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| Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets |
| "Why," demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?" "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent." The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered. "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat. . . . Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoy's face. A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backwards onto the grass. "Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" squealed Hermione. Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap. "Malfoy called Hermione something -- it must've been really bad, because everyone went wild." "It was bad," said Ron hoarsely, emerging over the tabletop looking pale and sweaty. "Malfoy called her 'Mudblood,' Hagrid --" Ron dived out of sight again as a fresh wave of slugs made their appearance. "I -- don't -- like -- spiders," said Ron tensely. "I never knew that," said Hermione, looking at Ron in surprise. "You've used spiders in Potions loads of times . . ." "I don't mind them dead," said Ron, who was carefully looking anywhere but at the window. "I just don't like the way they move . . ." Hermione giggled. "It's not funny," said Ron fiercely. "A month?" said Ron. "Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!" But Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously again, and he added swiftly, "But it's the best plan we've got, so full steam ahead, I say." However, while Hermione was checking that the coast was clear for them to leave the bathroom, Ron muttered to Harry, "It'll be a lot less hassle if you can just knock Malfoy off his broom tomorrow." "You read too much, Hermione," said Ron. "If I'd sprouted whiskers, I'd take a break from work," said Ron, tipping a stack of books onto Hermione's bedside table one evening. "Don't be silly, Ron, I've got to keep up," said Hermione briskly. "He sounds like Percy," said Ron, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Prefect, Head Boy . . . probably top of every class --" "You say that like it's a bad thing," said Hermione in a slightly hurt voice. "But why's she got to go to the library?" "Because that's what Hermione does," said Ron, shrugging. "When in doubt, go to the library." "Hermione!" Ron groaned. Hermione lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy. "I'm quite surprised the Mudbloods haven't all packed their bags by now," Malfoy went on. "Bet you five Galleons the next one dies. Pity it wasn't Granger --" The bell rang at that moment, which was lucky; at Malfoy's last words, Ron had leapt off his stool, and in the scramble to collect bags and books, his attempts to reach Malfoy went unnoticed. "Let me at him," Ron growled as Harry and Dean hung onto his arms. "I don't care, I don't need my wand, I'm going to kill him with my bare hands!" Ron read the message, swallowed hard, and looked sideways at the empty seat usually filled by Hermione. The sight seemed to stiffen his resolve, and he nodded. "I daresay the basilisk's victims will be waking up any moment." "So Hermione's okay!" said Ron brightly. |