SuperPotterLock- The Chamber of Secrets

Mudbloods and Murmurs

Friday came at last and John sat quietly in Charms watching feathers flying around the room. They were recapping what they'd learnt last year. Professor Flitwick considered it of the utmost importance that they remembered how to cast the Hover Charm and had everyone practice it. Sherlock had already grown bored and was making sparks dance around his feather, challenging himself to not set it on fire. The practical part of the lesson was put to an end, however, when Ron's malfunctioning wand shot out of his hand and hit Professor Flitwick right between the eyes, creating a large, throbbing green boil where it had struck.

Harry had been spending a lot of time avoiding Gilderoy Lockhart, who popped up in the strangest of places- and he wasn't the only one. Colin Creevey seemed to have memorised Harry's timetable, and nothing gave him a bigger thrill than to say, 'All right, Harry?' five or six times a day, and hear, 'Hullo, Colin' back. At least Castiel's healing lessons had started again, so they had an excuse to hide in the hospital wing.

Harry was planning on taking everyone to see Hagrid on Saturday morning, but he was shaken awake several hours earlier than he would have liked. It was Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

'Whassgoinon?' Harry said groggily

'Quidditch practice,' said Wood. 'Come on!'

Harry squinted out of the window at the dusky pink line on the horizon.

'Oliver, it's the crack of dawn,' Harry croaked.

'Exactly!'

A mad determination had entered his eyes.

'It's part of our new training programme. I've been working on it all summer,' he said forcefully. 'Now, grab your broom and let's go! None of the other teams have started training yet, so we're going to be first off the mark.'

Harry groaned and tumbled out of bed to try and find his Quidditch robes.

'Good man,' said Wood. 'I'll meet you on the pitch in fifteen minutes.'

He clapped Harry on the shoulder and left the dormitory.

Harry scrubbed the sleep from his eyes and once he'd found his scarlet Quidditch robes, he threw his cloak over his shoulders for warmth. He scribbled a note to Ron explaining where he'd gone and descended the stairs to the common room, his Nimbus Two Thousand on his shoulder. He had almost reached the portrait hole when it opened in front of him and John tumbled in. His eyes were half closed and his pajamas were torn in some places. There was a clatter from behind him and Colin Creevey came dashing down the stairs behind him.

'Hiya, Harry!' he exclaimed excitedly.

'Hullo, Colin,' Harry said. John swayed gently on the spot.

'John, are you all right?' Harry asked. Colin waved a hand in front of John's face.

'I think he's sleepwalking,' Colin said. 'My little brother sleepwalks. This one time he got into the fridge and starting eating this massive-'

'That's great, Colin,' Harry interrupted. He grabbed hold of John and shook him lightly by the shoulder.

'I don't think you should do that, Harry. You 're not supposed to wake sleepwalkers.'

But Harry ignored him.

'John, wake up,' he said loudly. John twitched but remained asleep.

'Here, try this,' said Colin. He grabbed a jug of water and threw it all over John. John's eyes snapped open and he looked around wildly.

'Colin!' Harry exclaimed. 'What happened to 'you shouldn't wake them up'?'

'What's going on?' John gasped, lurching to the side and bumping sharply into the sofa. 'Where am I? Why- why am I wet?'