Everlasting (H.P x fem.reader) YEARS 1-4

Year Two: Chapter Ten

Y/n's POV 

Since the disasterous episode of the pixies, Professor Lockhart has not brought live creatures to class. Instead, he read passages from his books to us, and sometimes reanacted some of the more dramatic bits. Sadly, he usually picked Harry or me to help him with these reconstructions; so far, I'd been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a head cold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him. 

Fortunately for me, Harry was hauled to the front of the class during their very next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, acting as a werewolf. Harry and I would have refused to do these little acting gigs if we didn't need to keep him happy. 

"Nice loud howl, Harry — exactly — and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced — like this — slammed him to the floor — this — with one hand, I managed to hold him down — with my other I put my wand to his throat — I then screwed up my last remaining strength and preformed the immensely complex Homorophus Charm — he let out a piteous moan — go on, Harry — higher than that"

I couldn't watch by now, I hid my face seeing as I couldn't control my urge to laughter.

"good — the fur vanished — the fangs shrank — and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective —  and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks." 

The bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet. 

"Homework — compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!" 

The class began to leave. Harry retuned to the back of the room, where Ron, Hermione, and I were waiting. 

"Ready?" Harry muttered.

"Stop laughing,  Y/n!" he added once he with an exasperated facial expression once he saw my crooked grin.

Once I finally managed to ease away my flushed face and teary eyes, I checked over my shoulder at Lockhart, who was fixing his hair. 

"Wait till everyone's gone," said Hermione nervously. "All right..." 

She approached Lockhart's desk, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand, Harry, Ron, and I right behind her. 

"Er — Professor Lockhart?" Hermione stammered. "I wanted to — to get this book out of the library. Just for background reading."

She held out a piece of paper, her hand shaking slightly.

"But the thing is, it's in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it — I'm sure it would help me understand what you say in Gadding with Ghouls about slow-acting venoms—" 

"Ah, Gadding with Ghouls!" said Lockhart, taking the note from Hermione and smiling widely at her. "Possibly my favorite book. You enjoyed it?" 

"Oh, yes," said Hermione eagerly. "So clever, the way you trapped the last one with a tea-strainer—" 

"Well, I'm sure no one would mind me giving the best student of the year a little extra help," said Lockhart warmly, and he pulled out an enormous peacock quill.

"Yes, nice, isn't it?" He said, misreading the revolted look on Ron's face. "I usually save it for book signings." 

He scrawled an enormous loopy signature on the note and handed it back to Hermione. 

"So, Harry and Y/n," said Lockhart, while Hermione folded the note with fumbling fingers and slipped it into her bag. "Tomorrow's the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor versus Slytherin, is it not? I hear you two are useful players. I was a Seeker, too, Harry. I was asked for by the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if you ever feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. You too, Y/n, I was almost a Chaser but I preferred the spotlight, could you believe that? Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players..."