51 Hidden Secre
Dobby let out a nervous giggle that sounded almost maniacal.
"Sir is very smart, Dobby made a mistake in telling information that Dobby shouldn't have said."
"So Dobby," said Arth with narrowed eyes. "Who is your master, he must be behind all of this nonsense."
"Dobby cannot say, 'tis against the sacred laws of house elf's."
"I know, I shouldn't have even tried. Well, you already gave me enough hints."
Harry raised his eyebrows.
"He did? All that sounded like was him complaining and calling himself bad."
Arth rolled his eyes.
"He said that history shall repeat once more, which means that this has happened before."
"What do you mean and? Since it's been open before, we can surely find a record of it."
"... we can look back into old newspapers to find out when the chamber of secrets was last opened and see if anyone was caught."
Arth stared at Harry as if he could not comprehend why Harry couldn't comprehend.
"... the chamber of secrets opening would've been a big deal, right? So the newspapers very likely did a report on it."
"Ohh. I see." Said Harry before frowning.
"Where are we going to get the old newspapers? They don't reprint old papers don't they?"
"... have you. It been to the old newsletter section in the library?"
"We had something like that?"
"...I never should've asked. What was I expecting."
Arth suddenly went quiet and went deep into thought.
"Why are you warning Harry Dobby?"
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean?"
"You aren't a muggleborn aren't you?"
"You are right! I'm not Muggle-born — how can I be in danger from the Chamber?"
"Ah, sir, ask no more, ask no more of poor Dobby," stammered the elf, his eyes huge in the dark. "Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Harry Potter must not be here when they happen — go home, Harry Potter, go home. Harry Potter must not meddle in this, sir, 'tis too dangerous —"
"I'm not going anywhere!" said Harry fiercely. "One of my best friends is Muggle-born; she'll be first in line if the Chamber really has been opened —"
"Harry Potter risks his own life for his friends!" moaned Dobby in a kind of miserable ecstasy. "So noble! So valiant! But he must save himself, he must, Harry Potter must not —"
Dobby suddenly froze, his bat ears quivering. Arth heard it, too. There were footsteps coming down the passageway outside.
"Dobby must go!" breathed the elf, terrified. There was a loud crack and he disappeared into thin air. Harry slumped back into bed, while Arth frowned.
His eyes were fixated 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.
"Get Madam Pomfrey," whispered Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall hurried past the end of their beds and out of sight. The both of them lay quite still, pretending to be asleep.
Arth heard urgent voices, and then Professor McGonagall swept back into view, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey, who was pulling a cardigan on over her nightdress. 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. "Minerva found him on the stairs."
"There was a bunch of grapes next to him," said Professor McGonagall. "We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter."
Arth frowned and tilted his head slightly to get a better look. It was Colin Creevey. His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding his camera.
Arth snuck a glance at Harry and saw that his complexion was pale.
"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. Arth 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..."
Arth narrowed his eyes.
Arth had a feeling, no, he was sure that Dumbledore was hiding something.
The question is not who, but how.
Dumbledore knew who the heir was, or he had suspicions. Otherwise, he wouldn't disagree with Professor McGonagall.
Secondly, Dumbledore asked how. This meant that the person Dumbledore was suspicious of had no way of opening the chamber of secrets currently. Which meant even Dumbledore didn't know how to stop the attacks from reoccurring.
Lastly, Dumbledore knew that the chamber of secrets had been open before, so did the teachers. They were hiding something.
Arth let out an almost inaudible sigh.
There were just too many hidden secrets everywhere.