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90 When he'd found his scarlet team robes and pulled on his cloak for warmth, Harry scribbled a note to Ron explaining where he'd gone and went down the spiral staircase to the common room, his Nimbus Two Thousand on his shoulder. He had just reached the portrait hole when there was a clatter behind him and Colin Creevey came dashing down the spiral staircase, his camera swinging madly around his neck and something clutched in his hand.
"I heard someone saying your name on the stairs, Harry! Look what I've got here! I've had it developed, I wanted to show you -" *105* Harry looked bemusedly at the photograph Colin was brandishing under his nose.
A moving, black-and-white Lockhart was tugging hard on an arm Harry recognized as his own. He was pleased to see that his photographic self was putting up a good fight and refusing to be dragged into view. As Harry watched, Lockhart gave up and slumped, panting, against the white edge of the picture.
"Will you sign it." said Colin eagerly.
"No," said Harry flatly, glancing around to check that the room was really deserted. "Sorry, Colin, I'm in a hurry - Quidditch practice -" He climbed through the portrait hole.
"Oh, wow! Wait for me! I've never watched a Quidditch game before!" Colin scrambled through the hole after him.
"It'll be really boring," Harry said quickly, but Colin ignored him, his face shining with excitement.
"You were the youngest House player in a hundred years, weren't you, Harry. Weren't you." said Colin, trotting alongside him. "You must be brilliant. I've never flown. Is it easy. Is that your own broom. Is that the best one there is."
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