Hogwarts in his third year, but Harry had never found out why -any
mention of the matter and Hagrid would clear his
*117*
throat loudly and become mysteriously deaf until the subject was
changed.
"An Engorgement Charm, I suppose?" 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." He
winked at Harry. "If yeh ask me, she wouldn' say no ter a signed -"
"Oh, shut up," said Harry. Ron snorted with laughter and the ground
101
was sprayed with slugs.
"Watch it!" Hagrid roared, pulling Ron away from his precious
pumpkins.
It was nearly lunchtime and as Harry had only had one bit of treacle
fudge since dawn, he was keen to go back to school to eat. They said
good-bye to Hagrid and walked back up to the castle, Ron hiccoughing
occasionally, but only bringing up two very small slugs.
They had barely set foot in the cool entrance hall when a voice rang
out, "There you are, Potter - Weasley." Professor McGonagall was
walking toward them, looking stern. "You will both do your detentions
this evening."
"What're we doing, Professor?" said Ron, nervously suppressing a
burp.
"You will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch,"
said Professor McGonagall. "And no magic, Weasley - elbow grease."
*118*
Ron gulped. Argus Filch, the caretaker, was loathed by every student
in the school.
"And you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan
mail," said Professor McGonagall.
"Oh n - Professor, can't I go and do the trophy room, too?" said Harry
desperately.
"Certainly not," said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows.
"Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o'clock sharp,
both of you."
Harry and Ron slouched into the Great Hall in states of deepest
gloom, Hermione behind them, wearing a well-you-did-break-schoolrules 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 deal.
"Filch'll have me there all night," said Ron heavily. "No magic! There
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must be about a hundred cups in that room. I'm no good at Muggle
cleaning."
"I'd swap anytime," said Harry hollowly. "I've had loads of practice
with the Dursleys. Answering Lockhart's fan mail ... he'll be a
nightmare ......
Saturday afternoon seemed to melt away, 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 scalawag!" he said. "Come in, Harry, come in -"
Shining brightly on the walls by the light of many candles were