Harry Potter 02 & The Chamber Of Secrets (Illustrated) (28 page)

‘That’d be a cheerful visit,’ said Ron. ‘Hello, Hagrid, tell us,have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately?’

In the end, they decided that they wouldn’t say anything to Hagrid unless there was another attack, and as more and more days went by with no whisper from the disembodied voice, they became hopeful that they would never need to talk to him about why he had been expelled. It was now nearly four months since Justin and Nearly Headless Nick had been Petrified, and nearly everybody seemed to think that the attacker, whoever it was, had retired for good. Peeves had finally got bored of his ‘Oh Potter, you rotter’ song, Ernie Macmillan asked Harry quite politely to pass a bucket of leaping toadstools in Herbology one day, and in March several of the Mandrakes threw a loud and raucous party in greenhouse three. This made Professor Sprout very happy.

‘The moment they start trying to move into each other’s pots, we’ll know they’re fully mature,’ she told Harry. ‘Then we’ll be able to revive those poor people in the hospital wing.’

*

The second-years were given something new to think about during their Easter holidays. The time had come to choose their subjects for the third year, a matter that Hermione, at least, took very seriously.

‘It could affect our whole future,’ she told Harry and Ron, as they pored over lists of new subjects, marking them with ticks.

‘I just want to give up Potions,’ said Harry.

‘We can’t,’ said Ron gloomily. ‘We keep all our old subjects, or I’d’ve ditched Defence Against the Dark Arts.’

‘But that’s very important!’ said Hermione, shocked.

‘Not the way Lockhart teaches it,’ said Ron. ‘I haven’t learned anything from him except not to set pixies loose.’

Neville Longbottom had been sent letters from all the witches and wizards in his family, all giving him different advice on what to choose. Confused and worried, he sat reading the subject lists with his tongue poking out, asking people whether they thought Arithmancy sounded more difficult than Study of Ancient Runes. Dean Thomas, who, like Harry, had grown up with Muggles, ended up closing his eyes and jabbing his wand at the list, then picking the subjects it landed on. Hermione took nobody’s advice but signed up for everything.

Harry smiled grimly to himself at the thought of what Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would say if he tried to discuss his career in wizardry with them. Not that he didn’t get any guidance: Percy Weasley was eager to share his experience.

‘Depends where you want to
go,
Harry,’ he said. ‘It’s never too early to think about the future, so I’d recommend Divination. People say Muggle Studies is a soft option, but I personally think wizards should have a thorough understanding of the non-magical community, particularly if they’re thinking of working in close contact with them - look at my father, he has to deal with Muggle business all the time. My brother Charlie was always more of an outdoor type, so he went for Care of Magical Creatures. Play to your strengths, Harry.’

But the only thing Harry felt he was really good at was Quidditch. In the end, he chose the same new subjects as Ron, feeling that if he was rubbish at them, at least he’d have someone friendly to help him.

*

Gryffindor’s next Quidditch match would be against Hufflepuff. Wood was insisting on team practices every night after dinner, so that Harry barely had time for anything but Quidditch and homework. However, the training sessions were getting better, or at least drier, and the evening before Saturday’s match, he went up to his dormitory to drop off his broomstick, feeling Gryffindor’s chances for the Quidditch Cup had never been better.

But his cheerful mood didn’t last long. At the top of the stairs to the dormitory, he met Neville Longbottom, who was looking frantic.

‘Harry - I don’t know who did it. I just found -‘

Watching Harry fearfully, Neville pushed open the door.

The contents of Harry’s trunk had been thrown everywhere. His cloak lay ripped on the floor. The bedclothes had been pulled off his four-poster and the drawer had been pulled out of his bedside cabinet, the contents strewn over the mattress.

Harry walked over to the bed, open-mouthed, treading on a few loose pages of
Travels with Trolls.

As he and Neville pulled the blankets back onto his bed, Ron, Dean and Seamus came in. Dean swore loudly.

‘What happened, Harry?’

‘No idea,’ said Harry. But Ron was examining Harry’s robes. All the pockets were hanging out.

