Chapter 167
His subjects skills had started regularly leveling up as well, now that he was back at Hogwarts. He was still holding out hope for some sort of special reward when those hit level 10.
Potions, Lv-9 (85%)
Your skill in brewing and creating potions with your magic is shown in this skill.
Transfiguration, Lv-8 (25%)
Your skill in transfiguration branch of magic with your magic is shown in this skill.
Charms, Lv- 9(8%)
Your skill in the art of charms with your magic is shown in this skill.
Herbology, Lv-7 (63%)
Your skill with flora, magical and nonmagical is shown in this skill.
And between all this hustle and bustle, Mrs. Norris had eventually entirely slipped his mind.
The first week of October was when the Quidditch tryouts were held. Harry hadn't been very interested in the entire thing, but he and Hermione had gone to watch Ron, Terry and Dean try and fail to make their house teams. While Dean had only gone to try out for fun and wasn't very upset when he didn't make it, Ron and Terry had taken the loss pretty badly.
"As long as they've got Wood, I've got no chance of getting in the keeper's spot," Ron had told Harry glibly, as he defeatedly returned the school broom to the cupboard he'd taken it from.
"Don't say that Ron, you'll make it next time," Harry had assured him, although he knew that his redhead friend was nowhere near as good as the Gryffindor captain. Even if he didn't like the sport, Harry could always respect skill, and Oliver Wood had spades of that.
For Terry, it had been third-year Cho Chang who had pushed him out of the race. Fast and lightweight, Cho Chang had proven a good fit for the spot of the Ravenclaw seeker, although Terry had given some decent competition to her. He had spent two whole days after the tryouts looking as if someone had murdered his pet rabbit.
And so the life at Hogwarts went on.
Harry had expected this particular October Monday to be nothing but boring and normal. It soon turned out to be anything but.
It had all started in the first period, where Harry had partnered himself with Ernie Macmillan, since Terry had come down with a terrible cold and had been ordered to rest in the dorms for the day.
It was during that period that Harry realized something. Ernie Macmillan wasn't called the Neville Longbottom of Hufflepuff for nothing. About halfway through the period, Harry had turned away just for a second to finish dicing the Redcap skin, and Ernie made a very dangerous mistake. He added ground Erumpet horn powder to an infusion of Aconite.
A very stupid mistake to make, but even more importantly, a very dangerous mistake to make.
The resulting explosion had thrown the entire class to the floor, and Harry was left with a rib sticking out of his side.
He could have easily healed himself then and there, but the injury was gruesome and very easily visible, which was why most of the class had already seen it by the time Harry had even realized it was there, making it impossible for him to subtly heal it without exposing his Gamer abilities.
So off to the Hospital Wing he'd been sent.
The matron Madam Pomfrey had set the bone back into place and healed it right up in a jiffy, before bandaging the wound up, but being the fussy little witch that she was, she didn't agree to even let Harry move from the bed before the next morning.
And that was how Harry found himself that night. Tied to a bed in the Hospital wing, mentally swearing up a storm at Madam Pomfrey and Ernie as he drifted off to sleep.
About a couple of hours into the night, Harry woke quite suddenly in the pitch blackness and with a thrill of horror, realized that someone was shaking him in the dark.
"Geroff!" he exclaimed loudly before he realized what it was. Or rather who it was, "Dobby!"
The house-elf's goggling tennis ball eyes were peering at Harry through the darkness, looking more distressed than he had ever seen them before.
"Dobby is sorry to disturb Harry Potter," he whispered miserably "But Dobby didn't know who else to go to sir."
Harry heaved himself up on his pillows, pulling himself together, before he asked, "What's the matter Dobby? What happened?"
"Something bad sir. Something bad. Dobby's mind has been messed with."
"Your mind? What do you mean?" Harry asked hurriedly, growing increasingly worried.
"Dobby has forgotten things, sir. Things that Dobby had merely thought and heard and never really told anybody. Where there were those memories, now there are holes sir!" the house elf said, clutching his head and looking incredibly worried and scared, as if the very thought of someone messing with his mind was repulsive.
An Obliviate, Harry realized, someone could have obliviated the elf without accounting for how differently an elf's brain works. "You think you've been memory charmed."
"Indeed yes, sir," said Dobby, nodding his head vigorously, ears flapping as he climbed up onto Harry's bed at his feet. "Dobby was ironing Harry Potter's clothes yesterday when Dobby noticed how Dobby couldn't remember many of the ideas he had about what bad master could have been doing sir! And Dobby didn't know what to do except to bother the great Harry Potter!"
"Don't worry about it Dobby," Harry said, casting an Observe on the elf. If he'd been memory charmed, then it should show up as a status effect.
Dobby
Lv-23
HP-2025/2025
MP-1350/1350
Race- House Elf
Str-5
Vit-27
Dex-12
Int-8
Wis-12
Luc-4
Dobby is a male house-elf who works at Hogwarts. His old masters used to treat him cruelly, and as such, he, like most house elves, has health issues and low self-esteem. He is a big fan of Harry Potter and is incredibly loyal to him.
He is scared since he has noticed that some of his memories missing from his head.
Harry stared at the observe. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
"Is it possible that you could have just forgotten something Dobby?" he asked tentatively.
Dobby shook his head resolutely, his ears flapping about him, before he suddenly froze, his bat ears quivering.
Harry heard it, too. There were footsteps coming down the passageway outside.
"Dobby must go! Be safe sir!" breathed the elf, looking quite scared. There was a crack, and Harry was suddenly alone again. He slumped back into bed, pretending to sleep as he kept 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, which was blocked from his sight by a hospital screen.
Harry activated Mage Sight, hoping that it would be able to see through the thin curtains.
It could.
"Get Poppy," whispered Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall hurried past the end of Harry's bed and out of sight. Harry lay still and unmoving, pretending to be asleep. He heard urgent voices, and then Professor McGonagall swept back towards the bed with the statue, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey. 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 gravely, "Minerva found her on the third-floor corridor."
Harry peered at the glowing form of the statue with his Mage sight, before he momentarily turned it off and peered over the screen, trying to see the name in the window that floated over the statue.
Hannah Abbott
Lv- 6
It was Hannah Abbott. The Hufflepuff half-blood from their year. He'd seen her only this morning, chatting her head off at Susan Bones…And now she lay lifeless as a stone crafted mausoleum, her magic just as frozen and unmoving as Mrs. Norris's was when he'd tried to heal her. She was holding a minuscule circular compact mirror in her hand.
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