Cedric, after looking in the kitchen, which was empty, went to the girls' apartment, surprisingly passing through the door rather easily, which he wasn't quite expecting. Looking around, he saw that the main room was also empty, which, much to his frustration, meant that she was hiding it her room.
Going over to the first door, he knocked on the first door, hearing nothing but silence. Going over to the other one, he knocked on the door, patiently waiting for it to open. It took a few seconds before it did, revealing Hermione. He felt shame roll over him as he saw her eyes were rimmed with red, knowing that he was mostly responsible for it, as he was the one getting on her case the most about her crush on Lockhart in the book.
He opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione held up her hand.
"Let's go back to the reading room," she said, not giving him the chance to say anything else as she pushed passed him. He quickly grabbed onto her arm, having noticed that her voice was much colder than it had been since they had been there.
"Wait," he said. She stopped trying to walk off, but didn't turn to look at him, which didn't make him feel all that confident.
"I'm sorry for getting on your case for what your book self does in the book. I guess I was doing it so much because I was having trouble believing you would ignore something like that when it's right in your face, but then I realized that you were acting like anyone under a crush in the book, and the real you, the one in front of me, could see that, and, instead of realizing it, I continued to get on your case during the last chapter, and most likely would have continued to do so throughout this entire book, and it wasn't and would not be very fair to you if I did that. So, I'm sorry."
She finally turned towards him, giving him a small smile before saying, "Okay, your forgiven. But don't be doing it anymore, unless it's absolutely needed."
Once that was said, the two walked back to the reading room, with Cedric only stopping again when he remembered what he and the other two had decided that Hermione didn't know. He quickly informed her about it, and she agreed with it, before walking back into the reading room, where Harry and Luna both noted that Hermione, while still having red eyes, was looking much happier than she had been when she walked out. Harry reopened the book to the page that began the next chapter.
"Mudbloods and Murmurs," read Harry. Cedric and Luna stiffened at the sound of that, knowing what that M word meant. Hermione, who had seen Luna stiffen, wondered why, and had been about to ask when Harry continued to read, not allowing her to do so.
Harry spent a lot of time over the next few days dodging out of sight whenever he saw Gilderoy Lockhart coming down a corridor.
"That's probably not to hard, he probably misses you rather easily outside of class and the great hall," Hermione said, "unless, of course, there's something that makes it sound like your showing your fame."
Harder to avoid was Colin Creevey, who seemed to have memorised Harry's timetable.
"Somehow, I wouldn't doubt it, as he probably either followed you around a lot, or he stole a second year's timetable," Luna said.
Nothing seemed to give Colin a bigger thrill than to say, "All right, Harry?" six or seven times a day and hear, "Hullo, Colin," back, however exasperated Harry sounded when he said it.
"Of course it gives him a big thrill: his hero is acknowledging him," Luna said.
"And you're too nice not to acknowledge him, even if it's in a simple way," Hermione said.
Hedwig was still angry with Harry about the disastrous 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.
"Ouch," Hermione said.
So, with one thing and another, Harry was quite glad to reach the weekend.
"That makes a lot of sense," Cedric said.
He, Ron and Hermione were planning to visit Hagrid on Saturday morning.
"That, however, is not going to be what happens," Luna said. "Otherwise it wouldn't be mentioned in the way it is."
Harry, however, was shaken awake several hours earlier than he would have liked by Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
"Oh, yes, that makes quite a bit of sense, as the earliest you can begin training is the first weekend after classes start," Cedric said, "and I do remember the Hufflepuff captain complaining about how quickly Oliver had booked the pitch."
"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 he was awake, he couldn't understand how he could have slept through the racket the birds were making.
"I would really hate to be you right now," Cedric said.
"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 mad enthusiasm.
"I think I would want to actually run into the other direction if he looked at me like that," Cedric said.
"It's part of our new training programme. 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 ..."
"Just because you're the first off the mark doesn't mean that the others won't do better than you. So long as they get at least some practice, it's good," Cedric said.
"Why didn't he warn us the previous day?" asked Harry. "I mean, we would have a better way of waking up and would at least be able to get some breakfast."
"I don't think Wood can think clearly when it comes to Quidditch," Cedric said. "In fact, I'd say his only thoughts when it comes to anything to do with Quidditch are practice constantly and win every game possible."
Yawning and shivering slightly, Harry climbed out of bed and tried to find his Quidditch robes.
"Good man," said Wood. "Meet you on the pitch in fifteen minutes."
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.
"He must have the picture he took of you ready," Cedric said.
"How did he know I was even up?" Harry asked.
"That's actually a good question," Hermione said. "How did he know?"
"I heard someone saying your name on the stairs, Harry!"
"He must have gotten up pretty early, then," Luna said.
"Look what I've got here! I've had it developed, I wanted to show you –"
"That's probably what helped him, too," Hermione said.
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 recognised 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.
"It seems my photographic self isn't into being seen, and can fight back," Harry said.
"What would stop you from fighting in real life?" Cedric asked.
