* * *
"SO, ALL IN all, not one of Ron's better birthdays?" said Fred.
It was evening; the hospital wing was quiet, the windows curtained, the lamps lit. Ron's was the only occupied bed. Elara, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting around him; they had spent all day waiting outside the double doors, trying to see inside whenever somebody went in or out. Madam Pomfrey had only let them enter at eight o'clock. Fred, George, and Aurora had arrived at ten past.
"This isn't how we imagined handing over our present," said George grimly, putting down a large wrapped gift on Ron's bedside cabinet and sitting beside Ginny.
"Yeah, when we pictured the scene, he was conscious," said Fred.
"There we were in Hogsmeade, waiting to surprise him —" said George.
"You were in Hogsmeade?" asked Ginny, looking up.
"We were thinking of buying Zonko's," said Aurora gloomily. "A Hogsmeade branch, you know, but a fat lot of good it'll do us if you lot aren't allowed out at weekends to buy our stuff anymore.. . . But never mind that now."
Fred drew up a chair beside Elara and looked at Ron's pale face.
"How exactly did it happen, you two?"
Elara and Harry retold the story they had already recounted, it felt like a hundred times to Dumbledore, to McGonagall, to Madam Pomfrey, to Hermione, and to Ginny.
". . . and then I got the bezoar down his throat and his breathing eased up a bit, Slughorn ran for help, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned up, and they brought Ron up here," said Elara.
"They reckon he'll be all right. Madam Pomfrey says he'll have to stay here a week or so . . . keep taking essence of rue . . ." finished Harry, staring at Ron's face.
"Blimey, it was lucky you thought of a bezoar, Lara," said George in a low voice.
"Lucky there was one in the room," said Elara, who kept turning cold at the thought of what would have happened if she had not been able to lay hands on the little stone.
Hermione gave an almost inaudible sniff. She had been exceptionally quiet all day. Having hurtled, white-faced, up to Elara outside the hospital wing and demanded to know what had happened, she had taken almost no part in Elara, Harry, and Ginny's obsessive discussion about how Ron had been poisoned, but merely stood beside them, clench-jawed and frightened-looking, until at last they had been allowed in to see him.
"Do Mum and Dad know?" Fred asked Ginny.
"They've already seen him, they arrived an hour ago — they're in Dumbledore's office now, but they'll be back soon. . . ."
There was a pause while they all watched Ron mumble a little in his sleep.
"So the poison was in the drink?" said Fred quietly.
"Yes," said Elara at once; she could think of nothing else and was glad for the opportunity to start discussing it again. "Slughorn poured it out —"
"Would he have been able to slip something into Ron's glass without either of you seeing?"
"Probably," said Harry, "but why would Slughorn want to poison Ron?"
"No idea," said Fred, frowning. "You don't think he could have mixed up the glasses by mistake? Meaning to get you or Lara?"
"Why would Slughorn want to poison them?" asked Ginny.
"I dunno," said Fred, "but there must be loads of people who'd like to poison them, mustn't there? 'The Chosen One' and 'The Savior', and all that?"
"So you think Slughorn's a Death Eater?" said Ginny.
"Anything's possible," said Fred darkly.
"He could be under the Imperius Curse," said George.
"Or he could be innocent," said Ginny. "The poison could have been in the bottle, in which case it was probably meant for Slughorn himself."
"Who'd want to kill Slughorn?"
"Dumbledore reckons Voldemort wanted Slughorn on his side," said Harry. "Slughorn was in hiding for a year before he came to Hogwarts. And . . ."
Elara thought of the memory Dumbledore had not yet been able to extract from Slughorn.
"And maybe Voldemort wants him out of the way, maybe he thinks he could be valuable to Dumbledore," said Elara
"But you said Slughorn had been planning to give that bottle to Dumbledore for Christmas," Ginny reminded her.
"So the poisoner could just as easily have been after Dumbledore."
"Then the poisoner didn't know Slughorn very well," said Hermione, speaking for the first time in hours and sounding as though she had a bad head cold. "Anyone who knew Slughorn would have known there was a good chance he'd keep something that tasty for himself."
"Er-my-nee," croaked Ron unexpectedly from between them.
They all fell silent, watching him anxiously, but after muttering incomprehensibly for a moment he merely started snoring. The dormitory doors flew open, making them all jump: Hagrid came striding toward them, his hair rain-flecked, his bearskin coat flapping behind him, a crossbow in his hand, leaving a trail of muddy dolphin-sized footprints all over the floor.
"Bin in the forest all day!" he panted. "Aragog's worse, I bin readin' to him — didn' get up ter dinner till jus' now an' then Professor Sprout told me abou' Ron! How is he?"
"Not bad," said Elara. "They say he'll be okay."
"No more than nine visitors at a time!" said Madam Pomfrey, hurrying out of her office.
"Hagrid makes nine," George pointed out.
"Oh . . . yes . . ." said Madam Pomfrey, who seemed to have been counting Hagrid as several people due to his vastness.
To cover her confusion, she hurried off to clear up his muddy footprints with her wand.
"I don' believe this," said Hagrid hoarsely, shaking his great shaggy head as he stared down at Ron. "Jus' don' believe it . . . Look at him lyin' there. . . . Who'd want ter hurt him, eh?"
"That's just what we were discussing," said Harry. "We don't know."
"Someone couldn' have a grudge against the Gryffindor Quidditch team, could they?" said Hagrid anxiously. "Firs' Katie, now Ron . . ."
"I can't see anyone trying to bump off a Quidditch team," said George.
"Wood might've done the Slytherins if he could've got away with it," said Fred fairly.
"If Corrine were here she would agree," said Aurora.
"Well, I don't think it's Quidditch, but I think there's a connection between the attacks," said Hermione quietly.
"How d'you work that out?" asked Fred.
"Well, for one thing, they both ought to have been fatal and weren't, although that was pure luck. And for another, neither the poison nor the necklace seems to have reached the person who was supposed to be killed. Of course," she added broodingly, "that makes the person behind this even more dangerous in a way, because they don't seem to care how many people they finish off before they actually reach their victim."
Before anybody could respond to this ominous pronouncement, the dormitory doors opened again and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hurried up the ward. They had done no more than satisfy themselves that Ron would make a full recovery on their last visit to the ward; now Mrs. Weasley seized hold of Elara and Harry and hugged them very tightly.
"Dumbledore's told us how you saved him with the bezoar," she sobbed. "Oh, Harry, what can we say? You saved Ginny, Harry. . . you both saved Arthur . . . now you've saved Ron . . ."
"Don't be . . . I didn't . . ." muttered Harry awkwardly.
"It's nothing," muttered Elara.
"Half our family does seem to owe you their lives, now I stop and think about it," Mr. Weasley said in a constricted voice. "Well, all I can say is that it was a lucky day for the Weasleys when Ron decided to sit in your compartment on the Hogwarts Express, Harry, and that Ron had finally gotten over that grudge of his, Elara."
Elara could not think of any reply to this and was almost glad when Madam Pomfrey reminded them that there were only supposed to be nine visitors around Ron's bed; she, Harry, and Hermione rose at once to leave and Hagrid decided to go with them, leaving Ron with his family.
"It's terrible," growled Hagrid into his beard, as the three of them walked back along the corridor to the marble staircase. "All this new security, an' kids are still gettin' hurt. . . . Dumbledore's worried sick. . . . He don' say much, but I can tell. . . ."
"Hasn't he got any ideas, Hagrid?" asked Hermione desperately.
"I 'spect he's got hundreds of ideas, brain like his," said Hagrid. "But he doesn' know who sent that necklace nor put poison in that wine, or they'd've bin caught, wouldn' they? Wha' worries me,"said Hagrid, lowering his voice and glancing over his shoulder (Elara, for good measure, checked the ceiling for Peeves), "is how long Hogwarts can stay open if kids are bein' attacked. Chamber o' Secrets all over again, isn' it? There'll be panic, more parents takin' their kids outta school, an' nex' thing yeh know the board o' governors . . ."
Hagrid stopped talking as the ghost of a long-haired woman drifted serenely past, then resumed in a hoarse whisper, ". . . the board o' governors'll be talkin' about shuttin' us up fer good."
"Surely not?" said Hermione, looking worried.
"Gotta see it from their point o' view," said Hagrid heavily. "I mean, it's always bin a bit of a risk sendin' a kid ter Hogwarts, hasn' it? Yer expect accidents, don' yeh, with hundreds of underage wizards all locked up ter gether, but attempted murder, tha's diff'rent. 'S'no wonder Dumbledore's angry with Sn —"
Hagrid stopped in his tracks, a familiar, guilty expression on what was visible of his face above his tangled black beard.
"What?" said Elara quickly. "Dumbledore's angry with Snape?"
"I never said tha'," said Hagrid, though his look of panic could not have been a bigger giveaway. "Look at the time, it's gettin' on fer midnight, I need ter —"
"Hagrid, why is Dumbledore angry with Snape?" Harry asked loudly.
"Shhhh!" said Hagrid, looking both nervous and angry. "Don' shout stuff like that, Harry, d'yeh wan' me ter lose me job? Mind, I don' suppose yeh'd care, would yeh, not now yeh've given up Care of Mag —"
"Don't try and make us feel guilty, it won't work!" said Harry forcefully. "What's Snape done?"
"I dunno, Harry, I shouldn'ta heard it at all! I — well, I was comin' outta the forest the other evenin' an' I overheard 'em talking — well, arguin'. Didn't like ter draw attention to meself, so I sorta skulked an' tried not ter listen, but it was a — well, a heated discussion an' it wasn' easy ter block it out."
"Well?" Harry urged him, as Hagrid shuffled his enormous feet uneasily.
"Well — I jus' heard Snape sayin' Dumbledore took too muchfer granted an' maybe he — Snape — didn' wan' ter do it anymore —"
This seemed very different from anything to do with Draco. Snape would not be overwhelmed with trying to investigate Draco. The man thrived on terrorizing children.
"Do what?" said Elara sharply.
"I dunno, 'Lara, it sounded like Snape was feelin' a bit overworked, tha's all — anyway, Dumbledore told him flat out he'd agreed ter do it an' that was all there was to it. Pretty firm with him. An' then he said summat abou' Snape makin' investigations in his House, in Slytherin. Well, there's nothin' strange abou' that!" Hagrid added hastily, as Elara, Harry, and Hermione exchanged looks full of meaning. "All the Heads o' Houses were asked ter look inter that necklace business —"
"Yeah, but Dumbledore's not having rows with the rest of them, is he?" said Harry.
"Look," Hagrid twisted his crossbow uncomfortably in his hands; there was a loud splintering sound and it snapped in two. "I know what yeh're like abou' Snape, Harry, an' I don' want yeh ter go readin' more inter this than there is."
"Look out," said Hermione tersely.
They turned just in time to see the shadow of Argus Filch looming over the wall behind them before the man himself turned the corner, hunchbacked, his jowls aquiver.
"Oho!" he wheezed. "Out of bed so late, this'll mean detention!"
"No it won', Filch," said Hagrid shortly. "They're with me, aren' they?"
"And what difference does that make?" asked Filch obnoxiously.
"I'm a ruddy teacher, aren' I, yeh sneakin' Squib!" said Hagrid, firing up at once.
There was a nasty hissing noise as Filch swelled with fury; Mrs. Norris had arrived, unseen, and was twisting herself sinuously around Filch's skinny ankles.
"Get goin'," said Hagrid out of the corner of his mouth.
Elara did not need telling twice; she, Harry, and Hermione both hurried off; Hagrid's and Filch's raised voices echoed behind them as they ran. They passed Peeves near the turning into Gryffindor Tower, but he was streaking happily toward the source of the yelling, cackling and calling, When there's strife and when there's trouble Call on Peevsie, he'll make double!
The Fat Lady was snoozing and not pleased to be woken, but swung forward grumpily to allow them to clamber into the mercifully peaceful and empty common room. It did not seem that people knew about Ron yet; Elara was very relieved: She had been interrogated enough that day. Hermione bade them good night and set off for the girls' dormitory. Harry, however, remained behind, taking a seat beside the fire and looking down into the dying embers. Elara had no bone in her body that remotely wanted to be alone right now, so she sat down next to Harry.
It wasn't even a full second before he had leaned against Elara and had an arm draped across her. One of her hands began running through his hair absentmindedly as they sat in silence, finding solace in one another. So much had happened within the last few days, and all Elara could think about was Ron's health and the revenge she was going to get against Romilda Vane.
"There you are, Potter!"
Elara and Harry jumped to their feet, wands at the ready. She had been quite convinced that the common room was empty; she had not been at all prepared for a hulking figure to rise suddenly out of a distant chair. A closer look showed her that it was Cormac McLaggen.
"I've been waiting for you to come back, Potter," said McLaggen, disregarding their drawn wands. "Must've fallen asleep. Look, I saw them taking Weasley up to the hospital wing earlier. Didn't look like he'll be fit for next week's match."
It seemed Harry had to take a few moments to realize what McLaggen was talking about.
"Oh . . . right . . . Quidditch," he said, putting his wand back into the belt of his jeans and running a hand wearily through his hair. "Yeah . . . he might not make it."
"Well, then, I'll be playing Keeper, won't I?" said McLaggen.
Elara scowled. She wanted to punch McLaggen and break his jaw. Hexing him wouldn't be enough.
"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah, I suppose so. . . ."
"Excellent," said McLaggen in a satisfied voice. "So when's practice?"
"What? Oh . . . there's one tomorrow evening."
"Good. Listen, Potter, we should have a talk beforehand. I've got some ideas on strategy you might find useful."
"Right," said Harry unenthusiastically. "Well, I'll hear them tomorrow, then. I'm pretty tired now . . . see you . . ."
Harry took Elara's hand and led her upstairs. Neither wanted to be alone.
"Do you want me to punch him for you?" said Elara through a yawn.
"You shouldn't have to ask to do it, you should just do it."
The news that Ron had been poisoned spread quickly next day, but it did not cause the sensation that Katie's attack had done. People seemed to think that it might have been an accident, given that he had been in the Potions master's room at the time, and that as he had been given an antidote immediately there was no real harm done. In fact, the Gryffindors were generally much more interested in the upcoming Quidditch match against Hufflepuff.
Elara wanted nothing more than to spend her time with just Harry and Hermione, but she was now being dogged wherever she went by Lavender Brown.
Lavender kept sidling up to Elara to discuss Ron, which she found almost more wearing than hearing overhearing McLaggen's Quidditch lectures. At first, Lavender had been very annoyed that nobody had thought to tell her that Ron was in the hospital wing — "I mean, I am his girlfriend!" — but unfortunately she had now decided to forgive Elara this lapse of memory and was keen to have lots of in-depth chats with her about Ron's feelings, a most uncomfortable experience that Elara would have happily forgone.
"Look, why don't you talk to Ron about all this?" Elara asked, after a particularly long interrogation from Lavender that took in everything from precisely what Ron had said about her new dress robes to whether or not Elara thought that Ron considered his relationship with Lavender to be "serious."
"Well, I would, but he's always asleep when I go and see him!"said Lavender fretfully.
"Is he?" said Elara, surprised, for she had found Ron perfectly alert every time she and Harry had been up to the hospital wing, both highly interested in the news of Dumbledore and Snape's row and keen to abuse McLaggen as much as possible.
Elara particularly enjoyed the nicknames she and Ron made up for McLaggen; Harry would only shake his head scornfully.
"Is Hermione Granger still visiting him?" Lavender demanded suddenly.
"Yeah, they're friends, aren't they?" said Elara rather uncomfortably.
"Friends, don't make me laugh," said Lavender scornfully. "She didn't talk to him for weeks after he started going out with me! But I suppose she wants to make up with him now he's all interesting. . . ."
"Would you call getting poisoned being interesting?" snapped Elara.
On the morning of the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, Elara found herself pacing. Ron was much better, but McLaggen proved to be a horrible team player. He was short-tempered, rude, impossibly arrogant, and undermined Harry constantly.
Before Harry set off to meet with the team, he went to visit Ron. Elara kissed him as usual and went to the commentator's podium and waited for the teams to emerge from the changing rooms.
They marched out onto the pitch to deafening cheers and boos. There was little wind; the clouds were patchy; every now and then there were dazzling flashes of bright sunlight. Harry looked temperamental. A gut feeling told Elara this match was not going to go well at all.
He shook hands with the Hufflepuff Captain, and then, on Madam Hooch's whistle, everyone rose into the air.
"And that's Smith of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle," said Elara flaty, still feeling contempt for him after last year. "I don't like him much, he's always been quite rude to Harry and I — oh, thank fu — I mean thank god, he's lost the Quaffle, Ginny Weasley took it from him, if I wasn't with Harry I'd definitely be dating her, oh right, sorry Dean — I love you, Harry, I promise! Oh no, now that big Hufflepuff player's got the Quaffle from her, I can't remember his name, it's something like Bibble — no, Buggins —"
"It's Cadwallader!" said Professor McGonagall loudly from beside Elara.
