Harry's New Nemesis
It was Hermione that stalled behind in potions that first week. As they were packing up, she shot Ron a meaningful look and nodded towards the doors.
Ron just nodded back and slid between Harry and a pale Neville. “Nev, mate, you good?” He wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders. “Snape really scared you today, huh. He won’t really use Trevor as potion ingredients, your nan would tear him apart, Dumbledore or no. Say, what do you two know about dallydew? Mum’s written, says she can’t get it under control. Thinks Luna’s da let it run wild over the hill and it’s popping up in her bushes.” The door closed behind them.
Hermione stood in the center of the room, chin held high.
Snape looked up and bit back a sigh. “What, Ms. Granger. It’s lunch time, I don’t wish to discuss twenty of the finest points of the textbook.”
She looked down, fiddling with the strap of her bag. “What do you know about PTSD?”
Snape’s eyes flickered, the only movement on his person. He watched her for a moment before shifting, moving to the front of his desk and perching on the edge of it. “Unfortunately, I have needed to do quite a bit of research into the matter for a number of my students.” He paused, watching her. “Do I need to be made aware of a situation?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you can make an educated guess, sir. I’m… not sure I know enough to help him. But…” She looked up suddenly, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I know you hated him, sir, and his father. But you may be the only one in a position to really help him here at the school. Gerard can only do so much. Please, will you help him?”
Snape closed his eyes as her pleas echoed throughout the room.
“He was so sick, sir. Ron told me that he didn’t even know which one of them gave him a black eye. And that he threw up after his first meal away from them, even though he didn’t eat that much. Not even two months in the Alley healed the two weeks at the muggles. And I don’t know how to help him. He’s still scared that this will all get taken away if he does something wrong, or complains too much.”
His hand raised to rub at the furrow that was near constant between his brows. “I will keep myself apprised of the situation, Ms. Granger. As I do with any of my students I believe to be in adverse conditions.”
She nodded shallowly and moved towards the door, hesitating at the threshold. “Would you mind terribly pointing me towards any literature about similar situations? Gerard swears that he’ll only spend a week there every year, but it’s not like that will erase the ten years he’s already spent there.”
Snape sighed again. “I’ll compile a list of books that will actually benefit your assistance with this matter. Now, on to lunch if you’d please. I have things to do other than encourage your next obsession.”
She gave him a small but bright smile. “I appreciate it, sir. We all do.”
“Out.”
The boys were in a lively discussion by the time Hermione slipped into the Great Hall to join them at the Gryffindor table.
Neville and Harry both were energetically debating the advantages of letting dallydew grow naturally versus keeping it contained and pruned. Harry shot a worried glance at Hermione when she settled across from him, but she waved him off with a smile and leaned forward to start loading her plate.
“What were the uses of dallydew in potions, again? I don’t think I remember anything from this year that uses them.”
“Cheering potions, mostly, that sort of thing. I don’t think we study those until year four or five,” Neville responded as he pulled his copy of “1001 Magical Plants and Their Uses” out of his bag, flipping it open to the correct page easily. “It’s also used in a few hearth rituals, not that Hogwarts teaches those anymore.”
Harry leaned forward. “Really? Which ones?”
Ron met Hermione’s eyes as the other two boys started falling into another discussion. “All okay?” he whispered.
She nodded. “Are you really surprised? He got over his issues with Harry that first detention he gave him that first month. We’re his snakes, he looks out for us no matter what side we lean towards.”
“True. Oh, look, mail’s here.” Ron looked up to watch Errol flap slowly towards the Slytherin table, where Ginny tried to catch the poor creature before he crashed into the middle of the first years.
“Oh no.” Neville’s voice was barely heard over the din of lunch and mail, but Harry at least heard, and followed his trembling gaze to see a regal owl flying his way.
“Bit early for your nan to be writing you, isn’t it?” Harry leaned a bit closer to his friend.
Neville didn’t turn away. “That’s not my gran. That’s Uncle Algie’s owl.”
By now Ron and Hermione (and half of the table) had noticed the approaching owl, and more importantly, the red envelope clutched in its claws.
“Mate, you might want to take it and run,” Ron spoke up as the owl began to circle.
“No point, is there? I won’t get far enough away before it goes off.”
Harry looked between them and the owl. “What are you talking about?”
