Chamber Of Secrets Hermione Quotes

Harry — I think I've just understood something! I've got to go to the library!” And she sprinted away, up the stairs. “What does she understand?” said Harry distractedly, still looking around, trying to tell where the voice had come from. “Loads more than I do,” said Ron, shaking his head. “But why’s she got to go to the library?” “Because that’s what Hermione does,” said Ron, shrugging. “When in doubt, go to the library.

Your aunt and uncle will be proud, though, won't they?" said Hermione as they got off the train and joined the crowd thronging toward the enchanted barrier. "When they hear what you did this year?" "Proud?" said Harry. "Are you crazy? All those times I could've died, and I didn't manage it? They'll be furious...

The three of them fell silent. After a long pause, Hermione voiced the knottiest question of all in a hesitant voice. “Do you think we should go and ask Hagrid about it all?” “That’d be a cheerful visit,” said Ron, “ ‘Hello, Hagrid. Tell us, have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately?

Because that's what Hermione does,' said Ron, shrugging. 'When in doubt, go to the library.

Your aunt and uncle will be proud, though, won't they?" said Hermione [...] "Proud?" said Harry. "Are you mad? All those times I could've died, and I didn't manage it? They'll be furious...

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I think I'd better do the actual stealing," Hermione continued in a matter-of-fact tone. "You two will be expelled if you get into anymore trouble, and I've got a clean record. So all of you need to do is cause enough mayhem to keep Snape busy for five minutes or so.

You haven’t seen Ron or Hermione, have you?” said Harry. “No, I haven’t,” said Percy, his smile fading. “I hope Ron’s not in another girls’ toilet.

Dear Ron, and Harry if you're there, "I hope everything went all right and that Harry is okay and that you didn't do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. I've been really worried and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl, because I think another delivery might finish your one off. I'm very busy with my schoolwork, of course' ---'and we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley? Let me know what's happening as soon as you can. Love from Hermione.

Anyone can make a mistake,” said Hermione. “And it doesn’t hurt anymore, does it, Harry?” “No,” said Harry, getting into bed. “But it doesn’t do anything else either.

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.

Alors, Hermione, tu admires toujours autant Lockhart, maintenant? dit Ron à travers le rideau. Si Harry avait eu envie d'être transformé en mollusque, il l'aurait demandé. Tout le monde peut commettre des erreurs, répondit Hermione. D'ailleurs, ça ne te fait plus mal, n'est-ce-pas, Harry? Non, dit Harry. L'ennuie, c'est que ça ne me fait plus rien du tout.

But why's she got to go to the library?' 'Because that's what Hermione does,' said Ron, shrugging. 'When in doubt, go to the library.

Potter! Weasley! What are you doing?” It was Professor McGonagall, and her mouth was the thinnest of thin lines. “We were — we were —” Ron stammered. “We were going to — to go and see —” “Hermione,” said Harry. Ron and Professor McGonagall both looked at him. “We haven’t seen her for ages, Professor,” Harry went on hurriedly, treading on Ron’s foot, “and we thought we’d sneak into the hospital wing, you know, and tell her the Mandrakes are nearly ready and, er, not to worry —” Professor McGonagall was still staring at him, and for a moment, Harry thought she was going to explode, but when she spoke, it was in a strangely croaky voice. “Of course,” she said, and Harry, amazed, saw a tear glistening in her beady eye. “Of course, I realize this has all been hardest on the friends of those who have been … I quite understand. Yes, Potter, of course you may visit Miss Granger. I will inform Professor Binns where you’ve gone. Tell Madam Pomfrey I have given my permission.” Harry and Ron walked away, hardly daring to believe that they’d avoided detention. As they turned the corner, they distinctly heard Professor McGonagall blow her nose. “That,” said Ron fervently, “was the best story you’ve ever come up with.

But how do we prove it?” said Harry darkly. “There might be a way,” said Hermione slowly, dropping her voice still further with a quick glance across the room at Percy. “Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We’d be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect —” “If, in a month or so, you feel like explaining, you will let us know, won’t you?” said Ron irritably.

