dangerous -"
"Who is it, Dobby?" Harry said, keeping a firm hold on Dobby's
*178*
wrist to stop him from hitting himself with the water jug again. "Who's
opened it? Who opened it last time?"
"Dobby can't, sir, Dobby can't, Dobby mustn't tell!" squealed the elf.
"Go home, Harry Potter, go home!"
"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. Harry heard it, too.
There were footsteps coming down the passageway outside.
"Dobby must go!" breathed the elf, terrified. There was a loud crack,
and Harry's fist was suddenly clenched on thin air. He slumped back
into bed, his eyes on the dark doorway to the hospital wing as the
footsteps drew nearer.
151
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 Harry's bed out of sight. Harry lay
quite still, pretending to be asleep. He 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.
*l79*
"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."
Harry's stomach gave a horrible lurch. Slowly and carefully, he raised
himself a few inches so he could look at the statue on the bed. A ray
of moonlight lay across its staring face.
It was Colin Creevey. His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck
up in front of him, holding his camera.
"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.
152
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. Harry, three beds away,
caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic.
"Melted," said Madam Pomfrey wonderingly. "All melted..."
"What does this mean, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked