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

“Signed photos? You’re giving out signed photos, Potter?” 
Loud and scathing, Draco Malfoy’s voice echoed around the courtyard. He had stopped right 
behind Colin, flanked, as he always was at Hogwarts, by his large and thuggish cronies, Crabbe 
and Goyle. 
“Everyone line up!” Malfoy roared to the crowd. “Harry Potter’s giving out signed photos!” 
“No, I’m not,” said Harry angrily, his fists clenching. “Shut up, Malfoy.” 
“You’re just jealous,” piped up Colin, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe’s neck. 
“Jealous?” said Malfoy, who didn’t need to shout anymore: half the courtyard was listening in. 
“Of what? I don’t want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don’t think getting your head 
cut open makes you that special, myself.” 

---

Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly. 
“Eat slugs, Malfoy,” said Ron angrily. Crabbe stopped laughing and started rubbing his knuckles 
in a menacing way. 
“Be careful, Weasley,” sneered Malfoy. “You don’t want to start any trouble or your Mommy’ll 
have to come and take you away from school.” He put on a shrill, piercing voice. “‘If you put 
another toe out of line’—” 
A knot of Slytherin fifth-years nearby laughed loudly at this. 
“Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter,” smirked Malfoy. “It’d be worth more than his 
family’s whole house —” 
Ron whipped out his Spellotaped wand, but Hermione shut Voyages with Vampires with a snap 
and whispered, “Look out!” 
“What’s all this, what’s all this?” Gilderoy Lockhart was striding toward them, his turquoise 
robes swirling behind him. “Who’s giving out signed photos?” 
Harry started to speak but he was cut short as Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulders and 
thundered jovially, “Shouldn’t have asked! We meet again, Harry!” 
Pinned to Lockhart’s side and burning with humiliation, Harry saw Malfoy slide smirking back 
into the crowd. 
“Come on then, Mr. Creevey,” said Lockhart, beaming at Colin. “A double portrait, can’t do 
better than that, and we’ll both sign it for you.” 
Colin fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind them, signaling the 
start of afternoon classes. 
“Off you go, move along there,” Lockhart called to the crowd, and he set off back to the castle 
with Harry, who was wishing he knew a good Vanishing Spell, still clasped to his side. 
“A word to the wise, Harry,” said Lockhart paternally as they entered the building through a side 
door. “I covered up for you back there with young Creevey — if he was photographing me, too, 
your schoolmates won’t think you’re setting yourself up so much…” 
Deaf to Harry’s stammers, Lockhart swept him down a corridor lined with staring students and 
up a staircase. 
“Let me just say that handing out signed pictures at this stage of your career isn’t sensible — 
looks a tad bigheaded, Harry, to be frank. There may well come a time when, like me, you’ll 
need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but” — he gave a little chortle — “I don’t think 
you’re quite there yet.” 

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They had reached Lockhart’s classroom and he let Harry go at last. Harry yanked his robes 
straight and headed for a seat at the very back of the class, where he busied himself with piling 
all seven of Lockhart’s books in front of him, so that he could avoid looking at the real thing. 
The rest of the class came clattering in, and Ron and Hermione sat down on either side of Harry. 
“You could’ve fried an egg on your face” said Ron. “You’d better hope Creevey doesn’t meet 
Ginny, or they’ll be starting a Harry Potter fan club.” 
“Shut up,” snapped Harry. The last thing he needed was for Lockhart to hear the phrase “Harry 
Potter fan club” 
When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached 
forward, picked up Neville Longbottom’s copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his 
own, winking portrait on the front. 
“Me,” he said, pointing at it and winking as well. “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third 
Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch