Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hermione traipsed down to see Hagrid after Harry (and team. But mostly Harry) had flattened Hufflepuff 400 to 230. It had been a long game, but then that was what Harry got for having the worst broom in the game when everyone else was on equal footing. Still, the look on Cedric's face when Harry swooped in and grabbed the Snitch from right behind Cedric's ear – where it had been for at least five minutes that Harry was aware of, it was like the Snitch was stalking the older boy or something.
"Hi, Hagrid," Harry greeted. "Did you see the game? Or, more specifically, did you see the way I totally trounced Cedric despite the fact that my broom really doesn't hold a candle to his?"
"O' course," Hagrid assured him. "Wouldn' miss it for the world."
"Oh please," Hermione said, annoyance clear on her face. "He has a Nimbus 2001. You have a Nimbus 2000. The two brooms came out within a year of each other. How much of a difference can there possibly be?"
The other four did not dignify that question with a response.
"Men," Hermione huffed.
"Right, because that's not sexist at all, Hermione," Neville said, rolling his eyes.
"What's the real reason you didn't get a Nimbus 2001, Harry?" Ron took the opportunity to ask.
"I'm holding out to make my godfather buy me a Firebolt next year," Harry confided.
Ron's brow wrinkled in confusion. "But isn't your godfather-"
"Yes," Harry said shortly. "Which is why he totally owes me years worth of Christmas presents. Honestly, he didn't even get me anything this year."
"But he's a mass murderer! And on the run!" Ron pointed out.
"What's this?" Hermione looked startled.
"How do you know abou' Black?" Hagrid demanded.
"Oh look, Fudge!" Harry said, for once glad to see the man. He was SO not looking forward to having this conversation a full year early. Or at all, for that matter.
"Where?" Ron asked eagerly. Harry wondered briefly why in the world he was so excited to see the rather incompetent and extremely pompous Minister of Magic and then he realized that Ron had completely misunderstood what he said because he was, as per usual, thinking with his stomach.
"Trust me, you probably don't want any if Hagrid made it," Neville whispered to him, to low for Hagrid to hear. "Did you mean food, Harry?"
"No, I meant the Minister of Magic," Harry explained.
Hermione sighed, obviously not believing him but deciding to humor him anyway. "Why would the Minister of Magic be outside of Hagrid's hut?" she asked patiently.
Harry narrowed his eyes. "I don't know. It better not be what I think it is, though."
"Do yeh think they found out abou' the attacks?" Hagrid asked nervously.
"There's no proof," Harry was quick to reassure him. "Even if they did hear something, with our unpetrifaction rate, there's nothing to see and thus nothing they can do."
"But why would they come after Hagrid?" Hermione was puzzled but thinking hard.
"Because they're all a bunch of morons," Harry said simply. "What do you expect?"
Hagrid shot Harry a grateful look as there was a loud knock on the door.
"You four, hide," Hagrid advised.
Everyone looked at Harry.
"What makes you think I even have my Invisibility Cloak?" he asked.
"You always have your Invisibility Cloak," Neville replied calmly.
"So what if I do?" Harry asked, crossing his arms defiantly. "It's not curfew for a good twenty minutes or so; we have every right to be here."
Hagrid looked unsure for a moment before shrugging and said, "Suit yerself."
"Good evening, Hagrid," Professor Dumbledore greeted him once the door was finally opened. "And…guests." He didn't really sound all that surprised to find Harry and his posse there.
"Bad business, Hagrid," Fudge said curtly. "Very bad business. If it's true, well…We just can't take that risk. You under-What are you doing here?" he asked once he spotted the students.
"We're visiting our dear friend Hagrid and having a nice conversation about how great it is that there isn't a basilisk loose at school this year because, quite frankly, that would suck," Harry lied, smiling brightly.
