Harry Potter and the Quidditch Island

Bundimums in the Basement

The second half of that day's training session was surprisingly fun. Jiggs started the different drills that would be used to test and sharpen their reflexes. Like the obstacle course, Jiggs' tests were more like games than work, making the second week on the Isle of Mann feel like some sort of summer camp, or, how Harry imagined summer camp would be, having never been.

Working in a much smaller group was also a lot more fun. Harry wasn't as worried about showing off and proving himself as he was about simply trying to play better. Jiggs' relaxed atmosphere made it a lot easier to improve, and it was at dinner that Harry realized how lucky he was.

He had just entered the front hall with Patch and Logan when the front door burst open and a large group of extremely wet people ambled in, looking tired and extremely unhappy. At the back of the group was Terry, who looked at Harry and sighed dismally.

"What happened to you?" Harry asked, looking him up and down as Terry wrung out the sleeves of his robes. Terry shook his head like a dog, spraying Harry with icy cold water, and took off his glasses, which had fogged up intensely.

"Chaser practice," Terry replied dully as he wiped them off and replaced them on his face. "The Beaters took the pitch, and the Keepers have their own little field to practice on, so we get to do our drills in the sea. Well, not in the sea," he said, noticing Harry's bewildered look. "Over top of the sea. We did our drills flying over the water, because it gave us a big space to practice on."

"But what about the storm?" Harry asked, taken aback. As if on cue, a bolt of lightening flashed, lightening up the hall, and thunder shook the manor. Terry looked out a window and shivered.

"Petalbee thought it would help build character to face some challenges, but I don't see how getting soaked to the bone is going to make me a better flyer."

They crossed the hall and entered the kitchen. Teddy waved them over, but his smile was extremely strained. He too was soaking wet, like the rest of the trainees in the cafeteria, and was eyeing Harry's dry clothes enviously. Teddy's unhappiness stopped abruptly as soon as a tray full of lasagna flew from the kitchen to their table. The entrance of the food was received with many cheers from the hungry campers. Harry looked toward the kitchen and saw Ron rushing around hurriedly, throwing different ingredients into pots and pans. He seemed to have given up trying to get the house-elves to obey him.

Harry looked around the cafeteria. Like Teddy and Terry, everyone seemed to be immensely relieved that the food had arrived. Most hadn't bothered to change into dry robes, which meant that the floor was covered in muddy water. It looked like Ron would have a lot of work to do cleaning up tonight. Harry's eyes strayed across the room to Amy Zampowick, who was sitting with Cory and his gang. She was eyeing Ron through the half window that led into the kitchen, and would laugh loudly and engage in animated conversation whenever he happened to look in her general direction. It looked to Harry like she was trying to make him jealous, though whether it was working was an entirely different story.

"So where were you today Harry?" Teddy asked once he had shoveled down a second piece of lasagna.

"We were in a room underneath the manor," Harry replied. "There was a big obstacle course, and we were doing drills and playing games that will sharpen our reflexes--" but he stopped when he saw the looks that Terry and Teddy were giving him. Terry sniffled and ran his fingers through his wet hair again while Teddy took a swig of milk without taking his narrowed eyes off of Harry. Harry shifted uncomfortably and turned to his dinner.

"What's he doing here?" Teddy asked suddenly. Both Harry and Terry turned around in their seats to see Mr. Chilesworth saunter into the room, looking malicious. He strode up to the kitchen and began yelling at Ron. Harry couldn't make out what he was saying, but Chilesworth was waving his bony fingers at the muddy floor of the cafeteria. Undoubtedly the front hall was covered in just as much dirt. Harry could see Cory sniggering behind Chilesworth's back. Amy looked torn between acting like Cory and rushing up to help Ron mop up the floor. When Chilesworth left, Ron's ears were red and his expression was murderous.

"Poor guy," Teddy said after swallowing another mouthful. "But at least his cooking is getting better." He let out a loud belch.

When dinner was over, Harry almost had to carry Terry upstairs, as he had nearly fallen asleep in his chocolate pudding. Back in the room, Terry fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, leaving Harry alone in the silence. Since he had nothing better to do, Harry decided to try to build up some muscle so that he would be able to take a few minutes off of his obstacle course time. He settled on doing some chin-ups, as that was skill he definitely didn't have and would certainly come in handy.

