~ Gilderoy Lockhart ~
The day after, however, Harry hardly had anything to grin about. From breakfast in the Great Hall, it was all downhill.
The four long house tables under the magical ceiling (now a cloudy gray) groaned under their burden of bowls of porridge, platters of smoked herring, plates of eggs and ham, and mounds of toast.
Harry and Ron sat down at the Gryffindor table in front of Lucy and Ophelia and next to Hermione, who had her copy of Voyages with Vampires propped open against a milk jug.
Her "morning" greeting sounded a little stiff, and Harry sensed that she still disapproved of the way he and Ron had gotten to Hogwarts.
Neville Longbottom, on the other hand, greeted them cheerfully.
"Mail's due any minute – I think Gran's sending a few things I forgot."
In fact, Harry had just started on his porridge when there was a rustling overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling the hall, dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd of students.
A large, lumpy package bounced off Neville's head and a moment later something large and gray fell into Hermione's jug, splattering milk and feathers on them all.
"Errol!" said Ron, pulling the crippled owl out of the milk by the legs.
Errol collapsed unconscious on the table, claws in the air and a damp red envelope in his beak.
"Oh no," Ron sighed.
"It's all right, he's still alive," Hermione said, patting Errol gently with her fingertips.
"Thank god," said Louisa, as she sat down next to Lucy. Before breakfast she wanted to send off the letters that the friends had written to Stella.
"It's not that – it's that."
Ron pointed to the red letter. It seemed ordinary to Harry, but both Ron, Neville and Ophelia looked at it as if it were about to explode.
"What's the matter?" Harry asked.
"She's – she's sent me a Howler," Ron said weakly.
"You'd better open it, Ron," Neville whispered anxiously.
"It'll be worse if you don't. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and" he gulped, "it was horrible."
Harry looked at their frozen faces and then at the letter
Lucy ignored the letter and ate breakfast in peace, Ophelia looked at the situation with amusement and Louisa gave Ron a pitying look.
"What's a Howler?" he asked.
But Ron's attention was entirely on the letter, which had begun to smoke from the corners.
"Open it," Neville urged. "It'll all be over in a few minutes..."
Ron reached out, shaking, pulled the envelope from Errol's beak and slit it open. Neville stuck his fingers in his ears.
A split second later, Harry knew why.
For a moment he thought the letter had actually exploded; a deafening roar shook the vast hall and dust sifted from the ceiling.
"– STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE –"
Mrs Weasley's screams, a hundred times louder than usual, shook plates and spoons on the table and echoed loudly off the stone walls.
Heads all over the hall swivelled around, curious to see who had gotten the Howler, and Ron sank so low in his chair that only his crimson forehead was visible.
"– LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED –"
Harry had already wondered when his name would come up. He tried very hard to appear as if he didn't hear the voice pounding in his eardrums.
"– ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED - YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME. Oh, Ginny dear, congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud."
Grave silence spread. The red envelope Ron had dropped on the table flared up and crumpled to ash.
Harry and Ron sat speechless as if a tidal wave had swept over them.
A few students laughed and gradually the lively chatter resumed.
Hermione closed 'Voyages with Vampires' and looked down at Ron.
"Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you –"
"Don't tell me I deserve it," Ron hissed at her.
Harry pushed the porridge aside. His insides burned with guilt.
But he didn't have time to think about it.
Professor McGonagall walked along the Gryffindor table handing out timetables.
And, because it was not unusual that Lucy and the other girls sat at the Gryffindor table at breakfast, she had Lucy's, Ophelia's and Louisa's timetables too.
Lucy took hers and noticed that the first thing they had was double Herbology.
The friends left the castle together and walked through the vegetable garden over to the greenhouses where the magic plants were grown.
The Howler had been good for at least one thing:
Hermione now apparently thought they had been punished enough and was downright friendly to them again.
And Lucy didn't speak about that again, too, and Harry was very grateful for that.
~~
They approached the greenhouses and already saw them other class outside waiting for Professor Sprout.
As soon as Harry, Ron and Hermione entered, she came striding across the lawn – accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart.
Professor Sprout was a stocky little witch with a patched hat on her windblown hair; she usually had a fair amount of dirt on her clothes and Aunt Petunia would have fainted at the sight of her fingernails.
Gilderoy Lockhart, on the other hand, was immaculately dressed in his billowing turquoise cloak.
His golden hair shimmered beneath a perfectly fitting gold-rimmed turquoise hat.
"Oh, hello there!" exclaimed Lockhart, beaming at the assembled students. "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels…"
"Greenhouse three today, chaps," said Professor Sprout, not looking cheerful as usual but unmistakably grumpy.
A curious murmur ran through the bystanders.
So far they had only worked in greenhouse one - greenhouse three housed much more interesting and dangerous plants.