"Well, it could be because he's a teacher," Harry said.
"Will you sign it?" said Colin eagerly.
"No," Harry said quickly.
"No," said Harry flatly, glancing around to check that the room was really deserted.
"Don't want anyone else hearing that, I take it," Hermione said.
"Sorry, Colin, I'm in a hurry – Quidditch practice."
He climbed through the portrait hole.
"That's not going to get rid of him," Cedric said. "He'll probably have heard about it by now and will probably want to watch the practice, especially if your there."
"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,
"I'm sure that his pure-blood and half-blood roommates have told him just how exciting it actually is, so saying it isn't won't work," said Luna.
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?"
"This coming year, it is, but that can change," Cedric said. "People in the broomstick companies are always trying to find a way to make the broomsticks better."
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 round trying to knock people off their brooms?"
"Yes," said Harry heavily, resigned to explaining the complicated rules of Quidditch.
"They're not that complicated," Cedric said, frowning at Harry.
"I think I just rather not explain them, and they can be complicated to those who haven't grown up with it," Harry said. Even though he read about it, he wasn't quite sure about everything about it quite yet.
"They're called Bludgers. There are two Beaters 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.
"He might want to watch were he's going," Cedric said, "especially in a place like Hogwarts."
"Well, the Quaffle – 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 goalposts 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."
"You got all the points that need to be said without much difficulty," Cedric said, raising his eyebrow at Harry.
"You forgot a player," Hermione said.
"Who?" Cedric asked.
"The Keeper," she answered.
"And you're 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 goalposts. That's it, really."
"It seems I noticed that I forgot a player," Harry said.
But Colin didn't stop questioning Harry all the way down the sloping lawns to the Quidditch pitch, 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.
"I don't think you quite shook him off yet if he's going to be staying there," Hermione said.
"I think it's more of the fact that he's leaving me alone instead of following me into the changing rooms," Harry said.
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 tousle-haired, next to fourth-year Alicia Spinnet, who seemed to be nodding off against the wall behind her. Her fellow Chasers, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, were yawning, side by side, opposite them.
"How did he get the girls up?" Cedric wondered.
"I would imagine the same way he got Harry up," Hermione said. "He went to their dorm and did so."
"No, that's not what I meant. While I don't know what it's like in Gryffindor, in Hufflepuff, boys are not able to get to the girl's dormitories, and I would have imagined that it's that way for all houses," Cedric explained.
"Maybe there was another girl up, then," Luna said.
"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 pitch, because I spent the summer devising a whole new training programme, which I really think will make all the difference ..."
"So, he's not allowing you to eat, or go on a quick lap around the pitch to wake you up, but going straight into whatever new training programme he came up with," Cedric said. "You're not going to get a single bit of it."
Wood was holding up a large diagram of a Quidditch pitch, on which were drawn many lines, arrows and crosses in different-coloured 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 onto Alicia Spinnet's shoulder and he began to snore.
"Like I said, he should have at least woken you up," Cedric said.
The first board took nearly twenty minutes to explain, but there was another board under that, and a third under that one. Harry sank into a stupor as Wood droned on and on.
"So," said Wood, at long last, jerking Harry from a wistful fantasy about what he could be eating for breakfast at this very moment up at the castle, "is that clear? Any questions?"
"I've got a question, Oliver," said George, who had woken with a start. "Why couldn't you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?"
"That's a really good question," Hermione said. "It would have been smarter to tell them earlier so that they could be prepared and gotten plenty of sleep."
Wood wasn't pleased.
"Why should he be upset about that question. It's his own fault it's been asked," Hermione said.
"Now, listen here, you lot," he said, glowering at them all, "we should have won the Quidditch Cup last year. We're easily the best team. But unfortunately, owing to circumstances beyond our control ..."
"You've got to be kidding me. He can't be getting mad at you for something out of your control," Hermione said. "I mean, yeah, you didn't have to go through the trapdoor, but it wasn't like you'd done it to get hurt exclusively."
"Well, considering that Wood thinks there is nothing more important that Quidditch will most likely be upset at Harry because of that," Cedric said.
"He needs his priorities fixed," Hermione said.
Harry shifted guiltily in his seat. He had been unconscious in the hospital wing for the final match of the previous year, meaning that Gryffindor had been a player short and had suffered their worst defeat in three hundred years.
"I wonder what that score was. I mean, it would have to be a bad one, but it's not just the Seeker that makes a team great," Cedric said. "I mean, your Seeker could be horrible, but if your Chasers and Keepers are good, then you can still win a game. Of course, now that I think about it, what happened to them during the last match? Wood and at least two of the Chasers are extremely good, as well as the twins, and I'm sure that the new Chaser is good as well. Just because you're down a player doesn't mean that you still can't win."
Wood took a moment to regain control of himself. Their last defeat was clearly still torturing him.
"So, this year, we train harder than ever before ... OK, let's go and put our new theories into practice!" Wood shouted, seizing his broomstick and leading the way out of the changing rooms. Stiff-legged and still yawning, his team followed.
"I think he's the only one who wants to go," Harry said.
They had been in the changing room so long that the sun was up properly now, although remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium. As Harry walked onto the pitch, he saw Ron and Hermione sitting in the stands.
"Aren't you finished yet?" called Ron incredulously.
"I think the fact that they are heading to the pitch should tell him that," Cedric said.
"Well, actually, it depends on when we got down there," Hermione said. "I mean, on a weekend, I don't see us getting up at the break of dawn like Harry was woken up at, so it's possible that we assumed, when we got there, that they had already finished, and were wrapping up."
"Haven't even started," said Harry, looking jealously at the toast and marmalade Ron and Hermione had brought out of the Great Hall. "Wood's been teaching us new moves."
"I think attempting to teach you new moves is more accurate, since you didn't get a single bit of what he said," Luna said.
He mounted his broomstick and kicked at the ground, soaring up into the air. The cool morning air whipped his face, waking him far more effectively than Wood's long talk.
"I think someone needs to tell Wood to let his team do a lap or two around the stadium before doing a long talk," Hermione said.
It felt wonderful to be back on the Quidditch pitch. He soared right around the stadium at full speed, racing Fred and George.
"What's that funny clicking noise?" called Fred, as they hurtled around the corner.
"He's still there," Hermione said, surprised, knowing exactly who it was making the funny clicking noise, as cameras did do that, and Colin had his camera around his neck.
Harry looked into the stands. Colin was sitting in one of the highest seats, his camera raised, taking picture after picture, the sound strangely magnified in the deserted stadium.
"Look this way, Harry! This way!" he cried shrilly.
"Who's that?" said Fred.
"No idea," Harry lied, putting on a spurt of speed that took him as far away as possible from Colin.
"What's going on?" said Wood, frowning, as he skimmed through the air towards them. "Why's that first-year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training programme."
"He's in Gryffindor," said Harry quickly.
"Thought you didn't know who he was, Harry," Luna said, teasingly. Harry blushed and began to stammer something out, only to have her begin to laugh at him as she said, "I was just joking, Harry."
"Yeah, he probably has something that says what house he's in, as, even when you don't wear your robes, people tend to wear something that has their house colors on them, like a scarf."
"And the Slytherins don't need a spy, Oliver," said George.
"What makes you say that?" said Wood testily.
"Because they're here in person," said George, pointing.
Several people in green robes were walking onto the pitch, broomsticks in their hands.
"I don't believe it!" Wood hissed in outrage. "I booked the pitch for today! We'll see about this!"
"While he's getting upset for no real reason, having booked the pitch for that day means that he and his team have the rights to it. The only reason why they wouldn't is if he's overusing the privilege, or the other team has the Head of House's permission to take over the practice time from another person, though it has to be a good reason," Cedric said. "I do know that last year, Wood did get in trouble for trying to basically own the pitch."
Wood shot towards the ground, landing rather harder than he meant to in his anger, staggering slightly as he dismounted. Harry, Fred and George followed.
"Yeah, you might need to hold him back from attacking," Cedric said.
"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"
Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."
"Um, Gryffindor and Slytherin practising together? Not a good idea," Cedric said.
Angelina, Alicia and Katie had come over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team – who stood, shoulder to shoulder, facing the Gryffindors, leering to a man.
"Is the house sexist?" asked Hermione. Cedric shrugged, not really knowing the inner workings of that house. Of course, now that he thought about it, he had never heard of a female being on the team what so ever.
"But I booked the pitch!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"
"Ah," said Flint, "but I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practise today on the Quidditch pitch, owing to the need to train their new Seeker'."
"You've got a new Seeker?" said Wood, distracted. "Where?"
"Nice way to distract him," Hermione said, shaking her head.
And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was Draco Malfoy.
"Apparently, he didn't have anything to worry about," Hermione said. Cedric, however, had a pensive look on his face, one that Harry noticed.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Well, they can't have had practices or tryouts yet, so how did Malfoy get on the team," Cedric said. "Remember, this is the first day they can book the pitch for practices or holding tryouts, and, last I checked, the Seeker on the team is only in the year above me, and Slytherins don't exactly hold tryouts every year – at least, I've never heard of them doing that."
"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike.
"Seems you two and Ron are not the only people who don't like Malfoy," Cedric said.
"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint, as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."
All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words 'Nimbus Two Thousand and One' gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early-morning sun.
"Well, there's your answer, Cedric," Hermione said, scoffing. "He's the new Seeker because he bought his way onto the team."
"Very latest model. Only came out last month," said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps," he smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives, "sweeps the board with them."
"Well, from what we've been told, it's not the broomstick that matters, but the person astride it," Hermione said. "If you don't have talent, it doesn't matter."
None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment.
"Someone should say something. Otherwise, they get the reaction they want," Luna said.
Malfoy was smirking so broadly his cold eyes were reduced to slits.
"See," Luna commented.
"Oh look," said Flint. "A pitch invasion."
