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

“What?” said Ron. 
Ginny opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Harry leaned forward and spoke quietly, so 

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that only Ginny and Ron could hear him. 
“Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets? Have you seen something? Someone acting 
oddly?” 
Ginny drew a deep breath and, at that precise moment, Percy Weasley appeared, looking tired 
and wan. 
“If you’ve finished eating, I’ll take that seat, Ginny. I’m starving, I’ve only just come off patrol 
duty.” 
Ginny jumped up as though her chair had just been electrified, gave Percy a fleeting, frightened 
look, and scampered away. Percy sat down and grabbed a mug from the center of the table. 
“Percy!” said Ron angrily. “She was just about to tell us something important!” 
Halfway through a gulp of tea, Percy choked. 
“What sort of thing?” he said, coughing. 
“I just asked her if she’d seen anything odd, and she started to say…” 
“Oh — that — that’s nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets,” said Percy at once. 
“How do you know?” said Ron, his eyebrows raised. 
“Well, er, if you must know, Ginny, er, walked in on me the other day when I was — well, never 
mind — the point is, she spotted me doing something and I, um, I asked her not to mention it to 
anybody. I must say, I did think she’d keep her word. It’s nothing, really, I’d just rather —” 
Harry had never seen Percy look so uncomfortable. 
“What were you doing, Percy?” said Ron, grinning. “Go on, tell us, we won’t laugh.” 
Percy didn’t smile back. 
“Pass me those rolls, Harry, I’m starving.” 
Harry knew the whole mystery might be solved tomorrow without their help, but he wasn’t about 
to pass up a chance to speak to Myrtle if it turned up — and to his delight it did, midmorning, 
when they were being led to History of Magic by Gilderoy Lockhart. 
Lockhart, who had so often assured them that all danger had passed, only to be proved wrong 
right away, was now wholeheartedly convinced that it was hardly worth the trouble to see them 
safely down the corridors. His hair wasn’t as sleek as usual; it seemed he had been up most of the 
night, patrolling the fourth floor. 

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“Mark my words,” he said, ushering them around a corner. “The first words out of those poor 
Petrified people’s mouths will be ‘It was Hagrid.’ Frankly, I’m astounded Professor McGonagall 
thinks all these security measures are necessary.” 
“I agree, sir,” said Harry, making Ron drop his books in surprise. 
“Thank you, Harry,” said Lockhart graciously while they waited for a long line of Hufflepuffs to 
pass. “I mean, we teachers have quite enough to be getting on with, without walking students to 
classes and standing guard all night…” 
“That’s right,” said Ron, catching on. “Why don’t you leave us here, sir, we’ve only got one 
more corridor to go —” 
“You know, Weasley, I think I will,” said Lockhart. “I really should go and prepare my next 
class —” 
And he hurried off. 
“Prepare his class,” Ron sneered after him. “Gone to curl his hair, more like.” 
They let the rest of the Gryffindors draw ahead of them, then darted down a side passage and 
hurried off toward Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. But just as they were congratulating each other 
on their brilliant scheme. 
“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. 

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“That,” said Ron fervently, “was the best story you’ve ever come up with.” 
They had no choice now but to go to the hospital wing and tell Madam Pomfrey that they had 
Professor McGonagall’s permission to visit Hermione. 
Madam Pomfrey let them in, but reluctantly. 
“There’s just no point talking to a Petrified. person,” she said, and they had to admit she had a 
point when they’d taken their seats next to Hermione. It was plain that Hermione didn’t have the 
faintest inkling that she had visitors, and that they might just as well tell her bedside cabinet not 
to worry for all the good it would do. 
“Wonder if she did see the attacker, though?” said Ron, looking sadly at Hermione’s rigid face. 
“Because if he sneaked up on them all, no one’ll ever know…” 
But Harry wasn’t looking at Hermione’s face. He was more interested in her right hand. It lay 
clenched on top of her blankets, and bending closer, he saw that a piece of paper was scrunched 
inside her fist. 
Making sure that Madam Pomfrey was nowhere near, he pointed this out to Ron. 
“Go on and get it out,” Ron whispered, shifting his chair so that he blocked Harry from Madam 
Pomfrey’s view. 
It was no easy task. Hermione’s hand was clamped so tightly around the paper that Harry was 
sure he was going to tear it. While Ron kept watch he tugged and twisted, and at last, after 
several tense minutes, the paper came free. 
It was a page torn from a very old library book. Harry smoothed it out eagerly and Ron leaned 
close to read it, too.