The crowd laughed. Elara smiled, but it quickly dropped as she noticed McLaggen had been shouting criticism at Ginny for allowing the Quaffle out of her possession, with the result that he had not noticed the large red ball soaring past his right ear.
"Stop yelling at Ginny, you barmy, gormless, chav and focus on the damn Quaffle!" yelled Elara into the megaphone, and the Gryffindor team yelled their agreements.
"McLaggen, will you pay attention to what you're supposed to be doing and leave everyone else alone!" bellowed Harry, wheeling around to face his Keeper.
"You're not setting a great example!" McLaggen shouted back, red-faced and furious.
Swearing angrily, Harry spun round and set off around the pitch again. Ginny and Demelza scored a goal apiece, giving the red-and-gold-clad supporters below something to cheer about. Then Cadwallader scored again, making things level, but Elara enjoyed making comments about how Zacharias Smith, who had so far failed to maintain possession of the Quaffle for longer than a minute, was suffering from something called "Loser's Lurgy."
"Seventy-forty to Hufflepuff!" barked Professor McGonagall into Elara's megaphone.
"Is it?" said Elara angrily. "Fuck you, McLagg — Oh, look! He's got hold of one Peakes's bats. I'm not surprised. He gives Narcissus a run for his money, truly."
McLaggen, for reasons best known to himself, had pulled Peakes's bat from him and appeared to be demonstrating how to hit a Bludger toward an oncoming Cadwallader.
"Will you give him back his bat and get back to the goal posts!" roared Harry, pelting toward McLaggen just as McLaggen took a ferocious swipe at the Bludger and mishit it.
The bludger hit Harry right on his forehead. A sickening crack rang through the stadium as he began falling off his broom. Elara wasted no time in snatching one of the spare brooms they kept in the podium for instances like this. She forgot her deathly fear of heights and jumped off and onto the broom. As inexperienced as she was with flying, her determination to catch Harry before he fell a fatal fifty feet from the sky took over as she sped impossibly fast toward him.
Fleeting memories of what happened third year with Corrine catching both her and Harry flashed through her mind. Overwhelming fear flew through her as she grew closer and closer to Harry. She watched him falling towards the ground.
Just as he was about to hit the ground, Elara had caught him. However, she was not experienced with catching people while flying at impossibly high speeds, she flew off the broom with him.
The wind was knocked out of her as her back rammed into the ground, Harry on top of her. Her head ricocheted off the cold, hard ground. She must have blacked out for a minute or so, as the entire Gryffindor team was surrounding her and Harry. He was still out, but Elara's head seared with pain and anger as she saw McLaggen's face looming over her.
She held a hand out, and Ginny pulled her up. Elara stumbled a second before whirling around and sucker punching McLaggen right across the jaw.
"You're lucky I don't curse the fuck out of you right now," spat Elara, but McLaggen seemed too stunned to register what had just happened. "Hurt Harry again, and I will give you much more than a broken jaw."
Hermione stormed onto the pitch, looking angrier and perhaps more terrifying than she had the night she sent those birds after Ron. Everyone seemed to be staring at her, and McLaggen, picking up someone was walking up behind him, turned around just in time for Hermione to punch him again across the other side of his face.
That was the first time Elara had ever heard Hermione use colorful language, and a lot of it.
An hour later, Elara was asleep next to Harry. He had a cracked skull and was still out, three hours later. She refused to leave his side, no matter how much Madam Pomfrey suggested her to leave. Hermione was still on the outs with Ron, and thought it best to sleep in her dormitory. Elara had an arm wrapped Harry and her face was buried in his neck, ignoring the scratchy bandages around his head.
Harry sat up slowly and Elara shot up.
"Are you okay?"
"I. . . think so?"
Harry blinked and looked around. The sky outside was indigo streaked with crimson. The match finished hours ago. He raised a hand and felt the stiff turban of bandages.
"What happened?"
"Cracked skull," said Madam Pomfrey, bustling up and pushing him back against his pillows. "Nothing to worry about, I mended it at once, but I'm keeping you in overnight. You should count your lucky stars Tonks hopped on that broom and caught you. That fall could've very well been fatal for you. Tore her shoulder muscle and got a nasty concussion, she did. You're very fortunate to have a person who's as quick-thinking as her on your side."
"I don't want to stay here overnight," said Harry angrily, sitting up and throwing back his covers. "I want to find McLaggen and kill him."