Professor Sprout took a big one key from her belt and unlocked the door.
The smell of damp earth and manure reached Lucy, mingled with the heavy perfume of some huge, umbrella-like flowers hanging from the ceiling.
She entered the greenhouse with Ophelia and Louisa, followed by Ron and Hermione.
Harry was about to step in behind Ron and Hermione when Lockhart held out his hand in a flash.
"Harry! I've been wanting a word – you don't mind if he's a couple of minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?"
Judging by Professor Sprout's scowl, she did mind, but Lockhart said, "That's the ticket," and closed the greenhouse door in her face.
Lucy frowned looking at the door. Why was Lockhart so keen to speak to her brother?
She shook her head and concentrated on the lesson.
After a few minutes, the door opened and her Brother walked back into the room.
Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the middle of the greenhouse. On it lay about twenty pairs of different coloured earmuffs.
Harry stood between Ron and Hermione.
"We'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"
Hermione was the first to raise her Hand, which surprised no one.
"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," Hermione said, sounding as usual as if she'd swallowed the textbook. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."
"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"
Hermione's hand shot up again, but Ophelia answered faster this time.
"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," replied the brown-haired girl.
"Precisely. Ten points to Ravenclaw," said Professor Sprout. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."
She pointed to a row of deep trays, and everyone rushed forward, looking curiously. There were about a hundred small, tufted plants growing in a row, green in color with a tinge of purple.
Harry, who hadn't the faintest idea what Ophelia meant by the mandrake's 'scream', found the growths quite nondescript.
"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," Professor Sprout said.
There was a scramble as everyone tried to get a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy.
"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right – earmuffs on."
The twins slipped the earmuffs over their heads, blocking out any sound.
Professor Sprout placed a pink, fluffy pair on her ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufted plants in a firm grip, and gave it a sharp tug.
Harry let out a little yelp of surprise, which of course no one could hear.
Instead of a root, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby rolled out of the ground.
The leaves grew out of his head. It had pale green, mottled skin and was clearly screaming at the top of its lungs.
Professor Sprout pulled a large flowerpot from under the table, put the mandrake in it, and buried it in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible.
Then she rubbed dirt from her hands, gave a thumbs-up gesture, and removed her earmuffs.
"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won’t kill yet," she said calmly, as if she'd just done nothing more exciting than watering a begonia. "However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first 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 Venemous Tentacula, it’s teething"
With these words she slapped a spikey, dark red plant, whose long antennae had slipped quietly over her shoulder, and the antennae drew back quickly.
Joining the Potter twins and their friends was a curly-headed Hufflepuff boy whom Harry only knew by sight.
"Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said cheerfully, shaking Harry's hand.
"Know who you are, of course, the famous Harry and Lucy Potter... and you are Hermione Grange – always great at everything… Louisa Lassiter we know each other from the common room" (Hermione beamed as he shook hands with her and Louisa too) "Ophelia Lupin… you're great at flying... and Ron Weasley. Wasn't that your flying car?"
Ron didn't smile. The Howler was apparently still on his mind.
"That Lockhart's something, isn't he?" Justin said brightly as they filled their flowerpots with dragon dung compost. "Awfully brave chap. Have you read his books? I'd have died of fear if Id been cornered in a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and – zap – just fantastic."
Lucy scoffed. Did he really think that everything had really happened?
Lucy and Ophelia looked at each other and then looked back at Justin, who just kept talking happily.
"My name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart's books I think she's begun to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family…"
After that, they didn't have much opportunity to talk.
They put on their earmuffs and had to focus on the mandrakes. Professor Sprout had made it look easy, but it wasn't.
The mandrakes didn't like to get out of the ground at all, but they certainly didn't want to go back into the ground. They writhed and writhed, clenching their pointy little fists, thrashing and gnashing their teeth.
After that, they didn't have much opportunity to talk.
They put on their earmuffs and had to focus on the mandrakes. Professor Sprout had made it look easy, but it wasn't.
The mandrakes didn't like to get out of the ground at all, but they certainly didn't want to go back into the ground. They writhed and writhed, clenching their pointy little fists, thrashing and gnashing their teeth.
"Stupid – useless – thing –"
"Write home for another one," Harry suggested as the wand let off a volley of bangs like a firecracker.
"Oh, yeah, and get another Howler back," said Ron, stuffing the now hissing wand into his satchel.
"It's your own fault your wand got snapped–"
~~
They went down to lunch, where Ron's spirits weren't exactly lifted by Hermione.
She showed them a handful of coat buttons she had made in Transfiguration.
Lucy, Ophelia and Louisa sat with her.
Lucy gave Hermione a small sign that this wasn't a good idea.
Unfortunately, Hermione didn't understand that, and Lucy eventually gave up.
"What do we have this afternoon?" Louisa asked, quickly changing the subject.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione said immediately.