After surveying the room for a good place to practice, Harry walked over to the bunk bed, fastened his hands on the frame of Ron's upper bunk and, making sure that his legs were bent so that he couldn't stand on them, began to pull up with all of his might. To his dismay, he didn't move anywhere, and didn't progress much for another hour. He was finally able to pull himself up when he began to swing his legs from underneath him, building up momentum. After completing a few chin-ups, which took a lot more effort than he had expected, Harry let go of the bed and stretched out his arms, which were significantly more tired, but felt no stronger than they had before dinner.

"Come on Harry," he urged himself quietly. "You can do this."

He grabbed the bed again and let his legs fall out from under him. He took a deep breath and pulled with all his might. Inch by inch, he began to rise up until finally, his chin was resting on Ron's mattress. He couldn't help but let out a cry of victory.

"What are you doing?" Harry turned to see Ron standing at the doorway with a confused look on his face. Harry let go quickly and stood up, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Chin-ups," he replied. "We have to do this big obstacle course every day this week and I want to beat my time."

Ron looked at him doubtfully as he took off his shoes, which were covered in mud and soap bubbles.

"I'm surprised you have the energy to exercise right now. Most people are going to sleep."

"Well what do you want to do now?" Harry asked as he stretched out his shoulders and arms.

"Sleep," Ron replied blearily.

"But it's only nine o'clock!"

Ron looked at him bitterly.

"Just because your coach goes easy on you doesn't mean that the rest of them do. And Swan is ten times worse than anyone else here."

And with that, Ron hopped up onto the top bunk and crawled into bed, leaving Harry gaping up at him, looking thoroughly put out.

As the week continued, the storm became more violent, and Harry reminded himself everyday about how lucky he was to not only have an excellent coach but to be working inside as well. He didn't get to see much of Ron until after dinner, as his duties had increased significantly now that he had to be constantly mopping up mud and water. And though Ron's cleaning skills had improved, he was only one man doing the job of fifty or so house-elves. On Thursday afternoon, Terry joined Harry in the cafeteria about fifteen minutes later than normal, looking extremely frazzled and extremely wet.

"What happened this time?" Harry asked anxiously as Terry collapsed into the seat across from him.

"One of the Chasers almost drowned," he said gravely, looking Harry straight in the eye.

"You're kidding!" Teddy gasped, who was sitting next to Harry.

"How?" Harry wanted to know.

Terry sighed and shook his head.

"I knew that flying over the water was a bad idea. The waves were really high today, and one of us threw the Quaffle too low. This guy, Jack Gilliwog, the one with the buzz cut? He flew down to get it, and he caught it, but then this huge wave came crashing down on him." Terry smacked his hand onto the table enthusiastically. It wasn't often that he had an exciting story to tell. "Took his broom under and everything. Luckily, the broom floated to the top of the water and we were able to get it, but we thought that he might not make it back up. We were all really scared for a while; he was underwater for at least a minute. But he resurfaced finally and we were able to get him out of the water. I was just in the infirmary helping the nurse with him: he got some nasty cuts on the rocks underwater and he smacked his head real hard, but I think he'll be all right."

This shocking news really made Harry feel very thankful towards Coach Jiggs, which might have been why he spent so much of his energy that day and the next trying to give one hundred and ten percent on the exercises that they were doing. This left him very tired Friday evening when he, Logan, and Patch were climbing through the small passageway leading to the main floor of the manor.

"Can you believe that the Chasers are still flying over the water?" Logan was saying as he helped Harry and Patch out of the armoire concealing the secret passageway. "You'd think that after one of his group almost died that coach'd smarten up."

"That's odd," Patch remarked as they entered the front hall. A trio of house-elves was carrying a bucket of soapy water, splashing each other gleefully. "I've never seen house-elves doing work in full view of their patrons before."

"That's because you're used to the proper house-elves," Logan said, with a distinctly bitter note in his voice. "These ones are the black sheep of the species, so to speak."

"I know, but doesn't that assistant manager do all of the cleaning?" Patch said thoughtfully. "Breazley did he call himself? I haven't seen house-elves actually working here since we arrived."

"They aren't really working," Harry explained as one of the elves took a handful of bubbles and threw it at the others. "Ron just gives them a something to do while he cooks the meals. That way they don't get in his way, and can't make much of a mess. It's easier to clean up spilt water than dried up food."

