Emily Lily Lupin-Black

2. Chapter 18 Classes

I was sitting in a compartment with Fred, George and lee when Hermione burst in looking almost terrified. 'Mione what's wrong.' i asked as I stood up and cautiously moved over to her. 'the boys ain't on the train.' she said while looking into space. 'what do you mean Mione.' i asked her with a confused look. 'I've been all through the train but they're not on the train, where are they, Emily.' i felt my heart stop beating. 'you mean they missed the train.' i asked her, keeping my voice steady. 'i don't know.' she kept her eyes on the floor. 'come on they'll be here somewhere.' George said. 'in the meantime how about you come and stay with us, Hermione.' Fred continued. 

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The portrait of the fat lady swung open and there was a sudden storm of clapping. It looked as though the whole of Gryffindor House was still awake, packed into the circular common room, standing on the lopsided tables and squashy armchairs, waiting for the boys to arrive. Arms reached through the portrait hole to pull Harry and Ron inside, leaving Hermione to scramble in after them."Brilliant!" yelled Lee Jordan. "Inspired! What an entrance! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people'll be talking about that one for years —" "Good for you," said a fifth year Harry had never spoken to; someone was patting him on the back as though he'd just won a marathon; Fred, George and I pushed their way to the front of the crowd and said together, "Why couldn't we've come in the car, eh?" Ron was scarlet in the face, grinning embarrassedly, but Harry could see one person who didn't look happy at all. Percy was visible over the heads of some exciting first years and he seemed to be trying to get near enough to start telling them off. Harry nudged Ron in the ribs and nodded in Percy's direction. Ron got the point at once. "Got to get upstairs — a bit tired," he said, and the three of us started pushing their way toward the door on the other side of the room, which led to a spiral staircase and the dormitories."'Night," Harry called back to Hermione, who was wearing a scowl just like Percy's. We managed to get to the other side of the common room, the boys still having their backs slapped, and gained the peace of the staircase. They hurried up it, right to the top, and at last reached the door of their old dormitory, which now had a sign on it saying SECOND YEARS. Did they enter the familiar, circular room, with its six four-posters? "Dumbledore must know you stay with us Em." ron said. Their trunks had been brought up for them and stood at the ends of their beds. Ron grinned guiltily at Harry. "I know I shouldn't have enjoyed that or anything, but —" The dormitory door flew open and in came the other second-year Gryffindor boys, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom."Unbelievable!" beamed Seamus."Cool," said Dean."Amazing," said Neville, awestruck. 'idiots but an awesome way of getting here.' i told the boys. Harry couldn't help it. He grinned, too.

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The next day, however, I barely grinned once. Things started togo downhill from breakfast in the Great Hall. The four long Housetables were laden with tureens of porridge, plates of kippers, mountains oftoast, and dishes of eggs and bacon, beneath the enchanted ceiling (today, adull, cloudy grey). Harry, Ron and I sat down at the Gryffindor table next toHermione, who had her copy of Voyages with Vampires propped openagainst a milk jug. There was a slight stiffness in the way she said"Morning," which told Harry that she was still disapproving of the waythey had arrived. 'morning Hermione can I read with you.' I asked her. She nodded her head and moved over a bit. Neville Longbottom, on the other hand, greeted themcheerfully. Neville was a round-faced and accident-prone boy with theworst memory of anyone I had ever met, but he was still very kind and a great friend."Mail's due any minute — I think Gran's sending a few things I forgot."I had only just started reading when, sure enough, there was arushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling thehall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd. A big,lumpy package bounced off Neville's head and, a second later, somethinglarge and grey fell into Hermione's jug, spraying them all with milk andfeathers."Errol!" said Ron, pulling the bedraggled owl out by the feet. Errolslumped, unconscious, onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp redenvelope in his beak."Oh, no —" Ron gasped."It's all right, he's still alive," said Hermione, prodding Errol gentlywith the tip of her finger."It's not that — it's that."Ron was pointing at the red envelope. It looked quite ordinary to Harry,but Ron, Neville and I were both looking at it as though they expected it toexplode."What's the matter?" said Harry."She's — she's sent me a Howler," said Ron faintly."You'd better open it, Ron," said Neville in a timid whisper. "It'll beworse if you don't. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and" — hegulped — "it was horrible."Harry looked from their petrified faces to the red envelope."What's a Howler?" he said.But Ron's whole attention was fixed on the letter, which had begun tosmoke at the corners."Open it," I urged him. "It'll all be over in a few minutes —" Ron stretched out a shaking hand, eased the envelope from Errol's beak,and slit it open. Neville and I stuffed our fingers in our ears. A split second later,Harry knew why. He thought for a moment it had exploded; a roar ofsound filled the huge hall, shaking the dust from the ceiling."— STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IFTHEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, IDON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER ANDI WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE —"Mrs Weasley's yells, a hundred times louder than usual, made the platesand spoons rattle on the table and echoed deafeningly off the stone walls.People throughout the hall were swivelling around to see who had receivedthe Howler and Ron sank so low in his chair that only his crimsonforehead could be seen."— LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOURFATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TOBEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED —" I had been wondering when his name was going to crop up. Hetried very hard to look as though he couldn't hear the voice that wasmaking his eardrums throb."— ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED — YOUR FATHER'S FACING ANINQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUTANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACKHOME."A ringing silence fell. The red envelope, which had dropped from Ron'shand, burst into flames and curled into ashes. Harry and Ron sat stunned,as though a tidal wave had just passed over them. A few people laughedand, gradually, a babble of talk broke out again.Hermione closed Voyages with Vampires and looked down at the top ofRon's head."Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you —" "Don't tell me I deserved it," snapped Ron.  Professor McGonagall was movingalong the Gryffindor table, handing out course schedules. I took mine and saw that they had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs first.Harry, Ron, Hermione and I left the castle together, crossed the vegetablepatch, and made for the greenhouses, where the magical plants were kept.At least the Howler had done one good thing: Hermione seemed to thinkthey had now been punished enough and was being perfectly friendlyagain.As they neared the greenhouses they saw the rest of the class standingoutside, waiting for Professor Sprout. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had onlyjust joined them when she came striding into view across the lawn,accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart. Professor Sprout's arms were full ofbandages.  Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat overher flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothesand her fingernails would have made Aunt cissa faint. GilderoyLockhart, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, hisgolden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with goldtrimming."Oh, hello there!" he called, beaming around at the assembled students."Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a WhompingWillow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better atHerbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exoticplants on my travels . . .""Greenhouse three today, chaps!" said Professor Sprout, who waslooking distinctly disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self.There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked ingreenhouse one before — greenhouse three housed far more interestingand dangerous plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt andunlocked the door. Harry caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizermingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowersdangling from the ceiling. He was about to follow Ron and Hermioneinside when Lockhart's hand shot out."Harry, Emily! I've been wanting a word — you don't mind if they're a couple ofminutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?"Judging by Professor Sprout's scowl, she did mind, I quickly walked into the greenhouse and away from Lockhart. but Lockhart said,"That's the ticket," and closed the greenhouse door in her face. Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the centre of thegreenhouse. About twenty pairs of different-coloured earmuffs were lyingon the bench. When Harry had taken his place between Ron and Hermione (who I was on the other side of.),she said, "We'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me theproperties of the Mandrake?"To nobody's surprise, Hermione's hand was first into the air."Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," said Hermione,sounding as usual as though she had swallowed the textbook. "It is used toreturn people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state.""Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "TheMandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however,dangerous. Who can tell me why?"Hermione's hand narrowly missed Harry's glasses as it shot up again. I also put my hand up and I was called on. "The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," I saidpromptly."Precisely. Take another ten points," said Professor Sprout. "Now, theMandrakes we have here are still very young."She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffledforward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish-greenin colour, were growing there in rows. "Everyone takes a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout.There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pinkand fluffy."When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completelycovered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I willgive you the thumbs-up. Right — earmuffs on."I snapped the earmuffs over my ears. They shut out soundcompletely. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears,rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly,and pulled hard. Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and the extremely ugly baby popped out ofthe earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had palegreen, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plungedthe Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only thetufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gavethem all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs."As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," shesaid calmly as though she'd just done nothing more exciting than water abegonia. "However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'msure none of you wants to miss your first day back, make sure yourearmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attentionwhen it is time to pack up."Five to a tray — there is a large supply of pots here — compost in thesacks over there — and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it'steething."She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making itdraw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.Harry, Ron, Hermione and I were joined at our tray by a curly-hairedHufflepuff boy I knew by sight but had never spoken to."Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said brightly, shaking Harry by the hand."Know who you are, of course, the famous Harry Potter. . . . And you'reHermione Granger — always top in everything" (Hermione beamed as shehad her hand shaken too) "— and Ron Weasley. Wasn't that your flyingcar? and your Emily Lupin-Black — one of the schools best prankers"Ron didn't smile. The Howler was obviously still on his mind."That Lockhart's something, isn't he?" said Justin happily as they beganfilling their plant pots with dragon dung compost. "Awfully brave chap.Have you read his books? I'd have died of fear if I'd been cornered in atelephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and — zap — justfantastic.' 