Download Harry Potter And The Chamber Of Secrets Ps2

[Angeles Bartholomew]

October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and intothe castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate ofcolds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup potion worked instantly,though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward.Ginny Weasley, who had been looking pale, was bullied into taking some byPercy. The steam pouring from under her vivid hair gave the impression thather whole head was on fire.Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows fordays on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, andHagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. Oliver Wood'senthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened, whichwas why Harry was to be found, lateone stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before Halloween,returning to Gryffindor Tower, drenched to the skin and splattered with mud.Even aside from the rain and wind it hadn't been a happy practicesession. Fred and George, who had been spying on the Slytherin team, hadseen for themselves the speed of those new Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones.They reported that the Slytherin team was no more than seven greenish blurs,shooting through the air like missiles.As Harry squelched along the deserted corridor he came acrosssomebody who looked just as preoccupied as he was. Nearly Headless Nick, theghost of Gryffindor Tower, was staring morosely out of a window, mutteringunder his breath, ". . . don't fulfill their requirements . . . half aninch, if that . . .""Hello, Nick," said Harry."Hello, hello," said Nearly Headless Nick, starting and lookinground. He wore a dashing, plumed hat on his long curly hair, and a tunicwith a ruff, which concealed the fact that his neck was almost completelysevered. He was pale as smoke, and Harry could see right through him to thedark sky and torrential rain outside."You look troubled, young Potter," said Nick, folding a transparentletter as he spoke and tucking it inside his doublet."So do you," said Harry."Ah," Nearly Headless Nick waved an elegant hand, "a matter of noimportance. . . . It's not as though I really wanted to join. . . . ThoughtI'd apply, but apparently I 'don't fulfill requirements' -"In spite of his airy tone, there was a look of great bitterness onhis face."But you would think, wouldn't you," he erupted suddenly, pullingthe letter back out of his pocket, "that getting hit forty-five times in theneck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?""Oh - yes," said Harry, who was obviously supposed to agree."I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had all been quick andclean, and my head had come off properly, I mean, it would have saved me agreat deal of pain and ridicule. However -" Nearly Headless Nick shook hisletter open and read furiously:"'We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have parted company with theirbodies. You will appreciate that it would be impossible otherwise formembers to participate in hunt activities such as Horseback Head-Jugglingand Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret, therefore, that I must informyou that you do not fulfill our requirements. With very best wishes, SirPatrick Delaney-Podmore.'"Fuming, Nearly Headless Nick stuffed the letter away."Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on, Harry! Mostpeople would think that's good and beheaded, but oh, no, it's not enough forSir Properly Decapitated-Podmore."Nearly Headless Nick took several deep breaths and then said, in afar calmer tone, "So - what's bothering you? Anything I can do?""No," said Harry. "Not unless you know where we can get seven freeNimbus Two Thousand and Ones for our match against Sly -"The rest of Harry's sentence was drowned out by a high-pitchedmewling from somewhere near his ankles. He looked down and found himselfgazing into a pair of lamp-like yellow eyes. It was Mrs. Norris, theskeletal gray cat who was used by the caretaker, Argus Filch, as a sort ofdeputy in his endless battle against students."You'd better get out of here, Harry," said Nick quickly. "Filchisn't in a good mood - he's got the flu and some third years accidentallyplastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five. He's beencleaning all morning, and if he sees you dripping mud all over the place -""Right," said Harry, backing away from the accusing stare of Mrs.Norris, but not quickly enough. Drawn to the spot by the mysterious powerthat seemed to connect him with his foul cat, Argus Filch burst suddenlythrough a tapestry to Harry's right, wheezing and looking wildly about forthe rule-breaker. There was a thick tartan scarf bound around his head, andhis nose was unusually purple."Filth!" he shouted, his jowls aquiver, his eyes popping alarminglyas he pointed at the muddy puddle that had dripped from Harry's Quidditchrobes. "Mess and muck everywhere! I've had enough of it, I tell you! Followme, Potter!"So Harry waved a gloomy good-bye to Nearly Headless Nick andfollowed Filch back downstairs, doubling the number of muddy footprints onthe floor.Harry had never been inside Filch's office before; it was a placemost students avoided. The room was dingy and windowless, lit by a singleoil lamp dangling from the low ceiling. A faint smell of fried fish lingeredabout the place. Wooden filing cabinets stood around the walls; from theirlabels, Harry could see that they contained details of every pupil Filch hadever punished. Fred and George Weasley had an entire drawer to themselves. Ahighly polished collection of chains and manacles hung on the wall behindFilch's desk. It was common knowledge that he was always begging Dumbledoreto let him suspend students by their ankles from the ceiling.Filch grabbed a quill from a pot on his desk and began shufflingaround looking for parchment."Dung," he muttered furiously, "great sizzling dragon bogies . . .frog brains . . . rat intestines . . . I've had enough of it . . . make anexample . . . where's the form . . . yes . . ."He retrieved a large roll of parchment from his desk drawer andstretched it out in front of him, dipping his long black quill into the inkpot."Name . . . Harry Potter. Crime . . .""It was only a bit of mud!" said Harry."It's only a bit of mud to you, boy, but to me it's an extra hourscrubbing!" shouted Filch, a drip shivering unpleasantly at the end of hisbulbous nose. "Crime . . . befouling the castle . . . suggested sentence . .."Dabbing at his streaming nose, Filch squinted unpleasantly at Harrywho waited with bated breath for his sentence to fall.But as Filch lowered his quill, there was a great BANG! on theceiling of the office, which made the oil lamp rattle."PEEVES!" Filch roared, flinging down his quill in a transport ofrage. "I'll have you this time, I'll have you!"And without a backward glance at Harry, Filch ran flat-footed fromthe office, Mrs. Norris streaking alongside him.Peeves was the school poltergeist, a grinning, airborne menace wholived to cause havoc and distress. Harry didn't much like Peeves, butcouldn't help feeling grateful for his timing. Hopefully, whatever Peeveshad done (and it sounded as though he'd wrecked something very big thistime) would distract Filch from Harry.Thinking that he should probably wait for Filch to come back, Harrysank into a moth-eaten chair next to the desk. There was only one thing onit apart from his half-completed form: a large, glossy, purple envelope withsilver lettering on the front. With a quick glance at the door to check thatFilch wasn't on his way back, Harry picked up the envelope and read:kwikspellA Correspondence Course in Beginners' MagicIntrigued, Harry flicked the envelope open and pulled out the sheafof parchment inside. More curly silver writing on the front page said:Feel out of step in the world of modern magic? Find yourself making excusesnot to perform simple spells? Ever been taunted for your woeful wandwork?There is an answer!Kwikspell is an all-new, fail-safe, quick-result, easy-learn course.Hundreds of witches and wizards have benefited from the Kwikspell method!Madam Z. Nettles of Topsham writes:"I had no memory for incantations and my potions were a family joke! Now,after a Kwikspell course, I am the center of attention at parties andfriends beg for the recipe of my Scintillation Solution!"Warlock D. J. Prod of Didsbury says:"My wife used to sneer at my feeble charms, but one month into your fabulousKwikspell course and I succeeded in turning her into a yak! Thank you,Kwikspell!"Fascinated, Harry thumbed through the rest of the envelope'scontents. Why on earth did Filch want a Kwikspell course? Did this mean hewasn't a proper wizard? Harry was just reading "Lesson One: Holding YourWand (Some Useful Tips)" when shuffling footsteps outside told him Filch wascoming back. Stuffing the parchment back into the envelope, Harry threw itback onto the desk just as the door opened.Filch was looking triumphant."That vanishing cabinet was extremely valuable!" he was sayinggleefully 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 realized too late, was lying two feet away from where it hadstarted.Filch's pasty face went brick red. Harry braced himself for a tidalwave of fury. Filch hobbled across to his desk, snatched up the envelope,and threw it into a drawer."Have you - did you read -?" he sputtered."