Harry Potter 02 & The Chamber Of Secrets (Illustrated) (21 page)

Ginny Weasley, who sat next to Colin Creevey in Charms, was distraught, but Harry felt that Fred and George were going the wrong way about cheering her up. They were taking it in turns to cover themselves with fur or boils and jump out at her from behind statues. They only stopped when Percy, apoplectic with rage, told them he was going to write to Mrs Weasley and tell her Ginny was having nightmares.

Meanwhile, hidden from the teachers, a roaring trade in talismans, amulets and other protective devices was sweeping the school. Neville Longbottom bought a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal and a rotting newt-tail before the other Gryffindor boys pointed out that he was in no danger: he was a pure-blood, and therefore unlikely to be attacked.

‘They went for Filch first,’ Neville said, his round face fearful, ‘and everyone knows I’m almost a Squib.’

*

In the second week of December Professor McGonagall came around as usual, collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. Harry, Ron and Hermione signed her list; they had heard that Malfoy was staying, which struck them as very suspicious. The holidays would be the perfect time to use the Polyjuice Potion and try to worm a confession out of him.

Unfortunately, the potion was only half-finished. They still needed the Bicorn horn and the boomslang skin, and the only place they were going to get them was from Snape’s private stores. Harry privately felt he’d rather face Slytherin’s legendary monster than have Snape catch him robbing his office.

‘What we need,’ said Hermione briskly, as Thursday afternoon’s double Potions lesson loomed nearer, ‘is a diversion. Then one of us can sneak into Snape’s office and take what we need.’

Harry and Ron looked at her nervously.

‘I think I’d better do the actual stealing,’ Hermione continued, in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘You two will be expelled if you get in any more trouble, and I’ve got a clean record. So all you need to do is cause enough mayhem to keep Snape busy for five minutes or so.’

Harry smiled feebly. Deliberately causing mayhem in Snape’s potions class was about as safe as poking a sleeping dragon in the eye.

Potions lessons took place in one of the large dungeons. Thursday afternoon’s lesson proceeded in the usual way. Twenty cauldrons stood steaming between the wooden desks, on which stood brass scales and jars of ingredients. Snape prowled through the fumes, making waspish remarks about the Gryffindors’ work while the Slytherins sniggered appreciatively. Draco Malfoy, who was Snape’s favourite student, kept flicking puffer-fish eyes at Ron and Harry, who knew that if they retaliated they would get detention faster than you could say ‘unfair’.

Harry’s Swelling Solution was far too runny, but he had his mind on more important things. He was waiting for Hermione’s signal, and he hardly listened as Snape paused to sneer at his watery potion. When Snape turned and walked off to bully Neville, Hermione caught Harry’s eye and nodded.

Harry ducked swiftly down behind his cauldron, pulled one of Fred’s Filibuster fireworks out of his pocket and gave it a quick prod with his wand. The firework began to fizz and sputter. Knowing he had only seconds, Harry straightened up, took aim, and lobbed it into the air; it landed right on target in Goyle’s cauldron.

Goyle’s potion exploded, showering the whole class. People shrieked as splashes of the Swelling Solution hit them. Malfoy got a faceful and his nose began to swell like a balloon; Goyle blundered around, his hands over his eyes, which had expanded to the size of dinner plates, while Snape was trying to restore calm and find out what had happened. Through the confusion, Harry saw Hermione slip quietly out of the door.

‘Silence! SILENCE!’ Snape roared. ‘Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draught. When I find out who did this …’

Harry tried not to laugh as he watched Malfoy hurry forward, his head drooping with the weight of a nose like a small melon. As half the class lumbered up to Snape’s desk, some weighed down with arms like clubs, others unable to talk through gigantic puffed-up lips, Harry saw Hermione slide back into the dungeon, the front of her robes bulging.

When everyone had taken a swig of antidote and the various swellings had subsided, Snape swept over to Goyle’s cauldron and scooped out the twisted black remains of the firework. There was a sudden hush.

‘If I ever find out who threw this,’ Snape whispered, ‘I shall
make sure
that person is expelled.’

Harry arranged his face into what he hoped was a puzzled expression. Snape was looking right at him, and the bell which rang ten minutes later could not have been more welcome.

‘He knew it was me,’ Harry told Ron and Hermione, as they hurried back to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. ‘I could tell.’

Hermione threw the new ingredients into the cauldron and began to stir feverishly.

‘It’ll be ready in a fortnight,’ she said happily.

‘Snape can’t prove it was you,’ said Ron reassuringly to Harry. ‘What can he do?’

‘Knowing Snape, something foul,’ said Harry, as the potion frothed and bubbled.

*

A week later, Harry, Ron and Hermione were walking across the Entrance Hall when they saw a small knot of people gathered around the noticeboard, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas beckoned them over, looking excited.

‘They’re starting a Duelling Club!’ said Seamus. ‘First meeting tonight! I wouldn’t mind duelling lessons, they might come in handy one of these days …’

‘What, you reckon Slytherin’s monster can duel?’ said Ron, but he too read the sign with interest.