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, Ron, and Hermione had always known that Hagrid had an unfortunate liking for large and monstrous creatures. During their first year at Hogwarts he had tried to raise a dragon in his little wooden house, and it would be a long time before they forgot the giant, three-headed dog he’d christened “Fluffy.

That's what Hermione does. When in doubt, go to the library.

Ah, the Hand of Glory!” said Mr. Borgin, abandoning Mr. Malfoy’s list and scurrying over to Draco. “Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir.” “I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin,” said Mr. Malfoy coldly, and Mr. Borgin said quickly, “No offense, sir, no offense meant —” “Though if his grades don’t pick up,” said Mr. Malfoy, more coldly still, “that may indeed be all he is fit for —” “It’s not my fault,” retorted Draco. “The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger —” “I would have thought you’d be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam,” snapped Mr. Malfoy. “Ha!” said Harry under his breath, pleased to see Draco looking both abashed and angry.

No cards, no presents, and he would be spending the evening pretending not to exist. He gazed miserably into the hedge. He had never felt so lonely. More than anything else at Hogwarts, more even than playing Quidditch, Harry missed his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They, however, didn’t seem to be missing him at all. Neither of them had written to him all summer, even though Ron had said he was going to ask Harry to come and stay.

What’ve we got this afternoon?” said Harry, hastily changing the subject. “Defense Against the Dark Arts,” said Hermione at once. “Why,” demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, “have you outlined all Lockhart’s lessons in little hearts?” Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously.

You're a Parselmouth. Why didn't you tell us?" "I'm a what?" said Harry. "A Parselmouth!" said Ron. "You can talk to snakes!" "I know," said Harry. "I mean, that's only the second time I've ever done it. I accidentally set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once- long story- but it was telling me it had never seen Brazil and I sort of set it free without meaning to- that was before I knew I was a wizard-" "A boa constrictor told you it had never seen Brazil?" Ron repeated faintly. "So?" said Harry. "I bet loads of people here can do it." "Oh, no they can't," said Ron. "It's not a very common gift. Harry, this is bad." "What's bad?" said Harry, starting to feel quite angry. "What's wrong with everyone? Listen, if I hadn't told that snake not to attack Justin-" "Oh, that's what you said to it?" "What d'you mean? You were there- you heard me-" "I heard you speaking Parseltongue," said Ron. "Snake language. You could have been saying anything- no wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something- it was creepy, you know-" Harry gaped at him. "I spoke a different language? But- I didn't realize- how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?" Ron shook his head. Both he and Hermione were looking as though someone had died. Harry couldn't see what was so terrible. "D'you want to tell me what's wrong with stopping a massive snake biting off Justin's head?" he said. "What does it matter how I did it as long as Justin doesn't have to join the Headless Hunt?" "It matters," said Hermione, speaking at last in a hushed voice, "because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That's why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent." Harry's mouth fell open. "Exactly," said Ron. "And now the whole school's going to think you're his great-great-great-great-grandson or something..." "But I'm not," said Harry, with a panic he couldn't quite explain. "You'll find that hard to prove," said Hermione. "He lived about a thousand years ago; for all we know, you could be.

