Gilderoy Lockhart
The next morning was the beginning of one of the strangest days of Harry’s life so far.
First, when he came down to breakfast with the rest of the Gryffindor boys, they found Hermione on the other side of the Great Hall, talking animatedly with Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode, her hair still in its two long plaits. Even after her explanation of how they came to her on the train, it still felt incredibly strange to see Hermione interacting so easily with Slytherins of all people. And he wasn’t alone in this sentiment either. People all over the hall, including some teachers, were peering at the Muggleborn Gryffindor talking to a pair of pure-blood Slytherins amicably.
When she came to join them finally, propping her copy of Voyages with Vampires on a milk jug, she sounded rather distracted as she said, “Good morning.” Hari caught Draco’s eye across the table and raised his eyebrows in bewilderment, Draco replying with a half shrug and an ‘I don’t know either’ face. Ron was too busy shoving forkfuls of sausages in his mouth to pay much attention to the exchange.
“I like your hair, Hermione. It’s really nice,” Neville said as he passed Lee Jordan a jug of orange juice down the table.
Hermione glanced up from her book and smiled softly at Neville. “Thank you! It’s much easier now that it’s not all in my face,” she replied, tucking one of the few stray curls behind her ear. “Millicent did it for me on the train yesterday. She was a life saver. My mum used to braid my hair when I was younger, but she hasn’t been able to for a while since I’ve been here.” She turned back to her book after that, not noticing Neville’s confused look he sent to Hari, Draco and Ron.
After breakfast, the Gryffindors had their first lesson of the year, Herbology, with the Hufflepuffs. They walked down with the rest of their classmates, discussing what they thought their first lesson would be about and found the rest of their classmates waiting outside the greenhouses together. Hari could hear Zacharias Smith’s loud and arrogant tone carrying over the rest of their classmates, no doubt bragging about something else and was suddenly reminded of Dobby the house elf.
Hari was about to voice this thought to Hermione, Ron and Draco when Professor Sprout came striding down the front lawn towards them, looking grim as Gilderoy Lockhart followed after her.
Professor Sprout was a normally cheerful and upbeat witch with flyaway grey hair and an almost infectious smile, often visiting Nivelles Cottage in the summer, but Hari had never seen her looking so sullen. Lockhart, by contrast, was positively bouncing after her, beaming his ridiculously white smile and his flashy turquoise and gold robes. Hari, Ron and Draco exchanged looks of disgust at the sight of him, while Hermione simply fawned at him.
Lockhart greeted the class cheerfully, flashing his smile at the group. Several students giggled and swooned at this. “Oh, hello there! I was just showing Professor Sprout here the proper way of treating shrivelfigs!” he exclaimed to the group, entirely unaware of the scowl sent his way. “But don’t get any ideas that I’ll be replacing your beloved Herbology teacher any time soon! I simply have come across some of the more exotic plants in my extensive travels.” Hari snickered under his breath, remembering multiple occasions in which he had seen Pomona Sprout expertly planting shrivelfigs and even more ‘exotic’ plants and certainly needed no help from someone like Lockhart.
“Greenhouse three today, chaps!” Professor Sprout announced, ignoring Lockhart and moving towards the greenhouse. The class started following her excitedly, having never been allowed to work on plants there yet. Even Hari, who had spent a good portion of his childhood following her around in her duties, had never been allowed to go inside greenhouse three.
Hari started to walk with the rest of the group before he felt someone grab his arm and pull him rather harshly back. He scowled once he realised it was Lockhart, grinning down at him. “Hari! So glad I can catch you!” He turned to Professor Sprout, who was currently holding the door open for the students to enter the greenhouse. “You don’t mind if I have a quick chat with Hari, do you?” Professor Sprout, looking as though she had eaten a whole lemon in one bite, reluctantly nodded her consent, leaving Hari alone with Lockhart outside.
“I wonder what he’s talking to Hari about,” Draco muttered to Hermione and Ron, looking over at Lockhart talking merrily to a scowling Hari.
Ron followed his gaze and snorted. “Lockhart must be pretty stupid not to realise Hari looks like he’s about to strangle him in the next ten seconds,” he replied under his breath as they put their bags aside and took up spots in the greenhouse.
“Oh, don’t be so rude, Ron! Hari’s just being judgemental,” Hermione reprimanded, “Lockhart is a perfectly intelligent and successful wizard. You shouldn’t all judge him so unfairly.”
