MAGIC AND MYSTERY

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets Part 6

The screen changed to breakfast in the Great Hall. The four long house tables were laden with tureens of porridge, plates of kippers, mountains of toast, and dishes of eggs and bacon, beneath the enchanted ceiling (today, a dull, cloudy gray). Harry and Ron sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Hermione, who had her copy of Voyages with Vampires propped open against a milk jug. There was a slight stiffness in the way she said "Morning," which said that she was still disapproving of the way they had arrived. Neville, on the other hand, greeted them cheerfully. 

"Mail's due any minute—I think Gran's sending a few things I forgot."

"Of course she is."

Harry had only just started his porridge when, sure enough, there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling the hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd. A big, lumpy package bounced off Neville's head and, a second later, something large and gray fell into Hermione's jug, spraying them all with milk and feathers.

"Errol!" Ron said, pulling the bedraggled owl out by the feet. Errol slumped, unconscious, onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp red envelope in his beak.

"Ooh," the hall winced. Molly looked very proud of herself.

"Oh, no—" Ron gasped.

"It's all right, he's still alive," Hermione said, prodding Errol gently with the tip of her finger.

"It's not that—it's that." Ron was pointing at the red envelope. Halley, Maliana, Ron and Neville were both looking at it as though they expected it to explode.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked as Hermione drew in a sharp breath.

"She's—she's sent me a Howler," Ron said faintly.

"You'd better open it, Ron," Neville said in a timid whisper. "It'll be worse if you don't. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and"—he gulped—"it was horrible."

Harry looked from their petrified faces to the red envelope. "What's a Howler?" he said.

But Ron's whole attention was fixed on the letter, which had begun to smoke at the corners.

"Open it," Neville urged. "It'll all be over in a few minutes—"

Ron winced.

Ron stretched out a shaking hand, eased the envelope from Errol's beak, and slit it open. Neville stuffed his fingers in his ears. A roar of sound filled the huge hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

"STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE—"

Ron ears were bright pink, and Molly looked very satisfied.

Molly's yells, a hundred times louder than usual, made the plates and spoons rattle on the table, and echoed deafeningly off the stone walls. People throughout the hall were swiveling around to see who had received the Howler, and Ron sank so low in his chair that only his crimson forehead could be seen.

"LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED—ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED—YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."

A ringing silence fell. The red envelope, which had dropped from Ron's hand, burst into flames and curled into ashes. Harry and Ron sat stunned, as though a tidal wave had just passed over them. A few people laughed and, gradually, a babble of talk broke out again.