Twisted Fascination

I was quick to awaken the next morning, and I got ready for my first day back at Hogwarts. I made my way up to the Great Hall early, and I noticed the great heaps of porridge, toast, kippers, and eggs and bacon. I sat down and served myself food, glancing up at the dull, cloudy gray sky.

The mail soon came, and the Daily Prophet was delivered to me.

I eagerly checked my stocks and smirked to myself as I saw that the company of the Nimbus Brooms was making a killing. I figured I made the right decision to pull out at the end of September, just before they tried making a new broomstick.

Snape soon came down the row, handing out schedules to the various Slytherins at the table.

The first lesson was History of Magic.

I quickly ate my food before heading back down to the Slytherin dorms, where I grabbed my bag from my trunk and packed it with my History of Magic essay and book, followed by the essays and books for Charms and Potions, seeing as I had those classes after History of Magic. Once I was sure I had everything, ink, quills, and parchment included, I headed off to Classroom 4F for History of Magic.

The ghost that taught History of Magic, Professor Binns, didn't even look up from his textbook as I brought my obnoxiously long essay to his teaching podium. I set the essay down and went to my normal seat in the middle of the classroom. I pulled out my parchment paper, ink bottles, and quill and got ready to learn.

My fellow Slytherin second-years soon followed, and they all seemed ready to sleep through the first period of the day.

Binns had everyone else hand in their essays before beginning his usual lecture in a dry tone.

As the others fell asleep one by one, I took careful notes, just as always.

Once that class ended, we headed over to Charms, which was in classroom 2E.

Flitwick greeted us brightly, clearly happy about another year of teaching. He had us all hand in our essays from the summer before reviewing some of the spells we learned last year, much to the disappointment of some other students.

Once our class ended there, we headed off to Potions, where Snape collected our essays before making us jump right into lessons, picking up from where we left off last year. He taught us the Fire-Protection Potion, which was extraordinarily boring to learn.

Once the lesson ended, the majority of the second-year Slytherins headed up to the Great Hall for lunch.

I headed back to the Slytherin common room before going into the dorms. I changed my books out for all of Lockhart's that I had. I then lugged my now heavy bag up to the Great Hall, had a quick bite to eat, and then headed up to Lockhart's classroom. I held in a look of disgust as I glanced around his classroom, seeing many different portraits of the man as decor.

Lockhart was egotistical, if nothing else.

That point was made perfectly evident when he stood before the eleven of us Slytherins, smiling like a fool. "My name is Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly'sMost Charming Smile Award - but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!" He waited for people to laugh, but no one even attempted to smile. "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…" He proceeded to hand out test papers that were far too long and had one-hundred questions. He quickly returned to the front of the class before saying, "You have thirty minutes - start - now!"

I looked down at the questions, expecting to see questions related to his achievements in the wizarding world, only to see questions related to him as a person.

The first question asked about Lockhart's favorite color. The second, his secret ambition. The third, his greatest achievement. The fifty-fourth, his birthday and ideal gift.

I felt quite annoyed as I looked at the test parchment, knowing damn-well that the class would be useless in all senses of the word. Nevertheless, I had a reputation to uphold, so I answered all the questions perfectly, no matter how much it disgusted me.

Half an hour later, he collected all the tests and rifled through them at the front of the class. "Tut tut - hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I sat so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully - I clearly stated in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be the harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples - though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey!" He gave us a roguish wink that was probably supposed to be attractive, but only repulsed me. He soon looked down at one test and brightened up. "Oh, but it seems Mr. Colton Potter new my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions. Good boy!"

I remained calm as several other Slytherins in class shot me disgusted looks. It wasn't my fault that I could study and remember the stupid facts while they couldn't.

"Full marks, Mr. Potter! Now, where are you?" He gazed around the class, only for his eyes to fall on me as I raised my hand. He beamed brightly at me as he asked, "Hoping to be like me in the future, eh?" Before I could deny the horrific accusation, he said, "Well, I suppose it's only natural." He then chuckled as if highly amused by his own words. He set the papers aside before leaning against the desk, smiling brightly at us. "Now, onto business! I did have several Cornish pixies to show you, but things got out of hand this morning. In their wake, I'll be going over my books instead!"

I didn't know whether to be grateful for not having to deal with Cornish pixies or disappointed that I had to go over his books, which I had already memorized.

"Mr. Potter, would you care to help me?" He asked as he gave me a bright smile.

I immediately bit back a cringe and instead smiled pleasantly. "What would you like assistance with, sir?"

"My first book published, Year with a Yeti, deals with the Yeti of Tibet, as you all should know. Would you like to help me read how I first caught wind of the Yeti?" He asked with a bright smile.

"Of course, sir," I replied with false enthusiasm. I picked up the book that I had on top and opened it up. I then followed his instructions and read his book like a good teacher's pet. Class thankfully ended after another hour and a half, allowing me to stop reading, as my voice had gotten a bit hoarse by then.

"Mr. Potter, may I speak with you for a moment?" Lockhart asked as my classmates began to pack up and leave.

"Of course, sir," I said as I abandoned my books and bag and approached the man.

"You said that my most notable achievement, in your opinion, was joining the staff here at Hogwarts. Might I ask why?" He asked as he fished out my essay.

I gave a bright smile as I lied through my teeth, "Why, I believe it's a great achievement to teach the next generation of witches and wizards. Of course, no one will be quite as amazing as you, but it's still quite kind of you to take time from your busy schedule to teach us students."

The man soaked in my praise and beamed like the egotistical moron that he was. "I'm glad you think so, Mr. Potter. I don't want to brag, but I was writing another book before I was approached to teach this class."

"I saw a mention of that in your autobiography," I said right away. "Chimeras are quite dangerous. I do hope you didn't get injured."

He gave a happy laugh. "You must be a true fan to have noticed that! Rest assured, I'm perfectly okay after dealing with that beast."

"That's wonderful to hear, Professor," I lied once more, "I couldn't imagine what would happen if you were injured. You're such an amazing influence in the Wizarding World, after all."

"You think so?" The man asked, his ego inflating with every sentence I spoke.

"Of course, sir!" I chirped, "You help all kinds of people with your courageous acts, whether they know it or not. I mean, you've single-handed defeated all sorts of Dark creatures that have wreaked havoc on both magic people and muggles alike. Surely, that's no easy feat, and yet you still continue on to help deal with other such creatures. I really believe that's amazing!"

Lockhart's smile couldn't have gotten any wider as he said, "I'm glad you recognize the hard work I've put into this career of mine! Let's talk about it on our way down to dinner."

"Of course, sir," I said as I gathered up my books and put them in my bag. I fell into step beside him as he talked animatedly about his own achievements, his ego clearly not letting him see what I truly felt about him.

We couldn't make it down to the Great Hall fast enough in my opinion. When we finally made it, the man clapped a hand to my shoulder, winked at me, and then headed off to the staff table.

I barely held in a gag as I moved over to the Slytherin table, ignoring how many of those in my year looked at me judgmentally.

"So, how did things with Lockhart go?" Malfoy asked in a taunting tone.

"I'm betting that I'm still getting better grades than Granger," I said honestly, and Nott snorted into his pumpkin juice.

"That's why you're being such a kiss-arse, isn't it?" Parkinson asked.

I nearly rolled my eyes at the girl. "Parkinson, who would you rather have higher grades? Some mudblood Gryffindor or me?"

"You," the brunette answered without hesitation.

"Which is why I must play the part of being a kiss-arse," I explained.

"Well, as long as you keep bringing in the points and beat Granger again, I don't care," Parkinson said as she turned her focus to her plate.

I nodded once in her direction, glad she saw things my way. I filled half of my plate before eating my dinner, glad to be left alone.

"Tell me, Potter, what happens if Granger is still Lockhart's favorite?" Nott asked as I was chewing some chicken.

I thought about the answer for a moment before swallowing. "Well, I suppose that things will have to be taken out of the classroom."

The other second year Slytherins looked curious at my response.

"What do you mean by that?" Zabini prodded cautiously.

I gave the boy a grin. "I'm sure no one would be surprised if Granger has a minor accident in the library that keeps her from classes."

The other Slytherins were now fully cautious of my intentions before deciding that getting involved wasn't the smartest thing to do.

"In any case," Greengrass interjected, "I heard your father bought brooms for the Slytherin team."

Malfoy smirked. "We'll beat Gryffindor again this year."

"Thank your father for me," I said to Malfoy, causing him to look at me with a furrowed brow.

"I thought you didn't like Quidditch…" He said suspiciously.

"You're correct when you assume that I don't care for sports. However, I won't deny that your father just made my investment into the Cloudy Broom Company worth every Knut," I replied with a sharp grin.

"You know that broom companies don't often last at the top for long, right?" Nott asked as he gave me a look as if he thought I was below average intelligence.

I barely held in a sigh. "I know that, Nott. That's why I have my stock manager pulling out the stocks at the end of this month."

