Chapter Thirty Eight – Duelled Senseless

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to JK Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros and some other high falutin' companies. Me, I'm just a PR professional. I don't profess to own - and would never dream of making any money off - JKR's wonderful world. However, its her sandbox and she's left the gate unlatched so we can go in and play a bit. Which, I've done.

Chapter Thirty Eight – Duelled Senseless

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-==(oIo)==-

\""/

Hours later, Harry woke quite suddenly in the pitch blackness and gave a small yelp of pain. His upper arm now felt full of large splinters. For a second, he thought that was what had woken him. Then, with a thrill of horror, he realized 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 Harry Potter. Ah, sir; why didn't you heed Dobby? Why didn't Harry Potter go back home when he couldn't get through the barrier?"

Harry heaved himself up on his pillows and pushed Dobby's sponge away.

"What're you doing here?" he asked. "And how did you know I almost 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 from 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 against Harry Potter Sir, and Dobby had to immediately iron his hands afterward." 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 through the barrier another way!"

He was rocking backward and forward, 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'd better get lost before my arm is repaired, 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 do 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; for then he would be free to leave their house forever."

Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, "Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his bludger would be enough to make..."

"Your bludger?" growled Harry, anger rising once more. "What do 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?" asked 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, we 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! 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. "Tell me, Dobby!"

He seized the elf's bony wrist as Dobby's hand inched toward the water jug. "But I'm not muggleborn. 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 from 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 muggleborn. 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..."

There were footsteps coming down the corridor 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.

The doors opened and Madam Pomfrey came in. "Mister Potter?" she asked. "I heard voices in here. Who were you talking to?"

"A deranged, lunatic house elf," said Harry.

With a sigh, Madam Pomfrey disappeared into her office and came back with a potion. "Here; drink this. It's a short term Dreamless Sleep Potion that should keep you asleep until morning. How's the arm feel?"

"Like I've got large splinters digging into my arm," said Harry. "I've come to know the feeling quite well now. I remember it from my stay in Saint Mungo's."

"Yes. Well, drink up," she said. "That'll take care of the pain."

_‗_

-==(oIo)==-

\""/

The next morning, Harry woke with his right arm feeling stiff but healed. He sat up quickly to try and move it around a bit.

Madam Pomfrey, from her desk, noticed the movement and came over. She was carrying a tray loaded with a decent breakfast.

"Everything is now fine, Mister Potter," she said, placing the tray on a hospital bed table and wheeling it over to him. "As soon as you've eaten your breakfast you may get up and get dressed."

Harry belted down as much of the breakfast as he could. He was eager to get out of there and find Daphne and his other friends.

He had just finished getting dressed when Daphne came hurrying in through the double doors out to the corridor, followed by the others.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" said Daphne, coming up to him and enveloping him in a huge hug. "We came by before breakfast but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let us stay. So, we've just come from breakfasting in the Great Hall."

"That's alright, Daphne," he said, soothingly. "You need to eat. I'm just sorry I didn't wake up while you were here. Then, I may have been able to join you for breakfast in the Great Hall."

"Don't be silly," she scolded him. "You had a serious break in your arm. It needed time to be mended and healed."

"So, what shall we do?" he asked, instead of pushing the issue.

"Homework?" asked Hermione.

Harry groaned and said, "You've a one track mind, girl. But I doubt I'll be able to do much. While the bone in my arm might be repaired and mostly healed, it's still a little stiff."

"I'll help," she said.

Smiling, Harry said, "I'll just do what I usually do. I'll write it in my head and wait until I can transcribe it onto parchment."

"But I can help with research," she said.

"That you can," he replied, smiling. "And I'll appreciate the help."

The Seven left the infirmary with a frozen Colin Creevey laying on one of the beds hidden by another of the movable screens. They didn't even realise he was there.

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-==(oIo)==-

\""/

In the Room Harry sat the others down and began to tell them about the visit he had from the house elf named Dobby.

