第 12 页

last. Harry yanked his robes straight and headed for a seat at the very

back of the class, where he busied himself with piling all seven of

Lockhart's books in front of him, so that he could avoid looking at the

real thing.

84

The rest of the class came clattering in, and Ron and Hermione sat

down on either side of Harry.

"You could've fried an egg on your face" said Ron. "You'd better hope

Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fan

club."

"Shut up," snapped Harry. The last thing he needed was for Lockhart

to hear the phrase "Harry Potter fan club."

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly

and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's

copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking

portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart,

Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force

Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-

Charming-Smile Award - but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of

the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books -well done. I

thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about

just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in -"

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of

the class and said, "You have thirty minutes - start - now!"

Harry looked down at his paper and read:

1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart 's favorite color?

2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?

3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest

achievement to date?

85

On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:

54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his

ideal gift be?

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through

them in front of the class.

"Tut, tut - hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is

lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read

Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully - I clearly state in chapter

twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all

magic and non-magic peoples - though I wouldn't say no to a large

bottle of Ogdeds Old Firewhisky!"

He gave them another roguish wink. Ron was now staring at

Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face; Seamus

Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were shaking

with silent laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to

Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her

name.

". . . but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the

world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions - good

girl! In fact" - he flipped her paper over - "full marks! Where is Miss

Hermione Granger?"

*100*

Hermione raised a trembling hand.

"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for

Gryffindor! And so - to business -"

He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

"Now - be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest

creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your

worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst

I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

In spite of himself, Harry leaned around his pile of books for a better

86

look at the cage. Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Dean and

Seamus had stopped laughing now. Neville was cowering in his front

row seat.

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might

provoke them."

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies. "

Seamus Finnigan couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of

laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.

"Yes?" He smiled at Seamus.

"Well, they're not - they're not very - dangerous, are they?" Seamus

choked.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at

Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed

faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies

arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they

*101*

had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and

making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of

them!" And he opened the cage.

It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets.

Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air.

Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row

with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more

effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and

sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures

from the walls, up-ended the waste basket, grabbed bags and books

and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, half the

87

class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the

iron chandelier in the ceiling.

"Come on now - round them up, round them up, they're only pixies,"

Lockhart shouted.

He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed,

"Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"

It had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized his wand and

threw it out of the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his

own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who fell a

second later as the chandelier gave way.

The bell rang and there was a mad rush toward the exit. In the relative

calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Harry,

Ron, and Hermione, who were almost at the door, and said, "Well, I'll

ask you three to just nip the rest of them back into their cage." He

swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.

*102*

"Can you believe him?" roared Ron as one of the remaining pixies bit

him painfully on the ear.

"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience," said Hermione,

immobilizing two pixies at once with a clever Freezing Charm and

stuffing them back into their cage.

"Hands on? "said Harry, who was trying to grab a pixie dancing out of

reach with its tongue out. "Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he

was doing -"

"Rubbish," said Hermione. "You've read his books - look at all those

amazing things he's done -"

"He says he's done," Ron muttered.

arry spent a lot of time over the next few days dodging out of sight

whenever he saw Gilderoy Lockhart coming down a corridor. Harder

88

to avoid was Colin Creevey, who seemed to have memorized Harry's

schedule. Nothing seemed to give Colin a bigger thrill than to say, "All

right, Harry?" six or seven times a day and hear, "Hello, Colin," back,

however exasperated Harry sounded when he said it.

Hedwig was still angry with Harry about the disasterous car journey

and Ron's wand was still malfunctioning, surpassing itself on Friday

morning by shooting out of Ron's hand in Charms and hitting tiny old

Professor Flitwick squarely between the eyes, creating a large,

throbbing green boil where it had struck. So with one thing and

another, Harry was quite glad to reach the weekend. He, Ron, and

Hermione were planning to visit Hagrid on Saturday morning. Harry,

however, was shaken awake several hours earlier

*104*

than he would have liked by Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor

Quidditch team.

"Whassamatter?" said Harry groggily.

"Quidditch practice!" said Wood. "Come on!"

Harry squinted at the window. There was a thin mist hanging across

the pink-and-gold sky. Now that he was awake, he couldn't

understand how he could have slept through the racket the birds were

making.

"Oliver," Harry croaked. "It's the crack of dawn."

