Courage

-20-

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," Harry moaned.

"I tried to tell him not to, Harry," said Layla, knelt beside him and helping Harry sit up.

"Doesn't know what they're saying," said Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around them. "Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm."

"No!" said Harry. "I'll keep it like this, thanks."

"Lie back, Harry," said Lockhart soothingly. "It's a simple charm I've used countless times -"

"Why can't I just go to the hospital wing?" said Harry through clenched teeth.

"He should really, Professor," said Layla.

"Stand back," said Lockhart, who was rolling up his jade-green sleeves.

"No — don't—" said Harry weakly, 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 Colin Creevey began clicking away madly with his camera. 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 — ah, Mr Weasley, Miss Lupin, Miss Granger, would you escort him? — and Madam Pomfrey will be able to — er — tidy you up a bit."

Lockhart hadn't mended Harry's bones. He had removed them.

Madam Pomfrey wasn't at all pleased.

Layla and Hermione waited outside the curtain drawn around Harry's hospital bed while Ron helped him into his pajamas. It took a while to stuff the rubbery, boneless arm into a sleeve.

"How can you stick up for Lockhart now, Hermione, eh?" Ron called through the curtain as he pulled Harry's limp fingers through the cuff. "If Harry had wanted deboning he would have asked."

"Anyone can make a mistake," said Hermione. "And it doesn't hurt anymore, does it, Harry?"

"No," said Harry, getting into bed. "But it doesn't do anything else either."

Hermione, Layla, and Madam Pomfrey came around the curtain. 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."

"We won, though," Layla pointed out, a grin breaking across her face. "That was some catch you made. Malfoy's face... he looked ready to kill."

"I want to know how he fixed that Bludger," said Hermione darkly.

"We can add that to the list of questions we'll ask him when we've taken the Polyjuice Potion," said Harry, sinking back onto his pillows. "I hope it tastes better than this stuff."

"If it's got bits of Slytherins in it? You've got to be joking," said Ron.

The door of the hospital wing burst open at that moment. Filthy and 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!"

With a sigh, Layla left with the others.

She headed up to the Gryffindor tower with everyone and then excused herself to go up to her dorm while the others just lingered in the common room. Layla immediately sat on her bed and grabbed her diary, quill, and ink, writing to Tom.

And the Bludger wouldn't stop following Harry and it broke his arm and Professor Lockhart tried to fix it but ended up removing all of his bones! And the whole time, this first year, Colin Creevey, was taking photos of everything.

What an exciting match. Too bad I didn't get to see it. So this Colin Creevey kid... does he often take a lot of photos? Nosing into other people's business? Just like your friend Hermione Granger?

I don't mind if Hermione is a bit nosy since I've gotten used to it by now but yes, Colin can be a tad bit nosy.

Is that so? Well, I'll forgive your friend then, for now, but Colin should learn not to butt his nose in where it doesn't belong, am I right? I think we might need to remedy this.

Just as Layla read the last of Tom's words, a strange sensation rushed through her and she blacked out.

Layla woke up, yet again in the girl's bathroom on the second floor. Slowly, she got to her feet, noticing how dark it was.

She started to run back to Gryffindor tower, knowing that she was out of bed after hours and definitely didn't want to run into Mr Filch. She raced through the corridors; her footsteps rang through the deserted corridors.

She stopped short when voices sounded up ahead.

"He's been petrified," said a voice that sounded a lot like Professor McGonagall.

"We should get him up to the Hospital Wing," said the voice of Professor Dumbledore.

There was some shuffling. Layla peaked around the corner and saw the two professors lifting up the boy who had been petrified. 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.

Layla gasped loudly. Realizing how loud she was, she clamped a hand over her mouth and spun around, sprinting off to the Gryffindor tower.