Consequences
Ron and Hermione were sitting at his bedside when Harry awoke in the hospital wing. “What happened?” he asked, blinking rapidly to clear his foggy vision.
“Harry!” Hermione shouted, causing Harry to wince. “You’re awake.”
Ron handed Harry his glasses while Hermione ran to fetch Madam Pomfrey to check him over. Like the last time he’d battled Voldemort in this form, Harry had been unconscious for three days. Once Madam Pomfrey had declared him recovered enough for a short visit, she went back to her office to give the three of them some privacy.
“What happened?” Harry asked again.
Hermione and Ron exchanged a worried glance. “Quirrell jinxed your broom and you crashed into him. You don’t remember?” Ron asked.
“Voldemort on the back of his head.” Harry deadpanned, causing Ron to flinch. “But what happened with the game? Who won?”
Hermione sighed exasperatedly, but Ron’s face grew grim. “Slytherin won; 210 to 30.”
“Higgs caught the snitch?” Harry asked incredulously.
Ron nodded. “He said he didn’t see you falling, but he’s a rotten lousy liar.”
“Oh, honestly.” Hermione piped up. “I hardly think the score is the most important thing to worry about right now. Our teacher was possessed by…” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “Voldemort.”
“Hermione!” Ron protested, but she barreled on without acknowledging him.
“He tried to kill you, Harry! We were so worried about you. I could hear both of you screaming from beneath the bleachers, and – ”
“Wait, what were you doing beneath the bleachers.” Harry cut in.
Hermione flushed. “Well, we thought it was Professor Snape jinxing your broom.”
“It was bloody brilliant.” Ron said. “She set his robes on fire!”
“Ronald!” she squeaked. “Obviously it wasn’t him. He must have been saying the counter jinx. I’m dreadfully embarrassed by the whole thing. Especially since he was the one who picked you up and carried you to the hospital wing.”
Harry blinked. “Carried me?”
“Yeah, mate.” Ron added. “He looked worried about you. It was dead weird.”
The doors to the hospital wing swung open, and Professor Dumbledore strode in. “Good afternoon. I wonder if I could have a word with Harry.” He said to Hermione and Ron. They hugged Harry and hurried out of the hospital wing, promising to return later.
Dumbledore was smiling at him. It was slightly unsettling, given what had happened a few days ago.
“Am I expelled?” he blurted out.
Dumbledore hummed and shook his head. “Of course not, dear boy.
“But I killed Professor Quirrell, didn’t I? I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t control my broom and I crashed into him and he was screaming and burning. And his head!” he screeched, his voice growing steadily louder and higher in pitch.
“Harry, calm down.” Dumbledore implored, his voice calm but firm. “Or Madam Pomfrey will kick me out.”
Harry took a deep, calming breath. “I don’t understand what happened.” He lied.
“It seems,” he said, “that Professor Quirrell had been in league with Voldemort. They jinxed your broom.”
“But, why did he disintegrate when I fell on him? Why couldn’t he touch me?”
“Ah.” Dumbledore said as if he’d expected the question. “On the night he killed your parents, your mother, Lily, tried to save you. Her love protected you then and continues to do so to this day. You see, a love that powerful leaves a mark on a person, Harry. And for Professor Quirrell, who had shared his soul with Voldemort, touching the skin of someone so deeply loved was agony.”
Harry nodded. “And what about Voldemort? Is he still out there?”
“The aurors are on red-alert.” He said reassuringly. “With all of the witnesses, the ministry cannot deny that Voldemort has returned.” He put a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder. “But do not worry. You are safe here, my boy. You’ve been through quite an ordeal. You should rest.”
Harry smiled at Dumbledore and closed his eyes. He was exhausted. Surely it would be best for him to sleep just a little while longer.
******
Just after midnight, the door creaked open and shut, waking Harry from his slumber. He blindly reached out for his glasses on the nightstand, and sat up to see who was coming to the hospital wing this late at night. It was Sever- Snape.
The man glanced at the door to Madam Pomfrey’s office, before continuing over to sit at Harry’s bedside. “How are you feeling?” he asked in a low tone.
Harry shrugged. “I’ve had worse.” He quipped.
“That’s certainly true.” Snape scowled. He shifted in his seat.
An uncomfortable silence fell between them.
“So, from what I’ve heard, everything went according to plan?” Harry asked.
He shook his head slightly. “With Quirrell, yes. However, It appears that Lockhart is available to take over the position forthwith. He arrives tomorrow.”
Harry grimaced. He was never fond of the man, even before he’d tried to take his and Ron’s memories and leave them for dead in the Chamber of Secrets. But if that was the biggest consequence of taking out Quirrell this early in the game, he could deal with that. He said as much to Snape.
“The man is an imbecile.” He grumbled.