At the front of the class, Professor Sprout was speaking to a group of Hufflepuffs while the rest of the class continued to talk while they waited for the lesson to begin. All along the tables, there was an odd assortment of earmuffs in various colours. Ron was about to ask what their purpose was when the door to the greenhouse opened and Hari stepped inside. He walked over to where the others had saved him a seat, scowling deeply.
Before anyone could ask him what Lockhart wanted to talk to him about, Professor Sprout began the lesson and they didn’t have much time to talk after that. She explained to them about the mandrakes, which had cries that were fatal if one heard them, so they would have to wear the earmuffs to safely re-pot them. Hermione, as usual, was the first to answer one of the questions asked to the group, answering almost word for word from the textbook and earning Gryffindor ten points.
Once she had explained the concept of the new plants, she instructed everyone to pick up some earmuffs. Draco nearly elbowed Ron in the nose as they lunged to avoid having to wear one of the lurid, fuzzy pink ones. In the end, Ron ended up wearing the fluffy pink earmuffs, scowling at his other friends’ laughter at his expense. As soon as Hari put his on over his ears, all sound was blocked out, enabling him to safely uproot the plant on Sprout’s signal.
Whatever Hari was expecting Professor Sprout to pull out of the ground, it certainly wasn’t what he saw.
The mandrake looked like a very dirty and shriveled baby with bright green leaves and roots sticking out of the top of its head. He could see that it was crying loudly, though he thankfully couldn’t hear it with his red earmuffs on his ears. He watched as his teacher carefully placed the crying mandrake into another pot, burying it in soil and then signalled for them to remove their earmuffs.
“As the mandrakes are still quite young, their cries are not yet fatal and will likely only make you faint,” she said as soon as everyone’s earmuffs were removed, “But I’m assuming you don’t want to miss your first day back, so I suggest you make sure your ears are covered. I will give you all a signal as soon as it is safe to do so.
“Now, five to a tray—collect a pot from up at the front and your compost is over there—and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula as it is currently teething.” She brushed aside a bright red and spiky looking vine away from her and the students began collecting pots and compost and situating themselves at trays.
Hari, Ron, Hermione and Draco were joined at their tray by a curly haired and very freckly Huffelpuff Hari had never spoken to, but was thankfully not a friend of Smith.
“Justin Finch-Fletchley,” he introduced, shaking all of their hands as he addressed them. His accent was thick and posh, a hard contrast to Hari’s Scottish accent. “I know who you are, obviously, the famous Harry Potter… And Hermione Granger, top of the class in everything… And Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy. And Ron Weasley.”
Neither Ron nor Draco smiled. They glanced at each other with knowing frowns.
“That Lockhart’s something, isn’t he?” said Justin cheerfully as he began filling the shared pot with dragon dung compost. “Pretty brave bloke. Have you read his books yet? He’s done some pretty amazing stuff in his time. Imagine being cornered in a phone booth by a werewolf! I’d have died of fright if it were me, but he just zapped him easily.
“My name was down for Eton, you know. I’m much happier to be here at Hogwarts instead, can’t tell you how much. Of course, Mother was a bit disappointed at first, but she warmed up to the idea. She’s beginning to see how lucky it’ll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family…”
After that, they didn’t have much time to continue talking as they had to put their earmuffs on again and start repotting the mandrakes. It was much more difficult than it looked when Sprout did it, as the mandrakes neither wanted to leave their pots nor be placed into another one. They kicked and flailed and squirmed as the students attempted to squash them into their pots. Hari spent a good ten minutes trying to push a particularly fussy and fat one into a pot and Draco ended up getting bitten on the finger by another one.
After class, the whole class was sweaty, exhausted and dirty. They traipsed back to the castle together for quick washes and then the Gryffindors made their way to their first Transfiguration lesson.
This lesson proved even more difficult for the second years. They were supposed to be turning beetles into buttons, but Hari’s kept scuttling around the desk away from his wand. Ron was having far worse problems as his wand kept malfunctioning and backfiring. Despite the meager job of Spellotape wrapped around it, it kept sparking and crackling, engulfing their table in a loud puff of smoke that smelled rotten. He accidentally squashed his beetle with his elbow and Hari had to go ask Minerva for another one in the hope that he would get into less trouble.
“This stupid, ruddy thing. It’s useless now!” Ron complained as they made their way down to lunch.
“Just write home and ask for another one,” Draco suggested, flinching sideways as Ron’s wand set off another large spark that nearly caught him.
“Like that’ll go well,” Ron whined.
