Amelia Potter and the Chamber of Secrets PART 1

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and he tucked it in tightly, still spinning and spinning ... now it felt as though cold hands were slapping his face ... squinting through his glasses he saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of the rooms beyond ... his bacon sandwiches were churning inside him ... He closed his eyes again wishing it would stop, and then – he fell, face forward, onto cold stone and felt his glasses shatter.

Dizzy and bruised, covered in soot, he got gingerly to his feet, holding his broken glasses up to his eyes. He was quite alone, butwhere he was, he had no idea. All he could tell was that he was standing in the stone fireplace of what looked like a large, dimly lit wizard's shop – but nothing in here was ever likely to be on a Hogwarts school list.

A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a blood-stained pack of cards and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks leered down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Even worse, the dark, narrow street Harry could see through the dusty shop window was definitely not Diagon Alley.

The sooner he got out of here, the better. Nose still stinging where it had hit the hearth, Harry made his way swiftly and silent- ly towards the door, but before he'd got halfway towards it, two people appeared on the other side of the glass – and one of them was the very last person Harry wanted to meet when he was lost, covered in soot and wearing broken glasses: Draco Malfoy.

Harry looked quickly around and spotted a large black cabinet to his left; he shot inside it and pulled the doors to, leaving a small crack to peer through. Seconds later, a bell clanged, and Malfoy stepped into the shop.

The man who followed could only be his father. He had the same pale, pointed face and identical cold grey eyes. Mr Malfoy crossed the shop, looking lazily at the items on display, and rang a bell on the counter before turning to his son and saying, 'Touch nothing, Draco.'

Malfoy, who had reached for the glass eye, said, 'I thought you were going to buy me a present.'

'I said I would buy you a racing broom,' said his father, drum- ming his fingers on the counter.

'What's the good of that if I'm not in the house team?' said Malfoy, looking sulky and bad-tempered. 'Harry Potter got a