"Exactly," said Wood. He was a tall and burly sixth year and, at the

moment, his eyes were gleaming with a crazed enthusiasm. "It's part

of our new training program. Come on, grab your broom, and let's go,"

said Wood heartily. "None of the other teams have started training yet;

we're going to be first off the mark this year -"

Yawning and shivering slightly, Harry climbed out of bed and tried to

find his Quidditch robes.

"Good man," said Wood. "Meet you on the field in fifteen minutes.

89

When he'd found his scarlet team robes and pulled on his cloak for

warmth, Harry scribbled a note to Ron explaining where he'd gone and

went down the spiral staircase to the common room, his Nimbus Two

Thousand on his shoulder. He had just reached the portrait hole when

there was a clatter behind him and Colin Creevey came dashing down

the spiral staircase, his camera swinging madly around his neck and

something clutched in his hand.

"I heard someone saying your name on the stairs, Harry! Look what

I've got here! I've had it developed, I wanted to show you -"

*105*

Harry looked bemusedly at the photograph Colin was brandishing

under his nose.

A moving, black-and-white Lockhart was tugging hard on an arm

Harry recognized as his own. He was pleased to see that his

photographic self was putting up a good fight and refusing to be

dragged into view. As Harry watched, Lockhart gave up and

slumped, panting, against the white edge of the picture.

"Will you sign it?" said Colin eagerly.

"No," said Harry flatly, glancing around to check that the room was

really deserted. "Sorry, Colin, I'm in a hurry - Quidditch practice -"

He climbed through the portrait hole.

"Oh, wow! Wait for me! I've never watched a Quidditch game

before!"

Colin scrambled through the hole after him.

"It'll be really boring," Harry said quickly, but Colin ignored him, his

face shining with excitement.

"You were the youngest House player in a hundred years, weren't

you, Harry? Weren't you?" said Colin, trotting alongside him. "You

must be brilliant. I've never flown. Is it easy? Is that your own

broom? Is that the best one there is?"

90

Harry didn't know how to get rid of him. It was like having an

extremely talkative shadow.

"I don't really understand Quidditch," said Colin breathlessly. "Is it

true there are four balls? And two of them fly around trying to knock

people off their brooms?"

"Yes," said Harry heavily, resigned to explaining the complicated

rules of Quidditch. "They're called Bludgers. There are two Beaters

), *106*

on each team who carry clubs to beat the Bludgers away from their

side. Fred and George Weasley are the Gryffindor Beaters."

"And what are the other balls for?" Colin asked, tripping down a

couple of steps because he was gazing open-mouthed at Harry.

"Well, the Quafe - that's the biggish red one - is the one that scores

goals. Three Chasers on each team throw the Quaffle to each other

and try and get it through the goal posts at the end of the pitch

they're three long poles with hoops on the end."

"And the fourth ball -"

"- is the Golden Snitch," said Harry, "and it's very small, very fast, and

difficult to catch. But that's what the Seeker's got to do, because a

game of Quidditch doesn't end until the Snitch has been caught. And

whichever team's Seeker gets the Snitch earns his team an extra

hundred and fifty points."

"And you're the Gryffindor Seeker, aren't you?" said Colin in awe.

"Yes," said Harry as they left the castle and started across the dew-

drenched grass. "And there's the Keeper, too. He guards the goal

posts. That's it, really."

But Colin didn't stop questioning Harry all the way down the sloping

lawns to the Quidditch field, and Harry only shook him off when he

reached the changing rooms; Colin called after him in a piping voice,

"I'll go and get a good seat, Harry!" and hurried off to the stands.

91

The rest of the Gryffindor team were already in the changing room.

Wood was the only person who looked truly awake. Fred and George

Weasley were sitting, puffy-eyed and touslehaired, next to fourth year

Alicia Spinnet, who seemed to be nodding off against the wall behind

her. Her fellow Chasers, Katie

*107*

Bell and Angelina Johnson, were yawning side by side opposite

them.

"There you are, Harry, what kept you?" said Wood briskly. "Now, I

wanted a quick talk with you all before we actually get onto the field,

because I spent the summer devising a whole new training program,

which I really think will make all the difference ....

Wood was holding up a large diagram of a Quidditch field, on which

were drawn many lines, arrows, and crosses in differentcolored inks.

He took out his wand, tapped the board, and the arrows began to

wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars. As Wood launched into a

speech about his new tactics, Fred Weasley's head drooped right