a/n: alternatively titled "Lockhart comes in clutch and then screws everything up"

Asking Lockhart for the signature the following week was a breeze. He pulled out his flamboyant peacock feather quill and looped his signature onto the paper without so much as a second glance.

After handing it back to us, he looked to Harry and began to talk to him about Quidditch, recounting his "glory days" of being a Seeker himself. With each word, Harry looked closer and closer to popping a vein and eventually I had to excuse the four of us and lead him out of the room.

"Less able players my arse," I scoffed. "I bet he's scared of heights."

Ron laughed at this.

"I don't believe it," Harry rolled his eyes, looking at the signature on the paper. "He didn't even look at the book we wanted."

"That's because he's a brainless git," said Ron. "But who cares, we've got what we needed—"

"He is not a brainless git," Hermione retorted as we ran to the library.

"Just because he said you were the best student of the year—"

Ron had to stop talking, as we'd reached the library. Madam Pince looked at the four of us suspiciously as we handed her the note.

"Moste Potente Potions?" she repeated, trying to grab the note. However, Hermione didn't seem to want to let go.

"I was wondering if I could keep it," she breathed. I groaned. Maybe I was down bad for Dean but not this bad.

"Oh, come on," Ron groaned, snatching it and handing it to Madam Pince. "We'll get you another autograph. Lockhart'll sign anything if it stands still long enough."

Madam Pince held the note up to the light. After deeming it trustworthy she walked away and returned a few minutes later with the old, enormous book. We thanked her and left.

Minutes later, we sat in the girls bathroom — Moaning Myrtles bathroom. Ron and I both tried to object.

"How can we focus with all of that crying?" I hissed before we went in.

Ron shivered. "And don't you remember the spiders?"

"They were all leaving, remember?" Hermione said calmly. "And this is the last place anyone will come by. We'll be safe here and so will the potion."

"What's this about the spiders?" I asked Harry.

"We were here a little while ago. I think you were with Dean. There were spiders climbing up the wall through the window, as if they were in a hurry to get out," Harry explained. "It was really weird."

"I hate the way they move," Ron shivered.

I thought back to the Acromantula idea. This could be more evidence. I made a mental note to write this down.

Hermione opened the book and the three of us crowded over to watch her flip through the pages. I was pleased when she finally found the page, though I could tell Ron and Harry looked rather worried by the looks of pain on the faces of the illustrations.

"Here it is," said Hermione excitedly. She looked to the instructions and her brow furrowed, though I could tell she was just as excited as I was. "This is the most complicated potion I've ever seen," she said.

"Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, and knotgrass," I murmured, reading the ingredients. "Those should be easy enough, they're in the student cupboard, we can help ourselves. Powdered horn of a bicorn, shredded skin of a boomslang — those will be a little harder to acquire. I'll bet Professor Snape has them. Then, of course, a bit of whoever we want to change into."

"Excuse me?" said Ron sharply. "What d'you mean, a bit of whoever we're changing into? I'm drinking nothing with Crabbe's toenails in it—"

"I already told you we'd need some of their DNA," I replied. "Besides, we can just use some hair."

"Imagine how greasy it would be," Harry grimaced, as if he'd just tasted something awful. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"We don't have to worry about that yet. We add those bits last." Hermione mentioned.

"D'you realize how much we're going to have to steal, Hermione?" Harry asked. "I don't know if this is a good idea—"

Hermione startled me by snapping the book shut.

"Well, if you two are going to chicken out, fine," she said irritably. "I don't want to break rules, you know. I think threatening Muggle-borns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy, I'll go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in."

I agreed. Saving ourselves and our friends was worth more than any trouble we could face for this. I gave her an approving pat on the back. "Well said, Hermione."

Ron shook his head in disbelief. "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be persuading us to break rules," he said. "All right, we'll do it. But no toenails, okay?"

"How long will it take to make, anyway?" said Harry cautiously, so as not to upset Hermione again. She looked rather satisfied with their cooperation as she reopened the book. "

"Well, since the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days . . . I'd say it'd be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients."

"A month?" Ron exclaimed. "Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!" Hermione shot him a look, so he spoke quickly. "But it's the best plan we've got, so full steam ahead, I say."

Later, after we left the bathroom, Ron muttered to Harry. "It'll be a lot less hassle if you can just knock Malfoy off his broom tomorrow."

Dean and I were together in the common room that night, finishing our homework for Transfiguration and Potions. We'd both put our quills down around nine, but neither of us got up to leave. I pretended to proofread my paper, and Dean fidgeted with his sleeves.