Ron and Hermione were crossing the grass to see what was going on.
"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?"
He was looking at Malfoy, taking in his Slytherin Quidditch robes.
"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," said Malfoy, smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."
"AKA, I'm bragging about the fact that my father bought my way onto the team, and I'm showing off the means on how it happened," Hermione said.
Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.
"Good, aren't they?" said Malfoy smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives, I expect a museum would bid for them."
"They could do that, but there is nothing wrong with Cleansweeps, they're actually pretty good brooms," Cedric said.
The Slytherin team howled with laughter.
"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent."
"That'll shut them up," Luna said.
"But that's also going to anger Malfoy," Cedric said, remembering the chapter title. He hoped that what he was thinking was wrong.
The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered.
"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.
"That's not a good thing, is it?" Hermione said, having the feeling that it was an insult.
"No, it's not. It's considered to be the worse insult a person can say to someone, and, sadly, people tend to let the person who said it get away with it because they don't realize that, he's not only insulting you, he's insulting your parents by saying that," Cedric said. "He basically saying you were born from mud, that mud runs through your veins, that your parents are nothing but mud."
Harry knew at once that Malfoy had said something really bad because there was an instant uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him,
"Should have gone for their wands," Cedric muttered, though he knew that, no matter what they did, it would do no good, as they would be the ones punished, not Malfoy – in fact, Malfoy could say it all he wanted, as long as he didn't curse anyone. Before beginning to read these books – and question Dumbledore – he would have just been disheartened to hear about it and otherwise ignored it.
But now, well, he wondered why the person, most often a Slytherin, was never punished for saying that word – or for any type of bullying. As he was now thinking, the fact that they were never punished seemed to make them think they could do it whenever they wanted.
Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!" and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoy's face.
"Not good. His wand has been acting up all week, and the chances of it working now..." Harry said, drifting off at the others' grimaces, knowing that they understood what he was getting at.
A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backwards onto the grass.
"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" squealed Hermione.
Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap.
Harry, Hermione, and Cedric all gained a green tint to their faces as they read that. Luna, however, didn't show any sign of disgust at that, though she did think it was a bit disgusting in her mind.
The Slytherin team were paralysed with laughter. Flint was doubled up, hanging on to his new broomstick for support. Malfoy was on all fours, banging the ground with his fist. The Gryffindors were gathered around Ron, who kept belching large, glistening slugs. Nobody seemed to want to touch him.
"I definitely wouldn't want to," Cedric said.
"We'd better get him to Hagrid's, it's nearest," said Harry to Hermione, who nodded bravely, and the pair of them pulled Ron up by the arms.
"What happened, Harry? What happened? Is he ill? But you can cure him, can't you?"
"Lovely, Colin's there. He'll probably want a picture once he sees what happened to Ron, as well," Hermione said.
"Why does he automatically think I'll be able to cure Ron?" asked Harry.
"As his hero, he won't believe there is anything you can't do," Luna said.
Colin had run down from his seat and was now dancing alongside them as they left the pitch. Ron gave a huge heave and more slugs dribbled down his front.
"Oooh," said Colin, fascinated and raising his camera. "Can you hold him still, Harry?"
"Get out of the way, Colin!" said Harry angrily.
"I'm not about to let someone get a picture of something like that, especially if there a friend of mine," Harry said.
He and Hermione supported Ron out of the stadium and across the grounds towards the edge of the Forest.
"Nearly there, Ron," said Hermione, as the gamekeeper's cabin came into view. "You'll be all right in a minute ... almost there ..."
"Somehow, I don't think that Hagrid will be able to help much," Cedric said. "I mean, he's not a healer, and I somehow get the feeling that it's not a curse you could just do a counter-curse for. And having it done with a broken wand, well, who knows how that may have altered the intents of whatever spell Ron was trying to do."
"Wouldn't belching out slugs have been the intent," Harry said.
"Not necessarily," Cedric said. "He could have been aiming to do anything, since he never said anything other than Malfoy would pay for his words, which would suggest that he probably had something more harmful on his mind than belching slugs."
They were within twenty feet of Hagrid's house when the front door opened, but it wasn't Hagrid who emerged. Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing robes of palest mauve today, came striding out.
"Hide," Cedric said. "Who knows what he would do if you didn't."
"Quick, behind here," Harry hissed, dragging Ron behind a nearby bush. Hermione followed, somewhat reluctantly.
The boys in the room raised an eyebrow at this, but didn't say anything, remembering her outburst during the previous chapter, and, while this was a prime teasing opportunity, he didn't dare to say anything at the moment. It was mostly the fact that he still felt bad for getting on her case for her book self's actions.
"It's a simple matter if you know what you're doing!" Lockhart was saying loudly to Hagrid.
"Why is he talking down to Hagrid?" Hermione asked, knowing that that was what Lockhart was doing in talking loudly to Hagrid, even if it didn't seem that way.
"I don't know," Cedric said, a little confused at her wording. He didn't ask her to elaborate, though.