At that moment, the house-elves started pointing and screeching in their direction.

"Dirt! Dirt!" They squealed and ran over with their bucket, dumping it on Harry, Logan, and Patch's shoes and then scrubbing them vigorously with large brushes.

"Our shoes aren't dirty!" Logan bellowed, but the house-elves merely laughed and threw bubbles at him.

"Get off!" Harry cried as one began to scratch his ankle with its long fingernails, apparently trying to get rid of dirt that only it could see. He kicked out his leg, sending the house-elf flying across the room and into the wall. It stood up and swayed, looking extremely dizzy. Logan and Patch followed suit, and soon there were three extremely dizzy and extremely angry house-elves shouting high-pitched curses at them.

"Let's go," Logan said quickly, giving a wary glance at the house-elves, who looked as though they would have charged at them if they could have stood up straight.

Now, this incident, while it annoyed Harry greatly, completely left his mind when he entered the cafeteria, partly because he had worked himself silly that day, leaving him too tired to remember much, and partly because of the smell of Ron's cooking, which had gotten a lot better over the past few weeks. The scents wafting through the opening in the wall were enough to make anyone forget their troubles. But the repercussions of attacking one of the rebellious house-elves of Codelsby Manor became apparent the next morning.

Harry knew something was odd Saturday morning as soon as he entered the cafeteria. Looking through the window leading into the kitchen, he saw that Ron was surrounded by house-elves, all being extremely obedient. For a second he thought that Ron might have finally gotten them under control, but a moment later Harry saw that Ron was looking just as confused as Harry felt. He was sitting extremely stiffly on a stool, watching the house-elves, all of whom were wearing identical good-natured smiles, as they stirred pancake batter and rolled sausages. Ron was watching them suspiciously, and when he looked over at Harry, he shrugged and shook his head. He clearly didn't know what had caused the house-elves' change of heart, but the reason became apparent as soon as they sent the dishes out to the tables.

"AAARRRGGHH!" Harry spun around to see Logan choking on a piece of sausage. A greenish gas was rising around him and Harry recognized the odor all too well. It was a Dungbomb.

At first it was silence as everyone watched Logan gasping for breath. But, seconds later, chaos erupted around the cafeteria. Dungbombs were exploding everywhere around the room, coming from inside of the cooked food. Screams and shouts were erupting from every camper that still had enough clean air around them to breathe. Harry noticed, before his eyes became too watery from the pungent smell to be able to see, that the largest concentrations of Dungbombs were around himself, Patch and Logan. From the screeching giggles coming from the kitchen, it was easy to figure out that the house-elves were getting them back for kicking three of their numbers across the hall the other day.

The shouts from the campers had attracted other guests from the manors, who hovered a few feet away from the door, trying to see into the room but at the same time avoid the repulsive smell. In an instant, Swan came barging across the threshold, and started screaming for Ron, but began coughing and spluttering and had to leave the room. Everyone else followed suit and soon the entrance hall was full of campers gasping for breath. Chilesworth was standing next to Swan, his eyes darting accusingly from one camper to another. Swan's left eye was twitching and a vein was popping in his forehead.

"Breazley," he growled through gritted teeth as a breathless Ron joined the group. "What the hell happened in there?" His voice was quiet but it was obvious that he was straining to keep from yelling at the top of his lungs.

"I don't know sir!" Ron exclaimed quickly. "The house-elves made the breakfast, I didn't think that there would be any harm in letting them do that, I thought they might have come around--"

"So you thought you could control them," Swan said icily. "How could anyone believe that a pathetic little slug like you could manage anything?"

"You must have! You hired me!" Ron spat at him. His face was red and his fists were clenched as if he were trying hard not to throw a punch.

With that comment Swan's eyes began to blaze with fury. He stared down at Ron, whose angry expression became almost frightened and colour drained from his face. Harry felt an intense wave of guilt come across him as he watched Swan glare down at Ron. He stood almost a foot taller than Ron and had an air of power about him that made even the bystanders shudder.

"Mr. Chilesworth," Swan said after a long pause, not taking his eyes off Ron, "as the cafeteria is your property, I believe that you have the right to choose Mr. Breazley's punishment."

Chilesworth's eyes, which had been darting from face to face, turned to Ron. After gazing him up and down, a wide grin crossed his face: not a happy grin, but a devious one that told Harry that he was going to make Ron's punishment as bad as he could.