«Dobby doveva punirsi, signore» disse l’elfo che era diventato strabico a furia di testate. «Dobby ha quasi parlato male della famiglia, signore...» «La tua famiglia?» «La famiglia di maghi presso cui Dobby è al servizio, signore... Dobby è un elfo domestico... costretto a servire per sempre una sola casa e una sola famiglia...» «Loro sanno che sei qui?» chiese Harry curioso. Dobby rabbrividì. «Oh, no, signore, no... Dobby dovrà punirsi molto severamente per essere venuto a trovarla, signore. Dobby dovrà chiudersi le orecchie nello sportello del forno per quel che ha fatto. Se mai loro venissero a saperlo, signore...» «Ma non si accorgeranno che ti chiudi le orecchie nello sportello del forno?» «Dobby ne dubita, signore. Dobby deve continuamente punirsi per qualcosa, signore. E loro lasciano fare Dobby, signore. A volte gli ricordano di darsi qualche castigo in più...» «Ma perché non te ne vai? Perché non scappi?» «Un elfo domestico deve ottenerla, la libertà, signore. E la famiglia non darà mai la libertà a Dobby... Dobby servirà la famiglia fino alla morte, signore...» Harry lo guardava con tanto d’occhi. «E pensare che credevo non ci fosse niente di peggio del dover restare qui per altre quattro settimane» disse. «A sentire te, i Dursley sembrano quasi umani. Non c’è nessuno che possa aiutarti? Non posso aiutarti io?» Subito dopo Harry desiderò di non aver parlato. Dobby si sciolse di nuovo in gemiti di gratitudine. «Ti prego» bisbigliò Harry freneticamente, «ti prego, non far rumore; se i Dursley sentono qualcosa, se si accorgono che sei qui...» «Harry Potter chiede se può aiutare Dobby... Dobby ha sentito parlare della sua grandezza, signore, ma della sua bontà Dobby non sapeva niente...» Harry, che si sentiva il viso decisamente in fiamme, disse: «Qualsiasi cosa tu abbia sentito dire sulla mia grandezza... sono tutte stupidaggini. Non sono neanche il primo del mio corso, a Hogwarts. Hermione lo è; lei sì che...» Ma si interruppe subito, perché pensare a Hermione gli faceva male al cuore. «Harry Potter è umile e modesto» disse Dobby reverente, e i suoi occhi rotondi erano raggianti. «Harry Potter non parla del suo trionfo su Colui-Che-Non-Deve-Essere-Nominato».

Harry strained his ears. Distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, he heard the voice: ‘… I smell blood … I SMELL BLOOD!’ His stomach lurched. ‘It’s going to kill someone!’ he shouted, and ignoring Ron and Hermione’s bewildered faces, he ran up the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen over his own pounding footsteps. Harry hurtled around the whole of the second floor, Ron and Hermione panting behind him, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage. ‘Harry, what was that all about?’ said Ron, wiping sweat off his face. ‘I couldn’t hear anything …’ But Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor. ‘Look!’ Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached, slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches. THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE. ‘What’s that thing – hanging underneath?’ said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice. As they edged nearer, Harry almost slipped over: there was a large puddle of water on the floor. Ron and Hermione grabbed him, and they inched towards the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All three of them realised what it was at once, and leapt backwards with a splash. Mrs Norris, the caretaker’s cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring. For a few seconds, they didn’t move. Then Ron said, ‘Let’s get out of here.

were greatly improved by the fact that all the hair had gone from her face and her eyes were turning slowly back to brown. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got any new leads?’ she added in a whisper, so that Madam Pomfrey couldn’t hear her. ‘Nothing,’ said Harry gloomily. ‘I was so sure it was Malfoy,’ said Ron, for about the hundredth time. ‘What’s that?’ asked Harry, pointing to something gold sticking out from under Hermione’s pillow. ‘Just a Get Well card,’ said Hermione hastily, trying to poke it out of sight, but Ron was too quick for her. He pulled it out, flicked it open and read aloud: ‘To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five times winner of Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award.’ Ron looked up at Hermione, disgusted.

Hermione put up her hand.

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.’ ‘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 …’ Hagrid was bustling around, making them tea. His boarhound, Fang, was slobbering over Harry.

the house which had turned out more dark witches and wizards than any other – but he had ended up in Gryffindor, along with Ron, Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys.

I think,” said Hermione, “that if we made it sound as though we were just interested in the theory, we might stand a chance. . . .” “Oh, come on, no teacher’s going to fall for that,” said Ron. “They’d have to be really thick. . . .

We were filming Chamber of Secrets when the Prisoner of Azkaban book came out. True to form I was one of the very last members of the cast to read it, but word reached me that it included a scene in which Hermione gives Draco a well-deserved slap in the face. Cool, this should be fun! I was very into my Jackie Chan films at the time, and was stoked to learn that Emma and I might have to indulge in some on-screen violence when we shot the next film the following year.

