Harry Potter 02 - Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

you, Kwikspell!’
     
    Fascinated, Harry thumbed through the rest of the envelope’s contents. Why on earth did Filch want a Kwikspell course? Did this mean he wasn’t a proper wizard? Harry was just reading ‘Lesson One: Holding Your Wand (Some Useful Tips)’ when shuffling footsteps outside told him Filch was coming back. Stuffing the parchment back into the envelope, Harry threw it back onto the desk just as the door opened.
    Filch was looking triumphant.
    ‘That vanishing cabinet was extremely valuable!’ he was saying gleefully to Mrs Norris. ‘We’ll have Peeves out this time, my sweet.’
    His eyes fell on Harry and then darted to the Kwikspell envelope which, Harry realised too late, was lying two feet away from where it had started.
    Filch’s pasty face went brick red. Harry braced himself for a tidal wave of fury. Filch hobbled across to his desk, snatched up the envelope and threw it into a drawer.
    ‘Have you – did you read –?’ he spluttered.
    ‘No,’ Harry lied quickly.
    Filch’s knobbly hands were twisting together.
    ‘If I thought you’d read my private … not that it’s mine … for a friend … be that as it may … however …’
    Harry was staring at him, alarmed; Filch had never looked madder. His eyes were popping, a tic was going in one of his pouchy cheeks and the tartan scarf didn’t help.
    ‘Very well … go … and don’t breathe a word … not that … however, if you didn’t read … go now, I have to write up Peeves’ report … go …’
    Amazed at his luck, Harry sped out of the office, up the corridor and back upstairs. To escape from Filch’s office without punishment was probably some kind of school record.
    ‘Harry! Harry! Did it work?’
    Nearly Headless Nick came gliding out of a classroom. Behind him, Harry could see the wreckage of a large black and gold cabinet which appeared to have been dropped from a great height.
    ‘I persuaded Peeves to crash it right over Filch’s office,’ said Nick eagerly. ‘Thought it might distract him –’
    ‘Was that you?’ said Harry gratefully. ‘Yeah, it worked, I didn’t even get detention. Thanks, Nick!’
    They set off up the corridor together. Nearly Headless Nick, Harry noticed, was still holding Sir Patrick’s rejection letter.
    ‘I wish there was something I could do for you about the Headless Hunt,’ Harry said.
    Nearly Headless Nick stopped in his tracks and Harry walked right through him. He wished he hadn’t; it was like stepping through an icy shower.
    ‘But there is something you could do for me,’ said Nick excitedly. ‘Harry – would I be asking too much – but no, you wouldn’t want –’
    ‘What is it?’ said Harry.
    ‘Well, this Hallowe’en will be my five hundredth deathday,’ said Nearly Headless Nick, drawing himself up and looking dignified.
    ‘Oh,’ said Harry, not sure whether he should look sorry or happy about this. ‘Right.’
    ‘I’m holding a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. Friends will be coming from all over the country. It would be such an honour if you would attend. Mr Weasley and Miss Granger would be most welcome too, of course – but I dare say you’d rather go to the school feast?’ He watched Harry on tenterhooks.
    ‘No,’ said Harry quickly, ‘I’ll come –’
    ‘My dear boy! Harry Potter, at my Deathday Party! And,’ he hesitated, looking excited, ‘do you think you could possibly mention to Sir Patrick how very frightening and impressive you find me?’
    ‘Of – of course,’ said Harry.
    Nearly Headless Nick beamed at him.
    *
    ‘A Deathday Party?’ said Hermione keenly, when Harry had changed at last and joined her and Ron in the common room. ‘I bet there aren’t many living people who can say they’ve been to one of those – it’ll be fascinating!’
    ‘Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?’ said Ron, who was halfway through his Potions homework and grumpy. ‘Sounds dead depressing to me …’
    Rain was still lashing the windows, which were now inky black, but inside, all looked bright and cheerful. The firelight glowed over the countless squashy armchairs where people sat reading, talking, doing homework or, in the case of Fred and George Weasley, trying to find out what would happen if you fed a Filibuster Firework to a Salamander. Fred had ‘rescued’ the brilliant orange, fire-dwelling lizard from a Care of Magical Creatures class and it was now smouldering gently on a table