The Mysterious Heir

Chapter 4, Book 2, "Gilderoy Lockhart"

Back to third person

The next day, however, Harry barely grins once. Things start to go downhill from breakfast in the Great Hall. The four long tables are 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 sit down at the Gryffindor table next to Hermione, who has her copy of Voyages with Vampires propped open against a milk jug. There is a slight stiffness in the way she says "'Morning," which tells Harry that she is still disapproving of the way they arrived. Neville Longbottom, on the other hand, greets them cheerfully. Neville is a round-faced and accident-prone boy with the worst memory of anyone Harry has ever met.

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

Harry starts serving himself porridge when, sure enough, there is a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls stream in, circling the hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd. A big, lumpy package bounces off Neville's head and, a second later, something large and gray falls into Hermione's jug, spraying them all with milk and feathers.

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

"Oh, no -" Ron gasps.

"It's all right, he's still alive," says Harry, prodding Errol gently with the tip of his finger.

"It's not that - it's that."

Ron is pointing at the red envelope. It looks quite ordinary to Harry, but Ron and Neville are both looking at it as though they expect it to explode.

Polaris, who is sitting nearby with the twins, looks over. "This'll be fun." He says, plugging his ears.

"What's the matter?" Harry asks.

"She's - she's sent me a Howler," says Ron faintly.

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

Harry looks from their petrified faces to the red envelope.

"What's a Howler?" he says.

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

"Open it," Polaris urges. "It'll all be over in a few minutes -"

Ron stretches out a shaking hand, eases the envelope from Errol's beak, and slides it open. Neville, like Polaris, stuffs his fingers in his ears. A split second later, Harry knows why. He thinks for a moment it exploded; a roar of sound fills 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 -"

Mrs. Weasley's yells, a hundred times louder than usual, makes the plates and spoons rattle on the table, and echo deafeningly off the stone walls. People throughout the hall are swiveling around to see who received the Howler, and Ron sinks so low in his chair that only his crimson forehead can be seen.