Potter, you’ve got yourself a girlfriend!” drawled Malfoy. Ginny went scarlet as Ron and Hermione fought their

To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor 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.” Ron looked up at Hermione, disgusted. “You sleep with this under your pillow?

and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic.” There was silence as he finished telling the story, but it wasn’t the usual, sleepy silence that filled Professor Binns’s classes. There was unease in the air as everyone continued to watch him, hoping for more. Professor Binns looked faintly annoyed. “The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course,” he said. “Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible.” Hermione’s hand was back in the air. “Sir — what exactly do you mean by the ‘horror within’ the Chamber?” “That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control,” said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice. The class exchanged nervous looks.

with or using old secondhand books the teachers had. The one from Potions had been the worst, with pages falling out, and someone had scribbled and crossed things out on almost every page. I hoped now I might actually start to learn some magic. During dinner, I kept looking over at Hermione. I caught her eye a few times, but she'd look away. When I got up to leave, she got up too. I had a feeling she was following me. I tried to walk quickly. "Austin," she yelled. "Wait up." I kept walking. "Austin." I walked faster. I didn't hear the exact spell she used, but a second later, something smacked into my back, and I started walking super slow, like in those nightmares where you can't run. "What the—" I said as she caught up with me. "Sorry." She glanced down at my legs. "I could tell you weren't going to stop." "So you... you what? Hexed me?" "Hardly." She tossed a mop of hair out of her face. "It's a children's spell, used for playing tag—magic tag, that is. It should wear off anytime." Sure enough, though my legs felt like lead, I was able to walk at a normal pace. "Whatever." "Where are you heading?" "Professor Flichwick’s for extra work." "Good. I’m heading to the second floor too." "Great." I tried to sound irritated. Really, I was glad

Harry and Ron had barely finished their third helpings of Christmas pudding when Hermione ushered them out of the Hall to finalise their plans for the evening.

Where the hell have you been?” Harry shouted. “Chamber of Secrets?” said Ron. “Chamber--what?” said Harry, coming to an unsteady halt before them. “It was Ron, all Ron’s idea!” said Hermione breathlessly. “Wasn’t it absolutely brilliant? There we were, after you left, and I said to Ron, even if we find the other one, how are we going to get rid of it? We still hadn’t got rid of the cup! And then he thought of it! The basilisk!” “What the--?” “Something to get rid of Horcruxes,” said Ron simply. Harry’s eyes dropped to the objects clutched in Ron and Hermione’s arms: great curved fangs, torn, he now realized, from the skull of a dead basilisk. “But how did you get in there?” he asked, staring from the fangs to Ron. “You need to speak Parseltongue!” “He did!” whispered Hermione. “Show him, Ron!” Ron made a horrible strangled hissing noise. “It’s what you did to open the locket,” he told Harry apologetically. “I had to have a few goes to get it right, but,” he shrugged modestly, “we got there in the end.” “He was amazing!” said Hermione. “Amazing!” “So…” Harry was struggling to keep up. “So…” “So we’re another Horcrux down,” said Ron, and from under his jacket he pulled the mangled remains of Hufflepuff’s cup. “Hermione stabbed it. Thought she should. She hasn’t had the pleasure yet.” “Genius!” yelled Harry. “It was nothing,” said Ron, though he looked delighted with himself.

McGonagall came around as usual, collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. Harry, Ron, and Hermione signed her list; they had heard that Malfoy was staying, which struck them as very suspicious. The holidays would be the perfect time to use the Polyjuice Potion and try to worm a confession out of him. Unfortunately, the potion was only half finished. They still needed the bicorn horn and the boomslang skin, and the only place

Because that’s what Hermione does,” said Ron, shrugging. “When in doubt, go to the library.

Harry was at the point of telling Ron and Hermione about Filch and the Kwikspell course when the salamander suddenly whizzed into the air, emitting loud sparks and bangs as it whirled wildly round the room. The sight of Percy bellowing himself hoarse at Fred and George, the spectacular display of tangerine stars showering from the salamander’s mouth, and its escape

And Hermione’s done four feet seven inches and her writing’s tiny.