"I'm afraid Tonks and Granger have already taken care of that for you,' " said Madam Pomfrey, pushing him firmly back onto the bed and raising her wand in a threatening manner. "McLaggen is over there, healing from a broken jaw and you will stay here until I discharge you, Potter, or I shall call the headmaster."
She bustled back into her office, and Harry sank back into his pillows.
"Wait — what did you and Hermione do to McLaggen? You flew to catch me?"
"I hesitated for a millisecond and grabbed the broom they keep in the podium. I caught you, but I fell off the broom. And yeah, Hermione and I both sucker punched McLaggen consecutively."
"You flew on a broom to catch me?" asked Harry, seemingly in shock.
"Yeah?"
"I don't — but you're afraid of heights?"
Elara shrugged.
"I kind of went into overdrive. I wasn't thinking about anything other than making sure you didn't die."
Harry still stared at Elara intensely.
"Final score was three hundred and twenty to sixty," said Ron, clearly hoping to break whatever tension was going on between Elara and Harry
"Brilliant," said Harry savagely, snapping out of hit. "Really brilliant! When I get hold of McLaggen —"
"You don't want to get hold of him, he's the size of a troll," said Ron reasonably. "Personally, I think there's a lot to be said for hexing him with that toenail thing of the Prince's. Anyway, the rest of the team might've dealt with him after Lara and 'Mione did, they're not happy. . . ."
There was a note of badly suppressed glee in Ron's voice; Elara could tell he was nothing short of thrilled that McLaggen had messed up so badly. Harry lay there, staring up at the patch of light on the ceiling.
"I could hear the match commentary from here," said Ron, his voice now shaking with laughter. "I hope you always commentate from now on, Lara. . . . Loser's Lurgy . . ."
"McGonagall thinks I swear too much, but I think it's a perfect amount. Oh, speaking of swearing, you should have heard what Hermione said to McLaggen."
Ron was scandalized when he heard the colorful language Hermione had used. It was worse than anything Elara had ever said, quite possibly ever.
"Ginny came in to congratulate Elara for breaking McLaggen's jaw while you were unconscious," said Ron, "She reckons you only just arrived on time for the match. How come? You left here early enough."
"Yeah, well," said Harry, "I saw Malfoy sneaking off with a couple of girls who didn't look like they wanted to be with him, and that's the second time he's made sure he isn't down on the Quidditch pitch with the rest of the school; he skipped the last match too, remember?"
Harry sighed.
"Wish I'd followed him now, the match was such a fiasco. . . ."
"Don't be stupid," said Elara sharply. "You couldn't have missed the Quidditch match because then I wouldn't've been able to sucker punch McLaggen! Yeah, fuck you," she added, as McLaggen stopped his incessant groaning to look over at Elara.
"I want to know what he's up to," said Harry. "And don't tell me it's all in my head, you two, not after what I overheard between him and Snape —"
"I never said it was all in your head," said Ron, hoisting himself up on an elbow in turn and frowning at Harry, "but there's no rules aying only one person at a time can be plotting anything in this place! You're getting a bit obsessed with Malfoy, Harry. I mean, thinking about missing a match just to follow him . . ."
"I want to catch him at it!" said Harry in frustration. "I mean, where's he going when he disappears off the map?"
"I dunno . . . Hogsmeade?" suggested Elara, yawning.
"I've never seen him going along any of the secret passageways on the map. I thought they were being watched now anyway?"
"Well then, I dunno," said Ron.
"Me either, but I'm going to sleep," said Elara, falling back on the hospital bed.
Harry leaned back onto his pillows beside Elara and pulled her to him. While the turban was uncomfortable and reminded Elara eerily of Professor Quirrell, she was just happy Harry was okay. The only injury was because of McLaggen, and she was able to prevent any other injuries from happening.
Elara was awoken by a loud crack. She fell off the edge of the hospital bed as she started awake. The sounds of scuffling and squeaks filled the silent room.
"What the fuck — ?"
"What's going — ?"
Elara rubbed her eyes and saw Harry pointing his wand hastily at the door of Madam Pomfrey's office and muttering, "Muffliato!"
Elara stood up and peered around the edge of the bed to find out what the hell was going on. Two house-elves were rolling around on the floor in the middle of the dormitory, one wearing a shrunken maroon jumper and several woolly hats, the other, a filthy old rag strung over his hips like a loincloth. Then there was another loud bang, and Peeves the Poltergeist appeared in midair above the wrestling elves.
