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Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets In a tiny junk shop full of broken wands, lopsided brass scales, and old cloaks covered in potion stains they found Percy, deeply immersed in a small and deeply boring book called Prefects Who Gained Power.
“A study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers,” Ron read
aloud off the back cover. “That sounds fascinating...”
“Go away,” Percy snapped.
“ ’Course, he’s very ambitious, Percy, he’s got it all planned out... He wants to be Minister of Magic ...” Ron told Harry and Hermione in an undertone as they left Percy to it.
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“They’ll be back,” said Ron as they watched the gnomes disappear into the hedge on the other side of the field. “They love it here... Dad’s too soft with them; he thinks they’re funny...”
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“I’m the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley,” said Malfoy, smugly. “Everyone’s just been admiring the brooms my father’s bought our team.”
Ron gaped, openmouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.
“Good, aren’t they?” said Malfoy smoothly. “But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them.”
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“A deathday party?” said Hermione keenly when Harry joined her and Ron in the common room. “I bet there aren’t many living people who can say they’ve been to one of those — it’ll be fascinating!”
“Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?” said Ron, who was halfway through his Potions homework and grumpy. “Sounds dead depressing to me...”
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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.
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“So,” he said softly, “the train isn’t good enough for the famous Harry Potter and his faithful sidekick, Weasley. Wanted to arrive with a bang, did we, boys?”
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“She’s not dead, Argus,” he said softly.
Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented.
“Not dead?” choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs. Norris. “But why’s she all — all stiff and frozen?”
“She has been Petrified,” said Dumbledore (“Ah! I thought so!” said Lockhart).
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“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 —” [...]
Fred and George pushed their way to the front of the crowd and said together, “Why couldn’t we’ve come in the car, eh?”
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“It’s a bit small,” said Ron quickly. “Not like that room you had
with the Muggles. And I’m right underneath the ghoul in the attic;
he’s always banging on the pipes and groaning...”
But Harry, grinning widely, said, “This is the best house I’ve ever
been in.”
Ron’s ears went pink.
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“Tut, tut — hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully — I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples — though I wouldn’t say no to a large bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky!”
He gave them another roguish wink. Ron was now staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her name.
“... but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions — good girl! In fact” — he flipped her paper over — “full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?”
Hermione raised a trembling hand.
“Excellent!” beamed Lockhart. “Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so — to business —”
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English