"If you need help, you know where I am! I'll let you have a copy of my book – I'm surprised you haven't already got one."
"I think that's probably because Hagrid not only knows good literature, but wouldn't be interested in reading about creatures he would consider to be interesting being killed," Cedric said.
"I'll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, goodbye!" And he strode away towards the castle.
"Hagrid will probably burn it if Lockhart does send one to him," Cedric said.
Harry waited until Lockhart was out of sight, then pulled Ron out of the bush and up to Hagrid's front door. They knocked urgently.
Hagrid appeared at once, looking very grumpy, but his expression brightened when he saw who it was.
"He probably thought Lockhart had come to bother him again. Which, you know, makes me wonder, why would Lockhart be there in the first place?" Harry said.
"I dunno," Hermione and Cedric said.
"He probably heard that you were friends with Hagrid and was hoping to run into you, Harry," Luna said.
"Bin wonderin' when you'd come ter see me – come in, come in – thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again."
Harry and Hermione supported Ron over the threshold, into the one-roomed cabin, which had an enormous bed in one corner, a fire crackling merrily in another. Hagrid didn't seem perturbed by Ron's slug problem, which Harry hastily explained as he lowered Ron into a chair.
"Better out than in," he said cheerfully, plonking a large copper basin in front of him. "Get 'em all up, Ron."
"Poor Ron, he was probably hoping for an easier solution," Luna said,
"I don't think there's anything to do except wait for it to stop," said Hermione anxiously, watching Ron bend over the basin. "That's a difficult curse to work at the best of times, but with a broken wand ..."
"Did you recognise the effects and assume that he was attempting some obscure curse that you found in some book, and not think that he might have been trying something else?" asked Harry, honestly curious.
"I guess. I also guess I should realize that, just because he got that effect doesn't mean that it's actually the effect that he was going for," Hermione said.
Hagrid was bustling around, making them tea. His boarhound, Fang, was slobbering over Harry.
"What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?" Harry asked, scratching Fang's ears.
"Givin' me advice on gettin' kelpies out of a well," growled Hagrid, moving a half-plucked rooster off his scrubbed table and setting down the teapot.
"So, basically, he was doing what he did to Professor Sprout to Hagrid," Cedric said. "Now, I may not know Hagrid as well as Gryffindors do, but I do know that he is really good at taking care of magical creatures, and it is only the fact that he was expelled that has kept him from becoming the Cares of Magical Creatures professor."
"Like I don' know. An' bangin' on about some Banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."
"Which means that Hagrid does not believe that Lockhart ever did anything of the things he wrote about," Cedric said, smiling.
"He's also criticising him, too," Harry said.
"Well, it makes sense that he wouldn't believe that Lockhart had done that, since Hagrid would have been there at the school when Lockhart was and would probably remember a bit about him," Hermione said. "And I don't think he's much of teacher, so it's alright to criticise him."
It was most unlike Hagrid to criticise a Hogwarts teacher and Harry looked at him in surprise. Hermione, however, said in a voice somewhat higher than usual, "I think you're being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job –"
"Actually, I think it's more like Dumbledore's having trouble getting anyone to want the job," Cedric said. "I've heard rumors that the job is cursed, because there hasn't been a teacher whose lasted longer than a year at it, and I'm sure that the fact that Quirrell dying didn't help boost applications for it."
"He was the on'y man for the job," said Hagrid, offering them a plate of treacle toffee, while Ron coughed squelchily into his basin. "An' I mean the on'y one. Gettin' very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren't too keen ter take it on, see. They're startin' ter think it's jinxed. No one's lasted long fer a while now. So tell me," said Hagrid, jerking his head at Ron, "who was he tryin' ter curse?"
"Malfoy called Hermione something. It must've been really bad, because everyone went mad."
"It was bad," Harry corrected himself, having realized that, not only was Hermione being insulted, but his mother was as well.
"It was bad," said Ron hoarsely, emerging over the table top, looking pale and sweaty. "Malfoy called her 'Mudblood', Hagrid –"
Ron dived out of sight again as a fresh wave of slugs made their appearance. Hagrid looked outraged.
"He didn'!" he growled at Hermione.
"He did," she said. "But I don't know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course ..."
"It makes sense that you haven't heard it yet, as no one of any worth would be saying the word," Cedric said. "It's not something one hears in civilized conversation."
"It's about the most insulting thing he could think of," gasped Ron, coming back up. "Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who was Muggle-born – you know, non-magic parents. There are some wizards – like Malfoy's family – who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood."
"No offense to any of you, but, to completely be pure-blood, you have to do quite a bit of in-breeding, don't you? I mean, you have to marry family members, right?" Hermione asked, remembering something she once read about how royalty in another country would marry cousins and such because that's what they believed would keep their blood pure. Of course, it didn't actually do anything but cause problems, even if those problems didn't show up for a while.
He gave a small burp, and a single slug fell into his outstretched hand. He threw it into the basin and continued, "I mean, the rest of us know it doesn't make any difference at all."