‘Someone’s been looking for something,’ said Ron. ‘Is there anything missing?’

Harry started to pick up all his things and throw them into his trunk. It was only as he threw the last of the Lockhart books back into it that he realised what wasn’t there.

‘Riddle’s diary’s gone,’ he said in an undertone to Ron.

‘What?’

Harry jerked his head towards the dormitory door and Ron followed him out. They hurried back down to the Gryffindor common room, which was half-empty, and joined Hermione, who was sitting alone, reading a book called
Ancient Runes Made Easy.

Hermione looked aghast at the news.

‘But - only a Gryffindor could have stolen - nobody else knows our password …’

‘Exactly,’ said Harry.

*

They woke next day to brilliant sunshine and a light, refreshing breeze.

‘Perfect Quidditch conditions!’ said Wood enthusiastically at the Gryffindor table, loading the team’s plates with scrambled eggs. ‘Harry, buck up there, you need a decent breakfast.’

Harry had been staring down the packed Gryffindor table, wondering if the new owner of Riddle’s diary was right in front of his eyes. Hermione had been urging him to report the robbery, but Harry didn’t like the idea. He’d have to tell a teacher all about the diary and how many people knew why Hagrid had been expelled fifty years ago? He didn’t want to be the one who brought it all up again.

As he left the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione to go and collect his Quidditch things, another, very serious worry was added to Harry’s growing list. He had just set foot on the marble staircase when he heard it yet again:
‘Kill this time … let me rip … tear …’

He shouted aloud and Ron and Hermione both jumped away from him in alarm.

‘The voice!’ said Harry, looking over his shoulder. ‘I just heard it again - didn’t you?’

Ron shook his head, wide-eyed. Hermione, however, clapped a hand to her forehead.

‘Harry - I think I’ve just understood something! I’ve got to go to the library!’

And she sprinted away, up the stairs.

‘
What
does she understand?’ said Harry distractedly, still looking around, trying to tell where the voice had come from.

‘Loads more than I do,’ said Ron, shaking his head.

‘But why’s she got to go to the library?’

‘Because that’s what Hermione does,’ said Ron, shrugging. ‘When in doubt, go to the library.’

Harry stood, irresolute, trying to catch the voice again, but people were now emerging from the Great Hall behind him, talking loudly, exiting through the front doors on their way to the Quidditch pitch.

‘You’d better get moving,’ said Ron. ‘It’s nearly eleven - the match.’

Harry raced up to Gryffindor Tower, collected his Nimbus Two Thousand and joined the large crowd swarming across the grounds, but his mind was still in the castle, along with the bodiless voice, and as he pulled on his scarlet robes in the changing room, his only comfort was that everyone was now outside to watch the game.

The teams walked onto the pitch to tumultuous applause. Oliver Wood took off for a warm-up flight around the goalposts, Madam Hooch released the balls. The Hufflepuffs, who played in canary yellow, were standing in a huddle, having a last-minute discussion of tactics.

Harry was just mounting his broom when Professor McGonagall came half-marching, half-running across the pitch, carrying an enormous purple megaphone.

Harry’s heart dropped like a stone.

‘This match has been cancelled,’ Professor McGonagall called through the megaphone, addressing the packed stadium. There were boos and shouts. Oliver Wood, looking devastated, landed and ran towards Professor McGonagall without getting off his broomstick.

‘But Professor!’ he shouted. ‘We’ve got to play … the Cup …
Gryffindor
…’

Professor McGonagall ignored him and continued to shout through her megaphone: ‘All students are to make their way back to the house common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!’

Then she lowered the megaphone and beckoned Harry over to her.

‘Potter, I think you’d better come with me …’

Wondering how she could possibly suspect him this time, Harry saw Ron detach himself from the complaining crowd; he came running up to them as they set off towards the castle. To Harry’s surprise, Professor McGonagall didn’t object.

‘Yes, perhaps you’d better come too, Weasley.’

Some of the students swarming around them were grumbling about the match being cancelled, others looked worried. Harry and Ron followed Professor McGonagall back into the school and up the marble staircase. But they weren’t taken to anybody’s office this time.