"Why?," said Ron, grabbing his timetable, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"
Hermione snatched the timetable from his hand and blushed brightly.
"Omg–" Ophelia mumbled. "She likes this wannabe wizard."
Lucy could only agree with her best friend. The young witch really thought Hermione was smarter and saw through these stories.
"Ophelia, leave her," Louisa whispered.
After the meal they went out into the yard. The sky was overcast.
Hermione sat down on a stone step and immersed herself again in Voyages with Vampires.
Harry, Ron and Stella chatted about Quidditch.
Louisa was also reading a book. Just not one of Lockhart's books, but one about stars and their constellations.
And Lucy – Lucy had her eyes closed and was just enjoying the fresh air.
But after a few minutes, Harry got the feeling that someone was watching him.
He looked up and saw the very small, mousy-haired boy he had seen putting on the Sorting Hat last night.
He stared at Harry as if he was under a spell. In his hands he held what appeared to be a standard Muggle camera, and the moment Harry looked at him, he blushed brightly.
"All right, Harry? I'm – I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, taking a shy step towards him.
"I'm in Gryffindor, too. D'you think – would it be all right if – can I have a picture?" he asked, raising the camera hopefully.
"A picture?" Harry repeated flatly.
"So I can prove I've met you," Colin Creevey said eagerly, slowly approaching. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead" (his eyes raked Harry’s hairline) "and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move"
Lucy, who was sitting a few steps away from Harry and so unnoticed by Colin, had to giggle.
Colin took a deep breath of excitement and said, "It's amazing here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn’t believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you – maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"
"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?"
Loud and cutting, Draco Malfoy's voice echoed throughout the courtyard.
He had positioned himself directly behind Colin, flanked, as always at Hogwarts, by his heavy-handed and brutal cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.
"Everyone line up!" Malfoy boomed into the crowd. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"
"No, I'm not," Harry said angrily, clenching his fists. "Shut up, Malfoy."
"You're just jealous," Colin squeaked, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe's neck.
"Jealous?" said Malfoy, who didn't need to yell anymore; half the schoolyard listened. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself."
Crabbe and Goyle giggled stupidly.
"At least Harry's hair is not dyed," Ophelia chimed in during the conversation.
"Oh of course, the half-blood has something to say about it, too," Draco offered, glaring at Ophelia.
"Eat slugs, Malfoy," said Ron angrily. Crabbe stopped laughing and began rubbing his chestnut-sized knuckles menacingly.
"Be careful, Weasley," Malfoy sneered. "You don't want to start any trouble or your Mommy'll have to come and take you away from school."
In a piercingly shrill voice, he cried: "'If you put another toe out of line'–"
A bunch of fifth year Slytherins laughed out loud.
"Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter," scoffed Malfoy, "It'd be worth more than his family's whole house–"
Lucy jumped up and almost hit Malfoy, but Louisa was able to react in time and pulled her back.
Ron quickly whipped out his patched wand, but Hermione slammed 'Voyages with Vampires' and whispered, "Look out!"
"What's all this, what's all this?"
Gilderoy Lockhart strode towards her, his turquoise cloak flapping in the breeze.
"Who's giving out signed photos?"
Harry was about to open his mouth, but Lockhart slapped his arm on his shoulder and patronizingly boomed, "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry!"
Harry, pinned to Lockhart's side, watched Malfoy disappear into the crowd with a mocking look.
"Come on then, Mr. Creevey," said Lockhart, beaming at Colin. "A double portrait, can't do better than that, and we'll both sign it for you"
Then Lockhart's eyes fell on Lucy. It took him a moment, but then he recognized her.
"Miss Potter, come on. You have to be in the picture too."
The girl looked from Lockhart to Colin, who was staring at her with wide eyes.
The young witch sighed, stood up, brushed the dirt off her robes, smiled at Lockhart and said, "No."
Then, without another word, she walked back into the castle.
When Lucy was out of sight, Colin fiddled with his camera.
He took the picture just as the bell rang behind them, calling for afternoon classes
"Off you go, move along there," Lockhart called to the bystanders and walked towards the castle gate with Harry, whom he still had pressed to him.
If only I knew a good vanishing spell, Harry thought.
"A word to the wise, Harry," Lockhart said fatherly as they entered the building through a side door. "I covered up for you back there with young Creevey – if he was photographing me, too, your schoolmates won't think you're setting yourself up so much…"
Under the curious gazes of the other students, he dragged him down a corridor and up a flight of stairs.
"Let me just say that handing out signed pictures at this stage of your career isn't sensible – looks a tad bigheaded, Harry, to be frank. There may well come a time when, like me, you'll need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but–" he gave a soft cackle, "I don't think you're quite there yet."
They had gotten to Lockhart's classroom and finally he released Harry.
