Amelia Potter and the Chamber of Secrets PART 1

84

'Oh, shut up,' said Harry. Ron snorted with laughter and the ground was sprayed with slugs.

'Watch it!' Hagrid roared, pulling Ron away from his precious pumpkins.

'Ew Ron!' Amelia clushed her stomach laughing even harder than before. 'Sharptooth nee-uh! na gobbla the slugs!' Shouted Amelia as Sharptooh had half a slug in his mouth. A long game of catching the dragon ensued.

It was nearly lunchtime and as Harry had only had one bit of treacle toffee since dawn, he was keen to go back to school to eat. They said goodbye to Hagrid and 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 this evening.'

'What are we doing, Professor?' said Ron, nervously suppress- ing a burp.

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

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.

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

'Certainly not,' said Professor McGonagall, raising her eye- brows. 'Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o'clock sharp, both of you.'

Professor McGonagall turned away but upon seeing the small dragon sitting on Amelia's shoulder stopped in her tracks and walked over to the Slytherin table.

'I see the egg has hatched.'

Amelia nodded happily. 'Yeah just a few hours ago. This is Sharptooth. I hope it wouldn't be too much trouble if he would be able to stay in the common room with me?'

Professor McGonagall sighed heavily. 'As long as he can be trained.'

'I promise Professor McGonagall he will be.'This promise was quickly strained by Sharptooh. Burping a fireball across the table almost hitting Draco.

Harry and Ron slouched into the Great Hall in states of deepest gloom, Hermione behind them, wearing a well-you-did-break- school-rules sort of expression. Harry didn't fancy his shepherd's pie as much as he'd thought. Both he and Ron felt they'd got the worse deal. Not even seeing Sharptooh do lofty loops and roasting marshmallows in mid-air could cheer them up.

'Filch'll have me there all night,' 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 prac- tice with the Dursleys. Answering Lockhart's fan mail ... he'll be a nightmare ...'

Saturday afternoon seemed to melt away, and in what seemed like no time, it was five minutes to eight, and Harry was dragging