Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets By J. K. Rowling chapter one the Worst Birthday

“Kill this time… let me rip… tear…” 
He shouted aloud and Ron and Hermione both jumped away from him in alarm. 
“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.” 
Harry stood, irresolute, trying to catch the voice again, but people were now emerging from the 
Great Hall behind him, talking loudly, exiting through the front doors on their way to the 
Quidditch pitch. 

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“You’d better get moving,” said Ron. “It’s nearly eleven — the match —” 
Harry raced up to Gryffindor Tower, collected his Nimbus Two Thousand, and joined the large 
crowd swarming across the grounds, but his mind was still in the castle along with the bodiless 
voice, and as he pulled on his scarlet robes in the locker room, his only comfort was that 
everyone was now outside to watch the game. 
The teams walked onto the field to tumultuous applause. Oliver Wood took off for a warm-up 
flight around the goal posts; Madam Hooch released the balls. The Hufflepuffs, who played in 
canary yellow, were standing in a huddle, having a last-minute discussion of tactics. 
Harry was just mounting his broom when Professor McGonagall came half marching, half 
running across the pitch, carrying an enormous purple megaphone. 
Harry’s heart dropped like a stone. 
“This match has been cancelled,” Professor McGonagall called through the megaphone, 
addressing the packed stadium. There were boos and shouts. Oliver Wood, looking devastated, 
landed and ran toward Professor McGonagall without getting off his broomstick. 
“But, Professor!” he shouted. “We’ve got to play — the cup —Gryffindor —” 
Professor McGonagall ignored him and continued to shout through her megaphone: 
“All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of 
Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!” 
Then she lowered the megaphone and beckoned Harry over to her. 
“Potter, I think you’d better come with me…” 
Wondering how she could possibly suspect him this time, Harry saw Ron detach himself from 
the complaining crowd; he came running up to them as they set off toward the castle. To Harry’s 
surprise, Professor McGonagall didn’t object. 
“Yes, perhaps you’d better come, too, Weasley…” 
Some of the students swarming around them were grumbling about the match being canceled; 
others looked worried. Harry and Ron followed Professor McGonagall back into the school and 
up the marble staircase. But they weren’t taken to anybody’s office this time. 
“This will be a bit of a shock,” said Professor McGonagall in a surprisingly gentle voice as they 
approached the infirmary. “There has been another attack… another double attack.” 
Harry’s insides did a horrible somersault. Professor McGonagall pushed the door open and he 
and Ron entered… Madam Pomfrey was bending over a fifth-year girl with long, curly hair. 

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Harry recognized her as the Ravenclaw they’d accidentally asked for directions to the Slytherin 
common room. And on the bed next to her was — 
“Hermione!” Ron groaned. 
Hermione lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy. 
“They were found near the library,” said Professor McGonagall. “I don’t suppose either of you 
can explain this? It was on the floor next to them…” 
She was holding up a small, circular mirror. 
Harry and Ron shook their heads, both staring at Hermione. 
“I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower,” said Professor McGonagall heavily. “I need to 
address the students in any case.” 
“All students will return to their House common rooms by six o’clock in the evening. No student 
is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No 
student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and 
matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities.” 
The Gryffindors packed inside the common room listened to Professor McGonagall in silence. 
She rolled up the parchment from which she had been reading and said in a somewhat choked 
voice, “I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be 
closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they 
might know anything about them to come forward.” 
She climbed somewhat awkwardly out of the portrait hole, and the Gryffindors began talking 
immediately. 
“That’s two Gryffindors down, not counting a Gryffindor ghost, one Ravenclaw, and one 
Hufflepuff, “ said the Weasley twins’ friend Lee Jordan, counting on his fingers. “Haven’t any of 
the teachers noticed that the Slytherins are all safe? Isn’t it obvious all this stuff’s coming from 
Slytherin? The Heir of Slytherin, the monster of Slytherin — why don’t they just chuck all the 
Slytherins out?” he roared, to nods and scattered applause. 
Percy Weasley was sitting in a chair behind Lee, but for once he didn’t seem keen to make his 
views heard. He was looking pale and stunned. 
“Percy’s in shock,” George told Harry quietly. “That Ravenclaw girl — Penelope Clearwater — 
she’s a prefect. I don’t think he thought the monster would dare attack a prefect.” 
But Harry was only half-listening. He didn’t seem to be able to get rid of the picture of 
Hermione, lying on the hospital bed as though carved out of stone. And if the culprit wasn’t 
caught soon, he was looking at a lifetime back with the Dursleys. Tom Riddle had turned Hagrid 

