HARRY POTTER AND THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS BY J.K. ROWLING ILLUSTRATIONS BY MARY GRANDPRÉ Text copyright © 1998 by J.K. Rowling. Illustrations by Mary GrandPré copyright © 1999 by Warner Bros. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of and © Warner Bros. Ent. Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K. Rowling. This digital edition first published by Pottermore Limited in 2012 Published in print in the U.S.A. by Arthur A. Levine Books, an imprint of Scholastic Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. ISBN 978-1-78110-035-6 www.pottermore.com by J.K. Rowling The unique online experience built around the Harry Potter books. Share and participate in the stories, showcase your own Potter-related creativity and discover even more about the world of Harry Potter from the author herself. Visit pottermore.com FOR SEÁN P. F. HARRIS, GETAWAY DRIVER AND FOUL-WEATHER FRIEND CONTENTS ONE The Worst Birthday TWO Dobby's Warning THREE The Burrow FOUR At Flourish and Blotts FIVE The Whomping Willow SIX Gilderoy Lockhart SEVEN Mudbloods and Murmurs EIGHT The Deathday Party NINE The Writing on the Wall TEN The Rogue Bludger ELEVEN The Dueling Club TWELVE The Polyjuice Potion THIRTEEN The Very Secret Diary FOURTEEN Cornelius Fudge FIFTEEN Aragog SIXTEEN The Chamber of Secrets SEVENTEEN The Heir of Slytherin EIGHTEEN Dobby's Reward CHAPTER ONE THE WORST BIRTHDAY N ot for the first time, an argument had broken out over breakfast at number four, Privet Drive. Mr. Vernon Dursley had been woken in the early hours of the morning by a loud, hooting noise from his nephew Harry’s room. “Third time this week!” he roared across the table. “If you can’t control that owl, it’ll have to go!” Harry tried, yet again, to explain. “She’s bored,” he said. “She’s used to flying around outside. If I could just let her out at night —” “Do I look stupid?” snarled Uncle Vernon, a bit of fried egg dangling from his bushy mustache. “I know what’ll happen if that owl’s let out.” He exchanged dark looks with his wife, Petunia. Harry tried to argue back but his words were drowned by a long, loud belch from the Dursleys’ son, Dudley. “I want more bacon.” “There’s more in the frying pan, sweetums,” said Aunt Petunia, turning misty eyes on her massive son. “We must build you up while we’ve got the chance. . . . I don’t like the sound of that school food. . . .” “Nonsense, Petunia, I never went hungry when I was at Smeltings,” said Uncle Vernon heartily. “Dudley gets enough, don’t you, son?” Dudley, who was so large his bottom drooped over either side of the kitchen chair, grinned and turned to Harry. “Pass the frying pan.” “You’ve forgotten the magic word,” said Harry irritably. The effect of this simple sentence on the rest of the family was incredible: Dudley gasped and fell off his chair with a crash that shook the whole kitchen; Mrs. Dursley gave a small scream and clapped her hands to her mouth; Mr. Dursley jumped to his feet, veins throbbing in his temples. “I meant ‘please’!” said Harry quickly. “I didn’t mean —” “WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU,” thundered his uncle, spraying spit over the table, “ABOUT SAYING THE ‘M’ WORD IN OUR HOUSE?” “But I —” “HOW DARE YOU THREATEN DUDLEY!” roared Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his fist. “I just —” “I WARNED YOU! I WILL NOT TOLERATE MENTION OF YOUR ABNORMALITY UNDER THIS ROOF!” Harry stared from his purple-faced uncle to his pale aunt, who was trying to heave Dudley to his feet. “All right,” said Harry, “all right . . .” Uncle Vernon sat back down, breathing like a winded rhinoceros and watching Harry closely out of the corners of his small, sharp eyes. Ever since Harry had come home for the summer holidays, Uncle Vernon had been treating him like a bomb that might go off at any