Harry Potter & the Chamber of Secrets: Take Two
Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. bows down to JKR. Disclaimer holds for every chapter in this story.
Sequel to Harry Potter & the Philosopher's Stone: Take Two – highly advisable to read first if you haven't done so!
As of December 2, 2011, I am going back and revamping this story. Found a lot of errors I want to fix. I recently totally revamped Part 1, but have not put up new versions of it here yet because I combined a lot of chapters, and I don't to lose my reviews. If you look me up (as MysticSong) over on HPFandom, you can find the edited (and, likely, better) version of Harry Potter & the Philosopher's Stone: Take Two.
My sincere apologies for taking 3 years to update this story! Life has been one thing after another (good and bad): Finishing my graduate degree, finding the love of my life, moving to be with her, starting a new job, changes within the job (this happens frequently), planning our wedding, being sent to a hematologist … in any case! Here we go!
Harry was having a miserable summer. He wasn't sure at first if it was actually worse than any other summer of his childhood, but compared to the relatively enjoyable year he had spent at Hogwarts, this summer seemed terribly dismal. As the summer progressed, he had to admit that, perhaps, it was worse. Now that the Dursley's knew that they had been unsuccessful in cleansing the magical abnormalities out of him, they almost seemed frightened of him, especially Vernon.
Of course, they had no idea that Harry was not permitted to do magic outside of school until he was of age – except for circumstances that brooked no recourse but magical self-defence – and he used it to his advantage.
Muttering made up Latin phrases under his breath were enough to scare his cousin into a panic and send him running.
Tormenting Dudley was only fun for a little while, though, especially as he had no one to share it with. Harry sorely missed Hermione and Ron. He was sure that after the first week or two he would have received an owl from Ron and a regular post from Hermione. But there had been nothing; a fact that his family took great joy in tormenting him about; even in a magical school, no one wanted a freak for a friend.
Harry sighed. He was sitting in his room; Dudley's second bedroom. He had very little space in it to call his own; many of Dudley's broken toys were littered about. Only a shelf full of the most wonderful books lay untouched when Harry moved into the room. Not much of a bibliophile, Harry had read nearly every book that Dudley owned, out of sheer boredom.
He even wished to do his schoolwork that was assigned for the summer hols, but his Uncle had taken great pleasure in locking everything up as soon as they came home from picking Harry up from Kings Cross station. Even poor Hedwig was only allowed out at night. She was cramped and surly over the situation.
Whom was he kidding? Harry too was cramped and surly, and grousing over the apparent disinterest his supposed friends had over his well-being. Given, he wasn't expecting a lot of contact from Draco – his Father was a force to be reckoned with, and Draco wasn't willing to compromise Harry's safety in any case, but had Ron and Hermione been having him on all year?
Glancing at the small clock in his room, Harry dragged himself out of bed and headed downstairs to keep an eye on Dudley's precious bacon. He wanted to gag.
It was no surprise that an argument broke out over breakfast. Hedwig was the cause of it. Her constant soft hoots drove the Dursleys quite mad.
"Can't you make that ruddy owl shut up?" yelled Vernon. "Because if you don't, I'll do it for you, and it will be for good!"
Harry signed in exasperation. "I've tried to tell you, Uncle Vernon, that she's bored. If I could just let her out, just for ten or twenty minutes during the day. . ."
"So you can send messages to your teachers about us? I think not, boy! You just keep that owl quiet!"
Harry just shook his head. It was at times like this when he could understand why some wizards hated Muggles.
As Harry sat morosely, picking at his scraps, Vernon suddenly perked up as he remembered the news he had for his family. "Now, my dear family tonight is a very special night – I may be making the sale of a lifetime with Mr. Mason! He and his lovely wife will be here tonight for dinner – Petunia, your best, please – and we shall impress them into the deal of a lifetime. Now, what will you all be doing?"
"I shall present them a lovely dinner and compliment Mrs. Mason on her lovely sense of fashion," Petunia simpered.
"I shall take their coats and show them into the lounge," said Dudley, a sickly sweet expression on his overly round face.
Vernon rounded on Harry. "And you, boy? What will you be doing?"
Harry looked up at his family, all light gone from his face and muttered, "I'll be upstairs making no noise and pretending I don't exist."
"Too right you will, boy, because if you ruin this deal for me, you will be locked up in that room of yours for the rest of the summer!"
Harry just sighed.
Petunia put Harry to work cleaning the entire house from top to bottom – even rooms that the Masons would not lay eyes on – while Dudley played video games and she prepared the evening meal.
When the sound of tires on the driveway rolled through the house, Petunia plucked the rag from Harry's hand, dropped it hastily into the trash bin and wiped her hands on her apron. She shooed Harry upstairs with a bit of dinner: a thick but stale slice of bread, a few slices of cheese that, while they hadn't spoiled had certainly seen better days, and a glass of fresh juice. His aunt must have been in a decent mood, thought Harry; for the juice was an unexpected treat. He wouldn't – couldn't – let himself believe that she might care even a tiny bit.
Once up the stairs, he nudged his door open with his knee, and placed his dinner on his desk before falling gracelessly onto his bed.
A muffled squeak had Harry bolting upright again.
He turned to find a nervous and quite peculiar looking creature watching him with eyes that reminded Harry of tennis balls.
"Who are you?" Harry whispered in alarm.
"I is Dobby," Mr. Potter, sir, "Dobby the House-Elf. I is coming with your mail, Mr. Potter sir, from young Master Malfoy, a Mr. Weasley, and a Miss Granger. I is also coming with a warning for you."
Harry's face had lit up at the mention of mail – They hadn't forgotten after all – until he heard the word warning.
"A warning?" his face falling ever so slightly.
Dobby's large ears bobbed up and down as he stared at Harry apprehensively. "Your mail, sir?" he squeaked, shoving a large pile of assorted letters and packages into Harry's hands.
"Yes, thank you, Dobby," Harry began, stopping abruptly as the creature burst into ear-splitting shrieking wails.
"I had heard Harry Potter was great, but to thank a lowly House-Elf for simply doing his duty, I—"
There was a pause in the conversation from downstairs, and Harry rushed to silence Dobby before his Uncle decided to come storming up the stairs to see just what in the world Harry thought he was doing.
"Dobby, please! Calm down, if my Uncle comes up here, he'll kill me!"
Dobby shuddered and looked up at Harry with his big eyes. "Your warning, sir: Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts!"
"What?" Harry nearly screeched himself he was so startled. "Dobby, you can't mean that! Hogwarts is my home! I'd go crazy staying here all year now that I know about Hogwarts. Hogwarts is the only place I have ever felt safe, have ever had friends. I have to go back, Dobby, I just have to go back!"
"Then Dobby must do what Dobby must," the small creature declared fretfully, and with that, flung open the door and raced down the hall to the head of the stairs. He glanced over his shoulder as if giving Harry one more chance to change his mind. When no response seemed forthcoming, he ran nimbly down the steps and into the kitchen, with Harry close behind him.
To Harry's horror, Dobby had levitated the beautiful cake with spun sugar decorations on butter cream frosting that Petunia had carefully created that afternoon, and floated it over Mrs. Mason's head.
Dudley spotted the cake first and his rosy cheeks paled as he tried to attract his parent's attention without alarming the Masons.
It was too late. Harry, in his horror, could not find his voice – not that he was likely to agree not to return to school – and thus, Dobby dropped the cake squarely onto Mrs. Mason's overly coiffed hair.
Moment later, a large owl flew into the lounge and deposited a Howler onto the distraught room.
Harry spent the rest of the evening padlocked in his room.