Diospyros

Harry felt the rest of the vacation slip away like sand in an hourglass at its end, always seeming faster as the end came.

Sunny threw a veritable feast on August 31st, which included all of Harry's favorite dishes (and a suspiciously large treacle tart strategically placed near him). His dad, James, set off fireworks right after dinner with the twins, and their mum, Lily, had twinkling blue and red star-shaped lights bounce off the walls and ceiling for a long time. They ended up going to bed with one last mug of hot cocoa made by Sunny.

The next day, lost in their sleep, everyone was startled by the widely exceeded time to be in King’s Cross.

— Damn it – James grumbled, watching the fireplace burn yellow. – The station's floo is jammed, we'll have to go via the Cauldron... Adrien! Come on, we only have thirty minutes!

Harry felt a little better when he saw Hedwig in the cage next to him, after seeing his brother fumbling for a run down the stairs. The feeling didn't change after seeing him fall awkwardly into the fire.

The resident population of the Leaky Cauldron was certainly something to overcome, all in awe too much with Adrien among them, but they still managed to get through. Lily managed to order a Muggle taxi to take them to King's Cross, and the experience of racing through the streets of London in a car was certainly an experience for the twins, although Adrien admittedly was the only one to enjoy the whole thing.

The Potters arrived together with the Weasleys at the station, all running after trolleys for their bags and scrambling for the Hogwarts Express platform. Mrs. Weasley held the clock tightly, opening it as soon as they arrived in front of the portal wall.

— OK – Mrs. Weasley murmured. – We still have five minutes. Percy, darling, go ahead.

Percy walked forward with firm steps and disappeared. Mr. Weasley, James and Lily followed him; then Fred and George.

— I'll take Ginny and you come right behind us – said Mrs. Weasley to Harry, Adrien and Ron, grabbing Ginny's hand and walking away. In the blink of an eye the two were gone.

— Let's go together, we only have a minute – said Ron to the twins.

Harry saw Adrien and Ron run after each other towards the wall, pushing their trolleys with speed and letting themselves be carried by the inertial force. They were almost touching the wall...

PUM.

Both trolleys hit the barrier and bounced back; Ron's trunk fell with a crash, Adrien was knocked down, Hedwig's cage came bouncing across the polished floor and she rolled out, screaming indignantly; the people around looked and a nearby guard shouted:

—What the hell do you think you're doing?

—I lost control of the trolley – Adrien gasped, clutching his ribs as he stood up. Ron had to pick up Hedwig, the owl was making such a fuss that many of the bystanders grumbled at the cruelty towards animals.

Harry approached the two and took Hedwig from Ron, the owl still voicing her irritation inside the cage.

— What happened? Why didn't you cross?

— It's solid – Adrien groaned in pain. – The barrier became just a wall...

— We're going to miss the train – Ron despaired, shaking his head and finding the station clock. – Ten seconds... nine seconds...

Harry carried his own trolley cautiously, leaning it against the wall and pushing it, causing only repulsion against the metal.

— Three seconds... two seconds... one second...

— It's gone! said Ron, looking stunned. – The train left. What if Mom and Dad can't come back to us? Do you guys have any Muggle money?

The negative waves only made him more nervous. All around, people were still paying attention to them, especially due to the noise Hedwig was still making from inside her cage.

— I think we'd better go wait in your car – Harry suggested to Ron. – We are attracting a lot of attention...

— Harry! – exclaimed Ron, his eyes shining. – The car!

— What about the car?

— We can fly to Hogwarts in the car!

— ...what?

— My father enchanted the car! We can fly to Hogwarts!

Adrien's eyes shone, even though he was still sore from the blow.

— Brilliant!

Harry looked at his twin, then turned his gaze to Ron.

— No.

— We're immobilized, right? – Ron argued. – And we have to go back to school, don’t we? And even minor wizards can use magic when there's a serious emergency, section nineteen or something of the Law of Restriction...

Harry was exasperated to see his brother just agreeing with Ron.

***

Harry thought it was really unfair that he was also dragged into his mother's office to be lectured alongside Adrien and Ron. Why, he told them not to go to Hogwarts by car.

— What did you do with the car? – Lily asked coldly.

Ron gulped. Adrien looked away from Lily, and Harry saw, a few moments later, his mother unfold that day's Evening Prophet.

— You've been spotted – Lily hissed, showing the headline: FLYING FORD ANGLIA INTRIGUES MUGGLERS. And she began to read aloud: – “Two muggles in London, convinced they had seen an old car fly over the Post Office tower... at midday in Norfolk, Mrs. Hetty Bayliss, when she was hanging out washing to dry... Mr. Angus Fleet, from Peebles, reported to the police...” A total of six or seven Muggles. I believe your father works in the department that curbs the misuse of Muggle artifacts?

Ron seemed to find his shoes the most interesting things in the room at the moment. Lily sighed.

