Harry Potter 02 & The Chamber Of Secrets (Illustrated) (10 page)

Professor McGonagall raised her wand again and pointed it at Snape’s desk. A large plate of sandwiches, two silver goblets and a jug of iced pumpkin juice appeared with a
pop.

‘You will eat in here and then go straight up to your dormitory,’ she said. ‘I must also return to the feast.’

When the door had closed behind her, Ron let out a long, low whistle.

‘I thought we’d had it,’ he said, grabbing a sandwich.

‘So did I,’ said Harry, taking one too.

‘Can you believe our luck, though?’ said Ron thickly through a mouthful of chicken and ham. ‘Fred and George must’ve flown that car five or six times and no Muggle ever saw
them.
‘ He swallowed and took another huge bite. ‘
Why
couldn’t we get through the barrier?’

Harry shrugged. ‘We’ll have to watch our step from now on, though,’ he said, taking a grateful swig of pumpkin juice. ‘Wish we could’ve gone up to the feast …’

‘She didn’t want us showing off,’ said Ron sagely. ‘Doesn’t want people to think it’s clever, arriving by flying car.’

When they had eaten as many sandwiches as they could (the plate kept re-filling itself) they rose and left the office, treading the familiar path to Gryffindor Tower. The castle was quiet; it seemed that the feast was over. They walked past muttering portraits and creaking suits of armour, and climbed narrow flights of stone stairs, until at last they reached the passage where the secret entrance to Gryffindor Tower was hidden, behind an oil painting of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

‘Password?’ she said, as they approached.

‘Er -‘ said Harry.

They didn’t know the new year’s password, not having met a Gryffindor Prefect yet, but help came almost immediately; they heard hurrying feet behind them and turned to see Hermione dashing towards them.

‘
There
you are! Where have you
been?
The most
ridiculous
rumours - someone said you’d been expelled for crashing a flying
car.
’

‘Well, we haven’t been expelled,’ Harry assured her.

‘You’re not telling me you
did
fly here?’ said Hermione, sounding almost as severe as Professor McGonagall.

‘Skip the lecture,’ said Ron impatiently, ‘and tell us the new password.’

‘It’s “wattlebird”,’ said Hermione impatiently, ‘but that’s not the point -‘

Her words were cut short, however, as the portrait of the fat lady swung open and there was a sudden storm of clapping. It looked as though the whole of Gryffindor house was still awake, packed into the circular common room, standing on the lop-sided tables and squashy armchairs, waiting for them to arrive. Arms reached through the portrait hole to pull Harry and Ron inside, leaving Hermione to scramble in after them.

‘Brilliant!’ yelled Lee Jordan. ‘Inspired! What an entrance! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people’ll be talking about that one for years!’

‘Good on you,’ said a fifth-year Harry had never spoken to; someone was patting him on the back as though he’d just won a marathon. Fred and George pushed their way to the front of the crowd and said together, ‘Why couldn’t you’ve called us back, eh?’ Ron was scarlet in the face, grinning embarrassedly, but Harry could see one person who didn’t look happy at all. Percy was visible over the heads of some excited first-years, and he seemed to be trying to get near enough to start telling them off. Harry nudged Ron in the ribs and nodded in Percy’s direction. Ron got the point at once.

‘Got to get upstairs - bit tired,’ he said, and the two of them started pushing their way towards the door on the other side of the room, which led to a spiral staircase and the dormitories.

‘Night,’ Harry called back to Hermione, who was wearing a scowl just like Percy’s.

They managed to get to the other side of the common room, still having their backs slapped, and gained the peace of the staircase. They hurried up it, right to the top, and at last reached the door of their old dormitory, which now had a sign on it saying ‘second-years’. They entered the familiar, circular room, with its five four-posters hung with red velvet and its high, narrow windows. Their trunks had been brought up for them and placed at the ends of their beds.

Ron grinned guiltily at Harry.

‘I know I shouldn’t’ve enjoyed that or anything, but -‘

The dormitory door flew open and in came the other second-year Gryffindor boys, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom.

‘Unbelievable!’
beamed Seamus.

‘Cool,’ said Dean.

‘Amazing,’ said Neville, awestruck.

Harry couldn’t help it. He grinned, too.

The next day, however, Harry barely grinned once. Things started to go downhill from breakfast in the Great Hall. The four long house tables were laden with tureens of porridge, plates of kippers, mountains of toast and dishes of eggs and bacon, beneath the enchanted ceiling (today, a dull, cloudy grey). Harry and Ron sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Hermione, who had her copy of
Voyages with Vampires
propped open against a milk jug. There was a slight stiffness in the way she said ‘Morning’ which told Harry that she was still disapproving of the way they had arrived. Neville Longbottom, on the other hand, greeted them cheerfully. Neville was a round-faced and accident-prone boy with the worst memory of anyone Harry had ever met.

‘Post’s due any minute - I think Gran’s sending on a few things I forgot.’

Harry had only just started his porridge when, sure enough, there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling the Hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd. A big, lumpy parcel bounced off Neville’s head, and a second later, something large and grey fell into Hermione’s jug, spraying them all with milk and feathers.

‘Errol!’
said Ron, pulling the bedraggled owl out by the feet. Errol slumped, unconscious, onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp red envelope in his beak.

‘Oh no -‘ Ron gasped.

‘It’s all right, he’s still alive,’ said Hermione, prodding Errol gently with the tip of her finger.

‘It’s not that - it’s
that.
’

Ron was pointing at the red envelope. It looked quite ordinary to Harry, but Ron and Neville were both looking at it as though they expected it to explode.

‘What’s the matter?’ said Harry.

‘She’s - she’s sent me a Howler,’ said Ron faintly.

‘You’d better open it, Ron,’ said Neville, in a timid whisper. ‘It’ll be worse if you don’t. My Gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and -‘ he gulped, ‘it was horrible.’

Harry looked from their petrified faces to the red envelope.

‘What’s a Howler?’ he said.

But Ron’s whole attention was fixed on the letter, which had begun to smoke at the corners.

‘Open it,’ Neville urged. ‘It’ll all be over in a few minutes …’

Ron stretched out a shaking hand, eased the envelope from Errol’s beak and slit it open. Neville stuffed his fingers in his ears. A split second later, Harry knew why. He thought for a moment it
had
exploded; a roar of sound filled the huge Hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

‘… STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY’D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT HAD GONE …’

Mrs Weasley’s yells, a hundred times louder than usual, made the plates and spoons rattle on the table, and echoed deafeningly off the stone walls. People throughout the Hall were swivelling around to see who had received the Howler and Ron sank so low in his chair that only his crimson forehead could be seen.

‘… LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN’T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED …’

Harry had been wondering when his name was going to crop up. He tried very hard to look as though he couldn’t hear the voice that was making his eardrums throb.

‘… ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED, YOUR FATHER’S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT’S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME.’

A ringing silence fell. The red envelope, which had dropped from Ron’s hand, burst into flames and curled into ashes. Harry and Ron sat stunned, as though a tidal wave had just passed over them. A few people laughed and gradually, a babble of talk broke out again.

Hermione closed
Voyages with Vampires
and looked down at the top of Ron’s head.

‘Well, I don’t know what you expected, Ron, but you -‘

‘Don’t tell me I deserved it,’ snapped Ron.

Harry pushed his porridge away. His insides were burning with guilt. Mr Weasley was facing an inquiry at work. After all Mr and Mrs Weasley had done for him over the summer …

But he had no time to dwell on this; Professor McGonagall was moving along the Gryffindor table, handing out timetables. Harry took his, and saw that they had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs first.

Harry, Ron and Hermione left the castle together, crossed the vegetable patch and made for the greenhouses, where the magical plants were kept. At least the Howler had done one good thing: Hermione seemed to think they had now been punished enough and was being perfectly friendly again.

As they neared the greenhouses they saw the rest of the class standing outside, waiting for Professor Sprout. Harry, Ron and Hermione had only just joined them when she came striding into view across the lawn, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart. Professor Sprout’s arms were full of bandages, and with another twinge of guilt, Harry spotted the Whomping Willow in the distance, several of its branches now in slings.

Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes, and her fingernails would have made Aunt Petunia faint. Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trimming.

‘Oh, hello there!’ Lockhart called, beaming around at the assembled students. ‘Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don’t want you running away with the idea that I’m better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels …’

‘Greenhouse Three today, chaps!’ said Professor Sprout, who was looking distinctly disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self.

There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in Greenhouse One before - Greenhouse Three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Harry caught a whiff of damp earth and fertiliser, mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling. He was about to follow Ron and Hermione inside when Lockhart’s hand shot out.

‘Harry! I’ve been wanting a word - you don’t mind if he’s a couple of minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?’

Judging by Professor Sprout’s scowl, she did mind, but Lockhart said, ‘That’s the ticket,’ and closed the greenhouse door in her face.

‘Harry,’ said Lockhart, his large white teeth gleaming in the sunlight as he shook his head. ‘Harry, Harry, Harry.’

Completely nonplussed, Harry said nothing.

‘When I heard - well, of course, it was all my fault. Could have kicked myself.’

Harry had no idea what he was talking about. He was about to say so when Lockhart went on, ‘Don’t know when I’ve been more shocked. Flying a car to Hogwarts! Well, of course, I knew at once why you’d done it. Stood out a mile. Harry, Harry,
Harry.
’

It was remarkable how he could show every one of those brilliant teeth even when he wasn’t talking.

‘Gave you a taste for publicity, didn’t I?’ said Lockhart. ‘Gave you the
bug.
You got onto the front page of the paper with me and you couldn’t wait to do it again.’

‘Oh - no, Professor, see -‘

‘Harry, Harry, Harry,’ said Lockhart, reaching out and grasping his shoulder. ‘I
understand.
Natural to want a bit more once you’ve had that first taste - and I blame myself for giving you that, because it was bound to go to your head - but see here, young man, you can’t start
flying cars
to try and get yourself noticed. Just calm down, all right? Plenty of time for all that when you’re older. Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking! “It’s all right for him, he’s an internationally famous wizard already!” But when I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now. In fact, I’d say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven’t they? All that business with He Who Must Not Be Named!’ He glanced at the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead. ‘I know, I know, it’s not quite as good as winning
Witch Weekly’s
Most-Charming-Smile Award five times in a row, as I have - but it’s a
start,
Harry, it’s a
start.
’

He gave Harry a hearty wink and strode off. Harry stood stunned for a few seconds, then, remembering he was supposed to be in the greenhouse, he opened the door and slid inside.