Harry Potter 02 - Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Dumbledore settled himself in the high-backed chair behind the desk and fixed Harry with his penetrating, light-blue stare.
    Before Dumbledore could speak another word, however, the door of the office flew open with an almighty bang and Hagrid burst in, a wild look in his eyes, his balaclava perched on top of his shaggy black head and the dead rooster still swinging from his hand.
    ‘It wasn’ Harry, Professor Dumbledore!’ said Hagrid urgently. ‘I was talkin’ ter him seconds before that kid was found, he never had time, sir …’
    Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid went ranting on, waving the rooster around in his agitation, sending feathers everywhere.
    ‘… It can’t’ve bin him, I’ll swear it in front o’ the Ministry o’ Magic if I have to …’
    ‘Hagrid, I –’
    ‘… Yeh’ve got the wrong boy, sir, I know Harry never –’
    ‘Hagrid!’ said Dumbledore loudly. ‘I do not think that Harry attacked those people.’
    ‘Oh,’ said Hagrid, the rooster falling limply at his side. ‘Right. I’ll wait outside then, Headmaster.’
    And he stomped out looking embarrassed.
    ‘You don’t think it was me, Professor?’ Harry repeated hopefully, as Dumbledore brushed rooster feathers off his desk.
    ‘No, Harry, I don’t,’ said Dumbledore, though his face was sombre again. ‘But I still want to talk to you.’
    Harry waited nervously while Dumbledore considered him, the tips of his long fingers together.
    ‘I must ask you, Harry, whether there is anything you’d like to tell me,’ he said gently. ‘Anything at all.’
    Harry didn’t know what to say. He thought of Malfoy shouting, ‘You’ll be next, Mudbloods!’ and of the Polyjuice Potion, simmering away in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Then he thought of the disembodied voice he had heard twice and remembered what Ron had said: ‘Hearing voices no one else can hear isn’t a good sign, even in the wizarding world.’ He thought, too, about what everyone was saying about him, and his growing dread that he was somehow connected with Salazar Slytherin …
    ‘No,’ said Harry, ‘there isn’t anything, Professor.’
    *
    The double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick turned what had hitherto been nervousness into real panic. Curiously, it was Nearly Headless Nick’s fate that seemed to worry people most. What could possibly do that to a ghost, people asked each other; what terrible power could harm someone who was already dead? There was almost a stampede to book seats on the Hogwarts Express so that students could go home for Christmas.
    ‘At this rate, we’ll be the only ones left,’ Ron told Harry and Hermione. ‘Us, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. What a jolly holiday it’s going to be.’
    Crabbe and Goyle, who always did whatever Malfoy did, had signed up to stay over the holidays too. But Harry was glad that most people were leaving. He was tired of people skirting around him in the corridors, as though he was about to sprout fangs or spit poison; tired of all the muttering, pointing and hissing as he passed.
    Fred and George, however, found all this very funny. They went out of their way to march ahead of Harry down the corridors, shouting, ‘Make way for the heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through …’
    Percy was deeply disapproving of this behaviour.
    ‘It is not a laughing matter,’ he said coldly.
    ‘Oh, get out of the way, Percy,’ said Fred. ‘Harry’s in a hurry.’
    ‘Yeah, he’s nipping off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged servant,’ said George, chortling.
    Ginny didn’t find it amusing either.
    ‘Oh, don’t,’ she wailed every time Fred asked Harry loudly who he was planning to attack next, or George pretended to ward Harry off with a large clove of garlic when they met.
    Harry didn’t mind; it made him feel better that Fred and George, at least, thought the idea of his being Slytherin’s heir was quite ludicrous. But their antics seemed to be aggravating Draco Malfoy, who looked increasingly sour each time he saw them at it.
    ‘It’s because he’s bursting to say it’s really him,’ said Ron knowingly. ‘You know how he hates anyone beating him at anything, and you’re getting all the credit for his dirty work.’
    ‘Not for long,’ said Hermione in a satisfied tone. ‘The Polyjuice Potion’s nearly ready. We’ll be getting the truth out of him any day now.’
    *
    At last the term ended, and a silence deep as the snow on