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 afriend - 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 thetartan scarf didn't help."Very well - go - and don't breathe a word - not that - however, ifyou 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 wasprobably 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 that appearedto have been dropped from a great height."I persuaded Peeves to crash it right over Filch's office," saidNick eagerly. "Thought it might distract him -""Was that you?" said Harry gratefully. "Yeah, it worked, I didn'teven get detention. Thanks, Nick!"They set off up the corridor together. Nearly Headless Nick, Harrynoticed, was still holding Sir Patrick's rejection letter."I wish there was something I could do for you about the HeadlessHunt," Harry said.Nearly Headless Nick stopped in his tracks and Harry walked rightthrough him. He wished he hadn't; it was like stepping through an icyshower."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 Halloween will be my five hundredth deathday," saidNearly Headless Nick, drawing himself up and looking dignified."Oh," said Harry, not sure whether he should look sorry or happyabout this. "Right.""I'm holding a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. Friendswill be coming from all over the country. It would be such an honor if youwould attend. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger would be most welcome, too, ofcourse - but I daresay you'd rather go to the school feast?" He watchedHarry on tenterhooks."No," said Harry quickly, "I'll come -""My dear boy! Harry Potter, at my deathday party! And" - hehesitated, looking excited - "do you think you could possibly mention to SirPatrick 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 andjoined her and Ron in the common room. "I bet there aren't many livingpeople 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 deaddepressing to me. . . ."Rain was still lashing the windows, which were now inky black, butinside all looked bright and cheerful. The firelight glowed over thecountless squashy armchairs where people sat reading, talking, doinghomework or, in the case of Fred and George Weasley, trying to find out whatwould happen if you fed a Filibuster firework to a salamander. Fred had"rescued" the brilliant orange, fire-dwelling lizard from a Care of MagicalCreatures class and it was now smouldering gently on a table surrounded by aknot of curious people.Harry was at the point of telling Ron and Hermione about Filch andthe Kwikspell course when the salamander suddenly whizzed into the air,emitting loud sparks and bangs as it whirled wildly round the room. Thesight of Percy bellowing himself hoarse at Fred and George, the spectaculardisplay of tangerine stars showering from the salamander's mouth, and itsescape into the fire, with accompanying explosions, drove both Filch and theKwikspell envelope from Harry's mind.By the time Halloween arrived, Harry was regretting his rash promise to goto the deathday party. The rest of the school was happily anticipating theirHalloween feast; the Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats,Hagrid's vast pumpkins had been carved into lanterns large enough for threemen to sit in, and there were rumors that Dumbledore had booked a troupe ofdancing skeletons for the entertainment."A promise is a promise," Hermione reminded Harry bossily. "You saidyou'd go to the deathday party."So at seven o'clock, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked straight pastthe doorway to the packed Great Hall, which was glittering invitingly withgold plates and candles, and directed their steps instead toward thedungeons.The passageway leading to Nearly Headless Nick's party had beenlined with candles, too, though the effect was far from cheerful: These werelong, thin, jet-black tapers, all burning bright blue, casting a dim,ghostly light even over their own living faces. The temperature dropped withevery step they took. As Harry shivered and drew his robes tightly aroundhim, he heard what sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormousblackboard."Is that supposed to be music?" Ron whispered. They turned a cornerand saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with black velvetdrapes."My dear friends," he said mournfully. "Welcome, welcome . . . sopleased you could come. . . ."He swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside.It was an incredible sight. The dungeon was full of hundreds ofpearly-white, translucent people, mostly drifting around a crowded dancefloor, waltzing to the dreadful, quavering sound of thirty musical saws,played by an orchestra on a raised, black-draped platform. A chandelieroverhead blazed midnight-blue with a thousand more black candles. Theirbreath rose in a mist before them; it was like stepping into a freezer."Shall we have a look around?" Harry suggested, wanting to warm uphis feet."Careful not to walk through anyone," said Ron nervously, and theyset off around the edge of the dance floor. They