"Dobby," muttered Tracey, before she suddenly looked up at Daphne. "Dobby. Don't the Malfoys have a house elf named Dobby?"

"Yes; yes, they do," said Daphne, also remembering. "They treat him appallingly."

"Tthat was the house elf I met," said Harry. "He said he gets, as you put it, appallingly treated by his family. And he's always punishing himself."

"That sounds like the Malfoys, alright," spat Tracey.

Nodding, Harry continued with his tale of his late night early morning visitor, and what he said. He finished with telling them about Madam Pomfrey unknowingly scaring him off and he having to take a shortened Dreamless Sleep Potion.

"So," said Hermione. "Dobby was the one who visited you on the night of your birthday at Greengrass Estate; he was the one who jiggered with the portal at Kings Cross; and he was the one who mucked about with the charms on the bludger. I see what you mean by him trying to kill you to save your life."

"But we now know who is responsible for what's been happening - Malfoy," said Susan.

"We know 'who', we suspect 'what', but we don't know 'how'," said Harry. "Besides, Malfoy senior wasn't born until about a decade after the Chamber was opened last time. He must have information on how to open it from Riddle."

"Do you think it's Malfoy?" asked Hermione. "I mean junior, not senior. We could use Polyjuice Potion to take the place of his two bullyboys and lead him to answering questions."

"The ferret?" asked Tracey, with a little laugh. "No. If he really knew, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from bragging about it."

Nodding, Daphne said, "Tracey's right. We'd all know by now, if it was him. At least, those of us in Slytherin. Malfoy couldn't keep a secret that big if his life depended on it."

Seeing the dejected look on Hermione's face she said, "But, Polyjuice Potion was a good idea if Malfoy actually could keep a secret. He'd have told Crabbe and Goyle, for sure. We need that sort of thinking to solve this."

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-==(oIo)==-

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November faded into December and the Seven were beginning to look forward to going home for Christmas.

However, the week before they were due to leave, a notice appeared in the Entrance Hall. A duelling club was starting up. The first 'meet' was to be held that evening at 8.00pm.

"They're starting a Duelling Club!" said Seamus Finnegan, a Second Year Gryffindor. "First meeting tonight! I wouldn't mind duelling lessons - they might come in handy one of these days."

"What, you reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?" asked Neville back. But he, too, read the sign with interest.

"It could be useful," he said to the others as they went into dinner. "Shall we go?"

The others were all for it. So, at eight o'clock that evening, they hurried back to the Great Hall.

The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.

"I wonder who'll be teaching us?" asked Hermione, as they edged into the chattering crowd. "Harry said Flitwick was a duelling champion when he was young. Maybe it'll be him."

"As long as it's not..." began Harry, before he ended on a groan.

Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little duelling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I, myself, have done on countless occasions. For full details, see my published works.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about duelling, himself, and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry. You'll still have your Potions Master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

"Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" Ron Weasley muttered to someone from behind Harry and the others. Harry just snorted and rolled his eyes.

Snape's upper lip was curling.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed. At least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands; whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth.

"One - two - three!"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent. Snape cried, "Expelliarmus!"

There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet. He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins cheered. Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. "Do you think he's all right?" she squealed through her fingers. "He may be a liar but he's still a person."

"Who cares?" said Harry and Neville together. Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform.

"That was a Disarming Charm. As you see, I've lost my wand - ah, thank you, Miss Brown. Yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape. But, if you don't mind my saying, to stop you, it would have been only too easy. However, I felt it would be instructive to let them see..."

Snape was looking murderous.

Possibly, Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come among you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me..."

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Snape reached Harry

"Time to split up the dream team, I think," he sneered. "The rest of you, go find other partners. Potter..."

Harry moved automatically toward Daphne.

"I don't think so," said Snape, smiling coldly. "Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Harry Potter. And you, Miss Granger, you can partner Miss Bulstrode."

Daphne looked a little murderous at Snape but went off to find a partner of her own.

