𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇 ── harry potter

viii | an arm made of rubber

ACT II — CHAPTER VIII
Aɴ Aʀᴍ Mᴀᴅᴇ Oꜰ Rᴜʙʙᴇʀ

⊱ ────── 𖥔 ✶ 𖥔 ────── ⊰

Professor Lockhart had not brought live creatures to class since the first class with the pixies. Instead, he read passages from his books to them, and sometimes reenacted some of the more dramatic bits. To Quinn and Ron's amusement, he usually picked Harry to help him with these reconstructions.

So far, Harry had 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. Each time he was called to act something out, Quinn and Ron would struggle to hide their amusement as Hermione scolded them.

Harry was once again called to the front of the class during their very next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting as a werewolf. Quinn and Ron sat on the edge of their seats as they watched him shuffle his way to the front.

"Nice loud howl, Harry — exactly — and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced — like this — slammed him to the floor — thus — with one hand, I managed to hold him down — with my other, I put my wand to his throat — I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm — he let out a piteous moan — go on, Harry — higher than that — 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 sprang 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. Quinn, Ron, and Hermione waited for Harry to return to the back of the room.

"Ready?" Harry muttered.

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

She approached Lockhart's desk, a piece of paper Quinn had given her clutched tightly in her hand, and the other three 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 the 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!" Lockhart exclaimed, taking the note from Hermione and smiling brightly at her, "Possibly my very favorite book. You enjoyed it?"

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

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

"Yes, nice, isn't it?" he remarked, misreading the bewildered look on Quinn'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," Lockhart started, while Hermione folded the note with fumbling fingers and slipped it to Quinn discreetly, "Tomorrow's the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you're a useful player. I was a Seeker, too. I was asked to try for 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. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players ..."