Harry Potter 05 - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

welcomewitch’s desk.
    They walked along the corridor, through a set of double doors and found a rickety staircase lined with more portraits of brutal-looking Healers. As they climbed it, the various Healers called out to them, diagnosing odd complaints and suggesting horrible remedies. Ron was seriously affronted when a medieval wizard called out that he clearly had a bad case of spattergroit.
    ‘And what’s that supposed to be?’ he asked angrily, as the Healer pursued him through six more portraits, shoving the occupants out of the way.
    ‘’Tis a most grievous affliction of the skin, young master, that will leave you pockmarked and more gruesome even than you are now –’
    ‘Watch who you’re calling gruesome!’ said Ron, his ears turning red.
    ‘– the only remedy is to take the liver of a toad, bind it tight about your throat, stand naked at the full moon in a barrel of eels’ eyes –’
    ‘I have not got spattergroit!’
    ‘But the unsightly blemishes upon your visage, young master –’
    ‘They’re freckles!’ said Ron furiously. ‘Now get back in your own picture and leave me alone!’
    He rounded on the others, who were all keeping determinedly straight faces.
    ‘What floor’s this?’
    ‘I think it’s the fifth,’ said Hermione.
    ‘Nah, it’s the fourth,’ said Harry, ‘one more –’
    But as he stepped on to the landing he came to an abrupt halt, staring at the small window set into the double doors that marked the start of a corridor signposted SPELL DAMAGE. A man was peering out at them all with his nose pressed against the glass. He had wavy blond hair, bright blue eyes and a broad vacant smile that revealed dazzlingly white teeth.
    ‘Blimey!’ said Ron, also staring at the man.
    ‘Oh, my goodness,’ said Hermione suddenly, sounding breathless. ‘Professor Lockhart!’
    Their ex-Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher pushed open the doors and moved towards them, wearing a long lilac dressing gown.
    ‘Well, hello there!’ he said. ‘I expect you’d like my autograph, would you?’
    ‘Hasn’t changed much, has he?’ Harry muttered to Ginny, who grinned.
    ‘Er – how are you, Professor?’ said Ron, sounding slightly guilty. It had been Ron’s malfunctioning wand that had damaged Professor Lockhart’s memory so badly that he had landed in St Mungo’s in the first place, though as Lockhart had been attempting to permanently wipe Harry and Ron’s memories at the time, Harry’s sympathy was limited.
    ‘I’m very well indeed, thank you!’ said Lockhart exuberantly, pulling a rather battered peacock-feather quill from his pocket. ‘Now, how many autographs would you like? I can do joined-up writing now, you know!’
    ‘Er – we don’t want any at the moment, thanks,’ said Ron, raising his eyebrows at Harry, who asked, ‘Professor, should you be wandering around the corridors? Shouldn’t you be in a ward?’
    The smile faded slowly from Lockhart’s face. For a few moments he gazed intently at Harry, then he said, ‘Haven’t we met?’
    ‘Er … yeah, we have,’ said Harry. ‘You used to teach us at Hogwarts, remember?’
    ‘Teach?’ repeated Lockhart, looking faintly unsettled. ‘Me? Did I?’
    And then the smile reappeared upon his face so suddenly it was rather alarming.
    ‘Taught you everything you know, I expect, did I? Well, how about those autographs, then? Shall we say a round dozen, you can give them to all your little friends then and nobody will be left out!’
    But just then a head poked out of a door at the far end of the corridor and a voice called, ‘Gilderoy, you naughty boy, where have you wandered off to?’
    A motherly-looking Healer wearing a tinsel wreath in her hair came bustling up the corridor, smiling warmly at Harry and the others.
    ‘Oh, Gilderoy, you’ve got visitors! How lovely , and on Christmas Day, too! Do you know, he never gets visitors, poor lamb, and I can’t think why, he’s such a sweetie, aren’t you?’
    ‘We’re doing autographs!’ Gilderoy told the Healer with another glittering smile. ‘They want loads of them, won’t take no for an answer! I just hope we’ve got enough photographs!’
    ‘Listen to him,’ said the Healer, taking Lockhart’s arm and beaming fondly at him as though he were a precocious two-year-old. ‘He was rather well known a few years ago; we very much hope that this liking for giving autographs is a sign that his memory might be starting to come back. Will you step