It was about here,” said Ron, recovering himself to walk a few paces past Filch’s chair and pointing. “Level with this door.” He reached for the brass doorknob but suddenly withdrew his hand as though he’d been burned. “What’s the matter?” said Harry. “Can’t go in there,” said Ron gruffly. “That’s a girls’ toilet.” “Oh, Ron, there won’t be anyone in there,” said Hermione, standing up and coming over. “That’s Moaning Myrtle’s place. Come on, let’s have a look.” And ignoring the large OUT OF ORDER sign, she opened the door. It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom Harry had ever set foot in. Under a large, cracked, and spotted mirror were a row of chipped sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges. Hermione put her fingers to her lips and set off toward the end stall. When she reached it she said, “Hello, Myrtle, how are you?” Harry and Ron went to look. Moaning Myrtle was floating above the tank of the toilet, picking a spot on her chin. “This is a girls’ bathroom,” she said, eyeing Ron and Harry suspiciously. “They’re not girls.” “No,” Hermione agreed. “I just wanted to show them how — er — nice it is in here.” She waved vaguely at the dirty old mirror and the damp floor. “Ask her if she saw anything,” Harry mouthed at Hermione. “What are you whispering?” said

throat and then hurried off after Ron and Hermione.

Millicent had Hermione in a headlock and Hermione was whimpering in pain; both their wands lay forgotten on the floor.

Dean Thomas, who, like Harry, had grown up with Muggles, ended up closing his eyes and jabbing his wand at the list, then picking the subjects it landed on. Hermione took nobody’s advice but signed up for everything.

We can actually meet him!” Hermione squealed.

just done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. “However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I’m sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up. “Four to a tray — there is a large supply of pots here — compost in the sacks over there — and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it’s teething.” She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were joined at their tray by a curly-haired Hufflepuff boy Harry knew by sight but had

Oh, no,” said Hermione, stopping abruptly. “Turn back, turn back, I don’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 first floor,” said Hermione. “She haunts a toilet?” “Yes. It’s been out of order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. I never went in there anyway if I could avoid it; it’s awful trying to have a pee with her wailing at you —

There might be a way,” said Hermione slowly, dropping her voice still further with a quick glance across the room at Percy. “Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We’d be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect —” “If, in a month or so, you feel like explaining, you will let us know, won’t you?” said Ron irritably. “All right,” said Hermione coldly.

The voice!” said Harry, looking over his shoulder. “I just heard it again — didn’t you?” Ron shook his head, wide-eyed. Hermione, however, clapped a hand to her forehead. “Harry — I think I’ve just understood something! I’ve got to go to the library!” And she sprinted away, up the stairs. “What does she understand?” said Harry distractedly, still looking around, trying to tell where the voice had come from. “Loads more than I do,” said Ron, shaking his head. “But why’s she got to go to the library?” “Because that’s what Hermione does,” said Ron, shrugging. “When in doubt, go to the library.

Instead he contented himself with scrawling a note to Ron: ‘Let’s do it tonight.’ Ron read the message, swallowed hard and looked sideways at the empty seat usually filled by Hermione. The sight seemed to stiffen his resolve, and he nodded.

Fine,” said Harry, squeezing into the stall. An old cauldron was perched on the toilet, and a crackling from under the rim told Harry they had lit a fire beneath it. Conjuring up portable, waterproof fires was a speciality of Hermione’s.

Post’s due any minute – I think Gran’s sending on a few things I forgot.’ Harry had only just started his porridge when, sure enough, there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling the Hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd. A big, lumpy parcel bounced off Neville’s head, and a second later, something large and grey fell into Hermione’s jug, spraying them all with milk and feathers. ‘Errol!’ said Ron, pulling the bedraggled owl out by

Hermione behind them, wearing a well-you-did-break-school-rules sort of expression.