"Let me see, let me see," he said softly. His snake like voice seemed to echo in the silent hall. "As a matter of fact I have just the task for our young Mister Breazley. There were a number of guests complaining about a foul stench of decay at the north end of the manor. If I am not mistaken, we are seeing the beginning of an infestation of bundimums in the basement. You will report to my office after dinner tonight, provided that you have tended to all of your duties. It will be your responsibility to get rid of them." He grinned again, and Harry didn't like the evil look in his eyes.

Swan continued to stare at Ron, whose pale face had now had a sickly greenish colour to it.

"You can all complete your breakfast in one of the manor's dining halls. Go down the hallway to the left of the downstairs bathrooms; the door to the dining room is the third on the right. And Mr. Breazley, do air out the cafeteria. I want it back in working order by lunch time." With that, he swept away with Chilesworth at his heels.

Harry walked over to Ron, who was still staring straight ahead, his mouth slightly open.

"Ron?" Harry said quietly. "Are you alright?"

Ron turned to him, closed his mouth and gulped.

"I hate the basement," he finally whispered. "Chilesworth knows that. That's why he sent me there."

"I'll help you," Harry said, trying to sound casual to hide his guilty feelings.

Ron shook his head.

"You don't want to," he replied. "You'd hate it."

"I do want to," Harry said firmly. "Besides, it's kinda my fault that you have to do this." Ron gave him a quizzical look and he continued. "I think the house-elves were trying to get back at me, Logan, and Patch for getting them mad the other day. They, well, they sort of attacked us, and so we kicked them..." he trailed off, seeing the expression on Ron's face, a cross between confusion and annoyance. "Look I'm really sorry, I'll help you out."

Ron paused, as if deciding whether or not to be mad at Harry. Finally, he shook his head and sighed.

"It wasn't your fault, I want to give them a good kick half the time anyways. But I would appreciate it if you helped out tonight. It would make it a lot easier."

With that, Ron pulled his robes up over his nose and reentered the cafeteria to start on the immense task of airing it out before lunch, leaving Harry alone in the hall. He soon headed towards the dining hall to finish his breakfast.

The rest of the day passed without much excitement. Ron had managed to air out the cafeteria by lunchtime, though it now smelt strongly of lemon scented cleansing fluids. As usual, Jiggs had the Seekers running the obstacle course and honing their reflexes. At the end of the day, Jiggs briefed them on what they could expect the next week.

"We're going to be out flying, so hopefully the storm will be over," Jiggs began. "Mainly, we're going to be working on what most people would call trick flying. I want you to be able to perform the types of flips, loops and amazing things that you might have seen professional flyers do. It's important for you to be able to get out of the way of those Bludgers, and you never know what you'll have to do to catch the Snitch, so you should be prepared for anything.

"Now, as Coach Kitimer taught you earlier this summer, having proper body proportions will help you balance yourself out on the broom. I can't stress how much being completely aerodynamic will make you that extra bit faster, which will be crucial in a game situation."

"So we're not going to be back down here?" Patch asked, trying to sound natural. Both Harry and Logan had to stifle their laughs. They both knew that Patch was only asking that because he felt stupid playing games everyday, as he was used to a more dignified approach to, well, everything.

Jiggs grinned.

"No, we won't be coming back here for another lesson, but, feel free to come down at any time to use the equipment and practice you stuff. This room is a part of the camp, so you won't have to worry about guests getting in your way. And if you want to tell the others about it you can, though it wasn't really designed for them specifically. Don't forget the stuff you've been learning here," he said, his eyes drifting towards the large obstacle course. "It will come in handy next week."

It was halfway through dinner before Harry remembered about helping Ron out in the basement that evening. However, it wasn't until almost nine thirty that Ron came to fetch him from their room, where Harry was passing the time reading a very interesting library book, When Beaters Go Bad: What Really Happened when the Finches Faced the Meteorites. The book gave a detailed account of the insanely dangerous and controversial exploits of the Beaters from both the American Fitchburg Finches and the Canadian Moose Jaw Meteorites when they had faced each other in 1942, and the graphic pictures of both team's Seekers made Harry wonder how serious he really was about playing professionally. Thankfully, Ron arrived before Harry could begin to doubt himself too much.

"You ready?" Ron asked, and Harry couldn't help but noticed there was a slight quiver in his voice.

