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The Hospital Wing was brightly lit. The Weasley twins seemed to have shaken off their craze for Sour Suckers and were hosting a small, quiet Chocolate Frog party—supplied largely from Cedric Diggory's bedside table. Paper airplanes folded from colorful candy wrappers fluttered around the white beds and curtains.
Harry was awake now, propped up against his headboard. Hermione and Ron sat at his bedside, their heads close together, deep in discussion.
"Snape," Ron said, swallowing a mouthful of chocolate with difficulty. "He hates you, remember? And I bet he wouldn't miss one lousy cauldron."
"But he's a professor!" Hermione pointed out. "He even helped Madam Pomfrey confirm the potion in the cauldron fragments was a Draught of Living Death."
"I don't think it was Snape this time," even Harry said.
"Seriously, Hermione, you just refuse to believe a professor could be bad!" Ron said. "Remember what Sirius said?" He leaned towards Fred and George's beds, checked they weren't listening, and pulled his head back. "Snape was a Death Eater!"
"That's right, Ronald. I do refuse to believe a professor is bad," Hermione said sharply. "You must be so clever, then. Cleverer than Hogwarts' background checks, hiring procedures, multiple layers of approval. Cleverer than the parents who send their children here, too, I suppose, knowing all about a professor's past."
Anthony wasn't sure he should tell her Hogwarts had none of those things.
"I must speak with Sirius," Professor McGonagall said under her breath, walking to Harry's bed.
Her appearance startled all three of them. Ron fumbled to hide his empty Chocolate Frog box behind Harry's pillow. Hermione crushed several Fizzing Whizbee wrappers in her fist. Anthony saw Fred and George stuff what looked like several bottles of Butterbeer under the covers of Cedric's bed next to them.
"I have already been apprised of the events, Potter," Professor McGonagall said, acting as if she hadn't noticed the hushed commotion in the hospital wing. "But tell me, did you see your assailant? What exactly happened?"
The ward fell silent. The other students in their beds were listening quietly.
Harry hesitated for only a moment before telling Professor McGonagagll that they had just visited Hagrid and were walking near the castle when he felt something fly at him.
"I dodged it," Harry said. "But it chased me. It turned the corner, too, and came right at me." He ran a hand through his messy hair, feeling the back of his head.
"Wait, George…" Fred said from his bed. "Doesn't that sound familiar?"
George rolled over, eyes still closed. "Hmm. I dunno. Sounds like a Bludger."
"A mad Bludger," Fred said.
"A mad Bludger during a Gryffindor-Slytherin match."
Ron's eyes widened. "Malfoy! Malfoy tried to kill you, Harry!"
"Wouldn't be the first time," Harry said.
The door swung open. Madam Pomfrey entered, setting a tray down beside a cabinet.
"If you think you are recovered, you may leave," she said, opening the cabinet door and beginning to stow vials of potions without looking at the students. "If you. Think. You are. Recovered."
The Weasley twins shut their mouths and began producing long, even snores.
"And you two," Madam Pomfrey said to Ron and Hermione. "You have absolutely been here more than twenty minutes. Out. Now."
As they left, Ron said to Hermione, "I knew it was Malfoy!"
"Oh, did you?" Hermione replied. "I seem to recall you saying that, yes."
…
Facing Professor McGonagall and Anthony, Madam Pomfrey was much gentler. She finished tidying the potions cabinet, exchanged a few pleasantries, watched Harry down another potion, checked several students' eyelids for lingering potion effects, confiscated the Weasley twins' Butterbeer, and then retreated to her small office.
The moment her door clicked shut, Harry asked, "Professor McGonagall, has Dobby left Hogwarts?" His brows were furrowed in confusion. "I thought after what he did at the Quidditch match last time…"
Professor McGonagall's lips were pressed thin. "No, Potter. By precedent, students are permitted to bring house-elves tasked with their protection to the school. The Board of Governors deemed the elf had merely… overestimated the situation on the Quidditch pitch. Was merely being loyally protective of his young master."
Harry sat up straighter, his voice rising. "But Dobby—"
"Malfoy will be punished," Professor McGonagall cut him off firmly, "once it is confirmed the assailant was indeed that house-elf. So long as a house-elf belongs to its master, the master is responsible for the elf's actions." Her tone was stern. "If you don't want Poppy coming back in here, don't shout at me."
Harry sank back against the headboard, still looking unconvinced.
"Rest well, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said, her voice softening slightly. "We will ascertain who is responsible. Your task is to recover."
Anthony asked, "Mr. Potter, if I recall correctly, wasn't Dobby the elf who used magic at your aunt and uncle's house during the holidays?"
"Yeah, that's him," Harry said. "I think he's dead set on driving me away from Hogwarts."
Professor McGonagall's head snapped towards Anthony. "When was this?"
"Just before term started," Anthony said. "Mr. Potter even received a warning letter from the Ministry for it."
"Does Albus know?" she demanded sharply.
Harry, looking surprised and wary, said, "I didn't tell Professor Dumbledore…"
"I believe he does," Anthony said. "Yes, he knows. But—"
"Excellent," Professor McGonagall said. "Don't worry about that elf, Potter."
She strode out of the Hospital Wing, clearly intending to have a thorough discussion with Dumbledore. Anthony had no time to tell her that both he and Dumbledore believed Dobby's intrusion into the Muggle community might simply have been because he'd learned Anthony's identity.
He and Harry looked at each other.
He trusted Dumbledore would tell Professor McGonagall that if Dobby stayed at Hogwarts a while longer, he would realize Anthony was an unconventional—though genuine—necromancer and abandon his Protect Harry Potter plan… Of course, on the other hand, perhaps the elf truly was fiercely loyal to the Malfoys, enduring humiliation as a spy, pretending to revere Harry Potter, taking all the blame… But Coco had said house-elves found it difficult to lie to wizards…
"Professor Anthony?" Harry asked, sounding puzzled.
"Yes?" Anthony snapped back to the present.
"Dobby…" Harry said. "What will happen to Dobby?"
"Probably expelled from the school, I imagine," Anthony said. "Hogwarts is a magical castle. I don't think it would fail if it truly wished to refuse a house-elf entry."
Harry said, "Okay."
…
"Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Potter?" Anthony asked before leaving. "Another blanket?"
Considering Dobby might still have thrown that cauldron to protect the great Harry Potter from the necromancer's threat, Anthony felt a twinge of guilt.
Harry shook his head. "No, Professor Anthony…" He slid further down, burrowing into the covers, then paused. "Er."
"What is it?" Anthony asked curiously, his hand on the door handle.
"Nothing," Harry said quickly.
Anthony studied him for a moment but saw nothing amiss. He was about to leave when Fred or George spoke up. "Professor Anthony?"
"Yes?"
"Could you do us a favor?" the red-haired fourth-year Gryffindor asked.
"What is it?"
"Sour Suckers," the other Weasley said. "I still want a Sour Sucker."
"Me too," another student who had been pretending to sleep opened his eyes. "I want five!"
"No," Anthony said. He knocked on the door to the small office. "I think you should come out and have a look, Madam Pomfrey."
Madam Pomfrey acknowledged with a sound, clinking her tray as she gathered things. As the small door creaked open, Harry whispered urgently, "Professor! Professor Anthony!"
"Mr. Potter?" Anthony asked, moving closer.
Harry glanced towards Madam Pomfrey's office. "Could you use the Vanishing Spell, Professor Anthony?"
He pulled a pile of empty Chocolate Frog boxes and cards from under his pillow. The Dumbledore on one of the cards smiled up at them.
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