Malfoy strutted over, smirking. Behind him walked Bulstrode. Hermione gave her a weak smile that she did not return.

"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"

Harry and Malfoy barely inclined their heads, not taking their eyes off each other.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents - Only to disarm them - We don't want any accidents. One - two - three!"

Harry swung his wand high, but Malfoy had already started on "two".

His spell would have hit Harry if he hadn't quickly sidestepped. He stumbled, but didn't twist anything. Wasting no more time, Harry pointed his wand straight at Malfoy and shouted, "Rictusempra!"

A jet of silver light hit Malfoy in the stomach and he doubled up, wheezing.

"I said disarm only!" Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as Malfoy sank to his knees. Harry had hit him with a Tickling Charm, and he could barely move for laughing.

Harry hung back, with a vague feeling it would be unsporting to bewitch Malfoy while he was on the floor, but this was a mistake. Gasping for breath, Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry's knees, and choked, "Tarantallegra!" and the next second Harry's legs began to jerk around out of his control in a kind of quickstep. He wasn't prepared for such an underhanded tactic.

"Stop! Stop!" screamed Lockhart, but Snape took charge.

"Finite Incantatem!" he shouted.

Harry's feet stopped dancing, Malfoy stopped laughing, and they were able to look up.

A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting; and Tracey was holding up an ashen-faced Seamus, apologizing for whatever. But, Hermione and Millicent Bulstrode were still moving. Millicent had Hermione in a headlock and Hermione was whimpering in pain. Both their wands lay forgotten on the floor.

Harry leapt forward and pulled Millicent off. It was difficult; she was a lot bigger than he was.

"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "Up you go, MacMillan - Careful there, Miss Fawcett - Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second, Boot.

"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair; Weasley and Finnigan, how about you..."

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. "Weasley causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finnegan up to the hospital wing in a matchbox."

Weasley's pink face went pinker.

"How about Malfoy and Potter?" asked Snape with a twisted smile.

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Malfoy into the middle of the hall, as the crowd backed away to give them room.

"Now, Harry," said Lockhart. "When Draco points his wand at you, you do this."

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops! My wand is a little overexcited."

Snape moved closer to Malfoy, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Malfoy smirked, too. Harry looked up, feigning nervousness at Lockhart, and said, "Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?"

"Scared?" muttered Malfoy, so that Lockhart couldn't hear him.

"You wish," said Harry out of the corner of his mouth.

Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Harry!"

"What, drop my wand?"

But Lockhart wasn't listening. "Three - two - one - go!" he shouted.

Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, "Serpensortia!"

The end of his wand exploded. Harry watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.

"Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it."

"Allow me!" shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang. The snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged and hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Harry wasn't sure what made him do it. He wasn't even aware of deciding to do it. All he knew was that his legs were carrying him forward as though he was on casters and that he had shouted stupidly at the snake, §Leave him alone!§ And miraculously - inexplicably - the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry.

Harry felt the fear drain out of him. He knew the snake wouldn't attack anyone now, though how he knew it, he couldn't have explained.

He looked up at Justin and said, "Back away, Mister Finch-Fletchley. No sudden moves, now."

Justin backed away until he was well out of striking range. "That should be far enough, thank you," said Harry.

"What do you think you're playing at?" shouted the other boy. And, before Harry could say anything, Justin had turned and stormed out of the hall.

"Professor Snape, since you seem to have taught Mister Malfoy that spell, perhaps you should have the honour of returning it to his home."

Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke.

Snape, too, was looking at Harry in an unexpected way. It was a shrewd and calculating look, and Harry didn't like it. He was also dimly aware of an ominous muttering from the collected students.

"That was an incredibly dangerous spell you just cast, Mister Malfoy," glared Harry at Malfoy. "That was one of the most deadliest snakes in existence - a Black Mamba. If it had bitten Mister Finch-Fletchley I dare say you and Lockhart would be facing charges of committing severe bodily harm, if not manslaughter right now!

