Kill! Kill! Master says! MASTER SAYS!

Harry’s eyes popped open at the scream that rattled in his ears. He sat straight up in his infirmary bed using his arms to lift himself. When a sharp pain shot through one of his forearms he gasped and collapsed back down on the bed, cradling it to his chest.

“Stupid bludger,” he muttered staring up at the ceiling – staring into large eyes framed by green skin and large batlike ears.

“Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter.”

Harry opened his mouth wide to scream when a spindly fingered, yellow clawed hand, quickly covered it. The creature came into full view, standing on Harry’s chest and holding one finger over his purple lips. Something about the fear in the being’s eyes made Harry close his mouth and nod in agreement.

“What…?” he began and the creature backed off of him until it stood anxiously on the foot of his bed. Harry gingerly pushed himself up, being careful not to jostle his healing arm. “What are you?”

“Dobby is a house-elf,” he said quietly.

“What’s a house-elf?”

“Like Dobby.”

Harry rolled his eyes and leaned back against his pillows, grimacing as he moved his arm a bit.

“Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter. The bludger was for Harry Potter’s own good.”

Harry blinked at Dobby, looking incredulous. “You… You sent the bludger after me! You could have killed me!”

“Not kill, Harry Potter! Dobby only wants Harry Potter to be safe!”

“Safe?!” Harry asked loudly.

Dobby quickly placed a finger over his lips, shushing Harry gently. He looked around before leaning in to Harry. Harry leaned in a bit as well, as best he could. Dobby looked around once more before whispering, “Harry Potter is not safe at Hogwarts.”

“Wh–”

Harry was cut off by voices coming into the infirmary. He looked at Dobby and the house-elf was gone with a soft pop. Harry quickly laid down, turning away from the door, listening.

“Who found him?” Madam Pomfrey.

“I did on my patrol.” His father’s voice reached his ears and Harry’s eyes widened. “He is petrified as well, exact state as Filch’s cat.”

“Severus, will you help me get off his robes? They’re soaked.”

Severus grunted and Harry was left staring off into nothingness, with the soft clucking of Madam Pomfrey and the wet slap of clothing as it hit the floor. He closed his eyes.Kill!

***

“A dueling club?” asked Harry the next day after he was released from the hospital wing, and stared inquisitively back and forth at his friends.

Hermione merely shrugged, while Draco supplied, quite unnecessarily, “Lockhart’s off his rocker.” He grinned. Harry noticed that his lips were flakey and he winced a bit if in pain but went on. “You made it out just in time to attend.”

“Great,” Harry mumbled sarcastically.

Hermione smiled but then looked at him in concern. “Are you sure you feel up to it, Harry?”

“He broke his arm, Granger. He wasn’t on the verge of death,” drawled Draco, rolling his eyes in her direction.

She glared at him and pushed open the Great Hall doors with a bit too much force. Harry giggled and Draco smirked. Hermione merely huffed. Soon enough, she was smiling as she realized that she would be up to demonstrate as Lockhart pulled her out of the crowd and up on table that had been turned into a platform. She chatted animatedly with her baffled professor as he lead her up the steps.

“Well, Merlin bless him.”

“What?” asked Harry, looking shocked at Draco.

The other boy nodded his head toward the platform and Harry noticed the other would-be demonstrator standing on shifting feet beside Harry’s father. The demonstator had been handpicked by his father it appeared just as Hermione had been taken by Lockhart. Harry grinned when he saw Ron Weasley’s greenly sick face.

Harry smiled and Draco allowed him to pull him to the front. For once the boys were glad for the crowd that parted like the Nile under Moses staff.

No one knew quite how it happened – though it could likely be blamed on the boy’s broken wand. Hermione had up until then beaten Weasley by at least five different hexes – the only one he managed to fire when off toward the ceiling instead of Hermione. No one knew which particular spell Weasley.

A great cobra came flying out of Weasley’s wand. Ron screamed just seconds before Hermione. Both were obviously panicking – though for entirely different reasons. Weasley’s face was extremely pale and stricken as he watched as the snake hissed at her, advancing slowly.