Ron nodded towards it. “That’s a howler.”
Hermione and Harry both paled. “Oh no.”
“Anyone know any silencing charms?” Ron asked the table at large.
Most everyone watching shook their heads. “None that would work on a howler. They’re designed with wards to prevent charms directly on them,” Percy answered a few seats down.
“Mione, add that to the research list. At the very least, we should be able to find, maybe invent a ward circle around a single person with the envelope. Maybe if we layer the charm on the intended recipient…” Harry trailed off when Ron put a hand on his arm, eyes focused on Neville.
Neville, who was reaching to take the steaming red envelope away from the haughty owl now perched in front of him.
Anything Harry or Hermione had heard about howlers did nothing to prepare them for what happened next. As soon as Neville touched the envelope, it lifted from the table of its own accord, forming a mouth with a jagged, jarring reality.
Harry didn’t recognize the booming voice that echoed throughout the entirety of the Great Hall, but the embarrassment, the freezing panic still made him shudder in his seat.
He couldn’t imagine what Neville was feeling on the other side of the table.
But he could watch as Neville’s face paled, his blonde hair falling in front of his face as he instinctively started to droop in his seat.
Even if the voice hadn’t been too loud, too direct, the harsh syllables cutting through the air like knives, the words were even worse, nearly as bad as the daily barrage from his own uncle that Harry still heard echoed during his weaker moments.
Saying that Neville wasn’t worthy of the Longbottom name, let alone the heirship. That maybe it was good that he was so forgetful, because he could forget the lordship. That if it wasn’t for his grandmother, Neville wouldn’t even be enrolled in Hogwarts, his magic was so weak.
As Harry felt his own blood drain, he met Ron’s eyes and nodded towards the doors.
Ron nodded back, and as soon as the envelope went up in smoke, he had the other boy up out of his seat and halfway down the Gryffindor table, shooting fierce, protective glares at anyone who had the audacity to laugh at the message still lingering in the recesses of the Hall.
Harry and Hermione were only a few steps behind, gathering their friend’s things and glaring at anyone still watching the boys leave.
Their other friends watched from various tables, shushing those surrounding them and shooting pitying glances at the doors.
By the time they caught up with Ron and Neville, heading out of the castle altogether, Neville was still shaking.
“Want to go down to the greenhouses early? Work with a few things before class?” Ron was skating his hand back and forth across Neville’s shoulders.
The other boy shook his head. “No, there’s still an hour or so before we need to be there. I think I’m just going to go lie down for a bit.”
Harry handed him his bag. “Want company? It’s been a while since we’ve visited with Lady Dawn, I’m sure she won’t mind us hanging in the common room for a bit.”
“No, that’s okay, Hadrian.” He shot them all a small, shaky smile. “I’ll see you in class.”
They watched Neville duck back into the castle before turning to each other.
Hermione was the one who spoke first as the door closed behind the Gryffindor. “Do you think his grandmother knows?”
“That her brother is, at least mentally, torturing the heir and future lord of House Longbottom? No chance.” Ron shouldered his own bag, leading them around the grounds towards the courtyard their group had taken over towards the end of the previous year.
“Should we do something?” Harry started chewing at his thumbnail, settling on one of the stone benches. “I can reach out, it wouldn’t be seen as inappropriate as Heir Potter-Black, and our mothers were friends.”
Ron winced. “I dunno. His nan veers toward Light politics, but she’s a pureblood through and through, and doesn’t have the best opinions towards Dumbledore. I’m honestly not sure how she’d react to an outside person commenting on family matters. Especially not a kid.”
Harry sighed, laying back on the bench. “Maybe through Aunt Andi? Even if she’s not my proxy yet, I think she was at least friendly with Neville’s parents.”
“Maybe.”
“I hate politics.” Harry sighed again, turning on his side. “Wake me up when class starts.”
Hermione and Ron shared a worried look, but Ron had to hold back a laugh when Hermione pulled out her camera.
She smiled. “Boy-Who-Slept started early this year.”
By the time the lunch break was up, Ron had joined Harry in napping in the courtyard, and Pansy and Theo had joined Hermione in scanning through their textbook.
Pansy took a unique joy in waking the boys up, specifically telling Ron that there was a spider on his shoulder, and laughing when his scream echoed through the courtyard and woke a bleary Harry up.
“Up and at ‘em, Potter. We have dirt to play around in,” she shot him a grin as he sat up slowly.
He glared back. “Why do you sound so happy about that?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Hadrian, I’m always the light of the room.”
The entire group chuckled as they packed up their things and began heading down towards the outside entrance of the greenhouses.
What they saw in the doorway, however, had most of them groaning.
A flash of brilliant blonde hair and too-shiny teeth standing opposite a clearly-frustrated Professor Sprout, and Harry was instinctively ducking behind the lanky frames of Ron and Theo.
“Too late, mate, I think he spotted you,” Ron whispered as the Defense professor eyes turned their way, instantly landing on the red hair of Harry’s best friend, and Lockhart gave a wide grin towards them over the heads of the rest of the waiting class.
“Excuse me, everyone, just chatting to your dear Professor Sprout about Whomping Willows! Having met quite a few, I thought she may appreciate my comments.”
Theo rolled his eyes. “Too bad he didn’t try for a practical lesson, I’d love to see the Willow give him a knock on the head.”
Everyone within hearing distance snickered.
Everyone except Hermione, who was watching the expressions of those around her with a frustrated look.
Harry leaned into her, his voice dropping low. “I know you’re still struggling with him.”
She shot him a smile. “Maybe. It’s still hard for me, setting the stories apart from the man. But I did it for you. I can do it for him, too.”
He winced. “Great comparison, there, Mione.”
She nudged their shoulders together. “Just don’t forget, it doesn’t matter how important or famous someone is. If it’s you versus them, I’m behind you every time.”
The smile he gave her was wide and real, and something in her settled at seeing it on Harry’s face after the chaos of his summer and the elf.
Of course, said smile quickly disappeared when they heard Lockhart.
“You won’t mind if I speak to Harry for a few minutes, do you, Pomona?”
Ignoring her disapproval, Lockhart waded through the crowd of students now filing into the third greenhouse at their professor’s urging.
Harry shot the Herbology professor a pleading look, but she only raised her hands in defeat.
He tried to hold back the groan as his head lolled back, eyes looking upward. “Merlin help me.”
Hermione had to pull Ron away, trying to shove him into the classroom before his furious expression turned into hissing at the man.
Harry adjusted his arm to be ready to snap his wand into place from the holster on his wrist just as Lockhart’s hand fell roughly on his shoulder.
“Harry, my boy, I’ve been wanting a word with you.”
Harry attempted to step back, grimacing when Lockhart simply moved with him. “Sir, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t touch me, or use informal names.”
“Come now, Harry, what’s some informality between friends?”
“Friends don’t have a trial date upcoming, Professor.”
“Trekking through the Forbidden Forest before the school year even starts?” The man tsked, finally pulling away from Harry’s shoulder to stalk around him.
Harry had to fight the urge to snap his wand into his hand.
“Well, of course, it was my fault, after that photo op with the two of us. Got a taste of the publicity and couldn’t put it aside, even if it was just to show off for your schoolmates.”
Harry bit back a snicker as he raised his eyebrows, watching the man prowl around him.
“Now, of course, I understand. It’s my fault, of course, for giving you that taste on the Alley. Pictures with an international icon before your second year! And I’ve seen what small following you’ve already started to make, different houses and years. Good showing, and barely twelve! Of course, you’ve had a bit of a head start, all that business with You-Know-Who.”
There was a beat of silence as Harry eyed the man with unamused eyes. The man’s smile widened, teeth sparkling.
“Well, sir, I appreciate your… advice. But even without being the Boy-Who-Lived, I am also the heir of two of the most prominent houses in our society. That being said, I am the Boy-Who-Lived, and publicity is not a foreign idea for me.”
Lockhart clicked his tongue again. “And this business with this lawsuit. I’m sure your lawyer was guiding you towards this, in order for him to gain some notoriety by throwing some charges at a world-renowned author.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Is this an actual conversation, sir, or are you just talking to yourself, because I do have classes to attend, and I’m sure you have some homework to grade.”
“Now, even if, beyond all reason, you come out favored in October, you’ve got quite a ways to go before you reach my level. That scar of yours, well… it’s not quite as good as winning Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming Smile Award five times in a row. But, you’re young, and it’s a start.”