"What the bloody hell did you think you were doing?" he snarled.

Malfoy stared back with a look of fright and fear on his face.

Turning to the shocked face of Lockhart, he said, "As for you, Professor Flophart; your clear incompetence damn near saw Mister Finch-Fletchley killed! Perhaps you should consider your career at an end!"

Harry stormed off the platform and, with the group following him, stormed out of the Great Hall. As they went through the doors, the people on either side drew away as though they were frightened of catching something. Harry didn't have a clue what was going on; and none of his friends explained anything until they had dragged him all the way up to the Come and Go Room.

Daphne pushed Harry into an armchair and said, "You're a Parselmouth. Why didn't you tell us?"

"I didn't know," said Harry.

"This changes things," said Tracey.

"Why?" said Harry. "I bet loads of people here can do it."

"Oh, no they can't," said Daphne. "It's not a very common gift. Harry, this is bad."

"What's bad?" said Harry, starting to feel quite angry. "What's wrong with everyone? Listen, if I hadn't told that snake not to attack Finch-Fletchley..."

"Oh, that's what you said to it?" asked Daphne.

"What do you mean? You were there. You heard me..."

"I heard you speaking Parseltongue," said Hannah. "You could have been saying anything. No wonder Justin panicked. You sounded like you were egging the snake on or something. It was creepy, you know..."

Harry gaped at her.

"I didn't realize," said Harry. "How can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?"

Neville shook his head. Both he and Hermione were looking as though someone had died. Harry couldn't see what was so terrible.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong with stopping...?" he started to say, before realising. "Oh. Slytherin was a parselmouth, wasn't he?"

"Yes," said Hermione, speaking at last in a hushed voice. "That's why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent."

Harry sighed.

"Exactly," said Daphne. "And now the whole school's going to think you're his great-great-great-great-grandson or something..."

"I probably am," said Harry.

"You'll find it hard to prove you're not the heir now," said Hermione. "He lived about a thousand years ago. For all we know, you could be."

Harry lay awake for hours that night. Through a gap in the curtains around his four-poster he watched snow starting to drift past the tower window and wondered - Could he be the true descendant of Salazaar Slytherin? He didn't know much about his father's family, after all.

Quietly, Harry tried to say something in Parseltongue. The words wouldn't come. It seemed he had to be face-to-face with a snake to do it.

The next few days before leaving for Christmas break were going to be difficult.

_‗_

-==(oIo)==-

\""/

The next day, between classes, Harry was fretting about what had nearly happened to Finch-Fletchley; so told the group he was going to go and track the boy down to try and explain what had happened in the duelling class. Daphne kissed him on the cheek and wished him well, but didn't think it would make a difference.

Harry tromped down the stairs almost to the ground floor and turned along another corridor, which was particularly dark. The torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft blowing through a loose windowpane. He was halfway down the passage when he tripped headlong over something lying on the floor. He turned to squint at what he'd tripped over, and felt as though his stomach had dissolved.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor - rigid and cold - a look of shock frozen on his face. His eyes were staring blankly at the ceiling. Next to him was another figure, the strangest sight Harry had ever seen.

It was the Gryffindor ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Finch-Fletchley's.

Harry got to his feet, his breathing fast and shallow, his heart doing a kind of drumroll against his ribs. He looked wildly up and down the deserted corridor. The only sounds were the muffled voices of teachers from the classes on either side.

He could run, and no one would ever know he had been there. But he couldn't just leave them lying here. He had to get help. But, would anyone believe he hadn't had anything to do with this?

As he stood there, a door right next to him opened with a bang. Peeves the Poltergeist came shooting out.

"Why, it's potty wee Potter!" cackled Peeves, knocking Harry in the head as he bounced past him. "What's Potter up to? Why's Potter lurking..."