Hari, who had successfully managed to turn his beetle into a very shiny button at the end of the lesson and Hermione, who had a whole handful of colourful buttons, stayed silent at Ron’s complaints. In the hopes of changing the topic to something better, Hari asked what their next lesson after lunch would be.
“Defence Against the Dark Arts with Lockhart,” Hermione chimed, grinning. “I’m really looking forward to it.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Of course you are. It’s only because he’s handsome that you even like him,” he accused, sneering.
Hermione started to retort back, but was interrupted by Ron seizing her timetable out of her hands and demanding, “Why have you circled all the Defence lessons with hearts?”
Hermione yanked her schedule back, nearly tearing the paper in half and put it deep inside her bag, bowing her head and avoiding their eyes. They made their way to lunch a couple minutes later, Hermione leading the way with her nose buried in Voyages with Vampires while Hari, Ron and Draco discussed the upcoming Quidditch tryouts as they followed. As they stood outside the door to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Hari felt someone watching him and when he turned, he saw a small Gryffindor boy with mousy brown hair and rosy pink cheeks staring intently up at him and clutching a small Muggle camera.
“Er, hi there,” Hari said awkwardly, glancing at his friends for help.
“All right, Hari? I’m Colin Creevey! I’ve heard loads about you defeating You-Know-Who,” he said breathlessly, taking a small step towards Hari. “Can I—would it be alright if I—can I have a picture?” He raised his camera hopefully.
“A picture?” asked Hari blankly, narrowing his eyes.
“So I can prove I’ve met you!” said Colin Creevey enthusiastically, stepping forward again. “I want to send pictures back to show my family. A boy in my dormitory said there’s a special potion I can develop it in so that the photos move! All this magic stuff is so amazing and it’d be really good if I had one of you.” He turned to Draco, who was shuffling closer to Hari curiously, looking down at Colin with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe your friend could take it of us? And then maybe you could sign it?”
“Signed photos? You’re giving out signed photos, Potter?”
Loud and arrogant, Zacharias Smith’s voice carried through the corridor as he waltzed into view, followed by some of the Hufflepuffs they just had classes with.
He turned to the corridor at large and called, “Everyone line up! Potter’s signing autographs!”
“No I’m not!” Hari snapped, fists clenching at his sides, “Shut up, Smith.”
Smith guffawed, tilting his head at Hari. “Oh yeah? Or what, Potter? What can you do?” he mocked, leering.
Draco stepped in front of Hari and glared threateningly at Smith, eyes flashing dangerously. “Watch your tone, Smith. Or I suggest you start running now,” he seethed, holding Hari back by one of his hands while the other was pressed against the pocket Hari knew he kept his wand.
“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a twist over some autographs, Malfoy,” smirked Smith, “ I’m sure you’d love one of his photographs, wouldn’t you, Malfoy?” He winked obscenely.
Draco whipped out his wand in an instant, but Hermione shut her book with a snap and whispered, “Look out!”
“Now, what’s this, what’s this?” Lockhart strided into view, turquoise robes swishing merrily behind him. “What’s this about signed photos I hear?”
Hari started to explain, nearly vibrating with frustration now, but was cut off abruptly by Lockhart once again as he caught sight of Hari. “I should have known! What a pleasant surprise, Hari!” He turned to Colin, beaming. “Perhaps we can both take a photo and we can sign it for you, Mr. Creevey. I’d say that’s worth even more, wouldn’t you?”
Colin fumbled with his camera and took the photo with shaking hands, just as the bell for the next lesson went off around the corridors.
He ushered the rest of the students off towards their own classes and pulled Hari back before he could head to class yet again. Hari scowled deeper. He was getting rather sick of him doing that. “A word to the wise, Hari. It’s a bit early for signed photographs. If I hadn’t joined you, you’d look awfully big headed, Hari. There will be time for all that later, but for now I think it’s best you focus on your studies so that you can be as successful as I am!” Finished with his speech, he pushed Hari towards the open door to the classroom.
Hari straightened out his robes with a scowl and moved towards a seat at the very back of the class just as the others began filing in behind them. He stacked all of Lockhart’s books in front of him as Ron, Draco and Hermione joined him at his table at the back.
“You looked like you were about to be sick, Hari,” said Ron, dropping into the seat on his left. “You better watch out or Creevey and Ginny will be starting a Hari Potter fan club any second.”
“Shut up,” Harry snapped, “The last thing I need is Lockhart hearing that phrase, Ron.”
