Harry Potter : Cael Vale’s journey to Hogwarts

Harry awoke to a dull, prickling ache in his arm.

For a moment, he didn't remember where he was. Then the memory returned like a bad dream: the Quidditch match, the rogue Bludger, and Gilderoy Lockhart's wand making things worse—removing the bones in his arm entirely.

He winced as a sharp twinge crawled up his shoulder.

"Good, you're awake," said Madam Pomfrey, appearing beside his bed with a small goblet. "The Skele-Gro is working, but it'll take all night. Nasty stuff. Tastes like dragon bile."

Harry eyed the goblet suspiciously. "Do I have to?"

"It's either this or live with a rubbery arm for the rest of your life," she said briskly, pressing it into his hand.

He took a sip and gagged immediately. The potion was bitter and chalky, like burnt metal mixed with stale vinegar.

"Blame Professor Snape," she said with a sniff. "He brews it."

"I think I'd rather have no bones," Harry muttered, wincing as the Skele-Gro made his arm feel like it was bubbling from the inside.

"You'll feel a constant itch and some sharp pain, like pins and needles times a thousand," Madam Pomfrey said, turning back to adjust the blankets. "It'll get worse before it gets better. Don't expect a good night's sleep."

"Can I have a Sleeping Draught?" Harry asked, wincing again. "Just to knock me out for a while?"

She studied him for a moment, then sighed. "Fine. But just until midnight. After that, you'll need to be awake in case something goes wrong with the regrowth."

She returned a moment later with another goblet. This one smelled of lavender and soot.

Harry drank, and within minutes, the burning in his arm dulled, and the hospital wing blurred. His head grew heavy, and he drifted off into sleep.

⸻

He awoke with a start.

The itch in his arm was unbearable now—like insects crawling under his skin. He sat up slowly, cradling his aching limb, and squinted through the dim moonlight seeping through the curtains.

That's when he saw something move in the shadows.

A pair of tennis-ball-sized eyes gleamed at the end of his bed.

Harry jolted. "W-what—?"

"Harry Potter," whispered the creature. "Harry Potter is awake!"

He blinked. "What are you ?! What are you doing here?"

The house-elf bowed so low, his nose touched the floor. "It is an honor—an honor beyond words—to finally meet Harry Potter and speak to him, sir."

"Right," Harry muttered, clutching his stinging arm. "But why now? It's the middle of the night!"

Dobby climbed onto the chair beside his bed, wringing his hands. "Dobby came to apologize, sir. Dobby never wanted Harry Potter to be hurt."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Apologize? For what?"

Dobby's ears drooped. "For the Bludger, sir. Dobby tried to stop it—but Dobby is a bad elf. Dobby only wanted to protect Harry Potter."

"You were controlling the Bludger?" Harry said, incredulous. "You sent it after me? You nearly killed me!"

"Dobby is sorry!" the elf wailed, and promptly slammed his head into the chair. "Dobby would never hurt Harry Potter! Dobby loves Harry Potter—Harry Potter is a great wizard, a hero!"

Harry groaned. "Then what do you call nearly knocking me out of the sky?"

"Dobby only wanted Harry Potter to leave, to go home where it's safe! Dobby warned him! Hogwarts is not safe this year, sir. Terrible things are happening—terrible things will continue to happen!"

Harry stared at him, heart pounding. "Wait a minute… was it you? At King's Cross? Did you block the barrier to the platform?"

Dobby looked guilty.

"You did!" Harry grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at the elf. "That was you! You're the reason Ron and I had to take the car!"

"Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!" Dobby cried, thumping his head on the floor again. "Harry Potter is angry! Dobby has failed!"

Harry sighed, rubbing his temples. "Why are you doing all this?"

"Because…" Dobby looked up, eyes shimmering with worry, "because the Chamber of Secrets has been opened again. Dobby begs Harry Potter to go home before it's too late!"

Harry froze. "What do you mean, again?"

But Dobby only shook his head. "Dobby cannot say more. Dobby's master forbids it."

Harry leaned forward. "Who is your master? Why are you so afraid?"

Dobby whimpered and clutched his ears. "Dobby cannot say, sir. Dobby is not free. Dobby cannot betray his family…"

"Fine," Harry muttered. "But you've got to tell someone. People are getting hurt."

Dobby's eyes filled with tears. "Dobby only wants Harry Potter to be safe. Dobby will have to punish himself now."

And with a snap of his fingers, he vanished.

Harry sat frozen in bed, the pain in his arm forgotten. The Chamber of Secrets… opened again?

Before he could gather his thoughts, the doors to the hospital wing creaked open.

Harry quickly lay back down and closed his eyes, feigning sleep.

Soft footsteps entered the room.

"Another one," came Professor McGonagall's low voice.

"Yes," Dumbledore murmured, solemn. "On the third-floor corridor. He was found curled near the wall."

Madam Pomfrey gasped. "That's the same as Malfoy."

Harry risked peeking through a slit in his eyelids. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Pomfrey stood gathered around a stretcher. On it lay a student—rigid, pale, and glassy-eyed.

"Same signs of petrification," Pomfrey confirmed, inspecting him.

"A pure-blood," McGonagall said quietly. "First Malfoy… now this boy from Ravenclaw. Albus, the parents will demand answers. They'll push for Hogwarts to close."

Dumbledore's face was grave. "Then we must work quickly. I'll attempt to secure matured Mandrakes from abroad."

Snape remained silent, watching the student with an unreadable expression.

Harry lay very still, listening to every word. A cold knot formed in his stomach.

If this kept happening… Hogwarts might shut down.

And worse—someone in the castle was behind it all.