Peeves stopped, halfway through a midair somersault. Upside down, he spotted Justin and Nearly Headless Nick. He flipped the right way up, filled his lungs and, before Harry could stop him, screamed, "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"

Crash - crash - crash! Door after door flew open along the corridor and people flooded out. For several long minutes, there was a scene of such confusion that Finch-Fletchley was in danger of being squashed and people kept standing in Nearly Headless Nick. Harry found himself pinned against the wall as the professors shouted for quiet.

Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her own class, one of whom had black-and-white-striped hair. She used her wand to set off a loud bang, which restored silence, and ordered everyone back into their classes. No sooner had the scene cleared somewhat that Ernie the Hufflepuff arrived, panting, on the scene.

"Caught in the act!" Ernie yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at Harry.

"That will do, MacMillan!" said Professor McGonagall sharply.

Peeves was bobbing overhead, now grinning wickedly, surveying the scene. Peeves always loved chaos. As McGonagall bent over Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick, examining them, Peeves broke into song. "Oh, Potter, you rotter; oh, what have you done? You're killing off' students, you think it's good fun..."

"That's enough, Peeves!" barked the Professor. And Peeves zoomed away backward, with his tongue out at Harry.

Finch-Fletchley was carried up to the infirmary by Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department. But, nobody seemed to know what to do for Nearly Headless Nick.

In the end, Professor McGonagall conjured a large fan out of thin air, which she gave to Ernie with instructions to waft Nearly Headless Nick up the stairs. This Ernie did, fanning Nick along like a silent black hovercraft. This left Harry and Professor McGonagall alone together.

"This way, Potter," she said.

"Professor," said Harry at once, "I swear I didn't..."

"This is out of my hands, Potter," said the Professor, curtly.

They marched in silence around a corner and Harry found himself in the corridor leading to the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

"Lemon drop!" McGonagall said to the gargoyle.

They stepped off the stone staircase at the top, and Professor McGonagall rapped on the door. It opened silently and they entered. Professor McGonagall told Harry to wait and left him there, alone.

He also wasn't alone. Standing on a golden perch behind the door was Fawkes looking like a decrepit-looking bird that resembled a half-plucked turkey.

Harry stared at it and the bird looked balefully back, making a gagging noise. Harry thought it looked very ill. Its eyes were dull and, even as Harry watched, a couple more feathers fell out of its tail.

Harry was just thinking it looked as if it was approaching a burning day, when the phoenix burst into flames.

Harry nearly yelped in shock and backed away. The phoenix, meanwhile, had become a fireball. It gave one loud shriek and next second there was nothing but a smouldering pile of ash on the floor.

The office door opened. Dumbledore came in, looking very sombre.

"Albus," said Harry, gesturing towards Fawkes's perch. "Your phoenix…"

Dumbledore smiled. "About time, too," he said. "He's been looking dreadful for days. I've been telling him to get a move on."

Dumbledore walked around his desk and took seat. "I wanted to talk to you about what's been happening."

"Clearly," said Harry, taking seat on the chair opposite. "Otherwise I would not be here."

"I must ask you, Harry, whether there is anything you'd like to tell me," said Dumbledore gently. "Anything at all."

Harry thought of Malfoy shouting, "You'll be next, Mudbloods!" Then he thought of the disembodied voice he had heard twice. He thought, too, about what everyone was saying about him, and his annoyance that he was somehow connected with Salazaar Slytherin…

"Yes," said Harry. "I find myself becoming most upset about the continued ongoing bullying that seems to be running rampant through this school while the teaching staff does nothing about it. Calling people vile names like 'Mudblood' should be punished as bullying, Albus.

"Further - after it was made clear to you on numerous occasions I was never to be in the same room with you alone - your Deputy, Professor McGonagall, brought me up here and then abandoned me. These two points, of course, I will be raising with my godfather and magical guardians."

"Errr - yes," said Dumbledore. "I shall look into these… allegations. Thank you for your time, Harry."

_‗_

-==(oIo)==-

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