Harry relied on Ron to lead him to Mr. Chilesworth's office, as Harry had never been there before, and didn't really care to either. Ron led him down to the front hall and turned down the hallway to the right of the large staircase. There was a sign on that read 'Check-In and Information' with a large golden arrow pointing down the hall. Chilesworth's office was the first door on the left. It was divided into two smaller rooms: a large faded maroon couch and a small table littered with magazines sat facing a wall with a large rectangular window that looked in on a small, neat office with shelves stacked with books and papers. Ron gestured for Harry to sit down on the couch. Chilesworth was sitting at his desk, writing in a large book.

"He doesn't like to be disturbed while he's working," Ron whispered in a voice that was barely audible. Harry noticed that Ron was sitting very stiffly, as though trying not to make any sudden movements.

Harry watched Chilesworth writing away in his large book. The only sounds in the room were the scratching of Chilesworth's pen and the ticking of a clock on the wall. Harry picked up one of the magazines and began to flip through it absentmindedly, glancing at pictures of witches and wizards smiling toothily and showing off plates of food and odd contraptions that were advertised as being miracle cleaners. After about fifteen minutes, Chilesworth slammed his book shut, causing both Harry and Ron to jump. Chilesworth looked up at them with narrowed eyes and bent down under his desk, searching for something. When he emerged, it was revealed that he was holding a large bucket full of cleansing solution.

"Here," he said as he walked through the door that separated his office from the waiting room and dropped the bucket heavily onto the table. "As you are both underage, you shouldn't be using magic this summer." His eyes flashed dangerously at Ron. "You will be leaving your wands here and performing your tasks the Muggle way."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Ron elbowed him painfully in the ribs and handed over his wand. Chilesworth grinned evilly as Harry did the same. He motioned for them to follow him as he exited the room.

"If it's so wrong for me to use magic this summer, why haven't I heard from the Ministry?" Ron hissed at Chilesworth's back as they followed him down the halls.

"I don't know," Harry whispered back thoughtfully. "They threatened to expel me a few years ago, and you say you haven't gotten so much as a warning?"

"Nope," Ron replied, though Harry noticed that he was again glancing out the windows. "I've been trying not to, really I have. That's why it takes me so long to do all of my chores, because I don't use magic. But sometimes..." His voice trailed off, and they continued through the manor in silence.

Chilesworth led them through many halls that Harry had not yet been in, though, looking through doorways he recognized many of the rooms as ones that he had seen from the secret passageway between the walls. Now that he thought about it, Harry couldn't remember ever having seen a staircase leading downstairs, besides the one in the armoire that took him to the training room that he had been using all week.

Chilesworth turned down a corridor that was noticeably narrower than the rest of the hallways, and rather dimly lit. There were no pictures on the walls, no medieval decorations like there were in the rest of the manor, no doors leading off to other rooms; the only thing in the hall besides the boys and the curator was a large looming suit of armor at the end of the corridor. It was made of a metal that was almost black, and it was holding what looked like a long jousting stick, though instead of ending in a sharp point the stick was bent in a strange S-like pattern.

"Open the door," Chilesworth barked at the suit, which confused Harry as he couldn't see a door anywhere, but the suit seemed to understand. It flipped the jousting stick so that the curved tip was pointing at the floor. Looking down, Harry noticed that there was a small hole in the wood. The suit put the tip of his stick into the hole, rotated it once, and pulled upwards. A large square of floor was lifted up with it, revealing an old wooden staircase leading down into a dark abyss. Chilesworth turned to Harry and Ron.

"I assume you know what bundimums are?" he asked them sharply.

They nodded. They had both read about them in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Bundimums looked a lot like green fungus with eyes and they secreted a liquid that rots away at the foundation of a dwelling. But the book had told them that to get rid of them you must use a Scouring Charm, an action that would require the use of a wand. Chilesworth seemed to know what was going through Harry's mind.

"Since I forbid you to use magic this evening, you will have to scrub them using Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess-Remover, and these." He held up two large awkwardly shaped scrub brushes that Harry doubted he'd be able to hold with one hand. "And you had better make sure you don't miss a single one," he glowered at them. "If they manage to completely rot away the foundation of the manor I will hold you two personally responsible." With that, he swished his arm, motioning for them to enter the basement.

