CHAPTER SIX
toward them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. “Who’s giv-
ing out signed photos?”
Harry started to speak but he was cut short as Lockhart flung an
arm around his shoulders and thundered jovially, “Shouldn’t have
asked! We meet again, Harry!”
Pinned to Lockhart’s side and burning with humiliation, Harry
saw Malfoy slide smirking back into the crowd.
“Come on then, Mr. Creevey,” said Lockhart, beaming at Colin.
“A double portrait, can’t do better than that, and we’ll both sign it
for you.”
Colin fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell
rang behind them, signaling the start of afternoon classes.
“Off you go, move along there,” Lockhart called to the crowd,
and he set off back to the castle with Harry, who was wishing he
knew a good Vanishing Spell, still clasped to his side.
“A word to the wise, Harry,” said Lockhart paternally as they
entered the building through a side door. “I covered up for you
back there with young Creevey — if he was photographing me,
too, your schoolmates won’t think you’re setting yourself up so
much. . . .”
Deaf to Harry’s stammers, Lockhart swept him down a corridor
lined with staring students and up a staircase.
“Let me just say that handing out signed pictures at this stage of
your career isn’t sensible — looks a tad bigheaded, Harry, to be
frank. There may well come a time when, like me, you’ll need to
keep a stack handy wherever you go, but” — he gave a little chor-
tle — “I don’t think you’re quite there yet.”
They had reached Lockhart’s classroom and he let Harry go at
98