— I want you to know that this was completely irresponsible. The Aurors managed to erase the memories of everyone they saw, but what if something worse had happened? What if someone had photographed, filmed or worse: knocked you down in mid-air? You were lucky that Harry waited until we got back and explained the situation. We managed to clean everything up before any newspapers arrived on the scene.

Harry knew that their mother's dripping disappointment was what was torturing Adrien at that moment, his brother wringing his hands together and avoiding looking her in the eyes.

— I already talked to Prof. McGonagall and the headmaster. They agreed to let me talk to both of you, so know that you will each get a month's detention. Lucky for you, the school year hasn't started yet, so you won't lose any points. Now, you can go finish eating in the Great Hall. I don't want to hear about any infractions now, you hear, Adrien?

The three boys left the room silently, walking together in an awkward atmosphere and Harry somewhat sympathized with the two Gryffindors.

***

Harry watched, from his comfortable seat at the Slytherin table, as a very large gray owl glided across the Great Hall and plopped itself into a jug of milk in front of Hermione.

— Eh?

— Errol! – Ron exclaimed, rescuing the owl from inside the jar. The Weasley Family owl, apparently.

The owl squeaked, fell back onto the table, and stretched its paws toward the ceiling, showing a bright red letter tied to one foot.

— Oh, no... – Ron groaned.

Harry heard a giggle come out of Pansy Parkinson, which caused him to debate with himself whether it was fair or mean or both, being the first howler of the year and all. In the end, he leaned back, took a sip of tea, and watched, along with most of the school, as the letter rose into the air and trembled in the smoke.

“... STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY HAD KICKED YOU OUT, WAIT UNTIL I GOT HANDS ON YOU, I ASSUME YOU DIDN'T STOP TO THINK ABOUT WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WERE THROUGH WHEN WE SAW THE CAR WAS MISSING...”

Mrs. Weasley's screams, a hundred times louder than usual, caused plates and cutlery to clash on the Gryffindor table and produced a deafening echo off the stone walls. People who hadn't yet turned to look at Ron turned to look in instantaneous turns, and Ron sank so far into his chair that only his red forehead was visible.

“... LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WAS GOING TO DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN’T RAISE YOU TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND ADRIEN COULD HAVE DIED...”

Harry raised his head and saw the dust from the ceiling stirring above the mirage of the sky's enchantment, looking like multicolored sand.

“...ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED, YOUR DAD IS FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT, AND IF YOU LEAVE A LITTLE THING OUT OF LINE, WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME.”

There followed a silence that echoed. The red envelope caught fire and curled into ash. Adrien and Ron were stunned, as if a tidal wave had just passed over them. Some people laughed and, little by little, the uproar of conversation began again.

— Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you… – Harry heard Hermione say in a conversational tone.

— Don't tell me I deserved it – said Ron sharply.

Waving a metaphorical hand over his thoughts, Harry dismissed the side conversations and turned to Blaise, who was telling him about his holiday.

— Italy is not as hot as here – He said, at one point, while taking a piece of the tart on his saucer. – I had to take two showers the night I came back here. In Italy our villa is close to the sea, so it is well ventilated. It's stuffy here. Mom said it's the Ministry's fault for not letting us place runes on the property.

— And why can't you place runes? – Morag asked, helping himself to more ham and bread.

— They said it’s because we’re not “exactly British” – Blaise sneered. Harry felt something deeper. – They said we would have to have British citizenship to be able to carve runes on our property.

At some point later, Snape passed by handing out the students' class schedules. Harry observed mixed reactions from the older students; The evil of the sixth years looking at the fifth years was intriguing, but the pity of the seventh years looking at the sixth years was a little unnerving, even for Harry.

When the first bell rang, all students walked to their designated destinations. The second-year Slytherins went up to the second floor, patiently crossing the stairs alive and vaguely conscious and ignoring the greetings from the paintings on the walls (although, Harry responded to the paintings, contrary to his classmates – with the obvious exception of Blaise, with his humor) while headed to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. From what Harry understood, each teacher decorated the room as he wanted, so the hope of no stupid vampire traps and a putrid smell of garlic had merit.

Unfortunately, it turned out to be something worse than it had been before: there were many paintings – too many for anyone with a modicum of decency to think about – scattered around the room, each a different version of Gilderoy Lockhart himself, each seeming to compete with each other over the matter who could get the most attention from the semi-noisy class, if Parkinson and Davies' giggles mean anything. Greengrass looked at her friend somewhat exasperatedly, although she didn't completely hide the corner of her eye at a painting of Lockhart dressed in a red robe.

When the bell rang again, it only took a few moments before the professor emerged from the office in the anteroom and introduced himself to the class, all smiles and turquoise robes. He reached out, picked up the copy of Travels with Trolls by Gregory Goyle and held it up to show his own photo on the cover, winking.

