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Chapter 99 – I Swear
🕑 Added 2025-04-08 11:08:59 +0000 UTC"Didn't I tell you it's best not to trust Professor Lockhart?" Noah said helplessly, standing beside Harry’s bed in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing.
"I tried to stop him," Harry groaned, lying back against his pillow, frustration etched across his face. "But my arm was already injured, and I didn’t have time to react. Just my luck!"
"That’s unfortunate," Noah replied with a sigh. "I remember Madam Pomfrey’s potions taste absolutely awful. Loads of students have begged her to change the flavor, but she insists the bitterness keeps you troublemakers from getting yourselves hurt again."
"Oh, come on, Noah!" Harry snapped, his face scrunching in indignation. "I wasn’t doing anything dangerous! It’s Quidditch! Injuries are just part of the game. The only thing I regret is not resisting harder—even if Lockhart is a professor!"
Quidditch was indeed a brutal sport. Every year, players ended up in the Hospital Wing from falls, crashes, and the occasional dirty trick.
Though it was often compared to Muggle football, Quidditch demanded far more than just speed and skill—it encouraged physical confrontation. While this wasn’t ideal for many, especially thinner athletes, it was part of what made the sport exhilarating. The thrill came not only from chasing the Golden Snitch but from the intense head-to-head battles in the sky.
Where there’s physical confrontation, there’s bound to be injury—and sometimes, those injuries were due to foul play.
Noah glanced over at Draco Malfoy, who lay in the next bed. The corners of his lips twitched slightly in amusement. Harry had definitely changed.
If someone had suggested pulling a stunt like this before, Harry would’ve refused outright, spouting something noble and righteous. But after three months of combat training and real-world practice, Harry was starting to realize that being seen as easy to push around wasn’t ideal.
Thanks to Noah’s advice, Harry had used a little trick of his own during the match. Word was, the two had chased the Snitch beneath the stands—but only Harry had flown back out.
As it turned out, Draco had slammed into the wooden railing under the stands. He claimed Harry elbowed him mid-air. Of course, Harry insisted it was an accident—Draco bumped into him, and he just reflexively reacted.
"Nice work, Harry," Noah whispered, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "But next time, don’t admit anything. Just say you didn’t see what happened."
Harry gave a sheepish grin. "Alright… but, honestly, I still feel a bit guilty."
"Don’t," Noah said flatly. "You were protecting yourself. You’re not just going to let people walk all over you, are you?"
"Of course not. I get it now. Thanks, Noah."
"Good. Now get some rest. I’d better go before Madam Pomfrey kicks me out."
"Thanks for visiting. See you later."
After a casual farewell, Noah left the Hospital Wing. Though Skele-Gro tasted vile, its effects were impressive. If nothing went wrong, Harry would be up and about by tomorrow—just in time for Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Lockhart's classes were, as usual, a total bore. But if Noah remembered right, tomorrow would be when Lockhart announced the start of the Dueling Club.
And that was the day Harry, poor guy, would end up speaking Parseltongue in front of everyone.
But this time? Noah figured Harry wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Ever since Harry learned about being a Parselmouth, he had practiced in the Room of Requirement—but the moment he tried to speak, he stopped himself. He’d read enough to scare himself into silence.
After all, speaking to snakes in front of a crowd wasn’t just suspicious—it was dangerous. Now that he understood the weight of it, he wasn’t about to do something so foolish again.
As for Noah, he returned to the Room of Requirement and summoned a magical construct of Professor Snape for combat practice. He liked dueling Snape the most—his spells were sharp and lethal.
Though he always lost in the end, it was worth it just to force “Snape” to use advanced and dangerous spells. Each time, Noah grew stronger.
After his training, Noah went back to his dorm, meditated in the system space, and focused on strengthening his magical core.
Monotonous as his routine was, this lifestyle suited a true wizard.
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The next day, after taking Potions with the Slytherins, Noah learned some troubling news: there had been another attack last night.
This time, the victim was Colin Creevey, a first-year Gryffindor who loved taking photographs.
Luckily for Colin, he had seen the Basilisk through his camera lens—which meant he had only been petrified, not killed. Unlike Moaning Myrtle, who hadn’t been as lucky decades ago.
Still, the attack caused a stir through the castle. Gryffindors, especially, were on edge.
"Noah, did you hear about it?" Harry asked over lunch, clearly distressed.
"Yeah, I heard," Noah replied. "Did you hear anything strange last night?"
"I did! But then an elf interrupted me," Harry said bitterly. "Right after that, Dumbledore and the others found Colin. Damn it—if my arm hadn’t been injured…"
Harry trailed off, clenching his jaw. He couldn’t shake the guilt. Lockhart had blasted his arm because of his own carelessness, and it kept Harry stuck in the Hospital Wing when he might have done something to stop it.
Maybe they could’ve found the monster. Maybe they could’ve caught the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets.
"It’s not your fault, Harry," said Evan from beside Noah. "No one’s happy about this. But you can’t blame yourself."
"But I—what if someone else—"
"Don't forget why we're here," Kenn interrupted, clearly annoyed.
"Right. Sorry…" Harry muttered, shoulders slumping.
"Alright, guys. Let’s get to class," Noah said, cutting off the tension. He paused, then added seriously, "The attacks won’t stop here. From now on, Harry, stay alert. If you hear anything—anything at all—you tell us. Immediately. Got it?"
Harry nodded, eyes burning with determination. "I will, Noah. I swear—I’ll find the one behind this."
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