Harry didn’t disagree. “But without the diary and the chamber, He’ll be harmless.” He said, unsure if he was trying to convince the Professor or himself.
Sev- Snape sighed. “Perhaps.” He admitted grudgingly. “You should rest.”
Harry felt his eyelids grow heavy. “I’m tired of sleeping.” He protested weakly, but laid back down and allowed his eyes to close. Before sleep claimed him once more, he smiled softly as he felt his glasses being gently removed from his face.
******
Harry had been officially discharged from the Hospital Wing an hour ago, and was eating breakfast in the Great Hall with his friends. Dumbledore stood and clapped his hands for silence before addressing the student body.
“Good morning to you all!” He began joyfully. “I am happy to announce that classes will resume today, and would like to introduce Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, who will be taking over Defense against the Dark Arts.
Lockhart, dressed in his signature lilac robes, stood and waved, smiling his award-winning smile. Harry rolled his eyes. Beside him, Hermione tittered with Pavarti Patil about the man’s brilliance and the books of his they’d read.
Ron leaned over and whispered to Harry. “My mum fancies him. She loves his book about household pests.”
Naturally, they had Defense on their timetable today. Harry was not looking forward to it.
As breakfast ended, Harry and Seve-Snape’s eyes met and he had to stifle a laugh at the clear disdain on the man’s face as Lockhart prattled on about something at the Head table. Their next chamber meeting was sure to be interesting.
Before he knew it, it was time for their first class with Lockhart. Harry tried valiantly to sit in the back of the classroom, but Hermione dragged him and Ron closer to the front. Today, Lockhart was in periwinkle and was preening like a peacock as the class filtered in and watched him in anticipation. He descended the steps and stopped at the front of the room to address the class.
“Who am I?” he asked haughtily. “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin - Third Class, Member of the Dark Forces Defense League, and Five-time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming smile award. But I didn’t defeat the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!” he paused for the weak smattering of laughs before continuing, “I thought we’d start today with a quiz – Nothing to worry about, just something to gauge how much you all know.” He held out a stack of papers and Hermione leapt out of her seat to pass them around to the class.”
Harry let out a sigh of disgust as he read the paper before him. He had hoped, that without the summer for his classes to read his collected works, the quiz would not be so focused on personal details, such as the color of his eyes or his secret ambitions. But alas, this was Lockhart. He shouldn’t have been surprised.
Hermione was scribbling like mad beside him, answering the questions with ease. Ron was muttering darkly under his breath and looked at Harry in disbelief. Harry shrugged. He picked up his quill and answered what he could, hating himself just a little as he wrote out ‘forget-me-not-blue’ as the color of Lockhart’s eyes.
******
Instead of working on the next steps in their plan, Harry and Se- Snape had spent the evening in the chamber commiserating about Lockhart. Apparently, he was certain he could find Lord Voldemort and bring him to justice, if only he had the time to devote to such an endeavor.
“How anyone believes that dimwitted ponce is capable of defeating any manner of dark creature is beyond me.” Snape had complained. “He is nothing more than a pretty face.”
Harry had nodded in agreement. “Surely he can’t be that bad among the other teachers.”
“On the contrary. He had the nerve to tell Pomona that she was degnoming her gardens incorrectly. She has been practicing Herbology since before he had so much as held a wand! And worse, Septima is completely smitten with him. Truly sickening to watch.”
“Hermione has a huge crush as well.” He’d admitted. “Most of the Gryffindor girls do.”
Snape had sighed. “If even Granger cannot recognize the man as a fraud, then there is no hope for the rest of them.”
Harry tried and tried, but he wasn’t able to make Hermione realize that Lockhart wasn’t worthy of her admiration. He saw, to his disbelief, that a large number of girls, guys, and other classmates schoolwide had taken to watching the professor adoringly. He agreed with Sev-Snape. It truly was sickening to watch.
Somehow, Harry managed the first week and a half of Lockhart’s farce of a class before he found that he could not take it anymore. After the disastrous first lesson with the ridiculous pop quiz and the release of the pixies, Lockhart had switched from practical lessons to reenacting his published works chapter by chapter while the class read them aloud.
Seamus Finnegan was narrating the reenactment of Wanderings with Werewolves. It seemed painfully obvious to Harry that Lockhart had never come face to face with a werewolf, let alone defeated one.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Harry said under his breath. Next to him Hermione gasped and Seamus abruptly stopped reading. He realized that the entire class was staring at him. Malfoy looked almost impressed.
Lockhart appeared to be put-out by the interruption. It seemed Harry had said that louder than he’d thought. “Harry, Harry, Harry.” Lockhart chided; his voice heavy with disappointment. “Detention with me this evening for using language like that in my classroom.”
Harry groaned. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Hermione tutted disapprovingly before turning back to Lockhart, who had taken over the narration from Seamus. He cradled his head in his hands and wished for the class to end.