Ron went first and Harry followed close behind, not wanting to get lost. He gone ten steps down when Chilesworth slammed the trap door closed and they were surrounded by complete darkness. Harry stopped, unable to see where he was going.

"Uh, Ron?" Harry called out cautiously. His voice echoed eerily around him. In the distance he could hear a steady drip of water.

"Yeah?" he heard Ron's voice coming from somewhere ahead of him. By the sounds of it he had continued down the staircase.

"I can't see anything," Harry called back. He braved a step forward but jumped backwards as his foot sunk through it with a loud crack.

"Just wait a moment," Ron yelled up at him. By the sound of the echo he was a lot further down the stairs. "I can turn on the light from down-OUCH!" There was a loud bang that echoed all around them. Harry heard Ron muttering under his breath. A few seconds later Harry heard the squeak of rusty metal and light filled the basement. Well, filled is a bit of an exaggeration. There was light so that you could see, but not very well.

"Watch your head," Ron warned him as he massaged a spot over his right eye. "There's a pipe." He pointed at a large metal pipe that crossed over the stairs. It had a large dent in it. Harry walked carefully down the rest of the crumbling old stairs, making sure to avoid the large hole that he had put in one of the steps.

The basement was made of moldy old stone. There was water dripping from more than one place, and each drop of water echoed loudly. The passageways in the basement were very narrow and seemed to branch off in many odd directions. On the wall there was a large rusted metal lever that appeared to be what had triggered the lights to go on. The light in the basement was coming from small oil lamps that were hanging on the walls. As these lamps were very small, and spaced few and far between, there were many areas between two lamps where it was dark and little could be seen. The lamps seemed to flicker a lot, Harry noticed, even though the air was deathly still in the basement. The flickering of the dim lights was casting eerie shadows on the walls.

"This doesn't look anything like any of the basement rooms that I've been in," Harry said as he joined Ron, who was still rubbing his tender forehead.

"There's a lot of rooms down here that you get to through secret passages," Ron replied, casting shifty looks around the basement. "And they're made for guests so they look like every other room in the manor. But this part of the basement," he waved vaguely at the moldy walls and dim flickering lights, "is for storage mainly. There's all sorts of weird stuff down here." He leaned closer to Harry with a very serious expression on his face. "I don't know how the old managers ran this camp, but I've seen some really freaky stuff."

He looked around warily, as though someone might hear him and get angry. Harry looked at him quizzically; Ron seemed very nervous about something, though what it was Harry did know.

"I guess we should get started then," Ron continued. "Chilesworth said the bundimums were in the north end of the manor? Well north's this way." He pointed straight ahead and began to walk forward slowly, with a twisted expression on his face as though he'd rather be pickling rat brains than this.

As they walked forward, Harry became aware that the basement was much colder than the manor. The air around them was thick and heavy, and everything was covered in dust. Harry was constantly whipping his head around to see what was moving, but every time it was the shadows from the flickering lamps. Nonetheless, Harry had the familiar sensation that he was being watched.

Next to him, Ron stopped. Harry looked over and saw that Ron's face was white underneath his freckles. He turned back to the hallway and squinted. Something was shining slightly, reflecting the light of the lamps. Harry soon realized why Ron hated the basement so much. Dead ahead was a giant spider-web that covered half of the hall. The threads were strange, thicker than normal, as though a very big spider had spun the web. Harry shook his head; Ron was terrified of spiders.

"Ron, I can just knock it down," Harry said, trying to hide his amusement. Ron shook his head vigorously.

"No, that would just attract it to us. It might think we were something caught in its web"

"Well can we take a different passageway?" Harry suggested, trying to be sympathetic to Ron's phobia. Still, Ron shook his head.

"No, it would take a long time. This is the fastest way to get where we're going and the less time we spend here, the better."

Harry looked at Ron, feeling very frustrated.

"Well what do you suggest?"

Ron paused, and Harry could tell that he was thinking very hard.

"Well, it IS only blocking half of the hall," he said slowly. "We could try to squeeze by it, but be careful not to touch it, I don't want a giant spider falling on my head. And you can go first."

Harry shook his head exasperatedly and flattened himself against the left side of the corridor. Carefully, he stepped over the bottom of the web and emerged on the other side, perfectly unscathed, but a little dusty. He waved at Ron, trying to convey this to him.