‘Could be useful,’ he said to Harry and Hermione as they went into dinner. ‘Shall we go?’

Harry and Hermione were all for it, so at eight o’clock that evening they hurried back to the Great Hall. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.

‘I wonder who’ll be teaching us?’ said Hermione, as they edged into the chattering crowd. ‘Someone told me Flitwick was a duelling champion when he was young, maybe it’ll be him.’

‘As long as it’s not -‘ Harry began, but he ended on a groan: Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, ‘Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!

‘Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little Duelling Club, to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions - for full details, see my published works.

‘Let me introduce my assistant Professor Snape,’ said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. ‘He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about duelling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry - you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!’

‘Wouldn’t it be good if they finished each other off?’ Ron muttered in Harry’s ear.

Snape’s upper lip was curling. Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at
him
like that he’d have been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

‘As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,’ Lockhart told the silent crowd. ‘On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on that,’ Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth.

‘One - two - three -‘

Both of them swung their wands up and over their shoulders. Snape cried:
‘Expelliarmus!’
There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: he flew backwards off the stage, smashed into the wall and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins cheered. Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. ‘Do you think he’s all right?’ she squealed through her fingers.

‘Who cares?’ said Harry and Ron together.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

‘Well, there you have it!’ he said, tottering back onto the platform. ‘That was a Disarming Charm - as you see, I’ve lost my wand - ah, thank you, Miss Brown. Yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy. However, I felt it would be instructive to let them see …’

Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, ‘Enough demonstrating! I’m going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you’d like to help me …’

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Snape reached Harry and Ron first.

‘Time to split up the dream team, I think,’ he sneered. ‘Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. Potter -‘

Harry moved automatically towards Hermione.

‘I don’t think so,’ said Snape, smiling coldly. ‘Mr Malfoy, come over here. Let’s see what you make of the famous Potter. And you, Miss Granger - you can partner Miss Bulstrode.’

Malfoy strutted over, smirking. Behind him walked a Slytherin girl who reminded Harry of a picture he’d seen in
Holidays with Hags.
She was large and square and her heavy jaw jutted aggressively. Hermione gave her a weak smile which she did not return.

‘Face your partners!’ called Lockhart, back on the platform, ‘and bow!’

Harry and Malfoy barely inclined their heads, not taking their eyes off each other.

‘Wands at the ready!’ shouted Lockhart. ‘When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent -
only
to disarm them - we don’t want any accidents. One … two … three …’

Harry swung his wand over his shoulder, but Malfoy had already started on ‘two’: his spell hit Harry so hard he felt as though he’d been hit over the head with a saucepan. He stumbled, but everything still seemed to be working, and wasting no more time, Harry pointed his wand straight at Malfoy and shouted,
‘Rictusempra!’

A jet of silver light hit Malfoy in the stomach and he doubled up, wheezing.

‘I said disarm only!’
Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as Malfoy sank to his knees; Harry had hit him with a Tickling Charm, and he could barely move for laughing. Harry hung back, with a vague feeling it would be unsporting to bewitch Malfoy while he was on the floor, but this was a mistake. Gasping for breath, Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry’s knees, choked,
‘Tarantallegra!’
and next second Harry’s legs had begun to jerk around out of his control in a kind of quickstep.

‘Stop! Stop!’ screamed Lockhart, but Snape took charge.

‘Finite Incantatem!’
he shouted; Harry’s feet stopped dancing, Malfoy stopped laughing and they were able to look up.

A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting; Ron was holding up an ashen-faced Seamus, apologising for whatever his broken wand had done; but Hermione and Millicent Bulstrode were still moving; Millicent had Hermione in a headlock and Hermione was whimpering in pain. both their wands lay forgotten on the floor. Harry leapt forward and pulled Millicent off. It was difficult; she was a lot bigger than he was.

‘Dear, dear,’ said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. ‘Up you get, Macmillan … careful there, Miss Fawcett … pinch it hard, it’ll stop bleeding in a second, Boot …

‘I think I’d better teach you how to
block
unfriendly spells,’ said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. ‘Let’s have a volunteer pair - Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you?’

‘A bad idea, Professor Lockhart,’ said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. ‘Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox.’ Neville’s round pink face went pinker. ‘How about Malfoy and Potter?’ said Snape with a twisted smile.

‘Excellent idea!’ said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Malfoy into the middle of the Hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.

‘Now, Harry,’ said Lockhart, ‘when Draco points his wand at you, you do
this.
’

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, ‘Whoops - my wand is a little over-excited.’

Snape moved closer to Malfoy, bent down and whispered something in his ear. Malfoy smirked, too. Harry looked nervously up at Lockhart and said, ‘Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?’

‘Scared?’ muttered Malfoy, so that Lockhart couldn’t hear him.

‘You wish,’ said Harry out of the corner of his mouth.

Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder. ‘Just do what I did, Harry!’

‘What, drop my wand?’

But Lockhart wasn’t listening.

‘Three - two - one - go!’ he shouted.

Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed,
‘Serpensortia!’

The end of his wand exploded. Harry watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.

‘Don’t move, Potter,’ said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. ‘I’ll get rid of it …’