Conjurer, put me back!

The snake bore it’s fangs at Hermione and its body shot out fast to attack her feet. She jumped back quickly. The students watched in horrified fascination as Lockhart let out a spell with gusto. The snake only went flying into the air and fell with a plop back onto the stage. This time it was facing the rest of the students.

Which one of you?! Which one of you?! Stupid legged beings! It hissed and Harry simply pointed to Ron.

It was that one who conjured you… the red one.

Frightened gasps erupted around him as the words tumbled out of his mouth. Draco stared at him in shock and the others jumped back away from him. Harry looked around him in confusion before looking back at the snake.

I have never met a Speaker before. It said calmly, arching it head at him. Harry stared into its beady eyes nodding as the creature thanked him and turned on Weasley. The snake snapped at his legs three times before it was disintegrated by Severus’s wand.

Harry’s eyes were focused on his father’s shocked face but Ron’s accusing scream broke him from Severus gaze.

“What are you playing at, Potter?!”

Harry looked around him at the faces, shocked, horrified. Then he saw his father sweeping toward him, barking at the students that they were dismissed. He glared daggers at Lockhart who made to go after them but a quick hand from a firm McGonagall stopped him.

Harry heard Lockhart’s words echo after him.

“He is a danger and must be vanquished!”

“He is nothing but a child!” McGonagall countered.

The doors closed behind them and all Harry could hear was the frantic pounding of his heart, vaguely aware of Hermione sliding her hand into his and Draco fisting one hand into the back of his robes.

***

“Parseltongue,” said Severus to the portrait gate to his chambers. The door swung open quickly. He turned to look at the three and gestured for them to enter.

“Ironic,” Draco muttered but quickly silenced at Severus’s dark look.

“In.”

“Yes, sir,” said Hermione with a slight tremble in her voice and led a reluctant Harry into the study. She sat him down in front of the fireplace. Harry merely stared at the flames unseeingly.

She looked up at Severus with a concerned expression.

“Were you bitten, Ms. Granger?”

“No, sir.”

Severus looked at his son and sighed. Draco – almost without thinking – took Hermione’s arm to balance himself, mumbling about medicine. Hermione smiled a bit and the two walked down the hall and through the small door that would take them to their common room.

Severus looked at his boy, so tiny and frail looking sitting in the glow of the flames. Harry took a hitching breath and he knew the child was trying not to cry. Severus stayed, watching him until a tear poured down one cheek. He angrily swiped it away.

“I’m such a crybaby,” he said quietly, disgustedly.

“There is nothing wrong with crying, Harry.”

“It seems like it’s all I do,” he said, looking up at Severus as the man came around the sofa to kneel in front of Harry.

“It’s because you always seem to have need for it.”

Harry looked at his father, green eyes glistening in the firelight. Severus placed one hand on Harry’s cheek. “You remind me so much of your mother.”

Harry smiled a bit but suddenly, deep rasping sobs burst from within him. Severus pulled his son off of the couch and cradled him on his lap like an infant. Harry sobbed into his father’s robes and Severus buried his nose in his son’s inky black hair.

Lily… he thought, hoping somewhere, wherever she was, she could hear him. Thank you for giving him to me…

***

She was scared.

And wet.

Her hair, her robes, everything was dripping. Her uniform and even her underclothes, her shoes and socks drenched. All she could remember was Tom’s words.

“You are my girl. You must do as master says.”

Suddenly, she found herself running, her feet splashing on the ground. The leather-bound journal held tight to her chest. She was alone in the hallways and she quickly ducked into an alcove and into the moaning of a lonely toilet-fond ghost. She swiped at the tears and ignored the flash of chilly cold as it flooded into her body.

“What do you want?”

“Shut it, Mrytle.”

The ghost huffed and with a wail, dived into the u-bend.

With an agonized scream, she threw the book into the toilet and collapsed onto the water in tears.

***

Three minutes later, Professor Sprout found a second year, Justin Finch-Fletchy petrified surrounded by water.

When she levitated him to the hospital wing, she never noticed the spiders fleeing in a line away from the child’s body.