"There…isn't?" Fudge looked confused. He turned to the man standing behind him. "But you said-"
"Of course there's a basilisk loose in the school," Lucius Malfoy interjected smoothly. "Draco wouldn't lie about a thing like that. Now, I don't know who you think you are, but I assure you that-Potter." The last part was said very flat and emotionless. Honestly, it was almost like Lucius had finally figured out the scandal Harry had caused for his family. Still, the fact that Lucius hadn't so much as twitched for his wand made him somewhat doubt that.
"Potter?" Fudge peered closely at Harry. "As in Harry Potter? I could have sworn you were Dra-" he trailed off as he glanced at his number one campaign contributor. "Er, never mind."
"Why does everyone keep doing that?" Lucius asked idly.
"Did you guys have a point in being here?" Harry asked, not so much because he wanted to know or get the conversation moving but because he fully appreciated how easily people could get sidetracked and knew no one else would be rude enough to bring them back to the matter at hand.
Lucius threw him an annoyed glance, because Fudge was far too inclined to kiss his ass to do so himself. "Of course there is. We're here to stop the attacks."
"What attacks? I haven't heard anything about any attacks. Did you guys here anything?" Harry turned to his friends.
"Nope," Ron said immediately.
"Not a thing," Neville concurred.
"Was anyone hurt?" Hermione asked, rather than outright lying to an authority figure.
Fudge looked a little embarrassed. "Well…no. But basilisks are Serious Business."
"So they are," Harry agreed, looking appropriately puzzled. "What attacks are you talking about, sir?" God, calling Fudge 'sir' was bloody nauseating.
"There is a basilisk running loose in this school and you all are covering it up," Lucius accused, sounding impatient.
"Why on Earth would we do that, Lucius?" Dumbledore spoke up. "As Cornelius said, basilisks are very dangerous and if something was going around killing or – at the very least – petrifying students, how could we possibly hide that? We're not monitoring communications and you can ask some of the students if you require further reassurance."
"As much faith as we have in you, Dumbledore," Lucius said, looking for all the world as if those words pained him to say, "my son, who has my complete confidence, has insisted that-"
"I'm sure he has," Harry interrupted. "But if that were true, then why hasn't anybody else said anything? Or do you honestly think that people are more afraid of 'getting in trouble' for telling than of a giant bloody snake?"
"Are you calling my son a liar?" Lucius demanded.
"Of course not," Harry replied, shocked. He never was one to be the pot calling the kettle black, after all. "In fact, Draco's a friend of mine. I'm the one who gave him that advice about illegal search and seizure, you know. But I would also like to point out that Draco is also claiming to be the Heir of Slytherin, so perhaps that's why he's talking about a basilisk."
"My son wouldn't-" Lucius began, angrily.
"Mr. Malfoy?" Ron waited until Lucius looked over at him. "Your son is twelve."
Lucius flushed angrily and Ron looked quite pleased of himself.
"Regardless of the, er, validity of these claims," Fudge, who was looking disappointed at the turn of events that didn't appear to being leading to him getting to arrest Hagrid and making Lucius happy, began. "The fact remains that claims have been made, and from a reliable source from a good family. Therefore, investigations must be made."
"By all means," Dumbledore said magnanimously. "Would you care to accompany us, Hagrid? I think it's time the four of you got back to your Common Room anyway."
The eight of them made their way back to the castle in a variety of spirits. Hagrid was jumpy, as if Fudge might arrest him at any moment. Hermione was in awe of meeting the most powerful (at least nominally) wizard in Britain. Ron was still pleased he had gotten the best of the father of his mortal enemy. Lucius was glowering at everyone but Neville and Hermione – Neville because he was from a nice, respectable Pureblood family and Hermione because he honestly had no idea who she was or why he should hate her. Fudge was looking unsettled as he was begining to realize that he was caught in the middle of a power struggle between two of the wizards he depended upon the most. Neville looked like he'd rather be doing something less dramatic and Harry was staring up at the stars and trying to do some last-minute studying for that Astronomy test he was going to have at Midnight.
Of course, almost the second they stepped foot into the Castle, Miss Amaretto – Filch's reasoning behind naming his new cat after an Italian liquor was beyond Harry's comprehension – spotted them and, sure enough, Filch quickly accosted them.
