No Turning Back Now.

An hour later, we headed to Flourish and Blotts. We were by no means the only ones making our way to the bookshop. As we approached it, we saw to our surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows.

‘GILDEROY LOCKHART
will be signing copies of his autobiography
MAGICAL ME
today at 12.30 – 4.30 pm’

“We can actually meet him!” Hermione squealed. “I mean, he’s written almost the whole booklist!”

“Don’t tell me you’re totally in love with him as well!” I exclaimed.

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, Hermione and I squeezed inside. A long queue wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. We each grabbed a copy of ‘Break with a Banshee’, and sneaked up the line 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 which exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard’s har was set at a jaunty angle on his way hair.

A short, irritable 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 me, moving back to get a better shot. “This is for the Daily Prophet.”

“Big deal,” I said, rubbing my foot where the photographer had stepped on it.

Gilderoy Lockhart heard me and looked up. He saw me – and then he saw Harry. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, “It can’t be Harry Potter?”

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly. Lockhart dived forward, seizing Harry’s arm and pulling him to the front. The crowd burst into applause. Harry’s face burned bright red as Lockhart shook his hand for the photographer, who was clicking away madly, wafting thick smoke over us, enabling us to see very much.

Harry tried to get back to us, once Lockhart had let go of his hand, but Gilderoy threw an arm around his shoulders, and clamped him tightly to his side.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said loudly, waving for quiet. “What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time! When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography – which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge –“

The crowd applauded again, and I stood watching Lockhart with hatred.

“- he had no idea,” Lockhart continued, giving Harry a liitle shake that made his glasses slip to the end of his nose, “that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book Magical Me. He and his school fellows will, in fact, be getting the real, magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

Fred, George and I all groaned, while the rest of the crowd cheered and clapped and Harry was presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. I waited in line with everyone, and Ron, Hermione and I were soon fighting our way over to Harry and Ginny, who were standing in front of Malfoy, with stacks of Lockhart books in our arms.

“Oh, it’s you,” I said. “Bet you’re surprise to see Harry here, eh?”

“Not as surprise as I am to see Weasley in a shop,” retorted Malfoy. “I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for that lot.”

Ron went as scarlet. He dropped his books in a cauldron Ginny was carrying and started towards Malfoy, but Harry and I grabbed the back of his jacket.

“Ron!” said Mr Weasley, struggling over with Fred and George. “What are you doing? It’s mad in here, let’s get outside.”

“Well, well, well – Arthur Weasley.”

A man with the same pale, pointed face and identical cold grey eyes as Draco. This man must be Mr Malfoy. He stood with his hand on Draco’s shoulder, sneering in just the same way.

“Lucius,” said Mr Weasley, nodding coldly.

“Busy time at the Ministry, I hear,” said Mr Malfoy. “All those raids.. I hope they’re paying you overtime?”

He reached into Ginny’s cauldron and extracted, from amidst the glossy Lockhart books, a very old, very battered copy of A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration.

“Obviously not,” he said. “Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?”

Mr Weasley flushed darker than Ron.

“We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy,” he said.
“Clearly,” she Mr Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to Mr and Mrs Granger, who were watching apprehensively. “The company you keep, Weasley... and I thought your family could sink no lower –“

There was a thud of metal as Ginny’s cauldron went flying; Mr Weasley had thrown himself at Mr Malfoy, knocking him backwards into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spell books came thundering down on our heads; there was a yell of, ‘Get him, Dad!’ from Fred or George; Mrs Weasley was shrieking, ‘No, Arthur, no!’; the crowd stampeded backwards, knocking more shelves over; ‘Gentlemen, please – please!’ cried the assistant and then, louder than all, ‘Break it up, there, gents, break it up –“

Hagrid was wading towards them through the sea of books. In an instant he had pulled Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy apart. Mr Weasley had a cut lip and Mr Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopaedia of Toadstools. He was still holding Ginny’s old transfiguration book. He trusted it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.

“Here, girl – take your book – it’s the best your father can give you –“

Pulling himself out of Hagrid’s rip he beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop.
“Yeh should’ve ignored him, Arthur,” said Hagrid, almost lifting Mr Weasley to his feet as he straightened his robes. “Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that. No Malfoy’s worth listenin’ ter. Bad blood, that’s what it is. Come on now – let’s get outta here.”

The assistant looked as though he wanted to stop us leaving, but he barely came up to Hagrid’s waist and seemed to think better of it. We hurried up the street, the Grangers shaking with fright and Mrs Weasley beside herself with fury.

“A fine example to set your children... brawling in public... what Gilderoy Lockhart must’ve though...”

“He was pleased,” said Fred. “Didn’t you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he’d be able to work the fight into his report – said it was all publicity.”

But it was s subdued group who headed back to the fireside in the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry, me, the Weasleys and all our shopping would be travelling back to The Burrow using Floo powder. We said goodbye to the Grangers, who were leaving the pub for the Muggle street on the other side. Mr Weasley started to ask them how bus stops worked, but stopped quickly at the look on Mrs Weasley’s face.

I helped myself to a handful of Floo powder, going with George this time; not wanting to end up in the wrong place. It was definitely wasn’t my favourite way to travel.