Unfortunately, Ron still doubted himself and it took another five minutes for him to muster up the courage to sidle by the massive cobweb. Harry was amazed that a sixteen year old could be so afraid of a spider. They continued forward in a tense silence.

As they traveled deeper into the basement, it became clear that it was not as empty as it had first appeared. There were large dusty boxes lining the walls. Most were closed, but some had rips and tears in them (as well as holes that looked as though they were chewed through). Harry caught a few glimpses of what was inside, though he had no clue what those things could be used for. He stopped concentrating on them when he saw what distinctly looked like a mace with foot long spikes dangling from a box that had originally been for cleansing fluid. There was a lot of mismatched furniture in the basement too, and some low hanging pipes that Harry and Ron had to duck under.

"Ack!" Harry jumped and turned around to look at Ron, who had just uttered a cry that was a cross between shock and disgust. He pointed at the floor, and when Harry looked down to see what he was pointing at, his face broke out into an expression that matched Ron's outburst. Crawling across the floor were at least two hundred massive centipedes. A shiver of disgust ran threw Harry's body and he began to feel extremely itchy, as though the bugs were climbing up on him. Ron was kicking his feet, as the centipedes were trying to crawl into his shoes. Just then, a big fat bug fell down and landed on Harry's glasses. He looked up to see even more of the many legged insects pouring out of a hole in the wall. Harry shook his head frantically, trying to dislodge the disgusting creature.

"Let's get out of here!" Ron cried, and he didn't have to say it twice. In an instant they were both running at top speed away from the hundreds of centipedes. After getting a comfortable distance away from the bugs Harry and Ron both stopped, gasping and scratching themselves as though there were still bugs all over them.

"The entire basement's like that," Ron said once they had both caught their breath. "When it was built, Valdertroth put a spell on the upper floors so that pests like bugs and rats couldn't get in, but I guess he forgot about the basement. So there are big colonies of ants, centipedes, rats, maggots and," he shuddered, "spiders."

"That's disgusting," Harry said, and he realized that he was shivering. "How did you spend an entire week down here?" Ron shuddered again.

"Try dealing with it when the lights are all off," he said shakily. "Chilesworth wouldn't let me keep them on. I barely got two hours of sleep that week."

They continued forward in silence, their footsteps echoing on the hard stone floor. The steady dripping of water continued as they walked further into the darkness. Harry still had the prickling sensation on the back of his neck, and felt as though someone was watching him. More than once, he though he saw something moving in the darkness besides the dancing shadows. After a few tense minutes, they found themselves facing a wall; they could no longer go forward, only left or right.

"Well, this is as far as we can go," Ron said finally. He set the bucket down, pulled out a scrub brush and poured some of the cleansing solution onto it. Harry did the same.

"Now what?" he asked Ron, who was looking around anxiously.

"Now we--" but Ron stopped. Harry turned his head to see what he had spotted. At first, it appeared to be a very moldy patch of wall, but then Harry noticed the large yellow eyes that were protruding from the center. Quick as lightning, Ron leapt forward with his brush hand outstretched and grabbed the moldy green thing. He held it flat against the wall with his left hand while his right scrubbed it vigorously. The bundimum emitted high-pitched squeaks, like a mouse, but soon enough its body began to break up into small pieces. When Ron stopped scrubbing, all that was left of the bundimum was a round fuzzy green blob, no larger than a Galleon, with two sad looking yellow eyes. Ron allowed it to scuttle away on spindly legs, up the wall and into a hole that had water dripping out of it. Harry could see that it led outside, into the storm.

"It won't be back," Ron said, standing up and dusting off his hands. "That's what you've got to do."

They both set off to work, searching the north end of the manor for more bundimums. Harry found one quickly, though catching it was another story. It took him nearly ten minutes to chase it down, as its spindly legs allowed it to move at incredible speeds. It would have been much easier to catch if Harry wasn't preoccupied looking out for centipedes and other disgusting creatures. It didn't help that the odor the bundimum was secreting made it hard for him to breathe.

As time passed, the number of bundimums that they were finding was decreasing significantly.

"Why don't you start checking down there?" Ron said, nodding his head down the only hall that they hadn't checked as he pinned down another bundimum. "If you don't find anything, I think we'll be done."