— I – he said, pointing at the photo and winking too. – Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Defense Against the Dark Arts League and winner of the Most Attractive Smile Award from Witch Weekly magazine five times in a row, but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the ominous spirit of Bandon smiling at her.

He waited for them to smile; a few gave a little yellow smile.

— I see that everyone bought the complete collection of my books, very well. I thought we'd start today with a little test. Nothing to worry about, I just want to check if you read the books carefully, how much you assimilated...

After distributing the tests, he returned to the front of the class and said:

— You have thirty minutes... start, now!

Harry looked at the test and read:

1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?
2. What is Lockhart's secret ambition?
3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?

And the questions continued, taking up three pages, until the last one:

54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday and what would be the ideal gift for him?

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the tests and flipped through them in front of the class.

— Tsk, tsk, almost no one remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say this in Year with the Yeti. And some of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully, I clearly state in chapter twelve that the ideal birthday present for me would be harmony between magical and non-magical people, although I wouldn't turn down a flask of Old Ogden Fire Whiskey!

And he gave another mischievous wink to the students. Blaise stared at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face; Malfoy and Theodore Nott, who were sitting at the front, were shaking with silent laughter. Pansy and Tracy, on the other hand, listened raptly and attentively to Lockhart, to the exasperation of Greengrass, who just watched the two.

— ...but Mr. Harry Potter knew that my secret ambition was to rid the world of evil and market my own line of hair potions, good boy! In fact – he turned the test around – he got everything right! Where is Mr. Harry Potter?

Harry warily raised his hand, ignoring the shocked looks the other boys sent him, except – well – Crabbe and Goyle.

— Great! – said the smiling Lockhart. – Excellent indeed! Ten points for Slytherin! And now, to work...

He turned to the table and placed a large covered cage on it.

— Now, be warned! It is my duty to teach them how to defend themselves against the worst creature known in the world of magic! You may be facing your greatest fears here in this room. Know that no harm will come to you while I am here. I just ask that you stay calm.

Without meaning to, Harry leaned over to the side of the stack of books he had lifted to get a better look at the cage. Lockhart put his hand on the cover. Malfoy and Nott have stopped laughing now. Crabbe and Goyle leaned forward.

— I ask you not to scream – recommended Lockhart in a low voice. – You can provoke them.

And the entire class held its breath. Lockhart pulled back the cover with a sweeping gesture.

— Yes, gentlemen – he said theatrically. – Newly captured Cornish pixies.

Draco couldn't control himself. He let out a noise through his nose that not even Lockhart could mistake for a scream of terror.

— What was it? – He smiled at Draco.

— Well, they're not... not very... dangerous, are they? – the boy choked.

— Don't be so sure! – said Lockhart, wagging an annoyed finger at Malfoy. – These little bandits can be devilishly cunning!

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches tall, their faces thin and their voices so high-pitched they sounded like a flock of parakeets making a racket. The moment the cover was removed, they began talking and flying quickly and excitedly, shaking the bars and making strange faces at the nearest people.

— Okay, then – Lockhart said aloud. – Let’s see what you think of them! – And he opened the cage.

It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in all directions like rockets. Two of the pixies grabbed the braids of Mila Bulstrode, a quiet, characterful girl from what Harry remembered, and twisted them in the air in a messy, confusing tangle, dodging the girl's fists as she tried to free herself from them. Several other pixies flew straight through the windows, causing a shower of glass shards to fall onto the flowerbed. The rest set about destroying the classroom more efficiently than an angry rhinoceros. They grabbed inkwells and splashed the room with paint, chopped up books and papers, ripped pictures from the walls, overturned the wastebasket, picked up backpacks and books and threw them against the broken windows; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under their desks, Bulstrode and Malfoy with their hair completely wild from the creatures' tugs. Parkinson screeched from her seat, hiding, and trying to hit the creatures that approached her with a book.

— Come on, come on, round them up, round them up, they're just pixies – shouted Lockhart.

He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand and shouted:

— Peskipiksi Pesternomi!

The words had no effect; one of the pixies took possession of the wand and threw it out the window as well. Lockhart swallowed hard and dove under the table, narrowly escaping being hit by a paint thrown by one of the creatures. Most of the creatures fled out through the broken windows, but it took a while before he decided to appear again in the air, and when he did, he looked directly at Harry, who was slightly intact, and said:

— Well, I'm going to ask you to quickly put the remaining ones back in the cage. – And, indignantly, he walked quickly back to the office in the anteroom.

Morag risked standing up again, an incredulous expression on his face, and turned to Harry.

— Can you believe it? – the boy roared when one of the remaining pixies gave him a painful bite on the ear.

Sighing, Harry threw a small shock at a pixie that tried to swipe at Greengrass's head, and hit one that tried to fly at him.

— Come on — he grumbled. – The time will be over, at least...