“While this is all very informative, sir, and I’m sure the judges at the trial next month will appreciate your remarks on the subject, I have better things to do than listen to whatever tripe you’ve found fit to drown me in. I’m sure I’ll get enough of that during your own classes.”
Without looking back or for permission, Harry stormed away, slipping into the greenhouse just as Professor Sprout was finishing her lecture on mandrakes.
With a frustrated wave, she gestured towards his usual spot, put on her own earmuffs, and retreated to a stool in the corner to watch the students break apart to repot the plants.
“You missed Mione getting us five points, even though Dean got Gryffindor ten for half an answer.” He paused, eyes flicking back to the door. “Everything okay? Or did we knock off the Defense professor early this year?” Ron whispered as people began moving around the room.
“Fine. Just eager to knock him down a peg.” Harry stared unblinking at the twitching plant in front of him.
Ron watched him for a moment and then winced. “Yeah, sure. I’ll… let you sit with that for a minute.” He quickly moved away, waving down Pansy at another table.
Harry was still seething, staring down into the dirt of his mandrake when he felt a body slide into the seat Ron had vacated a few minutes earlier. He looked up to see Theo biting his thumb.
“Theo? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know him that well. But I know enough to be worried that Longbottom didn’t show up to his favorite class today.”
Harry’s head snapped up, scanning the mass of Gryffindors on the other side of the greenhouse. “Shite. I guess the howler from his uncle did a number on him. I’ll have Dean or the twins hunt him down and check on him. Thanks, Theo.” Harry managed a small smile towards the other boy, who returned it and turned back to the table he shared with Daphne Greengrass.
Harry immediately waved Dean over for a whispered conversation, though once the repotting started, the whispers increased in volume.
As the class filed out after being dismissed, dirt up their elbows and all over their robes, Ron threw his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Transfiguration next. Wanna go get cleaned up?”
“What, you don’t think McGonagall would appreciate the new trend?” Harry lifted his arms, laughing when a clod of dirt fell.
Draco shoved his way through them just as they hit the doors for Central Hall. “Laugh all you want, but if this stains, my father will hear about this.”
The other Slytherins bit back laughter, immediately dropping to expressionless faces when the blonde whipped back around.
“These robes were tailored in France and-” He was cut off by a flash of light and a small boy peeking around a large camera.
“Alright, Harry? My name’s Colin, Colin Creevey. I heard all about you this summer, of course. How you killed You-Know-Who, and now you’re swaying all of his follower’s kids to your side. I wanted to be Slytherin just like you, but that stupid hat put me in Gryffindor anyways.”
All the Slytherins still milling around were either horrified at the thought of the first year in their house, or watching Harry’s resigned expression with grins.
“Hi, Colin. I’ve got to get to class, so could you move?” Harry gave him a blank look as he tried to move around the boy.
“Could I have a photo, maybe? Just to prove I’ve met you? A boy in my dorm said I can develop them in a position that would make them move, isn’t that amazing? All this magic, and I’m the son of a milkman! My da could hardly believe it until Professor McGonagall made our teacup dance.”
Harry sighed. “A… picture?”
Ron snickered behind Harry’s shoulder, folding himself nearly in half to hide his laughter.
Colin nodded eagerly. “Maybe your friend could take it, so we can be in it together? And… you could sign it?”
Before Harry could protest, Blaise Zabini’s drawl cut through the laughter. “Yes, Potter, why don’t you sign his photo? I’m sure others would love one as well, anyone want a signed photo with the Boy-Who-Lived?” His voice rose to echo past their cluster of students.
Blaise’s smile only grew when Harry shot him a furious glare.
It almost took over his face when they heard the sharp click of dress shoes on marble.
“What’s this about signed photos?”
Harry had to dig his nails into his palm before he turned to face Lockhart.
“Ah, Harry, of course. Should have known.” He tried to throw his arm around Harry’s shoulders, but Ron hadn’t moved away, and his stare made Lockhart just pat Harry awkwardly on the head. “How about a double portrait? We’ll both sign it for you, Mr. Creevey.”
Colin’s eyes lit up, but Harry (via Ron’s tugging) stepped away. “Apologies, Professor, Colin, but my lawyer would have my head if I start doing publicity events without his knowledge or approval.”