"What will you invest in next?" Nott questioned.

"I don't like giving competitors the answers to such questions," I stated curtly.

Nott pursed his lips a bit, clearly displeased.

I quickly finished my dinner before standing. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have essays to write."

"Typical Potter," Davis said with a heavy sigh.

"Someone has to crush all the other second years," I replied with a small roll of my eyes before departing from the Great Hall.

The library was as quiet as usual.

I immediately started on my D.A.D.A. essay, knowing that I'd need to revise it several times before handing it in. I didn't want Granger to move ahead of me, so I therefore put my all into the first essay. I had just barely made it down to the Slytherin common room before curfew, where I then revised my essay while flipping through Lockhart's several books.

"Potter, not that I'm not pleased you're bringing in more points for Slytherin, but shouldn't you - I don't know - be more wary of Lockhart?" Pucey asked as he looked at me with a raised brow from where he sat by the fire.

"There is no need to be wary of a fraudulent wizard who is only good at obliviating others," I replied absentmindedly. There was silence in the common room for just long enough to make me raise my head.

Pucey closed his book and turned to look at me carefully. "That's a serious accusation, Potter."

"It's a fairly obvious accusation to make when you've actually taken the time to sit down and do a timeline of his books. He can't be dealing with a vampire here in Scotland, and yet be gathering information on a local Chimeras attack in Germany at the same time," I replied honestly.

"What if it's just a miscalculation?" Pucey pressed as he leaned closer to me, something malicious forming in his eyes.

"If it's a genuine miscalculation, I'll snap my wand," I retorted, causing Pucey to look at me with narrowed eyes. "Though, I doubt anyone but Lockhart would be able to tell you who actually did all those heroic deeds, as he obliviated the memories of many to be able to write down these stories and not have lawsuits filed against him."

Pucey considered my words for all of three seconds before opening his book again. "You say he obliviated memories?"

"He did work in the Ministry as an Obliviator before he went adventuring the world," I pointed out.

"How do you know this?" He asked.

I gave a sharp grin. "The Weasleys did more than provide me food and shelter."

"You tricked them?" Pucey assumed.

"Oh, they are more than willing to give up information without more than a little prodding," I said, "Lockhart's Ministry status was just a single piece of information I've gathered."

"You have more?" Pucey questioned as he once again looked at me.

"You think I was going to leave with just a single piece of information for my efforts?" I reiterated, greatly offended that I was thought so little of.

"Fair," Pucey said, clearly understanding that he had upset me. "I'm taking it that you won't tell me anything else related to the Weasleys."

"That would be correct," I agreed as I turned my focus back to my essay.

Pucey looked displeased.

"Oh, yes," I said as if I had just forgotten something, "I'm hoping that we'll get through the end of the year before Lockhart gets thrown out. We desperately need the House Points if we're going to win this year, especially with the very real possibility of having our winning being taken from us by my brother and his friends."

"I heard Granger was also a favorite of Lockhart," Pucey said with little tact.

"Granger is a female fan," I said with annoyance just thinking about it, "She may regurgitate the information Lockhart writes down, but she won't be able to go beyond that if her love-struck attitude is anything to go by."

"You think Granger loves Lockhart?" Pucey deduced.

"In a girlish manner, yes," I agreed, "She's so stuck on his looks and supposed feats that she won't be able to have any good debates with the man who was once a Ravenclaw."

"Have you already had a debate with him?" Pucey questioned as he flipped the page of his book.

"Two, yes," I confirmed.

"Were they actual debates or you just being a kiss-arse?" Pucey prodded.

"The first was more of a scolding while the second was definitely a kiss-arse situation that led to him being more annoying than a gnat," I admitted.

His lips curled up. "You scolded a teacher?"

"He called me a liar," I said, "I am many things, but I don't lie so blatantly as to be caught by the likes of him."

"You didn't deny being a liar," Pucey pointed out.

"Everyone lies," I said, "However, I do not lie all the time, nor do I lie so blatantly as to get caught by the likes of a man who would die jumping from the top of his ego down to his IQ."

Farley, who was nearby and obviously listening in, gave a bark so intense that she had to hold her throat afterwards.

Wellington was giving her a look of disgust as he summoned a box of tissues for the saliva that the girl had spewed.

"In any case," Pucey said, "I'm sure we can deal with Lockhart if it means getting more points. We don't want to have a repeat of last year."

"What happened last year?" A first-year asked tactlessly.