"So," he began. "Have you made any progress with your investigation?"

"Not much," I frowned. "But we do have a plan."

I ended up explaining our idea to him quietly, unable to stop myself. I didn't like keeping secrets, and especially not from Dean. Everything about him was so encouraging and inviting. It was hard to deny that I fancied him, even to myself.

"If you need a diversion, I could easily blow up my cauldron or something," he offered. "It's not like it would require much effort."

"That's not actually a bad idea," I mused. "I'll see if we can get a firework from Fred and George. Harry could toss it in someone's cauldron. I'd hate for it to be yours, though. Lavender would throw a fit if she was splashed with anything that had spider eyes in it."

"What about yours and Malfoy's?" He asked with a devious grin. "You would know, but he wouldn't see it coming. I'd love to get that git for something."

"Good thinking!" I beamed, feeling my own scheming grin start to grow. "And Snape wouldn't know which House threw it because we're in different houses." I looked at him sternly. "You can't tell anyone about this — not even Seamus."

"I understand how important it is for this to work," Dean said. "I won't say a thing."

"The sooner this is all over, the better," I agreed. "Thank you."

"Anything for you," he winked. I couldn't help but blush again. He was going to be the death of me, I knew it.

"How's the sign coming for the match tomorrow?" I asked.

He brightened even more. "I'm so thrilled you asked!"

He leaned over to pull a large piece of poster-board off of the floor to show me. In flashing red and gold letters read "FIRST WIN OF THE SEASON!" He'd drawn a lion stepping on a green snake on the bottom. I grinned.

"You know, you truly possess a different kind of magic," I told him sincerely, giving him a soft smile. Daringly, I placed a hand on his shoulder in the pretense of leaning over to examine the poster. "This is incredible. The Quidditch team is going to love it."

For a minute, I thought he might take the hint and maybe try something romantic again. He did not. He just beamed wider at me and looked back at the poster. Somehow I found that more endearing.

"Thank you! I'm so excited," he grinned. "And trust me, I know we'll win tomorrow — Harry could beat Malfoy no matter what brooms they're on."

I sure hoped so. I had a lot of faith in Harry — despite this only being his second year, he was the best Seeker that Gryffindor had seen in a while. Malfoy bought his way into the team, and though he was decent at flying he'd surely be too disgusted by getting his robes dirty to even focus on getting the snitch.

The morning of the match, I went down to Dumbledore's office, telling myself I would try just one last time. This time, the Gargoyle had a new message for me.

"Appointment only."

"Appointment only?" I repeated incredulously. "How am I expected to make an appointment when Dumbledore isn't even here to arrange it?"

The gargoyle did not respond, but it's expression said "not my problem."

I huffed, annoyed, and proceeded to breakfast.

It was supposed to rain, so Hermione and I transfigured some umbrellas from the lamps in our dorms. One of them still lit up when you opened the umbrella, but Dean didn't seem to mind.

"The poster is waterproof, thanks to Hermione," he said. "But the umbrella will just attract more attention to it."

We made our way through the muddy grass to the Quidditch Pitch, finding a bench high up in the risers. After both teams walked on to boos and cheers, Madam Hooch blew the whistle, and the game began.

I noticed the Slytherin brooms were indeed giving them an advantage, and I grimaced. A Bludger whistled past Harry's head. One of the Weasley twins knocked it away, but it came sailing right back. I pointed this out to the others.

"Bludgers don't normally target players like that," Ron said, confused.

"You think someone's tampered with it?" Hermione asked as another Weasley twin hit it away only for it to come right back at Harry. He corkscrewed to avoid it. Slytherin scored.

"Madam Hooch keeps them in her office, there's no way she'd let that happen," Ron said. "Besides, they were just at practice yesterday."

"Didn't Slytherin practice after them?" Seamus asked. Hermione and I looked to each other.

"Malfoy!" We exclaimed.

"We should tell somebody," Dean said. Another Bludger took Angelina by surprise, preventing Gryffindor from scoring. The weird one was still circling around Harry, the Weasley twins fighting it off. One of them must have signaled to Wood, because they flew back to the ground.

"I think they're talking about it," I said. Neville, who had been closing his eyes ever since I pointed out the Bludger, finally looked up.

They had formed a circle on the ground. Madam Hooch walked over to them to see what the matter was. I watched them line up to kick off back into the air.

"How are they supposed to play with a rogue Bludger?" Seamus asked. Neville closed his eyes again.

