𝙰𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 [𝙿𝙹𝙾 𝚡 𝙷𝙿] (𝟷)

10

CHAMBER OF SECRETS

"Oh, shit," Sirius grumbled as he stared at the title.

"Oh shit indeed," Orion sighed, now he felt worried for his granddaughter and her friends.

Many were dreading this chapter, wanting to know what happened that time.

(Name) and Hermione left to the quidditch pitch earlier after visiting Hagrid.

However, the boys decided to linger alongside Hagrid for a few more hours, savoring the fading daylight a bit longer. Eventually, as the vibrant hues of the sunset painted the sky, they knew it was time to bid the friendly half-giant farewell, realizing that the hour had grown late and their departure was imminent.

The two of them walked back up to the castle, Ron hiccoughing occasionally, but only bringing up two, very small slugs. They had barely set foot in the cool Entrance Hall when a voice rang out.

"There you are, Potter, Weasley," Professor McGonagall was walking towards them, looking stern. "You will both do your detentions now."

"Almost forgot about that," James said.

"What are we doing, Professor?" said Ron, nervously suppressing a burp.

"You will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch," said Professor McGonagall. "And no magic, Weasley – elbow grease."

"Oh, that's torture I tell you. Done that like a week ago," Sirius said, stretching his fingers.

Ron gulped. Argus Filch, the caretaker, was loathed by every student in the school.

"And you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail," said Professor McGonagall.

Many groaned at what Harry's detention was.

"Minnie! Why him..." James whined.

"I don't know, Mr. Potter. That was future me who said it," McGonagall said with a shrug.

"Oh no – can't I go and do the trophy room, too?" said Harry desperately.

"Certainly not," said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. "Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Now, both of you, run along."

"Oh... He requested," James frowned further, glaring at Lockhart with distain.

"Filch'll have me there all evening," said Ron heavily. "No magic! There must be about a hundred cups in that room. I'm no good at Muggle cleaning."

"I'd swap any time," said Harry hollowly. "I've had loads of practice with the Dursleys. Answering Lockhart's fan mail ... he'll be a nightmare ..."

"And he was," Harry grumbled, pushing his glasses up his nose when it slipped.