'werewolves ain't all that bad, it just happens to happen on a full moon, it's fake anyway.' i told Justin but he wasn't listening to me, which I get a lot since I'm the murderer's daughter. "My name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how glad I amI came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, butsince I made her read Lockhart's books I think she's begun to see howuseful it'll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family. . . ."After that, we didn't have much chance to talk. Their earmuffs wereback on and they needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes. ProfessorSprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn't. The Mandrakesdidn't like coming out of the earth but didn't seem to want to go back intoit either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists, and gnashedtheir teeth; I spent eight whole minutes trying to squash a particularlyfat one into a pot.By the end of the class, myself, like everyone else, was sweaty, aching,and covered in earth. Everyone traipsed back to the castle for a quick washand then the Gryffindors hurried off to Transfiguration.Professor McGonagall's classes were always hard work, but today wasespecially difficult. Ron was having far worse problems. He had patched up his wand withsome borrowed Spellotape, but it seemed to be damaged beyond repair. Itkept crackling and sparking at odd moments, and every time Ron tried totransfigure his beetle it engulfed him in thick grey smoke that smelled ofrotten eggs. Unable to see what he was doing, Ron accidentally squashedhis beetle with his elbow and had to ask for a new one. ProfessorMcGonagall wasn't pleased.I was relieved to hear the lunch bell. my brain felt like a wrungsponge. Everyone filed out of the classroom except him and Ron, who waswhacking his wand furiously on the desk."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 nowhissing wand into his bag. "'It's your own fault your wand got snapped—'"They went down to lunch, where Ron's mood was not improved byHermione's showing them the handful of perfect coat buttons she hadproduced in Transfiguration."What've we got this afternoon?" said Harry, hastily changing thesubject."Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione at once."Why," demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, "have you outlined allLockhart's lessons in little hearts?"Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously. 'you don't believe all of his stories do you.' i asked and she just ignored. I was feeling an emotion that I didn't know what it was. We finished lunch and went outside into the overcast courtyard.Hermione sat down on a stone step and buried her nose in Voyages withVampires again. Which I read over her shoulder. Harry and Ron stood talking about Quidditch for severalminutes before I became aware that We were being closely watched.Looking up, I saw the very small, mousy-haired boy he'd seen trying onthe Sorting Hat last night staring at Harry as though transfixed. He wasclutching what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera, and the momentHarry looked at him, he went bright red. "All right, Harry? I'm — I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly,taking a tentative step forward. "I'm in Gryffindor, too. D'you think - would it be all right if - can I have a picture?" he said, raising the camerahopefully."A picture?" Harry repeated blankly."So I can prove I've met you," said Colin Creevey eagerly, edgingfurther forward. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About howyou survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how hedisappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar onyour forehead" (his eyes raked Harry's hairline) "and a boy in mydormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the picturesmove." Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, "It'samazing here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magictill I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn'tbelieve it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. Andit'd be really good if I had one of you." he looked imploringly at Harry— "maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? Andthen, could you sign it?""Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?"Loud and scathing, Draco Malfoy's voice echoed around the courtyard.He had stopped right behind Colin, flanked, as he always was at Hogwarts,by his large and thuggish cronies, Crabbe and Goyle."Everyone line up!" Malfoy roared to the crowd. "Harry Potter's givingout signed photos!""No, I'm not," said Harry angrily, his fists clenching. "Shut up, Malfoy.""You're just jealous," piped up Colin, whose entire body was about asthick as Crabbe's neck. I had stood up when I heard Malfoy and pulled colin towards me. "Jealous?" said Malfoy, who didn't need to shout anymore: Half thecourtyard was listening in. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar right acrossmy head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you thatspecial, myself."Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly."Eat slugs, Malfoy," said Ron angrily. Crabbe stopped laughing andstarted menacingly rubbing his knuckles."Be careful, Weasley," sneered Malfoy. "You don't want to start anytrouble or your mummy'll have to come and take you away from school."He put on a shrill, piercing voice. "'If you put another toe out of line' —"A knot of Slytherin fifth years nearby laughed loudly at this."Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter," smirked Malfoy. "It'd beworth more than his family's whole house —"Ron whipped out his Spellotaped wand, but Hermione shut Voyages withVampires with a snap and whispered, "Look out!""What's all this, what's all this?" Gilderoy Lockhart was striding towardthem, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. "Who's giving out signedphotos?" Harry started to speak but he was cut short as Lockhart flung an armaround his shoulders and thundered jovially, "Shouldn't have asked! Wemeet again, Harry!"Pinned to Lockhart's side and burning with humiliation, Harry sawMalfoy slides smirking back into the crowd."Come on then, Mr Creevey," said Lockhart, beaming at Colin. "Adouble portrait, can't do better than that, and we'll both sign it for you."Colin fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rangbehind them, signalling the start of afternoon classes."Off you go, move along there," Lockhart called to the crowd, and heset off back to the castle with Harry, who was wishing he knew a goodVanishing Spell still clasped to his side."A word to the wise, Harry," said Lockhart paternally as they enteredthe building through a side door. "I covered up for you back there withyoung Creevey — if he was photographing me, too, your schoolmateswon't think you're setting yourself up so much. . . ."Deaf to Harry's stammers, Lockhart swept him down a corridor linedwith staring students and up a staircase."Let me just say that handing out signed pictures at this stage of yourcareer isn't sensible — looks a tad bigheaded, Harry, to be frank. Theremay well come a time when, like me, you'll need to keep a stack handywherever you go, but" — he gave a little chortle — "I don't think you'requite there yet."They had reached Lockhart's classroom and he let Harry go at last.Harry yanked his robes straight and headed for a seat at the very back ofthe class, where he busied himself with piling all seven of Lockhart'sbooks in front of him, so that he could avoid looking at the real thing.The rest of the class came clattering in, and Ron, Hermione and I sat downon either side of Harry."You could've fried an egg on your face," said Ron. "You'd better hopeCreevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fanclub." I joked. "Shut up," snapped Harry. The last thing he needed was for Lockhart tohear the phrase "Harry Potter fan club."When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly andsilence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's copy ofTravels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on thefront."Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart,Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark ForceDefense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-CharmingSmile Award — but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the BandonBanshee by smiling at her!"He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly."I see you've all bought a complete set of my books — well done. Ithought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about — justto check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in —"When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of theclass and said, "You have thirty minutes — start — now!"I looked down at his paper and read: 1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour?2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievementto date?On and on it went, over three sides of the paper, right down to:54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his idealgift be?Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled throughthem in front of the class."Tut, tut — hardly any of you remembered that my favourite colour islilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to readWanderings with Werewolves more carefully — I clearly state in chaptertwelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magicand non-magic peoples — though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle ofOgden's Old Firewhisky!"He gave them another roguish wink. Ron was now staring at Lockhartwith an expression of disbelief on his face; Seamus Finnigan, DeanThomas and I were shaking with silent laughter.Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attentionand gave a start when he mentioned her name.". . . but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid theworld of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions — good girl!In fact" — he flipped her paper over — "full marks! Where is MissHermione Granger?" Hermione raised a trembling hand."Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points forGryffindor! And so — to business —"He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it."Now — be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulestcreatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing yourworst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst Iam here. All I ask is that you remain calm."I Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Dean, Seamus and I had stopped laughing now. Neville was cowering in his front-row seat."I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It mightprovoke them."As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover."Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."Seamus Finnigan and I couldn't control ourself. We let out a snort of laughterthat even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror."Yes?" He smiled at Seamus."Well, they're not — they're not very — dangerous, are they?" Seamuschoked."Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly atSeamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointedfaces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing.The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering androcketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the peoplenearest them."Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!"And he opened the cage.It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets.Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. Severalshot straight through the window, showering the back row with brokenglass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than arampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class withthem, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, upendedthe wastebasket grabbed bags and books and threw them out of thesmashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering underdesks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling."Come on now — round them up, round them up, they're only pixies,"Lockhart shouted. I tried to stand on the table to get Neville down, but some pixies pulled me down and ripped my shirt. Lockhart rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, "PeskipiksiPesternomi!"It had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized his wand and threwit out of the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk.  The bell rang and there was a mad rush toward the exit. In the relativecalm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Harry, Ron,  Hermione and I, who were almost at the door, and said, "Well, I'll ask youfour to just nip the rest of them back into their cage." He swept past themand shut the door quickly behind him."Can you believe him?" roared Ron as one of the remaining pixies bithim painfully on the ear."He just wants to give us some hands-on experience," said Hermione,immobilizing two pixies at once with a clever Freezing Charm andstuffing them back into their cage."Hands-on?" said Harry, who was trying to grab a pixie dancing out ofreach with its tongue out. "Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he wasdoing " I continued. "Rubbish," said Hermione. "You've read his books — look at all thoseamazing things he's done —""He says he's done," Ron and I muttered at the same time. I wished that all the pixies would stop dancing around. I did a freezing charm trying to hit one but instead, it hit them all. "why is it always me." Neville said in a sad voice as I pulled him down from the chandelier.