by Vernon, but by an older man with a hooked nose and who stank of alcohol. He frowned, all these strange memories were beginning to annoy him. At least the ones that Hermione had helped him remember actually made sense, they had some bearing on his life, something in them that marked them as his. This new memory though, he had no idea where it came from.
He glanced over at the curtains which obscured the bed occupied by Hermione. She had been brought in shortly after him and he had overheard Madame Pomfrey clucking her tongue and muttering something about magical exhaustion. Harry frowned and wondered how his friend had managed to exhaust herself. The only other person was a Hufflepuff boy who was vaguely familiar but the faulty potion of Professor Destiny's made his head feel fuzzy and he couldn't think clearly. He wasn't sure but the boy-who-lived thought he may have seen a few suspicious bruises on the boy's arm as his sleeve had fallen back when he took the potion from Madam Pomfrey. He was further suspicious when Madam Pomfrey hadn't said anything against the Hufflepuff staying in the hospital wing longer. Harry was about to get out of bed, first to check on Hermione and then to satisfy his curiosity by looking at the Hufflepuff's charts to see what else Madam Pomfrey had written about the boy's condition when he heard something scratching around. Large, bulbous green eyes appeared and Harry nearly jumped out of the bed.
"Harry Potter sir has been hurt!" wailed an earnest little voice and Harry blinked and watched as the house elf Dobby became more visible.
"Yes," Harry growled, "Because you messed with that bludger! You could have killed me!"
"No sir!" Dobby sounded shocked, "Never kill you, just needing to get you to go home! Harry Potter is not safe at Hogwarts!"
"Harry Potter isn't safe with the Dursleys either," Harry snapped, "I was beaten and starved and treated about the same way that the Malfoys treat you. Vernon nearly killed me several times and I'm pretty sure the only reason he didn't manage it is because I healed. Even with the trolls, death eaters, werewolves, acromantulas and Tom Riddle's diary controlling someone and using the basilisk on students, I'm a thousand times safer here where I at least have the chance to defend myself."
"Harry Potter sir knows," Dobby whispered, sounding horrified and Harry let out a bitter laugh, immediately regretting it as his ribs reminded him that he was still injured.
"Yes," Harry admitted, "I know. I've known since before I came back and it kills me that I'm letting this monster slither around all because I can't find a stupid little book." Harry lifted back his sleeve and looked at the silver brace that seemed so innocuous and so heavy at the same time. He didn't notice the way Dobby's eyes were suddenly trained on the brace, something that no one else seemed to have been able to see.
"Harry Potter sir," Dobby whispered and he started to back away, looking absolutely terrified and even more awed than before, "Harry Potter sir is marked by the Last Masters!"
Dobby's eyes filled with tears,
"Dobby is so sorry Harry Potter sir!" he wailed, "Dobby never meant to kill Harry Potter sir!" He jumped off the bed in order to beat his head against the floor as he wailed.
"Is all Dobby's fault!" he wailed, "Dobby did not deserve to try to rescue the great Harry Potter. Dobby too stupid, too weak! Dobby is a murderer!"
"Dobby!" Harry hissed, worried that the noisy elf would bring people into the hospital wing, and he had no interest in hearing lectures from Madame Pomfrey or having another ineffectual potion stuffed down his throat, "Dobby, I'm not dead!"
The house elf ignored him and continued to try to punish himself for apparently killing Harry ignored his pain and acted.
"Enough!" He hissed, grabbing the knife from the little creature with one hand and holding him back from it with the other. The little elf struggled to get at the weapon, clawing at Harry's arm and inadvertently at the bracelet. When he touched it, the little elf froze for a split second before bringing his hands back, acting as if he had been burned. He seemed to have been snapped out of his hysterical state, or so Harry thought until the little elf again burst into tears.
"Even as a ghost Harry Potter sir is a great wizard," he sobbed and one of his great, bat like ears perked up and Dobby looked at Harry once more with infinitely sad eyes and disappeared. Harry blinked, unsure as to what had just happened.
"Fetch Madam Pomfrey," a muffled voice said and Harry quickly lay down, pulling off his glasses to put them on the table beside his bed and closing his eyes quickly as the doors to the hospital wing opened. He listened as people walked past his bed and heard a muffled thump as something was dropped onto one of the other beds. A few moments later he heard the very familiar sound of Madam Pomfrey's brisk walk.