At least the Howler had done one good thing: Hermione seemed to think they had now been punished enough and was being perfectly friendly again.

Ma tuo zio e tua zia saranno orgogliosi quando sentiranno quel che hai fatto quest'anno, no?" disse Hermione mentre scendevano dal treno e si univano alla folla radunata davanti alla barriera magica. "Orgogliosi?" disse Harry. "Ma sei matta? Tutte quelle volte che ho rischiato di morire e non l'ho fatto? Saranno furibondi..." E insieme, varcata la barriera, rientrarono nel mondo dei Babbani.

So, Harry,” said Lockhart, while Hermione folded the note with fumbling fingers and slipped it into her bag. “Tomorrow’s the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you’re a useful player. I was a Seeker, too. I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feel the need for a little private training, don’t hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players. . . .

Harry had been to several Hogwarts feasts, but never one quite like this. Everybody was in their pyjamas, and the celebrations lasted all night. Harry didn’t know whether the best bit was Hermione running towards him, screaming, ‘You solved it! You solved it!’ or Justin hurrying over from the Hufflepuff table to wring his hand and apologise endlessly for suspecting him, or Hagrid turning up at half past three, cuffing Harry and Ron so hard on the shoulders that they were knocked into their plates of trifle, or his and Ron’s four hundred points securing Gryffindor the House Cup for the second year running, or Professor McGonagall standing up to tell them all that the exams had been cancelled as a school treat (‘Oh, no!’ said Hermione), or Dumbledore announcing that, unfortunately, Professor Lockhart would be unable to return next year, owing to the fact that he needed to go away and get his memory back. Quite a few of the teachers joined in the cheering that greeted this news. ‘Shame,

Professor McGonagall standing up to tell them all that the exams had been canceled as a school treat (“Oh, no!” said Hermione),

Hermione behind them, wearing a well-you-did-break-school-rules sort of expression. Harry didn’t enjoy his shepherd’s pie as much as he’d thought. Both he and Ron felt they’d got the worse

It matters', said Hermione, speaking at last in a hushed voice, 'because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That's why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent.' Harry's mouth fell open. 'Exactly' said Ron. 'And now the whole school's going to think you're his great-great-great-great-grandson or something -' 'But I'm not', said Harry, with a panic he couldn't quite explain. 'You'll find that hard to prove', said Hermione. 'He lived about a thousand years ago; for all we know, you could be.

Though if his grades don't pick up', said Mr. Malfoy, more coldly still, 'that may indeed be all he is fit for -' 'It's not my fault', retorted Draco. 'The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger -' 'I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam', snapped Mr. Malfoy. 'Ha!' said Harry under his breath, pleased to see Draco looking both abashed and angry. 'It's the same all over', said Mr. Borgin, in his oily voice. 'Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere -' 'Not with me', said Mr. Malfoy, his long nostrils flaring.

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 is 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.

At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in', said Hermione sharply. 'They got in on pure talent.' The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered. 'No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood', he spat. Harry knew at once that Malfoy had said something really bad because there was an instant uproar at his words.

he’s still alive,” said Hermione, prodding Errol gently with the tip of her finger. “It’s not that — it’s that.” Ron was pointing at the red envelope. It looked quite ordinary to Harry, but Ron and Neville were both looking at it as though they expected it to explode. “What’s the matter?” said Harry. “She’s — she’s sent me a Howler,” said Ron faintly. “You’d better open it, Ron,” said Neville in a timid whisper. “It’ll be worse if you don’t. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and” — he gulped — “it was horrible.” Harry looked from their petrified faces to the red envelope. “What’s a Howler?” he said. But Ron’s whole attention was fixed on the letter, which had begun to smoke at the corners. “Open it,” Neville urged. “It’ll all be over in a few minutes —

So Hermione’s OK!’ said Ron brightly.

The bell rang. Ron and Hermione led the way to History of Magic, bickering.

Rubbish,’ said Hermione. ‘You’ve read his books – look at all those amazing things he’s done …’ ‘He says he’s done,’ Ron muttered.