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in because he was faced with the prospect of a Muggle orphanage if the school closed. Harry 
now knew exactly how he had felt. 
“What’re we going to do?” said Ron quietly in Harry’s ear. “D’you think they suspect Hagrid?” 
“We’ve got to go and talk to him,” said Harry, making up his mind. “I can’t believe it’s him this 
time, but if he set the monster loose last time he’ll know how to get inside the Chamber of 
Secrets, and that’s a start.” 
“But McGonagall said we’ve got to stay in our tower unless we’re in class —” 
“I think,” said Harry, more quietly still, “it’s time to get my dad’s old cloak out again.” 
Harry had inherited just one thing from his father: a long and silvery Invisibility Cloak. It was 
their only chance of sneaking out of the school to visit Hagrid without anyone knowing about it. 
They went to bed at the usual time, waited until Neville, Dean, and Seamus had stopped 
discussing the Chamber of Secrets and finally fallen asleep, then got up, dressed again, and threw 
the cloak over themselves. 
The journey through the dark and deserted castle corridors wasn’t enjoyable. Harry, who had 
wandered the castle at night several times before, had never seen it so crowded after sunset. 
Teachers, prefects, and ghosts were marching the corridors in pairs, staring around for any 
unusual activity. Their Invisibility Cloak didn’t stop them making any noise, and there was a 
particularly tense moment when Ron stubbed his toe only yards from the spot where Snape stood 
standing guard. Thankfully, Snape sneezed at almost exactly the moment Ron swore. It was with 
relief that they reached the oak front doors and eased them open. 
It was a clear, starry night. They hurried toward the lit windows of Hagrid’s house and pulled off 
the cloak only when they were right outside his front door. 
Seconds after they had knocked, Hagrid flung it open. They found themselves face-to-face with 
him aiming a crossbow at them. Fang the boarhound barked loudly behind him. 
“Oh,” he said, lowering the weapon and staring at them. “What’re you two doin’ here?” 
“What’s that for?” said Harry, pointing at the crossbow as they stepped inside. 
“Nothin’ — nothin’ —” Hagrid muttered. “I’ve bin expectin’ — doesn’ matter — Sit down — 
I’ll make tea —” 
He hardly seemed to know what he was doing. He nearly extinguished the fire, spilling water 
from the kettle on it, and then smashed the teapot with a nervous jerk of his massive hand. 
“Are you okay, Hagrid?” said Harry. “Did you hear about Hermione?” 
“Oh, I heard, all righ’,” said Hagrid, a slight break in his voice. 

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He kept glancing nervously at the windows. He poured them both large mugs of boiling water 
(he had forgotten to add tea bags) and was just putting a slab of fruitcake on a plate when there 
was a loud knock on the door. 
Hagrid dropped the fruitcake. Harry and Ron exchanged panicstricken looks, then threw the 
Invisibility Cloak back over themselves and retreated into a corner. Hagrid checked that they 
were hidden, seized his crossbow, and flung open his door once more. 
“Good evening, Hagrid.” 
It was Dumbledore. He entered, looking deadly serious, and was followed by a second, very odd-
looking man. 
The stranger had rumpled gray hair and an anxious expression, and was wearing a strange 
mixture of clothes: a pinstriped suit, a scarlet tie, a long black cloak, and pointed purple boots. 
Under his arm he carried a lime-green bowler. 
“That’s Dad’s boss!” Ron breathed. “Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic!” 
Harry elbowed Ron hard to make him shut up. 
Hagrid had gone pale and sweaty. He dropped into one of his chairs and looked from 
Dumbledore to Cornelius Fudge. 
“Bad business, Hagrid,” said Fudge in rather clipped tones. “Very bad business. Had to come. 
Four attacks on Muggle-borns. Things’ve gone far enough. Ministry’s got to act.” 
“I never,” said Hagrid, looking imploringly at Dumbledore. “You know I never, Professor 
Dumbledore, sir —” 
“I want it understood, Cornelius, that Hagrid has my full confidence,” said Dumbledore, 
frowning at Fudge. 
“Look, Albus,” said Fudge, uncomfortably. “Hagrid’s record’s against him. Ministry’s got to do 
something — the school governors have been in touch —” 
“Yet again, Cornelius, I tell you that taking Hagrid away will not help in the slightest,” said 
Dumbledore. His blue eyes were full of a fire Harry had never seen before. 
“Look at it from my point of view,” said Fudge, fidgeting with his bowler. “I’m under a lot of 
pressure. Got to be seen to be doing something. If it turns out it wasn’t Hagrid, he’ll be back and 
no more said. But I’ve got to take him. Got to. Wouldn’t be doing my duty —” 
“Take me?” said Hagrid, who was trembling. “Take me where?” 
“For a short stretch only,” said Fudge, not meeting Hagrid’s eyes. “Not a punishment, Hagrid, 