Harry nodded, and started off without hesitation. He might not have had the same fear of bugs that Ron had, but the basement was disgusting nonetheless and he had no desire to have maggots crawling all over him. Harry's robes were grey from crawling around in the dust that lay almost an inch thick on the floors and walls, and the steady dripping of water was becoming extremely agitating.

He kept walking down the corridor, his eyes peeled for any sign of something living, but there was nothing. The corridor opened up into a room, but Harry couldn't tell how big it was. The only lanterns were against the wall that he was walking along, so Harry couldn't tell how large the room actually was; all he could see was blackness. He peered into the darkness; the feeling that something was watching him was even stronger here. The silence was almost painful.

Suddenly, a loud thump made Harry jump almost two feet into the air. He reached into his pockets to pull out his wand, but remembered that he had left it upstairs with Chilesworth. Feeling extremely vulnerable, Harry spun around and raised his fists, which seemed like the only thing to do.

"Would you help me up?" Harry heard Ron grunt. He looked down to see Ron sprawled on the floor, his foot stuck in an old wooden box. Harry gave a great sigh of relief as he stooped down and helped Ron up. Ron shuddered; he looked extremely distressed.

"What are you doing in here?" Ron said shakily, looking around at the black room.

"This is where the hall ends," Harry replied quietly. Somehow, it didn't seem right to talk loudly. "What happened to you?"

"I saw something moving, thought it might be a bundimum," Ron answered bitterly. "So I reached down, you know, to pin it down, but it wasn't a bundimum." He shuddered. "It was maggots. Lots of them, all squirming and wriggling, and then I got my foot stuck in this box. Is there anything in here?"

"I didn't look, I can't see," Harry said, feeling rather stupid. Ron began to shake his foot, trying to get the box off. It went flying into the center of the room and was swallowed by the darkness. It landed, but instead of clattering against the ground, it sounded like the box hit something soft, something soft that seemed to gasp as though the wind had been knocked out of it. Harry and Ron looked at each other.

"Do bundimums breathe?"

Ron's eyes widened and picked up one of the oil lamp off the wall. Nervously, he lifted it and pointed it towards the walls and ceiling, looking for patches of greenish fungus, but the walls were bare.

"Point it lower, the box flew into the middle of the room," Harry whispered, grabbing Ron's arm and pulling it down so that it illuminated the middle of the room. Shapes became visible as they caught the weak light of the lamp, but then, amongst the silhouettes of boxes and tables, two large eyes shone red.

Harry and Ron both screamed at the tops of their lungs. They didn't wait around to see what was there. Ron dropped the lamp and both boys bolted out of the room and ran as fast as they could through the twisting passageways that made up the basement.

"Wait!" Ron gasped suddenly, stopping in his tracks. Harry ran into him and then both fell over onto the ground. "Wait, I think we took a wrong turn! Do you remember if we passed that big wooden table with a broken leg yet?"

"I don't know," Harry snapped angrily, "I was too busy running for my life!"

"Great!" Ron yelled. "I don't know where we are. This is just--" but he stopped, listening. Harry listened too. There was a sound, like heavy footsteps, and it was getting louder. Harry and Ron both looked at each other, Ron's face was white with terror. They scrambled to their feet and started running again, not paying attention to where they were going. But finally, they found themselves facing the giant spider-web that had scared Ron so much. Ron began to scream loudly, but to Harry's surprise he sped up and ran straight through it. In a few moments they were scrambling up the wooden stairs and slamming the trap door closed behind them.

"Ron! RON!" Harry yelled. "You can stop screaming!" His friend's mouth was open wide and he was frantically trying to get rid of the cobwebs that hung from his dirty robes.

"What WAS that?!" Ron shouted, wiping the sweat off his face. He was very pale.

"I don't know," Harry replied, who was still shaking. "Let's just get our wands and go to bed."

Thankfully, Chilesworth had already gone to bed by the time Harry and Ron reached his office, so they didn't have to explain why they hadn't returned the bucket full of cleaning supplies. They picked their wands up off of his desk and headed gratefully upstairs to their room.

"Do you know what that was?" Harry asked, glancing nervously down the empty halls. The lights were dim and no one was around.

"No," Ron said, "maybe it was a...a rat, a really big rat." He shuddered again and they quickened their pace. Harry silently vowed never to go anywhere near the basement again.

"You know what?" Ron said finally once they had both changed into their pajamas. "It's all their fault, those stupid house-elves. I'm gonna get back at them if it's the last thing I do."