Harry Potter 02 - Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

stupid scar on his forehead …’
    Malfoy bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls.
    ‘… everyone thinks he’s so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick –’
    ‘You have told me this at least a dozen times already,’ said Mr Malfoy, with a quelling look at his son, ‘and I would remind you that it is not – prudent – to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear – ah, Mr Borgin.’
    A stooping man had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face.
    ‘Mr Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again,’ said Mr Borgin in a voice as oily as his hair. ‘Delighted – and young Master Malfoy, too – charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced –’
    ‘I’m not buying today, Mr Borgin, but selling,’ said Mr Malfoy.
    ‘Selling?’ The smile faded slightly from Mr Borgin’s face.
    ‘You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids,’ said Mr Malfoy, taking a roll of parchment from his inside pocket and unravelling it for Mr Borgin to read. ‘I have a few – ah – items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call …’
    Mr Borgin fixed a pince-nez to his nose and looked down the list.
    ‘The Ministry wouldn’t presume to trouble you, sir, surely?’
    Mr Malfoy’s lip curled.
    ‘I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumours about a new Muggle Protection Act – no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it –’
    Harry felt a hot surge of anger.
    ‘– and as you see, certain of these poisons might make it appear –’
    ‘I understand, sir, of course,’ said Mr Borgin. ‘Let me see …’
    ‘Can I have that? ’ interrupted Draco, pointing at the withered hand on its cushion.
    ‘Ah, the Hand of Glory!’ said Mr Borgin, abandoning Mr Malfoy’s list and scurrying over to Draco. ‘Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir.’
    ‘I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin,’ said Mr Malfoy coldly and Mr Borgin said quickly, ‘No offence, sir, no offence meant –’
    ‘Though if his school marks don’t pick up,’ said Mr Malfoy, more coldly still, ‘that may indeed be all he is fit for.’
    ‘It’s not my fault,’ retorted Draco. ‘The teachers all have favourites, that Hermione Granger –’
    ‘I would have thought you’d be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam,’ snapped Mr Malfoy.
    ‘Ha!’ said Harry under his breath, pleased to see Draco looking both abashed and angry.
    ‘It’s the same all over,’ said Mr Borgin, in his oily voice. ‘Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere –’
    ‘Not with me,’ said Mr Malfoy, his long nostrils flaring.
    ‘No, sir, nor with me, sir,’ said Mr Borgin, with a deep bow.
    ‘In that case, perhaps we can return to my list,’ said Mr Malfoy shortly. ‘I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today.’
    They started to haggle. Harry watched nervously as Draco drew nearer and nearer to his hiding place, examining the objects for sale. He paused to examine a long coil of hangman’s rope and to read, smirking, the card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals: Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed – Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date.
    Draco turned away and saw the cabinet right in front of him. He walked forward … he stretched out his hand for the handle …
    ‘Done,’ said Mr Malfoy at the counter. ‘Come, Draco!’
    Harry wiped his forehead on his sleeve as Draco turned away.
    ‘Good day to you, Mr Borgin, I’ll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods.’
    The moment the door had closed, Mr Borgin dropped his oily manner.
    ‘Good day yourself, Mister Malfoy, and if the stories are true, you haven’t sold me half of what’s hidden in your manor …’
    Muttering darkly, Mr Borgin disappeared into a back room. Harry waited for a minute in case he came back, then, quietly as he could, slipped out of the cabinet, past the glass cases and out of the shop door.
    Clutching his broken glasses to his face he stared around. He had emerged into a dingy alleyway that seemed to be made up