"There you are," he growled at Harry. "Everyone's been looking for you. There's been another one."
"Another…what, exactly?" Lucius asked, looking disdainfully at the Squib caretaker.
Clearly remembering and disliking Lucius from his own days as a student, Filch took a moment before answering. "Another pair of students hexing each other in the hallway. Said they were after a rogue pixie."
Hogwarts being what it was, no one bothered to question what a rogue pixie would be doing there or why students felt the need to curse it.
Filch turned to Harry. "They're asking for you."
Harry nodded solemnly. "Right. I have to go help them spin this so they don't look like morons at breakfast tomorrow when the whole school's heard about it." With that, he took off running down the hallway.
"Wipe your feet!" Filch called after him.
"Be careful running in the hallways," Dumbledore added mildly.
"Wait, we should probably go to the Hospital Wing, too," Fudge suggested as Harry exited hearing range.
Quickly arriving at the Hospital Wing, Harry automatically pulled out two Polyjuice Potions and thrust them into Madam Pomfrey's outstretched hand.
Madam Pomfrey stared at them inquisitively. "Is this…Polyjuice Potion?"
"Er, maybe?" he replied he caught his breath. "Here," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out two vials of Mandrake Draught (apparently it was Mandrake Draught and not Mandrake Potion. Who knew? Well, other than Neville and Hermione, who had given him a fifteen-minute lecture on the subject) this time.
"Why were you even carrying Polyjuice Potion around with you anyway?" Madam Pomfrey asked suspiciously. "And is it even legal here at Hogwarts?"
"I'm pretty sure that nobody bothered to ban it due to its expense, difficulty in making, and overall rarity. But never mind that: who got petrified this time?" he asked, deliberately changing the subject.
"Draco Malfoy and Cedric Diggory," came the terse response.
Harry laughed. "Now that is too funny."
Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow at him. "How is that funny? I thought both of these boys were friends of yours."
"Oh, they are," Harry agreed. "That's not what's funny. What's funny is…well, first off, what were they even doing together in the first place? I wasn't even aware that they knew each other."
"I'm sure I don't know," answered the nurse dryly. "They were POA."
"POA?" Harry repeated. The only thing he could think of that those three letters could mean was 'Prisoner of Azkaban' but he somehow doubted that was the case here.
" 'Petrified on Arrival'," she explained with a slight smile.
"I see. And what I was saying was that Draco's father and Minister Fudge are here in the castle this very moment looking for evidence to back up Draco's claims that people are getting petrified left and right and Draco chooses now to go and get himself petrified."
"Because I'm sure that's exactly what he was planning when he got attacked," Madam Pomfrey said sarcastically.
Harry shrugged. "Hey, you never know. Fortunately, the Mandrake Draught is going to take effect any second now…right?" he asked as he heard footsteps outside the door.
Madam Pomfrey glanced worriedly at her patients. "It should."
Just as the door to the Hospital Wing swung open, Draco and Cedric were blinking sleepily.
"Dad?" Draco asked confused. He quickly realized that there were other people in the room. At some point, however, Harry's friends had clearly been sent back to the Common Room. "I mean, Father? What are you doing here?"
"I think the more appropriate question is: What are you doing here?" Lucius asked, a little concern inadvertently slipping into his voice.
"I was…I was…" Draco paused, trying to remember.
"Pixie," Harry coughed.
Cedric, thankfully, got Harry's meaning instantly. "We were comparing Seeker strategies in the hallway when all of a sudden this little blue Pixie comes out of nowhere and starts attacking us. Neither of us could think of a Pixie banishing charm off the top of our heads so we tried to freeze it, but it kept moving so we missed and hit each other," he told them, sounding very responsible and convincing. No wonder he was a Prefect. Was he Head Boy as well? Harry couldn't remember.
"Is that true, Draco?" Lucius turned a critical eye to his son.
Still looking a bit out of it, Draco looked from his father to Harry indecisively. "I…yes," he finally said.
