Harry Potter 02 & The Chamber Of Secrets (Illustrated) (20 page)

The door of the hospital wing burst open at that moment. Filthy and soaking wet, the rest of the Gryffindor team had arrived to see Harry.

‘Unbelievable flying, Harry,’ said George. ‘I’ve just seen Marcus Flint yelling at Malfoy. Something about having the Snitch on top of his head and not noticing. Malfoy didn’t seem too happy.’

They had brought 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 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!’

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.

‘What’re you doing here?’ 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
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.

‘You nearly got Ron and me expelled,’ he said fiercely. ‘You’d better clear off before my bones come back, Dobby, or I might strangle you.’

Dobby smiled weakly.

‘Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day at home.’

He blew his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore, looking so pathetic that Harry felt his anger ebb away in spite of himself.

‘Why d’you wear that thing, Dobby?’ he asked curiously.

‘This, sir?’ said Dobby, plucking at the pillowcase. ”Tis a mark of the house-elf’s enslavement, sir. Dobby can only be freed if his masters present him with clothes, sir. The family is 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, anger rising once more. ‘What d’you mean,
your
Bludger?
You
made that Bludger try and kill me?’

‘Not 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 angrily. ‘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 on the pillowcase. ‘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 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 …’

‘So there
is
a Chamber of Secrets?’ Harry whispered. ‘And - did you say it’s been opened
before
?
Tell
me, Dobby!’

He seized the elf’s bony wrist as Dobby’s hand inched towards the water jug. ‘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. ‘One of my best friends is Muggle-born, she’ll be first in line if the Chamber really has been opened -‘

‘Harry Potter risks his own life for his friends!’ 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.

Next moment, 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 lay quite still, pretending to be asleep. 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.’

‘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. 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.

‘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 prised 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 prised open 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
?’

‘The question is not who,’ said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin. ‘The question is,
how
…’

And from what Harry could see of Professor McGonagall’s shadowy face, she didn’t understand this any better than he did.

Harry woke up on Sunday morning to find the dormitory blazing with winter sunlight and his arm re-boned but very stiff. He sat up quickly and looked over at Colin’s bed, but it had been blocked from view by the high curtains Harry had changed behind yesterday. Seeing that he was awake, Madam Pomfrey came bustling over with a breakfast tray and then began bending and stretching his arm and fingers.

‘All in order,’ she said, as he clumsily fed himself porridge left-handed. ‘When you’ve finished eating, you may leave.’

Harry dressed as quickly as he could and hurried off to Gryffindor Tower, desperate to tell Ron and Hermione about Colin and Dobby, but they weren’t there. Harry left to look for them, wondering where they could have got to and feeling slightly hurt that they weren’t interested in whether he had his bones back or not.

As Harry passed the library, Percy Weasley strolled out of it, looking in far better spirits than last time they’d met.

‘Oh, hello, Harry,’ he said. ‘Excellent flying yesterday, really excellent. Gryffindor have just taken the lead for the House Cup - you earned fifty points!’

‘You haven’t seen Ron or Hermione, have you?’ said Harry.

‘No, I haven’t,’ said Percy, his smile fading. ‘I hope Ron’s not in another
girls’ toilet
…’

Harry forced a laugh, watched Percy out of sight and then headed straight for Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. He couldn’t see why Ron and Hermione would be in there again, but after making sure that neither Filch nor any Prefects were around, he opened the door and heard their voices coming from a locked cubicle.

‘It’s me,’ he said, closing the door behind him. There was a clunk, a splash and a gasp from within the cubicle and he saw Hermione’s eye peering through the keyhole.

‘Harry!’
she said. ‘You gave us such a fright. Come in - how’s your arm?’

‘Fine,’ said Harry, squeezing into the cubicle. An old cauldron was perched on the toilet, and a crackling from under the rim told Harry they had lit a fire beneath it. Conjuring up portable, waterproof fires was a speciality of Hermione’s.

‘We’d’ve come to meet you, but we decided to get started on the Polyjuice Potion,’ Ron explained, as Harry, with difficulty, locked the cubicle again. ‘We’ve decided this is the safest place to hide it.’

Harry started to tell them about Colin, but Hermione interrupted. ‘We already know, we heard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick this morning. That’s why we decided we’d better get going -‘

‘The sooner we get a confession out of Malfoy, the better,’ snarled Ron. ‘D’you know what I think? He was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin.’

‘There’s something else,’ said Harry, watching Hermione tearing bundles of knotgrass and throwing them into the potion. ‘Dobby came to visit me in the middle of the night.’

Ron and Hermione looked up, amazed. Harry told them everything Dobby had told him - or hadn’t told him. Ron and Hermione listened with their mouths open.

‘The Chamber of Secrets has been opened
before
?’ said Hermione.

‘This settles it,’ said Ron in a triumphant voice. ‘Lucius Malfoy must’ve opened the Chamber when he was at school here and now he’s told dear old Draco how to do it. It’s obvious. Wish Dobby’d told you what kind of monster’s in there, though. I want to know how come nobody’s noticed it sneaking round the school.’

‘Maybe it can make itself invisible,’ said Hermione, prodding leeches to the bottom of the cauldron. ‘Or maybe it can disguise itself - pretend to be a suit of armour or something. I’ve read about Chameleon Ghouls …’

‘You read too much, Hermione,’ said Ron, pouring dead lacewings on top of the leeches. He crumpled up the empty lacewing bag and looked round at Harry.

‘So Dobby stopped us getting on the train and broke your arm …’ He shook his head. ‘You know what, Harry? If he doesn’t stop trying to save your life he’s going to kill you.’

*

The news that Colin Creevey had been attacked and was now lying as though dead in the hospital wing had spread through the entire school by Monday morning. The air was suddenly thick with rumour and suspicion. The first-years were now moving around the castle in tight-knit groups, as though scared they would be attacked if they ventured forth alone.