Harry straightened his robes and found a spot in the back where he busied himself piling all seven of Lockhart's books in front of him so that he didn't have to look at the real Lockhart.
The rest of the class trickled in, and Ron and Hermione sat down next to Harry.
"Hey Potter," someone whispered, passing them.
Harry was about to tell Malfoy to go away when he saw that it was just his sister.
Lucy stuck her tongue out at him, and Harry rolled his eyes.
Harry's sister sat in front of her brother with her best friends.
"You could've fried an egg on your face" Ron said, having Harry's attention again. "You'd better hope Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fan club."
"Shut up," Harry hissed at him. The last thing he needed was for Lockhart to pick up something about a 'Harry Potter fan club'.
When everyone was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and there was silence.
He picked up Neville Longbottom's copy of Trips with Trolls and held it up to show his own winking picture on the front page.
"Me," he said, pointing to it and winking, "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"
He paused to give them a laugh; a few smiled faintly.
"Kill me," Ophelia whispered. "I can't… this is… I don't even have a word for it."
"Only if you kill me first," Lucy murmured in the same volume.
"Let's do it at the same time–"
"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–"
Lockhart handed out the exercise sheets and then went back to the front:
"You have thirty minutes – start – now!"
Lucy looked at his sheet and read:
- What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?
- What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?
- What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?
It went on like this for three pages until the last question:
- When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?
"What is this shit?" Lucy asked quietly, exchanging a confused look with Ophelia and Louisa.
The two seemed to be thinking exactly the same thing.
Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the slips of paper and flipped through them in front of the class.
"Tut, tut – hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully – I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and nonmagic peoples – though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogdeds Old Firewhisky!"
He winked at them again mischievously.
Ron, meanwhile, was staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, sitting in the front row, shook with suppressed laughter.
Hermione, on the other hand, listened to Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he said her name.
"… but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions – good girl! In fact full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"
Hermione raised a shaking hand.
"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart, "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so – to business–"
He bent behind his desk and picked up a large, cloth-covered cage and placed it on the tabletop.
"Now – be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."
Reluctantly, Harry leaned sideways past his stack of books to get a better look at the cage.
Lockhart put a hand on the cover.
Dean and Seamus had stopped laughing now. Neville, in the front row, huddled in his chair.
"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice, "It might provoke them."
The whole class held their breath and Lockhart pulled the blanket off the cage.
"Yes," he said in a theatrical voice, "freshly caught Cornish pixies."
Seamus Finnigan couldn't contain himself anymore. He snorted and even Lockhart couldn't mistake that laugh for a scream of terror.
"Yes?" he said to Seamus, smiling.
"Well, they're not – they're not very – dangerous, are they?" he said, his voice choking.
"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waving his finger in front of Seamus' nose. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"
The pixies were bright blue and about eight inches tall, with pointed faces and voices so high-pitched it was like seeing a bunch of budgies arguing.
As soon as the cover was off, they started chattering and scurrying about, rattling the bars of their cages and making ugly faces at nearby students.
"Right, then!," said Lockhart loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!"
And he opened the cage.
It was as if he had kicked the gates of hell. The pixies darted out and away in all directions.
Two of them grabbed Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air.
Some burst straight through the window, sending a hail of glass shards down the back rows.
The rest set out to wreak havoc on the classroom more thoroughly than a raging hippopotamus.
They grabbed inkwells and squirted them around the class, tore up books and papers, ripped pictures off the walls, turned the wastebasket inside out, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the shattered window.
After a few minutes, the students took cover under their desks and Neville swung from the overhead chandelier.
"Come on now – round them up, round them up, they're only pixies," cried Lockhart.
He rolled up his sleeves, waved his wand, and yelled, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"
Nothing happened except one of the pixies grabbed Lockhart's wand and threw it out the window.
"Are you serious?!" Ophelia yelled, jumping onto her desk and trying to hit the pixies with one of her books.
Lockhart gulped in shock and ducked under his desk, just lucky not to be crushed by Neville, who crashed down a second later, chandelier and all.
The bell rang and everyone ran to the exit in a frantic haste. Now there was a little calm.
Lockhart straightened up, saw Harry, Ron and Hermione almost to the door and said, "Well I'm asking you three to just put the rest of them back in the cage."
He slipped past them and quickly closed the door behind him.
"Can you believe him?" Ron roared as one of the remaining pixies bit his ear.
"He just wants us to get some hands-on experience," Hermione said, using a clever Freezing Charm to stun two pixies at once and stuffed them back into the cage.
"Hands on?" said Harry, trying to grab an imp who pranced away and stuck his tongue out at him. "Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he was doing–"
"Rubbish," said Hermione, "You've read his books – look at all those amazing things he's done–"
"He says he's done," Ron muttered.
"Hermione, that man couldn't even handle a bunch of pixies," Louisa interjected into the conversation.