"I was watching that, Potty!" he told Harry indignantly, pointing at the fight below, before letting out a loud cackle. "Look at the ickle creatures squabbling, bitey bitey, punchy punchy —"
Elara sunk back down onto Harry's hospital bed, watching the two elves in shock.
"Kreacher will not insult Harry Potter or Elara Tonks in front of Dobby, no he won't, or Dobby will shut Kreacher's mouth for him!" cried Dobby in a high-pitched voice.
"— kicky, scratchy!" cried Peeves happily, now pelting bits of chalk at the elves to enrage them further. "Tweaky, pokey!"
"Kreacher will say what he likes about his master, oh yes, and what a master he is, filthy friend of Mudbloods, oh, what would poor Kreacher's mistress say — ?"
Exactly what Kreacher's mistress would have said they did not find out, for at that moment Dobby sank his knobbly little fist into Kreacher's mouth and knocked out half of his teeth.
Elara, Harry, and Ron both leapt out of their beds and wrenched the two elves apart, though they continued to try and kick and punch each other, egged on by Peeves, who swooped around the lamp squealing, "Stick your fingers up his nosey, draw his cork and pull hisearsies —"
Harry aimed his wand at Peeves and said, "Langlock!"
Peeves clutched at his throat, gulped, then swooped from the room making obscene gestures but unable to speak, owing to the fact that his tongue had just glued itself to the roof of his mouth.
"Nice one," said Elara appreciatively, lifting Dobby into the air so that his flailing limbs no longer made contact with Kreacher. "That was another Prince hex, wasn't it?"
"Yeah," said Harry, while Ron twisted Kreacher's wizened arm into a half nelson.
"Right — I'm forbidding you to fight each other! Well, Kreacher, you're forbidden to fight Dobby. Dobby, I know I'm not allowed to give you orders —"
"Dobby is a free house-elf and he can obey anyone he likes and Dobby will do whatever Harry Potter wants him to do!" said Dobby, tears now streaming down his shriveled little face onto his jumper.
"Okay then," said Harry, and Elara and Ron both released the elves, who fell to the floor but did not continue fighting.
"Master called me?" croaked Kreacher, sinking into a bow even as he gave Harry a look that plainly wished him a painful death.
"Yeah, I did," said Harry, "I've got a job for you."
"Kreacher will do whatever Master wants," said Kreacher, sinking so low that his lips almost touched his gnarled toes, "because Kreacher has no choice, but Kreacher is ashamed to have such a master, yes —"
"Dobby will do it, Harry Potter!" squeaked Dobby, his tennis ball-sized eyes still swimming in tears. "Dobby would be honored to help Harry Potter!"
"Come to think of it, it would be good to have both of you," said Harry. "Okay then . . . I want you to tail Draco Malfoy."
Clearly ignoring the looks of mingled surprise and exasperation on Elara's and Ron's faces, Harry went on, "I want to know where he's going, who he's meeting, and what he's doing. I want you to follow him around the clock."
"Yes, Harry Potter!" said Dobby at once, his great eyes shining with excitement. "And if Dobby does it wrong, Dobby will throw himself off the topmost tower, Harry Potter!"
"There won't be any need for that," said Elara hastily, once again greatly concerned for Dobby's sanity.
"Master wants me to follow the youngest of the Malfoys?" croaked Kreacher. "Master wants me to spy upon the pure-blood great-nephew of my old mistress?"
"That's the one," said Harry, "And you're forbidden to tip him off, Kreacher, or to show him what you're up to, or to talk to him at all, or to write him messages or . . . or to contact him in anyway. Got it?"
He thought he could see Kreacher struggling to see a loophole in the instructions he had just been given and waited.
After a moment or two, Kreacher bowed deeply again and said, with bitter resentment, "Master thinks of everything, and Kreacher must obey him even though Kreacher would much rather be the servant of the Malfoy boy, oh yes. . . ."
"That's settled, then," said Harry. "I'll want regular reports, but make sure I'm not surrounded by people when you turn up. Elara, Ron, and Hermione are okay. And don't tell anyone what you're doing. Just stick to Malfoy like a couple of wart plasters."
* * *
AUTHOR'S NOTE
— I'M BACK BITCHES HI HOW ARE YALL
written: june 29, 2020
published: july 16, 2020