"Harry'd better get the Snitch — fast," Ron said worriedly as the Bludger whizzed by him once again. Harry had stopped flying, looking at the player behind him — Malfoy.

I watched in slow motion as the Bludger collided with his arm. I put a hand over my mouth. He was barely holding onto his broom. He dove straight towards Malfoy, who dodged out of the way immediately. Harry reached out the non-broken hand and—

"THE SNITCH!" Ron yelled. "HES GOT THE SNITCH!"

The side rooting for Gryffindor burst into cheers and whistles, even as Harry began to fall towards the ground. He rolled off of his broom on impact, raised the Snitch with the hand it was in, and then he fell limply to the ground, unconscious.

"Come on, let's go!" I said, pulling Dean by the hand out of our row and down the stairs. A small crowd had already gathered around Harry. We pushed our way to the front. Harry was waking up, and Oliver Wood was congratulating him.

"Great capture, Harry, really spectacular, your best yet, I'd say—"

"Don't fret, Harry, I'm here!" Lockhart, with his awfully chipper smile, had pushed to the front.

"Oh no, not you," Harry said through gritted teeth. He was obviously in a lot of pain.

"He doesn't know what he's saying," Lockhart joked. "Stand back, everyone—"

"He should really just go to the Hospital Wing, Professor," Dean said, concerned. Nobody could stop him when he wiggled his wand and muttered something under his breath. Harry's arm, quite literally, went flat. My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

"You didn't mend his bones, you removed them!" I was positively gobsmacked. Harry looked over at his arm and his face went white.

"Surely, that's better than leaving them broken, Miss Holmes," Lockhart said uncomfortably. "Ah — yes you should probably go see Madam Pomfrey. She can - er- patch you up a bit."

He quickly pushed his way back out of the crowd. I shook my head at his back, then turned around to go help Harry. I heard the clicks of a Muggle camera, and then noticed the first year that Harry had been talking about. Colin, was it?

"I don't think Harry wants a picture of this," I said, trying to sound as polite as possible without letting my irritability show. I pulled Harry up onto his feet. I took his boneless arm over my shoulder, then told the Quidditch team we'd take it from here as we walked up to the Hospital Wing.

"How can you still stick up for him after something like this?" Ron asked Hermione.

"Everyone makes mistakes," she said sniffily. "At least your arm doesn't hurt now, right, Harry?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't do much else either," Harry grimaced.

Ron knocked on the door. Madam Pomfrey frowned at the four of us.

"I swear you four come up here once a month," she rolled her eyes. Then they fell to Harry's boneless arm and she let out a startled squeal.

"What on earth happened?!" She pulled Harry off of me and lead him to a bed.

"We think someone tampered with one of the Bludgers because it kept going after Harry and broke his arm," Hermione said. "Lockhart tried to help—"

"—and he cleared the damage entirely," Ron finished with a spiteful glance. Madam Pomfrey tutted.

"You should have come to me right away!" She exclaimed. She muttered something about inept teachers as she grabbed a bottle from her storage cupboard. "I can mend bones in a second, but growing them back—"

"You'll be able to, wont you?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Yes, but it will be painful," she explained. "You'll have to stay the night." She pulled over a rack of curtains. Hermione and I waited on the other side while Ron helped Harry into some pajamas. After they had finished, Madam Pomfrey pulled the curtain back. Harry's arm was hanging limply off the side of the bed like a long rubber glove.

"You're in for a rough night," said Madam Pomfrey, pouring a beakerful of the bottle labeled "Skele-Gro" into a cup. "Regrowing bones is a nasty business." She handed the cup to Harry, who drank it. He made a face and was desperately fighting not to spit it out. She took the cup back and went back into her office, leaving the four of us alone.

"Hey, at least we won," I said encouragingly.

"That was quite a catch," agreed Ron. "I'd like to know how Malfoy fixed that Bludger."

"We can add that to the list of questions we can ask him when we have the Polyjuice," Hermione said.

"I hope it tastes better than this stuff," Harry said.

"If it's got bits of Slytherin in it? No way," Ron made a disgusted face. The door to the Hospital Wing burst open. The Gryffindor Quidditch Team entered, carrying a variety of sweets and cakes.

"Unbelievable flying, Harry!" George congratulated him. "I've just seen Flint yelling at Malfoy; something about having the Snitch right on top of his head and not even noticing. Malfoy didn't seem too happy." They set some sweets on the table beside Harry.

"Out! OUT!" Madam Pomfrey had returned. "The boy needs rest! He has thirty-three bones to regrow by tomorrow!"