‘This will be a bit of a shock,’ said Professor McGonagall in a surprisingly gentle voice as they approached the hospital wing. ‘There has been another attack … another
double
attack.’

Harry’s insides did a horrible somersault. Professor McGonagall pushed the door open and he and Ron entered.

Madam Pomfrey was bending over a sixth-year girl with long curly hair. Harry recognised her as the Ravenclaw they’d accidentally asked for directions to the Slytherin common room. And on the bed next to her was -

‘Hermione!’
Ron groaned.

Hermione lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy.

‘They were found near the library,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘I don’t suppose either of you can explain this? It was on the floor next to them …’

She was holding up a small, circular mirror.

Harry and Ron shook their heads, both staring at Hermione.

‘I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower,’ said Professor McGonagall heavily. ‘I need to address the students in any case.’

*

‘All students will return to their house common rooms by six o’clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities.’

The Gryffindors packed inside the common room listened to Professor McGonagall in silence. She rolled up the parchment from which she had been reading and said in a somewhat choked voice, ‘I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward.’

She climbed somewhat awkwardly out of the portrait hole, and the Gryffindors began talking immediately.

‘That’s two Gryffindors down, not counting a Gryffindor ghost, one Ravenclaw and one Hufflepuff,’ said the Weasley twins’ friend Lee Jordan, counting on his fingers. ‘Haven’t
any
of the teachers noticed that the Slytherins are all safe? Isn’t it
obvious
all this stuff’s coming from Slytherin? The
heir
of Slytherin, the
monster
of Slytherin - why don’t they just chuck all the Slytherins out?’ he roared, to nods and scattered applause.

Percy Weasley was sitting in a chair behind Lee, but for once he didn’t seem keen to make his views heard. He was looking pale and stunned.

‘Percy’s in shock,’ George told Harry quietly. ‘That Ravenclaw girl - Penelope Clearwater - she’s a Prefect. I don’t think he thought the monster would dare attack a
Prefect.
’

But Harry was only half-listening. He didn’t seem to be able to get rid of the picture of Hermione, lying on the hospital bed as though carved out of stone. And if the culprit wasn’t caught soon, he was looking at a lifetime back with the Dursleys. Tom Riddle had turned Hagrid in because he was faced with the prospect of a Muggle orphanage if the school closed. Harry now knew exactly how he had felt.

‘What’re we going to do?’ said Ron quietly in Harry’s ear. ‘D’you think they suspect Hagrid?’

‘We’ve got to go and talk to him,’ said Harry, making up his mind. ‘I can’t believe it’s him this time, but if he set the monster loose last time he’ll know how to get inside the Chamber of Secrets, and that’s a start.’

‘But McGonagall said we’ve got to stay in our tower unless we’re in class -‘

‘I think,’ said Harry, more quietly still, ‘it’s time to get my dad’s old Cloak out again.’

*

Harry had inherited just one thing from his father: a long and silvery Invisibility Cloak. It was their only chance of sneaking out of the school to visit Hagrid without anyone knowing about it. They went to bed at the usual time, waited until Neville, Dean and Seamus had stopped discussing the Chamber of Secrets and finally fallen asleep, then got up, dressed again, and threw the Cloak over themselves.

The journey through the dark and deserted castle corridors wasn’t enjoyable. Harry, who had wandered the castle at night several times before, had never seen it so crowded after sunset. Teachers, Prefects and ghosts were marching the corridors in pairs, staring around for any unusual activity. Their Invisibility Cloak didn’t stop them making any noise, and there was a particularly tense moment when Ron stubbed his toe only yards from the spot where Snape was standing guard. Thankfully, Snape sneezed at almost exactly the moment Ron swore. It was with relief that they reached the oak front doors and eased them open.

It was a clear, starry night. They hurried towards the lighted windows of Hagrid’s house, and pulled off the Cloak only when they were right outside his front door.

Seconds after they had knocked, Hagrid flung it open. They found themselves face to face, with him aiming a crossbow at them, Fang the boarhound barking loudly behind him.