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more a precaution. If someone else is caught, you’ll be let out with a full apology —” 
“Not Azkaban?” croaked Hagrid. 
Before Fudge could answer, there was another loud rap on the door. 
Dumbledore answered it. It was Harry’s turn for an elbow in the ribs; he’d let out an audible 
gasp. 
Mr. Lucius Malfoy strode into Hagrid’s hut, swathed in a long black traveling cloak, smiling a 
cold and satisfied smile. Fang started to growl. 
“Already here, Fudge,” he said approvingly. “Good, good…” 
“What’re you doin’ here?” said Hagrid furiously. “Get outta my house!” 
“My dear man, please believe me, I have no pleasure at all in being inside your — er — d’you 
call this a house?” said Lucius Malfoy, sneering as he looked around the small cabin. “I simply 
called at the school and was told that the headmaster was here.” 
“And what exactly did you want with me, Lucius?” said Dumbledore. He spoke politely, but the 
fire was still blazing in his blue eyes. 
“Dreadful thing, Dumbledore,” said Malfoy lazily, taking out a long roll of parchment, “but the 
governors feel it’s time for you to step aside. This is an Order of Suspension — you’ll find all 
twelve signatures on it. I’m afraid we feel you’re losing your touch. How many attacks have 
there been now? Two more this afternoon, wasn’t it? At this rate, there’ll be no Muggle-borns 
left at Hogwarts, and we all know what an awful loss that would be to the school.” 
“Oh, now, see here, Lucius,” said Fudge, looking alarmed, “Dumbledore suspended — no, no — 
last thing we want just now.” 
“The appointment — or suspension — of the headmaster is a matter for the governors, Fudge,” 
said Mr. Malfoy smoothly. “And as Dumbledore has failed to stop these attacks —” 
“See here, Malfoy, if Dumbledore can’t stop them,” said Fudge, whose upper lip was sweating 
now, “I mean to say, who can?” 
“That remains to be seen,” said Mr. Malfoy with a nasty smile. “But as all twelve of us have 
voted —” 
Hagrid leapt to his feet, his shaggy black head grazing the ceiling. 
‘An’ how many did yeh have ter threaten an’ blackmail before they agreed, Malfoy, eh?” he 
roared. 

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“Dear, dear, you know, that temper of yours will lead you into trouble one of these days, 
Hagrid,” said Mr. Malfoy. “I would advise you not to shout at the Azkaban guards like that. 
They won’t like it at all.” 
“Yeh can’ take Dumbledore!” yelled Hagrid, making Fang the boarhound cower and whimper in 
his basket. “Take him away, an’ the Muggle-borns won’ stand a chance! There’ll be killin’ 
next!” 
“Calm yourself, Hagrid,” said Dumbledore sharply. He looked at Lucius Malfoy. 
“If the governors want my removal, Lucius, I shall of course step aside —” 
“But —” stuttered Fudge. 
“No!” growled Hagrid. 
Dumbledore had not taken his bright blue eyes off Lucius Malfoy’s cold gray ones. 
“However,” said Dumbledore, speaking very slowly and clearly so that none of them could miss 
a word, “you will find that I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to 
me… Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.” 
For a second, Harry was almost sure Dumbledore’s eyes flickered toward the corner where he 
and Ron were hidden. 
“Admirable sentiments,” said Malfoy, bowing. “We shall all miss your — er — highly 
individual way of running things, Albus, and only hope your successor will manage to prevent 
any — ah — killins.” 
He strode to the cabin door, opened it, and bowed Dumbledore out. Fudge, fiddling with his 
bowler, waited for Hagrid to go ahead of him, but Hagrid stood his ground, took a deep breath, 
and said carefully, “If anyone wanted ter find out some stuff, all they’d have ter do would be ter 
follow the spiders. That’d lead ‘em right. That’s all I’m sayin’.” 
Fudge stared at him in amazement. 
“All right, I’m comin’, said Hagrid, pulling on his moleskin overcoat. But as he was about to 
follow Fudge through the door, he stopped again and said loudly, “An’ someone’ll need ter feed 
Fang while I’m away.” 
The door banged shut and Ron pulled off the Invisibility Cloak. 
“We’re in trouble now,” Ron said hoarsely. “No Dumbledore. They might as well close the 
school tonight. There’ll be an attack a day with him gone.” 
Fang started howling, scratching at the closed door. 

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