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

 
 
 
 
 

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CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 
At Flourish and Blotts 
Life at the Burrow was as different as possible from life on Privet Drive. The Dursleys liked 
everything neat and ordered; the Weasleys’ house burst with the strange and unexpected. Harry 
got a shock the first time he looked in the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece and it shouted, 
“Tuck your shirt in, scruffy!” The ghoul in the attic howled and dropped pipes whenever he felt 
things were getting too quiet, and small explosions from Fred and George’s bedroom were 
considered perfectly normal. What Harry found most unusual about life at Ron’s, however, 
wasn’t the talking mirror or the clanking ghoul: It was the fact that everybody there seemed to 
like him. 
Mrs. Weasley fussed over the state of his socks and tried to force him to eat fourth helpings at 
every meal. Mr. Weasley liked Harry to sit next to him at the dinner table so that he could 
bombard him with questions about life with Muggles, asking him to explain how things like 
plugs and the postal service worked. 
“Fascinating.” he would say as Harry talked him through using a telephone. “Ingenious, really, 
how many ways Muggles have found of getting along without magic.” 
Harry heard from Hogwarts one sunny morning about a week after he had arrived at the Burrow. 
He and Ron went down to breakfast to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny already sitting at 
the kitchen table. The moment she saw Harry, Ginny accidentally knocked her porridge bowl to 
the floor with a loud clatter. Ginny seemed very prone to knocking things over whenever Harry 
entered a room. She dived under the table to retrieve the bowl and emerged with her face 
glowing like the setting sun. Pretending he hadn’t noticed this, Harry sat down and took the toast 
Mrs. Weasley offered him. 
“Letters from school,” said Mr. Weasley, passing Harry and Ron identical envelopes of 
yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink. “Dumbledore already knows you’re here, Harry — 
doesn’t miss a trick, that man. You two’ve got them, too,” he added, as Fred and George ambled 
in, still in their pajamas. 
For a few minutes there was silence as they all read their letters. Harry’s told him to catch the 
Hogwarts Express as usual from King’s Cross station on September first. There was also a list of 
the new books he’d need for the coming year. 
SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE: 
 

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2by Miranda Goshawk 
 

Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart 

 
Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart 

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Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart 
 

43 Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart 
 

Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart 
 

Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart 
 

Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart 
Fred, who had finished his own list, peered over at Harry’s. 
“You’ve been told to get all Lockhart’s books, too!” he said. “The new Defense Against the Dark 
Arts teacher must be a fan — bet it’s a witch.” 
At this point, Fred caught his mother’s eye and quickly busied himself with the marmalade. 
“That lot won’t come cheap,” said George, with a quick look at his parents. “Lockhart’s books 
are really expensive…” 
“Well, we’ll manage,” said Mrs. Weasley, but she looked worried. “I expect we’ll be able to pick 
up a lot of Ginny’s things secondhand.” 
“Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?” Harry asked Ginny. 
She nodded, blushing to the roots of her flaming hair, and put her elbow in the butter dish. 
Fortunately no one saw this except Harry, because just then Ron’s elder brother Percy walked in. 
He was already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his sweater vest. 
“Morning, all,” said Percy briskly. “Lovely day.” 
He sat down in the only remaining chair but leapt up again almost immediately, pulling from 
underneath him a molting, gray feather duster — at least, that was what Harry thought it was, 
until he saw that it was breathing. 
“Errol!” said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy and extracting a letter from under its wing. 
“Finally— he’s got Hermione’s answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue 
you from the Dursleys.” 
He carried Errol to a perch just inside the back door and tried to stand him on it, but Errol 
flopped straight off again so Ron lay him on the draining board instead, muttering, “Pathetic.” 
Then he ripped open Hermione’s letter and read it out loud: