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Disclaimer: If you recognise it, surprise, I don't own it.
Chapter 47- No Slugs?
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I watched with a smile from a distance, looking over the confrontation with interest. I entered the courtyard to the sight of Draco Malfoy walking up to the golden trio and starting some shit with them. I have to say, while the kid is an arrogant little shit you would like to smack around, he is entertaining. It is pretty funny to watch him rustle their feathers and get under their skins with just his words. Also, the way Ron is getting red is largely entertaining.
But ultimately, I was waiting for one thing and one thing only. "Eat slugs, Malfoy," said Ron angrily. But that was it. He didn't brandish his wand or anything. Which bloody sucks. I was looking forward to seeing his spell backfire on him and then him spewing out multiple slugs from his own mouth. But I guess I won't be seeing that today.
"Be careful, Weasley," sneered Malfoy. "You don't want to start any trouble, or your Mommy will have to come and take you away from school." He put on a shrill, piercing voice. "If you put another toe out of line' - " Wow, what a good impression. He really got the annoying aspect of it down with the high-pitched voice.
"Professor, aren't you going to do something?" I hear to my side and look down to see a little first-year Ravenclaw girl looking at me with concern. She wants me to go stop them, and she is wondering why I am not doing so. I look around and spot a few other students looking at me, and I realise I can't avoid this. I need to involve myself or ruin my reputation, and the year has just started.
"Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter," smirked Malfoy. "It'd be worth more than his family's whole house-" Ron whipped out his Spellotaped wand, but Hermione shut Voyages with Vampires with a snap and whispered, "Look out!"
"What's all this, what's all this?" I strode toward them, his black robes swirling behind me. "Who's giving out signed photos?" Harry started to speak, but he was cut short as I flung an arm around his shoulders and thundered jovially, "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry!" I pulled him close and pinned him to my side, and I could feel him burning with humiliation as he saw Malfoy slide back into the crowd, smirking.
"Come on then, Mr Creevey," I said, beaming at Colin and using my dashing smile. "A double portrait can't do better than that, and we'll both sign it for you." Colin excitedly fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind them, signalling the start of afternoon classes.
"Off you go, move along there. Classes are starting." I called to the crowd because I too, had a class to get to now, and so I set off back to the castle with Harry, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else, still clasped to my side.
"A word to the wise, Harry," I said paternally, taking my role as an unreliable mentor as we entered the building through a side door. "I covered up for you back there with young Creevey and Malfoy. If he was photographing me, too, your schoolmates wouldn't think you're setting yourself up so much, and they won't think you are too full of yourself."
Ignoring Harry's stammers, I 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. It 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" I snorted and gave a little chortle.
"I don't think you're quite there yet." We had finally reached the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom, my classroom, and so I let Harry go at last. I walked here with him because I was teaching his year now. Harry yanked his robes straight and headed for a seat at the very back of the class, where he busied himself with piling all seven of Lockhart's books in front of him, all the while avoiding looking at me. Meanwhile, I sat at my desk at the front, glancing at the cage beside me to get ready for my first class.
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The rest of the class came clattering in, and Ron and Hermione sat down on either side of Harry. "You could've fried an egg on your face," said Ron. "You'd better hope Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fan club."
"Shut up," snapped Harry. The last thing he needed was for Lockhart to hear the phrase "Harry Potter fan club." Harry's worldview had flipped upside down in the span of a day. He thought he would have a great Defence Against The Dark Arts professor this year, what with everything he has seen of Gilderoy Lockhart already.
Gilderoy Lockhart, who everybody lauded the praises of. Who had paid for everybody in Harry's years' wands, including himself. The man at the bookstore, who had produced the fastest broom to ever be made, and offered Harry the chance to help design one. And then he started being so... Harry didn't know how to describe it, he just knew he didn't like it. However, everybody else seemed to think he was the bee's knees.
When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly, and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show the cover of a very ugly Troll on the front. Harry recognised it immediately. He had seen two trolls last year, and the imagery was spot on. Harry could almost smell the horrible stink.
"For those of you who have been living under a rock, I am Gilderoy Lockhart," he said, pointing at it with a big smile on his face. "Magical adventurer, author, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, but that's useless, so let's ignore that. Having a great smile won't help you survive against a horde of Dementors!" The smile disappears from his face, replaced by a cold countenance.
"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books. Well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about, just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in." When he had handed out the test papers, he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes. Start now!" He ordered, taking a seat at his desk.
Harry looked down at his paper and read:
1. What did Gilderoy Lockhart do to defeat the Bandon Banshee?
2. What spell did Gilderoy Lockhart use to defeat the Werewolf?
3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?
On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:
4. What did Gilderoy Lockhart encounter in Albania?
Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.
"Okay, so clearly you guys need to work on your memory skill, or, you know... actually read the books. Hardly any of you answered any of the questions correctly. This was a test of your attention to detail as well as preparedness. These are essential skills if you want to actually do something meaningful with your lives, and given the results I can see before me clearly, most of you are fine with being mediocre." Professor Lockhart says, sitting on the edge of his desk.
"And that is fine; there is nothing wrong with being mediocre. You can continue doing what you are doing and then graduate and live off of the money your ancestors worked hard to make, just like your parents. Or you can go and get a menial job at the ministry, filling some useless position and being bossed around by others, just like your parents." Harry could see Malfoy's head turn down and then Ron beside him getting red.