"From the sounds of it, Hermione here is a prime example of that," Cedric said, smiling to her.
"Look at Neville Longbottom – he's pure-blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up."
"Actually, standing a cauldron the right way up is not a sign of magical potential, and considering the fact that Neville seems to be a bit of timid boy, and Snape probably scares him quite a bit," Cedric said. "Plus, remember in the first book, how he said that everyone thought he was non-magical. Well, since he seemed to be a late bloomer, I have the feeling that people aren't exactly nice to him and that he doesn't really have any confidence whatsoever. If you want to use a good example of such a thing, I would use one of Malfoy's goons – or almost any of the Slytherins, come to think of it – as why it doesn't matter."
"An' they haven't invented a spell our Hermione can't do," said Hagrid proudly, making Hermione go a brilliant shade of magenta.
"Sad thing is, that's probably very true," Cedric said, and he had a serious look on his face. "Of course, I don't think she'll willingly every use some of them."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Well, while Spells themselves are neither light or dark – or, at least, that's what my mother says, because others say that they are – and the persons intent is what makes a spell light or dark, there are some spells out there that I honestly can't see anyway for them to be considered light. In fact, there are three especially that, if used, would earn the user a one way ticket to jail. They're called the Unforgivable Curses," Cedric began explaining. "And, it is those three curses that I don't think you would ever willingly use, and not because of the jail sentence, either."
"It's a disgusting thing to call someone," said Ron, wiping his sweaty brow with a shaking hand. "Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It's mad. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn't married Muggles we'd've died out."
"Again, that's true," Cedric said.
"Yep," Luna said.
"So, your both half-bloods?" Harry asked. The two shook their heads.
"No, we're both pure-bloods, but that's only because of the fact that anyone whose Great-great Grandparents, on both their mothers and fathers side of the family, and that everyone since then has been magical, as well as the fact that whoever they married were the same way..."
"Basically, if you've got at least four generations of magicals in your family on each side of the family, your considered to be pure-blood, and, while some of the more fanatic ones can go back even further, on their own lines or those they are marrying into if they think it truly matters, they usually don't look much further than that for others," Luna said. "My family is one of those who can trace the line back pretty far, as is his, though both of our lines would never be considered completely pure, as we have married Muggleborns, half-bloods, and the occasional Muggle. We're both considered to be Ancient and Noble, as is your line, Harry."
"Which, I think, is something to get into at a later time," Cedric said, noticing that Hermione looked ready to ask a question upon the mention of Ancient and Noble lines. She pouted when she saw Harry and Luna agree with Cedric, though she could tell that Harry wanted to know about it as well.
He retched and ducked out of sight again.
"Well, I don' blame yeh fer tryin' ter curse him, Ron," said Hagrid loudly over the thuds of more slugs hitting the basin. "Bu' maybe it was a good thing yer wand backfired. 'Spect Lucius Malfoy would've come marchin' up ter school if yeh'd cursed his son. Least yer not in trouble."
"That's true, since Mr. Malfoy, would use his seat on the board to try and get Ron expelled for cursing his son," said Cedric.
"He's on the board," Hermione said, surprised.
"Yeah," Cedric said.
"How did he get on it?" Harry asked.
"Not sure, though I would imagine it might have to do with his wife, since the seat he holds was the Ancient and Noble House of Black's seat there, and his wife was a Black before marriage, so..." Cedric trailed off as the Harry and Hermione realized what he was saying: It was given to him as a wedding gift, for lack of better term.
Harry would have pointed out that trouble didn't come much worse than having slugs pouring out of your mouth, but he couldn't; Hagrid's treacle toffee had cemented his jaws together.
"Oh, I hadn't realized that you had begun eating his food," Hermione said.
"Harry," said Hagrid suddenly, as though struck by a sudden thought, "gotta bone ter pick with yeh. I've heard you've bin givin' out signed photos. How come I haven't got one?"
"Is Lockhart still spreading that around?" Harry asked rhetorically. "And why is Hagrid wanting one, anyways?"
Furious, Harry wrenched his teeth apart.
"I have not been giving out signed photos," he said hotly. "If Lockhart's still putting that about –"
But then he saw that Hagrid was laughing.
"Apparently, he was just joking with you," Hermione said, before she began laughing. Luna and Cedric, also having seen what was so funny, were laughing as well, as Harry pouted, and decided to ignore them.
"I'm on'y jokin'," he said, patting Harry genially on the back and sending him, face first, into the table. "I knew yeh hadn't really. I told Lockhart yeh didn' need teh. Yer more famous than him without tryin'."
"Oh, I bet he didn't like that," Hermione said.
"Bet he didn't like that," said Harry, sitting up and rubbing his chin.
"Don' think he did," said Hagrid, his eyes twinkling. "An' then I told him I'd never read one o' his books an' he decided ter go. Treacle toffee, Ron?" he added, as Ron re-appeared.
"I don't think it would be a good thing to risk it," Cedric said. "Not in his condition."