passed a group of gloomynuns, a ragged man wearing chains, and the Fat Friar, a cheerful Hufflepuffghost, who was talking to a knight with an arrow sticking out of hisforehead. Harry wasn't surprised to see that the Bloody Baron, a gaunt,staring Slytherin ghost covered in silver bloodstains, was being given awide berth by the other ghosts."Oh, no," said Hermione, stopping abruptly. "Turn back, turn back, Idon't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle -""Who?" said Harry as they backtracked quickly."She haunts one of the toilets in the girls' bathroom on the firstfloor," said Hermione."She haunts a toilet?""Yes. It's been out-of-order all year because she keeps havingtantrums and flooding the place. I never went in there anyway if I couldavoid it; it's awful trying to have a pee with her wailing at you -""Look, food!" said Ron.On the other side of the dungeon was a long table, also covered inblack velvet. They approached it eagerly but next moment had stopped intheir tracks, horrified. The smell was quite disgusting. Large, rotten fishwere laid on handsome silver platters; cakes, burned charcoal-black, wereheaped on salvers; there was a great maggoty haggis, a slab of cheesecovered in furry green mold and, in pride of place, an enormous gray cake inthe shape of a tombstone, with tar-like icing forming the words,Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpingtondied 31st October, 1492Harry watched, amazed, as a portly ghost approached the table,crouched low, and walked through it, his mouth held wide so that it passedthrough one of the stinking salmon."Can you taste it if you walk though it?" Harry asked him."Almost," said the ghost sadly, and he drifted away."I expect they've let it rot to give it a stronger flavor," saidHermione knowledgeably, pinching her nose and leaning closer to look at theputrid haggis."Can we move? I feel sick," said Ron.They had barely turned around, however, when a little man swoopedsuddenly from under the table and came to a halt in midair before them."Hello, Peeves," said Harry cautiously.Unlike the ghosts around them, Peeves the Poltergeist was the veryreverse of pale and transparent. He was wearing a bright orange party hat, arevolving bow tie, and a broad grin on his wide, wicked face."Nibbles?" he said sweetly, offering them a bowl of peanuts coveredin fungus."No thanks," said Hermione."Heard you talking about poor Myrtle," said Peeves, his eyesdancing. "Rude you was about poor Myrtle." He took a deep breath andbellowed, "OY! MYRTLE!""Oh, no, Peeves, don't tell her what I said, she'll be reallyupset," Hermione whispered frantically. "I didn't mean it, I don't mind her- er, hello, Myrtle."The squat ghost of a girl had glided over. She had the glummest faceHarry had ever seen, half-hidden behind lank hair and thick, pearlyspectacles."What?" she said sulkily."How are you, Myrtle?" said Hermione in a falsely bright voice."It's nice to see you out of the toilet."Myrtle sniffed."Miss Granger was just talking about you -" said Peeves slyly inMyrtle's ear."Just saying - saying - how nice you look tonight," said Hermione,glaring at Peeves.Myrtle eyed Hermione suspiciously."You're making fun of me," she said, silver tears welling rapidly inher small, see-through eyes."No - honestly - didn't I just say how nice Myrtle's looking?" saidHermione, nudging Harry and Ron painfully in the ribs."Oh, yeah -""She did -""Don't lie to me," Myrtle gasped, tears now flooding down her face,while Peeves chuckled happily over her shoulder. "D'you think I don't knowwhat people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable,moaning, moping Myrtle!""You've forgotten pimply," Peeves hissed in her ear.Moaning Myrtle burst into anguished sobs and fled from the dungeon.Peeves shot after her, pelting her with moldy peanuts, yelling, "Pimply!Pimply!""Oh, dear," said Hermione sadly.Nearly Headless Nick now drifted toward them through the crowd."Enjoying yourselves?""Oh, yes," they lied."Not a bad turnout," said Nearly Headless Nick proudly. "The WailingWidow came all the way up from Kent. . . . It's nearly time for my speech,I'd better go and warn the orchestra. . . ."The orchestra, however, stopped playing at that very moment. They,and everyone else in the dungeon, fell silent, looking around in excitement,as a hunting horn sounded."Oh, here we go," said Nearly Headless Nick bitterly.Through the dungeon wall burst a dozen ghost horses, each ridden bya headless horseman. The assembly clapped wildly; Harry started to clap,too, but stopped quickly at the sight of Nick's face.The horses galloped into the middle of the dance floor and halted,rearing and plunging. At the front of the pack was a large ghost who heldhis bearded head under his arm, from which position he was blowing the horn.The ghost leapt down, lifted h