"However, I won't be wasting my time teaching such people. So, you can come and get your mark of attendance, and if you so wish, you can leave. I am not going to spend my precious time trying to teach people who do not want to learn, but for those who do, I will be an open book." Lockhart stands up here and leans towards the class. "So, those of you who don't want to be here, who aren't willing to learn, now is the time to go..." The class is silent, no one even so much as breathing.
"Good. Then, you are all here to learn. Truly, you must not waste this opportunity, as you will only have my wisdom and grace for a single year." He gave them a roguish wink. Ron was now staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were focusing with severe looks on their faces.
Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her name. "But Miss Hermione Granger, you have clearly read both versions of my books and have a remarkable attention to detail. Good girl! In fact- " he flipped her paper over "Full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?" Hermione raised a trembling hand.
"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! Now, let us begin, and I do believe the best learning is experience. And so, to business." He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.
"Now, be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. Well, nothing that can't be healed. All I ask is that you remain calm." In spite of himself, Harry leaned around his pile of books for a better look at the cage.
Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Dean and Seamus pulled out their wands, and Neville was cowering in his front-row seat. "I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."
As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover. "Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies." Seamus Finnigan couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.
"Yes?" He smiled at Seamus.
"Well, they're not- they're not very... dangerous, are they?" Seamus choked.
"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!" The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.
"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!" And he opened the cage with a gleeful smile on his face. It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass.
The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, up-ended the waste basket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks, and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling.
"Come on now, you were laughing before. Round them up, round them up. They are only pixies," Lockhart shouted, standing at the front of the class. There seemed to be an invisible bubble around him that the pixies kept slamming into, not even ruffling the professor's clothes. "Are you guys even wizards!? Do you even know how to use your wands!? Bloody hell, do you even have wands!?"
It had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies had seized the wands of Dean and Seamus and had thrown them out of the window. Lockhart just watched it all impassively, just watching the students get terrorised but also looking up at Neville hanging from the chandelier with something akin to happiness. And then he whipped his wand out just narrowly in time for Neville, who fell a second later as the chandelier gave way, bouncing on the spongified floor.
The bell rang, and there was a mad rush toward the exit. However, the door was locked tight, and all the students started to push and shove as the pixies bombarded the easy bunched-up targets. "You thought you could just run away!? Is that how you are going to deal with everything you come across!? Stand and face it! Be a wizard!" Lockhart shouts for all to hear, but no one pays much attention except Hermione, of course. It was impossible for her to not listen to a teacher. She brought her wand out and quickly tried to round up the pixies, but she was having trouble doing so alone.
In the chaos that followed, Lockhart straightened up and caught sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were starting to work together against the pixies and said, "Look, They have the right idea. Work together, capture them all!" Gilderoy moved and swept past the students and, once at the door, opened it. "Well, I have things to do. The door won't open until they are all back in the cage. Have fun!" And shut the door quickly behind him.
The students cried out for him not to go, but it was too late. He was gone, and they were all left to fend for themselves. Surprisingly, it was Draco Malfoy who found his nerve first and started to help, then directed his fellow Slytherins to do so. And then, the rest of the class joined in, whittling down the pixies one by one and shoving them back into the cage.
"Can you believe him?" roared Ron as one of the remaining pixies bit him painfully on the ear.
"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience," said Hermione, immobilising two pixies at once with a clever Freezing Charm and stuffing them back into their cage.
"Hands on? "said Harry, who was trying to grab a pixie dancing out of reach with its tongue out. "Hermione, he unleashed these bloody things on us and then ran away!"
"Rubbish," said Hermione. "You've read his books. Look at all those amazing things he's done!"
"Then why didn't he do something amazing here?" Ron muttered quietly, wanting to argue his point but knowing better than to get into a debate with Hermione, which he would definitely lose.
Needless to say, after they were all out, they were all spent and thanked Merlin that the next class was History of Magic. With the ghost Binns teaching on autopilot, they all slept through the entire lesson. After this, Harry spent a lot of time over the next few days dodging out of sight whenever he saw Gilderoy Lockhart coming down a corridor.
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It was a cold, dreary Sunday morning when I spotted the odd sight of Harry Potter and Colin Creevy. I was going for a morning jog since I didn't want to bother going to my gym back in London and seeing the two, I decided to see what they were up to, and I followed them. Damn, I really am bored here, aren't I? Because I am following two kids because nothing exciting goes on around here that doesn't involve Harry Potter.
Listening in on them, all I could hear was Colin constantly questioning Harry all the way down the sloping lawns to the Quidditch field on the sport of Quidditch, and Harry only shook him off when he reached the changing rooms. Colin called after him in a piping voice, "I'll go and get a good seat, Harry!" and hurried off to the stands. Looking around, I can see the other Gryffindor players on the field, and so I use a notice me not charm on myself and take a seat in the stands. Herry walked out to join his teammates.
"There you are, Harry. What kept you?" said Wood briskly. "Now, I wanted a quick talk with you all before we actually get onto the training because I spent the summer devising a whole new training program, which I really think will make all the difference..." I could see the dread on his teammate's faces.
Wood was holding up a large diagram of a Quidditch field, on which were drawn many lines, arrows, and crosses in different coloured inks. He took out his wand, tapped the board, and the arrows began to wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars. As Wood launched into a speech about his new tactics, Fred Weasley's head drooped right onto Alicia Spinnet's shoulder, and he began to snore.
I could understand why.
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