His professional smile was met with the harsh sound of the class bell. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have Transfiguration, and I don’t think Professor McGonagall would look kindly on tardiness.”
He turned away without a second glance, leading the rest of the second year Slytherins towards the second floor.
Seeing the towering form of Marcus lingering off to the side of the crowds going to class, Harry veered towards him. “Marcus, spare a freshening charm? Didn’t quite make it to the dorms to clean up after Herbology.”
The older boy laughed as he pulled out his wand. “Do I need to warn da that you might need a publicist? Or at least some contract limiting your contact with Lockhart?”
Harry sighed as the dirt fell away. “If only wishing made it so. I don’t think Dumbledore would let that happen, too much bad politics. And please, Merlin, let that be the last time I need to say the word politics today.”
The next class hour went by quickly, until they finally trudged down to the Slytherin dorms to clean up before dinner. Ignoring the comments of the upper years, they all showered and changed quickly, and then decided to head to dinner early, even Draco, who had been pulling away from the others.
They were stopped, however, by a shadow falling across the door of the common room.
“Second years, please follow me,” Snape called, gesturing to a meeting room a few doors down the hall in the dungeons.
Biting back sighs, they all followed him, filing into the room and watching the professor with tired, hungry expressions.
Snape ignored this to look at a scroll in his hand. “The first week back, I take the initiative to go over your standings from the previous year. Now…”
Ron winced.
Hermione stood straighter.
Harry and Pansy looked at each other before rolling their eyes.
“Most of you did decently enough. Parkinson, I implore you at least try in my class, if only for appearances. Weasley, you as well, don’t think I don’t notice you only do well when paired with Potter or Granger. Malfoy, impeccable, as expected. Greengrass, you as well. Davis, Transfiguration needs to be higher, you’re barely average. Nott, you seem to be afflicted with the same curse of not knowing when to stop that Granger has, though I suppose I shouldn’t dissuade you from that. Potter, Zabini, fine. Crabbe, Goyle…”
The two boys in question tried to hide, but their height made it difficult, and they ended up frozen in the weight of Snape’s ire.
“I do not think I need to inform you of how dismal your performances were last year. However, I will. The only class in which you were not on the brink of failing was History of Magic, which was more to do with the professor than your skill, or lack thereof.”
Snape inched closer, even as every other Slytherin looked to the floor.
“If you do not do better this year, I will have no choice but to fail you. You will retake the second year. And I fear, with my luck, never graduate.”
The professor turned on his heel, robes snapping behind him, and he left the room, leaving behind an air of disappointment, failure, and hopelessness.
Blaise started to snicker.
Draco turned to his friends with a sneer. “Blithering idiots. What good are you? Are you really not worth anything than being bodies of meat? Ridiculous." He gave the rest of them a glance. "I’m going to find Flint. Surely the Quidditch team has better companions.” He left through the door, most of the rest following after with pitying looks aimed at the two boys.
Vincent was stone where he stood.
Greg let out a sniff.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Greg, Vincent, we’ll help you study.”
They both turned to her with wide eyes. “Really, Granger? You don’t have to, we’ll figure something out.”
“Monday nights, okay? Bring your notes and your homework, we can meet in one of the study rooms here in the dungeons.”
The boys nodded gratefully and headed towards dinner.
Ron glared at her as they walked away, leaving the trio alone in the meeting room.
Hermione looked back with a raised eyebrow. “What? It’s not their fault this school doesn’t provide alternative forms of learning for those who can’t understand lectures. Besides, they say that the best way to know the material is to be able to teach the material.”
Harry just rolled his eyes with a grin, and pulled his friends to the door. “C’mon, I’m hungry.”
Flashing from the end of the table, followed by a loud clatter, made Harry wince. He turned to Dean, who had clearly already gotten used to it and was eating breakfast without a second glance.
“Dean.”
“Hm? What’s up?”
“I need you to do me a favor.”
He put down his drink. “Of course, what is it?”
“Calm Colin down. If he wants to join First Blood Club, fine. But if he asks me for a picture one more time, I will not be held responsible for my actions, and Marcus may actually murder him. So before he asks, I need you to… be a bit hands on with him. Show him the basics, how to not piss off every wix-raised he comes across.”