"No thanks," said Ron weakly. "Better not risk it."
"Come an' see what I've bin growin'," said Hagrid, as Harry and Hermione finished the last of their tea.
In the small vegetable patch behind Hagrid's house were a dozen of the largest pumpkins Harry had ever seen. Each was the size of a large boulder.
"Gettin' on well, aren't they?" said Hagrid happily. "Fer the Hallowe'en feast ... should be big enough by then."
"What has he been feeding them?" Harry asked.
"Sounds like he;s been using magic on them," Cedric said.
"What've you been feeding them?" said Harry.
Hagrid looked over his shoulder to check that they were alone.
"Well, I've bin givin' them – you know – a bit o' help."
Harry noticed Hagrid's flowery pink umbrella leaning against the back wall of the cabin. Harry had had reason to believe before now that this umbrella was not all it looked; in fact, he had the strong impression that Hagrid's old school wand was concealed inside it. Hagrid wasn't supposed to use magic. He had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, but Harry had never found out why – any mention of the matter and Hagrid would clear his throat loudly and become mysteriously deaf until the subject was changed.
"I wonder why he never talks about it," Hermione said.
"I don't think it's a subject that one would want to talk about," Cedric said.
"An Engorgement Charm, I suppose?"
"That would work," Cedric said.
said Hermione, halfway between disapproval and amusement. "Well, you've done a good job on them."
"That's what yer little sister said," said Hagrid, nodding at Ron. "Met her jus' yesterday." Hagrid looked sideways at Harry, his beard twitching. "Said she was jus' lookin' round the grounds, but I reckon she was hopin' she might run inter someone else at my house."
"That's probably true, since it's probably well known that you hang out with Hagrid quite a bit," Cedric said.
He winked at Harry. "If yeh ask me, she wouldn' say no ter a signed –"
"No, she definitely would not," Luna said.
"Oh, shut up," said Harry. Ron snorted with laughter and the ground was sprayed with slugs.
"Watch it!" Hagrid roared, pulling Ron away from his precious pumpkins.
The four began laughing, finding that a bit funny as they imagined it.
It was nearly lunchtime and as Harry had only had one bit of treacle toffee since dawn, he was keen to go back to school to eat. They said goodbye to Hagrid and walked back up to the castle, Ron hiccoughing occasionally, but only bringing up two, very small slugs.
"The curse is almost over," Cedric said. "That's good."
They had barely set foot in the cool Entrance Hall when a voice rang out. "There you are, Potter, Weasley."
"You must be getting your detention assigned now," Hermione said.
Professor McGonagall was walking towards them, looking stern. "You will both do your detentions this evening."
"What are we doing, Professor?" said Ron, nervously suppressing a burp.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that McGonagall won't appreciate seeing that, and would probably ask questions," Harry said.
"You"
"You two will be separated for this detention," Cedric noticed.
"You going to get Lockhart," Hermione told Harry. "I just know it."
"will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr Filch," said Professor McGonagall. "And no magic, Weasley – elbow grease."
Ron gulped. Argus Filch, the caretaker, was loathed by every student in the school.
"I think, especially if Hermione is right, I'll end up rather having Filch than Lockhart," Harry said.
"And you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail," said Professor McGonagall.
Harry groaned. "It's going to be worse than I thought," he said.
"Oh no – can't I go and do the trophy room, too?" said Harry desperately.
"Certainly not," said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows.
"She's probably wondering why you would want to do the trophy room," Cedric said.
"Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o'clock sharp, both of you."
"I am going to hate it," Harry said.
"Well, at least now you know what not to do for this year," Hermione said.
Harry and Ron slouched into the Great Hall in states of deepest gloom, Hermione behind them, wearing a well-you-did-break-school-rules sort of expression. Harry didn't fancy his shepherd's pie as much as he'd thought. Both he and Ron felt they'd got the worse deal.
"Filch'll have me there all night," said Ron heavily. "No magic! There must be about a hundred cups in that room. I'm no good at Muggle cleaning."
"I am, so that detention won't be to bad," Harry said.
"I'd swap any time," said Harry hollowly. "I've had loads of practice with the Dursleys. Answering Lockhart's fan mail ... he'll be a nightmare ..."
"He'll probably brag about how everyone writes to him – and watch, everyone will be female," Cedric said.
"I don't think there are many males who would like him," Harry said.
Saturday afternoon seemed to melt away,
"Of course. It's pretty well known that, when you want time to go slow, it goes fast, and when you want it to go fast, it goes slow," Hermione said. "Or, rather, that's how your mind portrays it."
and in what seemed like no time, it was five minutes to eight, and Harry was dragging his feet along the second-floor corridor to Lockhart's office. He gritted his teeth and knocked.
The door flew open at once. Lockhart beamed down at him.
"Ah, here's the scallywag!" he said. "Come in, Harry, come in."
Shining brightly on the walls by the light of many candles were countless framed photographs of Lockhart. He had even signed a few of them. Another large pile lay on his desk.
