AT FLOURISH AND BLOTTS
“ We can actually meet him!” Hermione squealed.“ I mean, he’ s written almost the whole booklist!”
The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Weasley’ s age. A harassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying,“ Calmly, please, ladies.... Don’ t push, there... mind the books, now....”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. They each grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 and sneaked up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.
“ Oh, there you are, good,” said Mrs. Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair.“ We’ ll be able to see him in a minute....”
Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard’ s hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.
A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.
“ Out of the way, there,” he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot.“ This is for the Daily Prophet—”
“ Big deal,” said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.
Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Ron—
� 59 