"What happened?" the healer demanded, sounding horrified and furious all at once.
"He had a few apples with him," a voice, McGonagall's voice, began but then she was interrupted.
"What has happened is that my worst fears have been confirmed," the first voice, Dumbledore's voice, announced, "the chamber of secrets is indeed open once more. The boy is lucky that I was on my way to the kitchens or I fear far worse could have befallen him."
"How could this have happened?" McGonagall's sharp tones easily pierced through the muffling effect of the curtain so he heard her clearly, "How could the chamber really be opened again?"
"It's as the wall said," a third voice, Flitwick's unique squeaky tone grumbled, "the heir of Slytherin has returned to Hogwarts."
"What are we going to do?" McGonagall demanded and Harry squinted, his blurry vision and the lack of light preventing him from seeing more than blobs gathered around the bed across the room from his own.
"Perhaps he took a picture of his attacker?" Flitwick suggested hesitantly and Harry winced as he realized who the new victim must be- Colin Creevy.
He could feel the tension in the air and barely heard the click as the camera must have been opened. An acrid smell filled the air for a brief second before he assumed that Madam Pomfrey banished it.
"Melted," McGonagall breathed, "What melts film? What can we do to stop this monster?"
"The only thing we can do," Dumbledore replied, "Search for the heir and for the chamber of secrets."
"But Albus," Flitwick protested, "People have been searching for it since Slytherin was banished from the castle, what on earth makes you think we can find it now?"
"And what's to be done to keep people from ending up in my hospital wing?" Madame Pomfrey added with an almost growl.
Harry could just picture the old man's eyes twinkling as Dumbledore said in a dismissive voice,
"Have no worries, I am fully confident in our abilities." The old headmaster said, sounding absolutely cheerful. There was a pause and then,
"Albus, you are taking this far too lightly!" McGonagall hissed, "Two students have almost died! We can have the students all sleep in the Great Hall until this monster is caught, have teachers escort them to their classes, something more than just looking around in our spare time for a room no one has found in over a thousand years!"
"Minerva, I promise, everything will turn out alright," Dumbledore told the irate teacher, his voice calm and soothing, "Now, I believe that Poppy will be upset if we continue to discuss this in here where we might wake her other patients. We can continue planning in the morning with the other teachers."
McGonagall huffed and stalked out of the room, her heels clicking audibly and the other two followed after her shortly, leaving Madam Pomfrey to grumble under her breath, too quietly for Harry to hear, as she fussed over the new arrival in the inescapable prison that was the hospital wing. He waited impatiently until he finally heard her walk away and heard the soft click of a door being shut.
He waited for a breath, straining his ears for any sound that could indicate someone coming back. He could remember far too many times in both his own past and from the strange, alien memories of instances where he did not wait long enough to be sure that the Dursleys or the drunkard were really gone and getting beaten for that lack of patience.
It was silent.
He slipped out from under the covers and immediately went to Hermione's side and studied her carefully. She looked pale and rather thin. He resolved to pay more attention to make sure she ate more regularly. He looked at her a little longer before moving on to check on the other students.
He frowned as he saw that he was right, Colin had indeed been the one to be petrified. The ruined camera was nearby and Harry vaguely wondered why Colin had brought it with him- hopefully not to take pictures of him while he was injured. The younger boy had been doing so well with staying out of Harry's way, taking pictures of the green eyed wizard while he was in the hospital wing would probably have forced Harry to destroy the camera. The food was nice of him though.
He left Colin and went to the last person, the Hufflepuff Justin something or other. Harry couldn't remember the name off the top of his rather clouded head. He looked at the boy but didn't see anything particularly wrong with him. With a shrug, Harry went and dragged a chair to Hermione's bed and sat down.
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If anyone's developed a time machine, please let me borrow it so I can go back in time to smack Michael de Montaigne and post this chapter sooner. Also, many thanks to Paladeus for continuing to poke at me to get this chapter finished and to several genius writers who have agreed to let me use elements of their stories in my own, though I won't tell you who those brilliant people are just yet. Just in case anyone's gotten any weird ideas while I've been MIA I don't own Harry Potter. Merry Christmahanakwanzaka, Happy New Year and Happy Birthday! And finally, please leave a review and tell me what you think
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