Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets by J. K. Rowling Read Free Book Online Page B

suddenly. “Sorry, Harry, I forgot.”
          “Never?” said Mr. Weasley. “But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?”
          “I went on the Underground —”
          “Really?” said Mr. Weasley eagerly. “Were there escapators? How exactly —”
          “Not now, Arthur,” said Mrs. Weasley. “Floo powder’s a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you’ve never used it before —”
          “He’ll be all right, Mum,” said Fred. “Harry, watch us first.”
          He took a pinch of glittering powder out of the flowerpot, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames.
          With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Fred, who stepped right into it, shouted, “Diagon Alley!” and vanished.
          “You must speak clearly, dear,” Mrs. Weasley told Harry as George dipped his hand into the flowerpot. “And be sure to get out at the right grate….”
          “The right what?” said Harry nervously as the fire roared and whipped George out of sight, too.
          “Well, there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, you know, but as long as you’ve spoken clearly —”
          “He’ll be fine, Molly, don’t fuss,” said Mr. Weasley, helping himself to Floo powder too.
          “But, dear, if he got lost, how would we ever explain to his aunt and uncle?”
          “They wouldn’t mind,” Harry reassured her. “Dudley would think it was a brilliant joke if I got lost up a chimney, don’t worry about that —”
          “Well…all right…you go after Arthur,” said Mrs. Weasley. “Now, when you get into the fire, say where you’re going.”
          “And keep your elbows tucked in,” Ron advised.
          “And your eyes shut,” said Mrs. Weasley. “The soot —”
          “Don’t fidget,” said Ron. “Or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace —”
          “But don’t panic and get out too early; wait until you see Fred and George.”
          Trying hard to bear all this in mind, Harry took a pinch of Floo powder and walked to the edge of the fire. He took a deep breath, scattered the powder into the flames, and stepped forward; the fire felt like a warm breeze; he opened his mouth and immediately swallowed a lot of hot ash.
          “D-Dia-gon Alley,” he coughed.
          It felt as though he was being sucked down a giant drain. He seemed to be spinning very fast — the roaring in his ears was deafening — he tried to keep his eyes open but the whirl of green flames made him feel sick —something hard knocked his elbow 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 the bridge of his glasses snap.
          Dizzy and bruised, covered in soot, he got gingerly to his feet, holding his broken glasses up to his eyes. He was quite alone, but where 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 bloodstained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks stared 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