"Wow, he's conceited," Luna said. "Even more than I originally thought he was."
"You can address the envelopes!" Lockhart told Harry, as though this was a huge treat.
"To Lockhart, it probably is," Hermione said.
"This first one's to Gladys Gudgeon, bless her – huge fan of mine."
The minutes snailed by. Harry let Lockhart's voice wash over him, occasionally saying, "Mmm" and "Right" and "Yeah".
"So, basically, all your doing is making him think that you're listening to him when, in reality, you're not," Luna said.
"And, he's so into himself that he hasn't notice it, because you're giving him a change to just talk about himself," Hermione said.
Now and then he caught a phrase like "Fame's a fickle friend, Harry" or "Celebrity is as celebrity does, remember that".
"What does that mean?" Harry asked.
"Well, I'm not sure exactly what the second one means, but the first one is basically saying that fame is fleeting," Hermione said. "Of course, I think he's saying that to you because he's trying to get you to think that any fame you'll have won't last for long."
"Which can be true," Cedric said, "if those who followed Voldemort had their way. I have no doubt that you're not very popular towards him."
The candles burned lower and lower, making the light dance over the many moving faces of Lockhart watching him. Harry moved his aching hand over what felt like the thousandth envelope, writing out Veronica Smethley's address. It must be nearly time to leave, Harry thought miserably, please let it be nearly time …
"Unfortunately, you weren't given a time limit, so he could keep you there for as long as he wants," Cedric said.
And then he heard something – something quite apart from the spitting of the dying candles and Lockhart's prattle about his fans.
It was a voice, a voice to chill the bone-marrow, a voice of breath-taking, ice-cold venom.
"Come ... come to me ... let me rip you ... let me tear you ... let me kill you ..."
The four shivered.
"Apparently, this year is not going to be any easier than last year was," Harry said.
Harry gave a huge jump and a large lilac blot appeared on Veronica Smethley's street.
"What?" he said loudly.
"I know!" said Lockhart. "Six solid months at the top of the bestseller list! Broke all records!"
"He didn't hear the voice," Hermione said, a bit puzzled. "Was he talking so loudly that he couldn't hear it over his own voice?"
"No," said Harry frantically. "That voice!"
"Sorry?" said Lockhart, looking puzzled. "What voice?"
That – that voice that said – didn't you hear it?"
Lockhart was looking at Harry in high astonishment.
"What are you talking about, Harry? Perhaps you're getting a little drowsy? Great Scott – look at the time! We've been here nearly four hours! I'd never have believed it – the time's flown, hasn't it?"
"I was there for nearly four hours," Harry said, eyes widening. "Maybe I was just drowsy." He sounded rather hopeful about that fact.
Harry didn't answer. He was straining his ears to hear the voice again, but there was no sound now except for Lockhart telling him he mustn't expect a treat like this every time he got detention.
"That's not a treat, it's torture," Cedric said.
Feeling dazed, Harry left.
It was so late that the Gryffindor common room was almost empty. Harry went straight up to the dormitory. Ron wasn't back yet. Harry pulled on his pyjamas, got into bed and waited. Half an hour later, Ron arrived, nursing his right arm and bringing a strong smell of polish into the darkened room.
"Meaning that Filch definitely took advantage of the lack of a time limit," Cedric said.
"My muscles have all seized up," he groaned, sinking on his bed. "Fourteen times he made me buff up that Quidditch Cup before he was satisfied. And then I had another slug attack all over a Special Award for Services to the School. Took ages to shift the slime ..."
"I wonder which Special Award it is," Cedric said.
"How was it with Lockhart?"
"Horrible," Harry said, "though something interesting did happen."
Keeping his voice low so as not to wake Neville, Dean and Seamus, Harry told Ron exactly what he had heard.
"I won't get to hear what happened until tomorrow, will I?" Hermione said.
"You probably wasn't expecting anything to happen, and saw no reason to stay up," Cedric said.
"But Ron did, in the first book," Hermione argued. "The fact that he stayed up when I didn't makes it sound like I'm not a good friend."
"Well, you knew where they were going to be," Cedric said. "Ron didn't; all you had been told is to meet Filch at eight in the entrance hall, nothing about what you would be doing. Arguably, the not knowing would make Ron want to know what you had to do, and, had you not known what they were already going to do, you probably would had stayed up."
Looking at it that way, she had to admit that it was true, and the fact that she probably would have stayed up otherwise made her happier.
"And Lockhart said he couldn't hear it?" said Ron.
"I wonder what was going through his mind when he said that," Cedric said.
Harry could see him frowning in the moonlight. "D'you think he was lying? But I don't get it – even someone invisible would've had to open the door."
"He thinks that maybe someone whispered that in Harry's ear?" Hermione said. "Well, when you think about it, it's not that hard to believe. But he is right, someone invisible would have had to open the door."
"I know," said Harry, lying back in his four-poster and staring at the canopy above him. "I don't get it, either."
"That's it for this chapter," said Harry, handing the book over to Hermione.