“There was a bunch of grapes next to him,” said Professor McGonagall. “We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter.”
Harry’s stomach gave a horrible lurch. Slowly and carefully, he raised himself a few inches so he could look at the statue on the bed. A ray of moonlight lay across its staring face.
It was Colin Creevey. His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding his camera.
“Petrified?” whispered Madam Pomfrey.
“Yes,” said Professor McGonagall. “But I shudder to think . . . If Albus hadn’t been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate — who knows what might have —”
The three of them stared down at Colin. Then Dumbledore leaned forward and wrenched the camera out of Colin’s rigid grip.
“You don’t think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?” said Professor McGonagall eagerly.
Dumbledore didn’t answer. He opened the back of the camera.
“Good gracious!” said Madam Pomfrey.
A jet of steam had hissed out of the camera. Harry, three beds away, caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic.
“Melted,” said Madam Pomfrey wonderingly. “All melted . . .”
“What does this mean, Albus?” Professor McGonagall asked urgently.
“It means,” said Dumbledore, “that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again.”
Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore.
“But, Albus . . . surely . . . who?”
“The question is not who,” said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin. “The question is, how. . . .”
And from what Harry could see of Professor McGonagall’s shadowy face, she didn’t understand this any better than he did.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE DUELING CLUB
Harry woke up on Sunday morning to find the dormitory blazing with winter sunlight and his arm reboned but very stiff. He sat up quickly and looked over at Colin’s bed, but it had been blocked from view by the high curtains Harry had changed behind yesterday. Seeing that he was awake, Madam Pomfrey came bustling over with a breakfast tray and then began bending and stretching his arm and fingers.
“All in order,” she said as he clumsily fed himself porridge left-handed. “When you’ve finished eating, you may leave.”
Harry dressed as quickly as he could and hurried off to Gryffindor Tower, desperate to tell Ron and Hermione about Colin and Dobby, but they weren’t there. Harry left to look for them, wondering where they could have got to and feeling slightly hurt that they weren’t interested in whether he had his bones back or not.
As Harry passed the library, Percy Weasley strolled out of it, looking in far better spirits than last time they’d met.
“Oh, hello, Harry,” he said. “Excellent flying yesterday, really excellent. Gryffindor has just taken the lead for the House Cup — you earned fifty points!”
“You haven’t seen Ron or Hermione, have you?” said Harry.
“No, I haven’t,” said Percy, his smile fading. “I hope Ron’s not in another girls’ toilet. . . .”
Harry forced a laugh, watched Percy walk out of sight, and then headed straight for Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. He couldn’t see why Ron and Hermione would be in there again, but after making sure that neither Filch nor any prefects were around, he opened the door and heard their voices coming from a locked stall.
“It’s me,” he said, closing the door behind him. There was a clunk, a splash, and a gasp from within the stall and he saw Hermione’s eye peering through the keyhole.
“Harry!” she said. “You gave us such a fright — come in — how’s your arm?”
“Fine,” said Harry, squeezing into the stall. An old cauldron was perched on the toilet, and a crackling from under the rim told Harry they had lit a fire beneath it. Conjuring up portable, waterproof fires was a speciality of Hermione’s.
“We’d’ve come to meet you, but we decided to get started on the Polyjuice Potion,” Ron explained as Harry, with difficulty, locked the stall again. “We’ve decided this is the safest place to hide it.”
Harry started to tell them about Colin, but Hermione interrupted.
“We already know — we heard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick this morning. That’s why we decided we’d better get going —”
“The sooner we get a confession out of Malfoy, the better,” snarled Ron. “D’you know what I think? He was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin.”
“There’s something else,” said Harry, watching Hermione tearing bundles of knotgrass and throwing them into the potion. “Dobby came to visit me in the middle of the night.”
Ron and Hermione looked up, amazed. Harry told them everything Dobby had told him — or hadn’t told him. Hermione and Ron listened with their mouths open.
“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?” Hermione said.
“This settles it,” said Ron in a triumphant voice. “Lucius Malfoy must’ve opened the Chamber when he was at school here and now he’s told dear old Draco how to do it. It’s obvious. Wish Dobby’d told you what kind of monster’s in there, though. I want to know how come nobody’s noticed it sneaking around the school.”
“Maybe it can make itself invisible,” said Hermione, prodding leeches to the bottom of the cauldron. “Or maybe it can disguise itself — pretend to be a suit of armor or something — I’ve read about Chameleon Ghouls —”
“You read too much, Hermione,” said Ron, pouring dead lacewings on top of the leeches. He crumpled up the empty lacewing bag and looked at Harry.