"Are these two your only patients, Madam Pomfrey?" Dumbledore asked polite as ever.
"Aside from a fourth year who managed to turn her ears into carrots, yes, they are," the nurse confirmed.
"You don't mind if we make sure of that, do you?" Fudge asked, walking further into the room. He soon found his path blocked by an irate school nurse, however.
"Minister, I hope you're not suggesting that you think I am hiding patients," she began heatedly, advancing on him menacingly.
"No, I-" Fudge tried to defend himself, but she was having none of it.
"Of course, if I was going to hide them, it certainly wouldn't be in the Hospital Wing, now would it? Why don't you go check for them in a broom closet? Or on the roof?" she suggested icily.
"I believe you, I believe you," Fudge insisted, quickly retreating.
"Thank you," she said. "Now, if you don't mind, you're disturbing my patients."
With that, they had no choice but to leave. Faced with absolutely no evidence of petrifaction or really anything out of the ordinary going on (save, perhaps, the freakishly empty Hospital Wing), Fudge and Lucius were forced to leave as well, extremely embarrassed for making so much commotion over something that everyone else was pretending wasn't happening. Harry idly wondered what would happen when the truth came out – and it would come out, as per his deal with Lockhart – but realized that as a Second Year, it really didn't matter to him one way or the other what happened or how it looked for the school because he was technically too young to be expected to deal with that.
As a second year, it was fully understandable why he started screaming the minute Hagrid slipped them that cryptic 'Follow the Spiders' advice that would never, ever lead to anything good. It was actually a good thing that Lucius and Fudge had already left. After all, it wouldn't due to get people questioning his sanity any sooner than they had to.
----
"Dear Merlin, this basilisk is a menace!" Draco was heard complaining during their next Potions class.
"Does that mean that you've renounced your evil ways as Heir of Slytherin?" Harry asked innocently.
Draco shot him a withering look. "That isn't funny, Potter."
"Oh, I know it isn't," Harry said, trying to placate him as Draco only ever called him Potter when he was really annoyed. "It's just that, half the class genuinely believes you to be the Heir of Slytherin and therefore really want an answer to that question."
Draco stared at Harry. "You're serious?"
"No, I'm Harry," Harry said before he could stop himself.
Draco looked at him quizzically. "What-"
"Never mind, moral obligation, you wouldn't understand," Harry said dismissively. "So, once and for all, since you totally got petrified: Are you or are you not the Heir of Slytherin?"
Having been subject to Harry's 'no you ARE' or 'no you AREN'T' line of questioning that he got from the movie "Clue", Draco wisely chose to reply in a fuller manner. "I am not the Heir of Slytherin."
"If Harry can still be the Heir even when he has an alibi, then surely Malfoy can have the basilisk attack himself," Ron objected.
"Ron, shut up," Hermione elbowed Ron hard; she obviously understood how pointing out that Harry could still technically be the Heir was not, under any circumstances, a good plan.
"What do we have here?" Snape asked silkily, coming up behind them.
"They are arguing about whether or not Malfoy's being petrified rules him out as Heir of Slytherin and if Harry having an alibi could still make him a candidate after all," Neville supplied helpfully.
"I see," Snape's lip curled mockingly. "And after the Minister of Magic himself came down to investigate those nasty rumors about a basilisk loose in the school and was assured that they were, in fact, nothing more than nasty rumors."
"Well, we both know that neither one of us is the Heir, so our argument is really more for the sake of the rumor mill anyway," Harry offered.
"Why aren't you working, Potter?" Snape demanded.
"Because I can't multi-task to save my life when it comes to Potions. I swear, I look up for a second and something explodes." Harry paused and tilted his head. "Of course, that could be because the Slytherins keep throwing things in my cauldron to test if I'm 'worthy of associating with them' by surviving their periodic murder attempts. Seems kind of strange to me, but then, what do I know? I'm not a Slytherin."
"But you could have been," Snape muttered absently as he moved down the line to check someone else's cauldron. "Oh, you could have been."