With everyone situated a few minutes later, Lockhart cleared his throat and the class fell silent. As he delved into a speech about himself, wandering the classroom with his head held high and his teeth as pearly white as ever, Hari zoned out, looking out one of the windows across the room. On Hari’s left, he could see Ron and Draco playing a game of Hangman on a scrap piece of paper under the desk, while on his right, Hermione was staring avidly towards Lockhart.
Hari startled when Lockhart dropped some kind of test paper in front of him, filled with hundreds of questions about Lockhart. Hari read over the questions with a frown. Every one of the questions was horrendous, ranging from “What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favourite colour?” all the way to “When is Gilderoy Lockhart’s birthday and what would be his ideal gift?”
Half an hour later, Lockhart collected all the papers and began rifling through them. Hari, who had guessed on almost every one of the questions, watched with a seemingly permanent frown. When he evidently finished going over them, Lockhart tutted at their inability to answer most of the questions correctly enough, completely oblivious to Dean and Seamus laughing silently together near the front. When he spoke about Hermione being the only one to get everything right, Hari watched her straighten up in her seat, almost crying tears of joy.
Next, Lockhart bent down behind his desk and pulled out a large cage covered with a sheet. The class suddenly grew interested for once, exchanging excited looks at the prospect of a practical lesson.
“I must ask you not to scream,” Lockhart announced, hand hovering over the sheet, “when I reveal the creatures you must defend yourselves against.”
Hari leaned around his pile of desks, trying to see better. Lockhart removed the cover with a flourish.
Inside the cage was what looked like a bunch of large blue fairies, all whizzing around the inside of their cage and rattling the bars. “Freshly caught cornish pixies!” Lockhart announced, gesturing excitedly towards the cage.
Seamus let out a great snort of laughter, hitting the desk with one of his hands. Dean, beside him, smirked at his friend with amusement.
Lockhart blinked at Seamus’ reaction, smile faltering for a split second. “Is there something funny?” he asked.
“Well, they’re not exactly dangerous are they?”
“I wouldn’t be so sure!” replied Lockhart defensively. “They’re surprisingly strong for their size and they can do some serious damage, you know!” Lockhart turned away from Seamus and addressed the rest of the class once more. “Let’s see just how dangerous they are, then!” He pulled out his wand and tapped the cage to unlock it.
At once, chaos was unleashed upon the classroom. All of the pixies zipped out of the cage and scattered around the room. They pulled books out of the shelves, tore up parchment and pelted quills and several of them shattered one of the windows, making glass rain down on the students. In a panic, everyone began hiding under their desks and chairs while poor Neville ended up getting stuck on the twinkling chandelier overhead. Two of the pixies were wrestling midair over a bottle of ink and ended up spilling the entire contents of the bottle onto Seamus’ head.
“Come now, round them up, round them up!” Lockhart shouted over the noise, ducking away from a flying book that missed him by centimetres. “They’re only pixies as you said!” He rolled up his sleeves, raised his wand and shouted, “Peskipiksi pesternomi!”
It had no effect whatsoever. One of the pixies managed to grab hold of his wand and tossed it out the broken window. Lockhart ducked away again, barely missing getting crushed as Neville suddenly thudded to the floor from the chandelier, nearly toppling into a desk. As the bell rang overhead, there was a mad dash for the doors as everyone grabbed their things and left in hopes of avoiding the pixies.
In the calm after the storm of students racing out of the classroom, though the pixies continued terrorising the empty room, Lockhart appeared from under his desk and called to Hari, Ron, Hermione and Draco, who had been almost at the door. “You four seem quite capable of sorting out this mess yourselves!” And then he swept out of the classroom, leaving them alone with the pixies.
“Oh, he has got to be kidding me!” Ron roared, ducking away from a pixie trying to bite him, “That useless git just left us with his own bloody mess!”
“Don’t be so harsh, Ron. He was just giving us some hands-on work!” Hermione exclaimed, frowning.
Draco snorted, immobilising several of the pixies and shoving them inside the cage. “You give him far too much credit, Hermione,” he said, grabbing a book nearby and hitting a pixie over the head.
Hari copied Draco’s book hitting technique on another pair of pixies. “Hands on? He didn’t have a clue what he was doing—”
“Rubbish!” Hermione snapped, immobilising the last few pixies and putting them in the cage, slamming the door shut. “You should read his books. You can see just how much he’s done!”
“He says he’s done,” muttered Ron to the other two.