Outside Hogwarts Castle, the afternoon rain persisted. Augustus, Malfoy, and Lilian were on their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts class. After lunch, they strolled through the cloudy courtyard. Not far away, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were chatting, with Harry accompanied by a young boy who seemed to be a first-year. As Augustus and the others approached, they caught snippets of the conversation.
"Hello, Harry! I'm Colin Creevey," the boy said breathlessly, stepping forward nervously. "I'm in Gryffindor too. I was wondering - could I take a picture of you?" He held up a camera with a hopeful expression.
"Take a picture?" Harry asked blankly.
"Yeah, so I can prove I met you," Colin said eagerly, stepping closer. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. How you survived You-Know-Who and how he vanished... and you've got that lightning scar on your forehead." His eyes darted to Harry's hairline. "A boy in my dorm says if I use the right developing solution, the people in the photo will move! It's amazing here, isn't it? Before I got my Hogwarts letter, I had no idea the weird stuff I did was magic. My dad's a milkman, and he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send to him. And if I could get one with you" he looked at Harry with pleading eyes, "maybe I could stand next to you? My friend could take it? And, um, could you sign it?"
"An autograph? You're giving out autographs, Potter?" Draco Malfoy's sharp voice rang out across the courtyard. Harry turned to see Augustus, Lilian, and Malfoy standing together, clearly listening. His face flushed bright red.
"Line up, everyone!" Malfoy shouted mockingly. "Harry Potter's handing out signed photos!"
"I'm not," Harry said furiously, clenching his fists. "Shut up, Malfoy."
"You're just jealous!" Colin said shrilly, his slight frame quivering as he glared at Draco.
"Jealous?" Malfoy sneered. "Of what? I wouldn't want an ugly scar on my head, thank you. I don't think getting your skull sliced open makes you special. Not in the slightest!"
"Eat slugs, Malfoy," Ron growled angrily.
"Careful, Weasley," Malfoy taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. "You don't want to get into trouble again, or your mummy will have to come fetch you." He mimicked Mrs. Weasley's voice in a screeching tone: "If you don't behave, Ron!"
A group of fifth-year Slytherins burst out laughing.
"Weasley probably wants a signed photo, Potter," Malfoy continued with a smirk. "It's worth more than his family's entire house."
Ron pulled out his wand.
"What's this? The cowardly Weasley thinks he can fight like a man? Fascinating. I bet you wouldn't last ten seconds against me," Malfoy said, his eyes glinting with menace.
"Enough, Draco. That's enough. Time for class," Lilian interjected just as a new voice boomed across the courtyard.
"What's going on here? What's all this about signed photos?" Gilderoy Lockhart strode in from outside, his teal robes billowing dramatically.
Harry opened his mouth to explain, but Lockhart slung an arm around his shoulders and declared, "No need to explain! Here we are again, Harry!"
Harry, now trapped in Lockhart's grasp, flushed even redder as he saw Malfoy retreat into the crowd, grinning triumphantly.
"Come, Mr. Creevey," Lockhart said with a beaming smile. "A double portrait, it's a bargain. Harry and I will both sign it for you."
Colin fumbled with his camera as the class bell rang. He snapped a picture just as Lockhart led Harry toward the castle, still holding him tightly. Harry desperately wished he knew a spell to escape gracefully.
Augustus shook his head. "To be stuck with someone like that... what a tragedy." Turning away, he, Lilian, and Malfoy left the scene and headed to the classroom.
Once the class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly, commanding silence. He held up Travels with Trolls and pointed to the cover, where his smiling face winked at them.
"I," he said, pointing at the image, "Gilderoy Lockhart, recipient of the Order of Merlin, Third Class; Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League; five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award—but I don't talk about that. I didn't defeat the Wailing Widow with a smile!"
He waited for laughter. A few students offered faint chuckles.
"I see you've all bought my collected works - excellent. Let's start today with a little quiz. Don't be nervous, it's just to see how much you've absorbed..."
He handed out the papers and returned to the podium. "You have thirty minutes. Begin!"
Harry glanced at the first question:
1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?
2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?
3. What does Gilderoy Lockhart consider his greatest achievement to date?
The quiz went on for three pages, with the final question reading:
54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?
Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the tests and reviewed them in front of the class.
"Who cares what his favorite color is?" Malfoy muttered, looking at the absurd quiz in disbelief. "How does knowing this improve our knowledge of spells or dueling skills?"
"Exactly! This is the most ridiculous test I've ever seen," Lilian agreed, uncharacteristically siding with Malfoy. "What kind of teacher makes us answer questions about himself? Has Dumbledore gone senile, hiring someone so utterly useless?"
"Dumbledore must have his reasons for hiring him," Augustus said, his expression thoughtful despite his own disdain for Lockhart's theatrics. "Perhaps it's something we don't yet understand."
"Well, I'll answer what I can," Augustus said, frowning at the test. "Though I don't know a thing about his trivia."
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