CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Lockhart. Tell him what we know. He’s going to try and get into
the Chamber. We can tell him where we think it is, and tell him it’s
a basilisk in there.”
Because Harry couldn’t think of anything else to do, and because
he wanted to be doing something, he agreed. The Gryffindors
around them were so miserable, and felt so sorry for the Weasleys,
that nobody tried to stop them as they got up, crossed the room,
and left through the portrait hole.
Darkness was falling as they walked down to Lockhart’s office.
There seemed to be a lot of activity going on inside it. They could
hear scraping, thumps, and hurried footsteps.
Harry knocked and there was a sudden silence from inside.
Then the door opened the tiniest crack and they saw one of Lock-
hart’s eyes peering through it.
“Oh — Mr. Potter — Mr. Weasley —” he said, opening the
door a bit wider. “I’m rather busy at the moment — if you would
be quick —”
“Professor, we’ve got some information for you,” said Harry.
“We think it’ll help you.”
“Er — well — it’s not terribly —” The side of Lockhart’s face
that they could see looked very uncomfortable. “I mean — well —
all right —”
He opened the door and they entered.
His office had been almost completely stripped. Two large
trunks stood open on the floor. Robes, jade-green, lilac, midnight-
blue, had been hastily folded into one of them; books were jum-
bled untidily into the other. The photographs that had covered the
walls were now crammed into boxes on the desk.
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