I felt great annoyance fill my mind as I said, "Our win was stolen from us because other students, who broke school rules, were rewarded for their bad behavior."

The first-year frowned deeply, clearly not liking that little fact.

I scratched something out on my essay before rewriting the phrase. I then set my quill aside and looked at the first year carefully. "Unless some fool gives my brother and his friends the opportunity to one-up us, then I believe we'll be just fine."

"Your brother?" Another first-year questioned.

"Harry Potter," I clarified for the mere child.

"You're Harry Potter's brother?" A third first-year asked in shock.

"He's a Gryffindor, not a Saint," I replied curtly.

"I didn't say he was a Saint," the third first-year snapped irritably before lighting back up, "What do you remember from that night?"

"Ask that with a little more tact, and I may just give you an answer," I replied as I forced myself to not roll my eyes.

The first-year pouted like the child they were.

I merely turned my focus back to my essay and reread it before deciding that I could rewrite it before I went to bed. I finished just before lights out, and I slept surprisingly well that night.

The next morning, the second-year Slytherins headed down to the greenhouse, where magical plants were kept a bit away from the school.

Professor Sprout was already waiting for us to arrive, smiling brightly as we and a group of Ravenclaws approached. "Greenhouse Three today, chaps!"

There was a faint murmur of interest from the class, as we students had only worked in Greenhouse One before. Greenhouse Three has far more interesting and dangerous plants.

Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door.

I caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling.

Professor Sprout led us students to the middle greenhouse and stood behind a trestle bench. Before her on the bench were about twenty pairs of different-colored earmuffs. She waited for us all to get in place before saying, "We'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

My hand shot up first,.though several Ravenclaws came in a close second.

"Mr. Potter?" Sprout questioned as she motioned to me.

"The Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative. It is used to return people to their original state after they've been transfigured or cursed," I explained, "Of course, one must always remember their dangerous cry when working with them."

Sprout perked up as she asked, "What makes them so dangerous, Mr. Potter?"

"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to all who hear it," I answered.

"Excellent," Sprout praised, "Twenty points to Slytherin." She straightened up as she said, "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young." She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look.

A hundred or so tufty little plants, purple-green in color, were growing there in rows.

I remained cautious as I eyed the plants, having no interest in passing out due to their cries.

"Everyone, take a pair of earmuffs," Sprout directed.

There was a scramble as everyone tried to take a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered," Sprout stressed. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right - earmuffs on."

Everyone quickly put their earmuffs on, having no intent on fainting in the middle of our peers.

I made sure that the sound was shut out completely, and Sprout, who wore the pink and fluffy earmuffs, looked everyone over.

She gave a nod of approval, rolled up her sleeves, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.

A small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of its head. It had pale green, mottled skin and was clearly bawling at the top of its lungs.

Professor Sprout took a large pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying it into the dark, damp compost until only the tufty leaves were still visible. She dusted her hands off, gave us all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.

I removed mine, placing them around my neck for easier access.

"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," Sprout said as if she had done this task a thousand times before, "However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your second day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up. Four to a tray - there is a large supply of pots here - compost in the sacks over there - and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it's teething." She sharply slapped the spikey, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in its long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

I immediately headed to the nearest tray, and was joined by Nott, Zabini, and Davis.

Sprout told everyone to put their earmuffs back on, and we went to work.

I, who had gardened most of my life at the Dursleys, had no problem firmly grasping my Mandrake seedling and pulling it out of the ground. I was a bit surprised at how heavy it was, but quickly focused my attention on repotting the plant. I pulled up a pot and tried to shove the plant into the compost, but I wasn't strong enough to do so.

The Mandrake flailed about, not wanting to go back into the earth even though it would likely be happier there.

I quickly made a small hole with one hand and pushed the Mandrake into the dirt without any regard for it's feelings. I then went over to the sack of extra compost and gathered some up before returning to my pot. I buried the Mandrake in the soil until only its tufty leaves stuck out, meaning I successfully completed my work.

After a long class period, we were dismissed, and the Slytherins quickly headed to the dungeons for a quick cleanup. We then headed to Transfigurations where we had to change a beetle into a button.

I, after reviewing my old notes and the new ones we made that day, changed my beetle into a coat-worthy button. I changed a few more beetles, winning some points for Slytherin.

Then came lunch, which was as decent as always.

I finished my quick meal before heading off to the library to work on my History of Magic homework. Once the bell signaling the end of lunch came, I quickly packed up and headed to my next class, feeling as though everything would be as normal as last year, or, hopefully, more normal.