Dean had been watching him make his request with a tired expression. “The things you ask of your friends, Hadrian.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t pretend like this is the worst thing I’ll ever ask you to do, Thomas. I once asked you to sit with Malfoy at lunch.”
“True. But that may not even be as bad as this. He’s completely intolerable.” He sighed and looked down the table. “Can’t you make Justin do it?”
“Justin doesn’t share a common room with him. C’mon, I’ll buy you a book on magic art techniques. I saw one at Flourish, I’ll have Flick send it.”
Dean pursed his lips. “I’m not Hermione. You can’t just use books to get me to do your bidding.”
“But it has animation spells included, and I’m asking nicely.” Harry gave him a charismatic smile that wouldn’t be out of place on Lockhart’s face.
Dean groaned. “Fine. I’ll snag him after classes later. Happy?”
“Thrilled. Cheers.”
He stood and left the Gryffindor table, heading to Hufflepuff to snag the bottle of grape juice Justin’s parents had sent while forcing his way to a seat between Susan and Hannah.
Dean watched him go, shared a tortured look with an amused Ron down by the twins, and sighed. “Maybe I am Hermione.” He saw her curls at the Ravenclaw table next to Theo and shrugged. “Not the worst person to be, I guess.”
The next morning was a test to Harry’s patience, and a barometer for how they all expected the rest of the year to go.
Their first Magical Theory class of the year was fine, if not a bit boring as they reviewed the lessons from the year before.
But every minute was a minute closer to being locked in a room with Gilderoy Lockhart.
Hermione and Ron left Harry to seethe and center himself before he walked in.
...Walked in meaning shoved in unceremoniously by Daphne, Tracey laughing as she followed them in.
Harry shot them a sneer as he settled beside Ron at a table near the back, busying himself with pulling out the books for them to share.
Ron lightly wrapped his hand around Harry’s wrist when the office door opened and Lockhart himself stepped out.
He walked down the stairs with an exaggerated swagger, winking at each self-portrait he passed along the way.
“Welcome, welcome. Welcome to what I’m sure will become your favorite class this year, taught by yours truly.” He lifted up the top book on Theo’s desk, turning it around so his author’s portrait smiled out at them. “Me. Order of Merlin, third class, honorary member of the Dark Force Defence League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award. But I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!”
He waited for them to laugh.
They didn’t.
They all watched him blankly, the only expression in the room were a few raised eyebrows.
“Now, I see you’ve all bought my books, wonderful, wonderful. But I thought today, we’d start with a small quiz on them.” He passed them out, winking at each student who dared make eye contact. “You have thirty minutes. Start!”
Hermione and Theo immediately started scribbling.
Greg and Vincent were flipping through the three page quiz with confused looks.
Tracey, Blaise, and Pansy didn’t even bother reading the first question.
Daphne pulled out a hand mirror.
Millie was sketching over the back page.
Ron looked at Harry with a groan. “This has to be a joke,” he whispered.
Harry bit back a snicker as an idea came to him. “He may not mean it as one, but I will.”
He flipped to the first question. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color?
With a grin, Harry scribbled The dull white of the sheep wool he uses to scam the public.
Ron bit his lip to hold back his laughter, writing that Lockhart’s secret ambition was to Win a lawsuit against a twelve year old.
Pansy, at the table next to them, watched with a smile, peering over to watch them write.
When the final quill (Millie’s, who had drawn a beautiful sketch of a hippogriff, and refused to stop until it was finished) dropped, Lockhart began collecting them.
Mille immediately ripped her sketch away from the rest of the pages. When Lockhart began flipping through it, he turned to her with a frown.
“Where’s the last sheet, Miss Bulstrode?”
“I don’t know, sir. Something must have happened to it,” she responded, face blank, voice bored.
He ignored the snickers and flicked through her quiz. “Though it seems you didn’t answer this at all.” He flipped through Draco’s. “A few of you didn’t. Too afraid to show your admiration for me, I’m sure.”
Draco gave him a fake smile when he looked his way.
“Ms. Granger, Mr. Nott, full marks, take ten points for Slytherin.”
Theo rolled his eyes while Hermione looked down at their shared desk.
“Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley…” He trailed off as he read their remarks, face paling. “Ah, I see you’ve gone the humorous route. Ahem.” He put their papers down on the desk, before giving them all a grin. “Quite funny, I’m sure, but no amount of humor will get you top of the class!”
