Chapter 9 – Chamber Part Two
Snape was angry. Dumbledore amused. Hagrid looked helpless. Sprout was livid. Harry had never seen the plump and cheerful little Herbology professor so worked up before.
They hadn't tried to hit the Whomping Willow. Inexplicably the car started to descend and lose power. It crashed into the angry tree, fell out, forcibly ejected the four stunned boys and careened off into the Forbidden Forest. At least it happened on the schoolgrounds and they didn't have far to walk. What really frosted the boys was that everyone seemed more concerned over the tree than the four of them.
Eventually Ron and Harry were excused to the feast, once it was ascertained that indeed, the two had been drugged and 'kidnapped'. Fred and George, however, were looking at a month of detentions. And a twin howlers at breakfast the next morning. If there is anything worse than a howler, it's two of them screaming in unison.
The twins were sent to start their detention immediately with the new defense teacher, Professor Lockhart. Harry and Ron, feeling guilty and somehow partially responsible, decided to serve with them – for a while at least. To everyone's disgust, the punishment was to help Lockhart with his personal fan mail and correspondence. That consisted of stuffing envelopes with form letters and autographed photos, which the peacock of a man insisted on signing personally while telling the boys all about his fame, fans, and popularity. It was torture.
Three nights into the sentence, and the boys were having a blast messing with the not overly bright professor. Sitting around the man's desk, they were all stuffing envelopes, making sure togrind their thumbs into the photo's smarmy face each time.
"Tell me, Professor Lockhart", George simpered to the man, "how do you get your hair so perfect?"
Hiding a laugh with a cough, Harry attempted to look like he was interested too, flashing puppy-dog eyes at the vain man.
"Well, boys, I'll tell you a secret" the man smiled widely and gave them a conspiring wink. Ron swallowed hard to keep from losing a good dinner. "I use 'Gilderoy Lockhart's NeverMove Hair Potion'! I helped to develop it myself! Keeps your hair firmly in place when battling trolls or fending off amorous veelas." And he winked again.
It was a week later that Gilderoy Lockhart ended up in the infirmary, head hidden by a towel. Aunt Poppy delighted in telling 'dear little Harry' how the fop had somehow found himself with industrial-strength super glue in his Hair Potion bottle, and had not only fused his hair together in very unattractive clumps, but glued his hand down into the mess as well. Professor Snape swore he had no potions to remove the hardened cement, and spells did not work. Professor Snape, however, did have a penseive that he was willing to bring out so Poppy could share the memory with Harry, Ron, the twins and himself. The six of them came out of the penseive weeping and weak from hysterical laughter (except for Snape who merely smirked more than usual) at the memory of Poppy having to sheer Lockhart like a pastel dressed sheep.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Dear Aunt Petunia & Uncle Vernon,
Thanks so much for the big bottle of super-glue! It worked perfectly. And thanks, as always, for the yummy cookies. You guys are the best!
Quiddich has been great this year. Nobody had tried to kill me yet. Good thing, because that stupid defense teacher isn't teaching us anything. How did he ever get the job? I really don't think he has done any of the things he's written of in his books. He's really big on signing autographs – really thinks he's a ladies man. Can't do magic to save his life though - I know I had told you before you sent the glue how he tried to heal my arm and removed the bones instead. They still haven't found who hexed that stupid bludger.
Another prideful git I have to deal with is Draco Malfoy. He's the only son of a very rich pureblood family, and boy is he full of himself. Thinks he's all cool and better than everyone. He had the gall to call our friend Hermione a mudblood, which is actually cursing in the magical world (it means her folks are muggles). We've pretty much become enemies – he hates Hermione because of her parents, he hates me because my papa is half-giant, and he's really jealous because we are seekers on rival teams, and he can't play. Hisfather bought his place on Slytherin's Quiddich team by buying really expensive brooms for the whole team. Ron tried to curseDraco the other day when he was picking on Mione, but Ron's wand is all wonky from an accident that it got broken in. It didn't work too well.
Love,
Harry
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Harry, Ron and Hermione had just left the Halloween feast. "I'm just sorry Dudley can't see the way wizards celebrate" Harry sighed and Ron clapped him on the back in sympathy. They had left the feast before anyone else, planning on leaving a booby trapped jar of men's skin care regimen in Lockhart's quarters.
Halfway to their destination, however, Harry froze, eyes open wide.
"Blood! Kiillll! Mus-s-s-st eat!" A strange hissing voice was coming from the wall, jarring his senses.
"Do you hear that?" Harry cried in alarm, swinging his head back and forth trying to pinpoint where the creepy voice was coming from.
"Hear what, Harry?" Hermione asked, looking at him strangely.
"Yah – I don't hear anything, mate" Ron shrugged, looking at Hermione with worry.
"It's a voice!" Harry said with urgency. "It's going to kill! It's hungry, whatever it is. Here – in this wall!" And he raced down the hall listening intently as he ran. Glancing at each other with concern, his two friends raced after him. The younger Hagrid was so busy listening to the walls, trying to follow the voices; he didn't notice the floors were covered in water in this part of the hall. Hermione and Ron were lifting their robes to avoid the puddles, when the three of them stopped, gaping at the wall.
Foot-high letters, written apparently in blood, spelled out:
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS
HAS BEEN OPENED
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE
"What does that mean?" Ron asked, jaw hanging open.
"Heir of Slytherin?" Hermione pondered.
"Mrs. Norris?" Harry asked, examining the petrified cat hanging from a wall sconce. He didn't care for the cat particularly, but who would hurt someone's familiar?
"Hagrid? What are you and your friends doing here?" the gravelly voice of the caretaker Mr. Filch came to their ears. The elderly ragged man came limping toward them. "Did you cause this mess?"
The three Gryffindors stared at the man with fear. "We just found this, Mr. Filch" Harry gasped weakly, gesturing to Mrs. Norris.
"Mrs Norris! Who did this to you?" The man choked out a sob and ran to the petrified cat.
Harry turned with embarrassment from the man's sobbing and looked up with surprise to see all of the Gryffindors and several professors in a semi-circle around the scene. Some were staring at the three of them with hostile, accusing expressions.
