Bella and the Chamber (Book Two)

Chapter Nine

Like always, Professor McGonagall's classes were always hard work, but today, it seemed, was really difficult. Everything I had learned last year seemed to have leaked out of my head during the summer, and it took me loads of attempts to turn a beetle into a button. I spent most of the time giving the beetle exercise as it ran from the tip of my wand. Harry was having the same problem. 

Ron, however, was having far worse problems. He had patched up his wand with some borrowed Spellotape, but it seemed to be damaged beyond repair. It kept crackling and sparking at odd moments, and every time Ron tried to transfigure his beetle it engulfed him in thick grey smoke which smelled strangely of rotten eggs. Unable to see what he was doing, he accidentally squashed his beetle with his elbow and had to ask for a new one. To say Professor McGonagall wasn't pleased would be an understatement. And I thought her mouth couldn't get any thinner.

It felt a whole weight had lifted off my shoulders when I heard the bell for lunch. My brain felt as though it was going to explode. Everyone filed out of the classroom except me, Harry, and Ron. Ron was whacking his wand furiously on the desk. The sight would look funny but I felt bad for him. 

"Stupid...useless...thing..." Ron said in between in each whack. 

"Write home for another one," I suggested, as the wand let off a volley of bangs like a firecracker. 

"Oh yeah, and get another Howler back," Ron hissed, stuffing his now hissing wand into his bag.  "It's your own fault your wand got snapped-"

We went down to lunch, where Ron's mood was not improved by Hermione showing us the handful of perfect coat buttons she had produced in Transfiguration. Show off. I only managed to produce two throughout the whole lesson because my beetle kept running off. 

"What've we got this afternoon?" Harry asked, quickly changing the subject before Ron could anger Hermione with his comments. 

"Defence Against the Dark Arts," Hermione told us at once.

Ugh. That means we have Lockhart. 

"Why," demanded Ron, taking her timetable, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

Hermione snatched the timetable back, flushing furiously. I raised my eyebrow at her and folded my arms. 

"Don't tell me you like that big headed freak too?"

Hermione huffed. "He's not big headed! He's amazing! He's a-"

"Fraud," I cut her off.

"He's not a fraud," she glares at me. 

"Oh please, there's no way he's done all that stuff! He's too busy thinking about himself to actually defeat a werewolf!"  

Hermione sighs. "But-"

"No buts - you continue to like the fraud, but I'm sticking to my guns," I say. "You watch, the truth will come out eventually"

We finished lunch and went outside into the overcast courtyard. Hermione sat down on a stone step and buried her nose in Voyages with Vampires again. I sat next to her and joined in on Ron's and Harry's conversation about Quidditch. We chatted for several minutes before Harry's eyes looked up, looking behind me. I turned around and saw the very same mousey-haired boy we'd saw trying on the Sorting Hat last night, he was staring at Harry like he was transfixed. I giggled, he looked to be carrying an ordinary Muggle camera, and the moment Harry looked at him, he went bright red making me giggle again. Looks like Harry has a fan. 

"All right, Harry? I'm - I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. Yep, Harry defiantly has a fan. How cute! At least it's not Ginny... nope, I won't go there. "I'm in Gryffindor too. D'you think - would it all right if - can I have a picture?" he said raising the camera hopefully.