Harry watched him with a slight unapologetic smirk. The professor gave a weak laugh before turning away.
“Now, time for a more practical lesson! Be warned, I will not be going easy on you, students. You will see creatures beyond your worst nightmares in this room!”
“Already have, mate, look in a mirror,” Ron whispered under his breath, and the few students around them snickered before pasting on their masks again just as Lockhart turned back, a fabric-covered cage in his arms, one that chittered and rattled.
“No harm shall fall on you while I am here. Be calm, and try not to provoke them.” He placed the cage on his desk and flung the fabric away.
Harry burst into laughter. “Cornish pixies? Annoying, sure, but nightmarish might be taking it a bit far, sir.”
Lockhart smiled. “Don’t be so sure, Mr. Potter.”
He opened the cage.
The room was thrown into chaos as the pixies streamed out in a rush of blue and screaming in every direction.
Harry quickly threw everything on their desk into his bag, casting a quick temporary sticking charm on it to make sure it stayed closed and on the desk.
Hermione picked up one of her books and smacked the pixie heading her way.
Lockhart laughed as he ducked below a pixie with outstretched arms. “Come now, have no fear. Peskipeski Pesternomi! ”
It was as if the room froze, just to watch what happened next.
Nothing happened next.
The pixie that he had avoided snagged his wand a moment later, flinging it from his grasp and flying it across the room.
Ink flew as pots were thrown or pushed off desks.
Books were shredded, Lockhart’s portrayed face silently screaming as the paper tore.
Three pixies took one of Lockhart’s portraits on the walls and went through a smashed window with it, aiming for the Black Lake.
Draco let out a shriek and fled for the door, Daphne and Tracey just behind him, Tracey in tears from where a patch of her hair had been torn out.
As soon as the door opened, most of the class followed suit, leaving their bags as sacrifices.
Lockhart grinned weakly as he looked at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who had grouped up with their backs together, eyes wary.
“Uh, Mr. Potter. Rumor has it you’re a whiz with creatures. Won’t be hard for you to nip these fellows back in their cage, no? Ta.” The professor ducked back through his office, the door slamming resolutely behind him.
Harry was left standing in the middle of the room, the middle of the maelstrom, jaw working, fist clenched, eyes trying to burn a hole through the wood of that door as his friends tried to fend off attacks.
“Harry, help!” Hermione yelped as a pixie grabbed a curl of her hair hard, bringing him out of his anger.
He let out a snarl as he turned just in time to shoot a freezing charm at the pixie trying to fly away with Lockhart’s wand.
He wrenched up his sleeves, digging into his bag on the desk as he did. “When this is over, I’m throwing his wand off the Astronomy tower and blaming it on the pixies. Ron, do you have a sprig of wolfreed?”
A shift of movement in the corner of the room brought their attention to the only other occupant still in the room.
Millicent Bulstrode.
“I do. Gray ash, too.”
They all paused, eyes on her as she quickly pulled out the ingredients they needed for a hearth ritual to lure wild pixies towards an offering.
She shrugged when she turned back to see them staring at her. “It has major historical backing, rituals like that. Housewives and staff would do it in surrounding woods to keep pixies away from their estate. Ritual history is one of the only things my father’s allowed me to take from the family library.”
Harry gave her a grin and a nod, and they quickly made the offering in the cage, using freezing charms and wind spells to guide them back faster.
The cage, now full, closed with a definitive clang.
“Cheers, Bulstrode,” Ron managed to say as he tried to catch his breath.
She looked around at them and shrugged again. “You lot can call me Millie. Smart play on the ritual.”
Hermione eyed her speculatively, and had to hide her smirk when she saw the other girl blush and tuck away Hogwarts, a History.
“I won’t tell about the wand thing. I’ve got to meet Stephen Entwhistle for an extra credit history project. See you at lunch.”
Millie ducked out of the room, leaving the three friends with grins on their faces, even with the squeals of the newly recaptured pixies echoing behind them.
“Hermione, thoughts on the esteemed professor now?” Ron asked as they gathered what they could of their housemates' things and left the room.
She sneered. “If he does something like that again, I’ll show him how practical our private lessons with Marcus have been.” She brought a hand up to her hair with a wince, smacking the boys when they started to laugh.