Harry Potter 02 - Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

plants, purplish green in colour, were growing there in rows. They looked quite unremarkable to Harry, who didn’t have the slightest idea what Hermione meant by the ‘cry’ of the Mandrake.
    ‘Everyone take a pair of earmuffs,’ said Professor Sprout.
    There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn’t pink and fluffy.
    ‘When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered,’ said Professor Sprout. ‘When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right – earmuffs on. ’
    Harry snapped the earmuffs over his ears. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put a pink fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.
    Harry let out a gasp of surprise that no one could hear.
    Instead of roots, a small, muddy and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.
    Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up and removed her own earmuffs.
    ‘As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won’t kill yet,’ she said calmly, as though she’d just done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. ‘However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I’m sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.
    ‘Four to a tray – there is a large supply of pots here – compost in the sacks over there – and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it’s teething.’
    She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.
    Harry, Ron and Hermione were joined at their tray by a curly-haired Hufflepuff boy Harry knew by sight, but had never spoken to.
    ‘Justin Finch-Fletchley,’ he said brightly, shaking Harry by the hand. ‘Know who you are, of course, the famous Harry Potter … and you’re Hermione Granger – always top in everything …’ (Hermione beamed as she had her hand shaken, too) ‘and Ron Weasley. Wasn’t that your flying car?’
    Ron didn’t smile. The Howler was obviously still on his mind.
    ‘That Lockhart’s something, isn’t he?’ said Justin happily, as they began filling their plant pots with dragon-dung compost. ‘Awfully brave chap. Have you read his books? I’d have died of fear if I’d been cornered in a telephone box by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and – zap – just fantastic.
    ‘My name was down for Eton, you know, I can’t tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart’s books I think she’s begun to see how useful it’ll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family …’
    After that they didn’t have much chance to talk. Their earmuffs were back on and they needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes. Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn’t. The Mandrakes didn’t like coming out of the earth, but didn’t seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists and gnashed their teeth; Harry spent ten whole minutes trying to squash a particularly fat one into a pot.
    By the end of the class, Harry, like everyone else, was sweaty, aching and covered in earth. They traipsed back to the castle for a quick wash and then the Gryffindors hurried off to Transfiguration.
    Professor McGonagall’s classes were always hard work, but today was especially difficult. Everything Harry had learned last year seemed to have leaked out of his head during the summer. He was supposed to be turning a beetle into a button, but all he managed to do was give his beetle a lot of exercise as it scuttled over the desk top avoiding his wand.
    Ron was having far worse problems. He had patched up his wand with some borrowed Spellotape, but it seemed to be damaged beyond repair. It kept crackling and sparking at odd moments, and every time Ron tried to transfigure his beetle it engulfed him in thick grey smoke which smelled of rotten eggs. Unable to see what he was doing, Ron