To change the future

The Rogue Bludger

Following the pixie debacle, Professor Lockhart ceased bringing live creatures to class. Instead, he read from his books and occasionally reenacted the more thrilling segments. Harry was often chosen to assist with these dramatizations; thus far, he had portrayed a simple Transylvanian villager cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a cold, and a vampire restricted to lettuce after Lockhart's intervention. Jason had somehow weaseled his way out of having to do it, Harry suspected it contained many painful hexes before Lockhart backed off.

"It did."

During the next Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Harry was dragged to the front to act as a werewolf. Had he not needed to keep Lockhart appeased, he would have declined. "A loud howl, Harry—just like that—and then, believe it or not, I pounced—slammed him down—held him with one hand, wand at his throat with the other—I mustered my strength and executed the complex Homorphus Charm—he moaned pitifully—keep going, Harry—higher—good—the fur disappeared—the fangs receded—and he reverted to human form. Simple but effective—and yet another village will forever hail me as the hero who saved them from monthly werewolf onslaughts." As the bell sounded, Lockhart rose.

"Yeah, he held a werewolf down with one hand." Lupin scoffs.

"It's amazing no one realized he was full of shit before." Theo mutters

"That spell works against Animagus only." McGonagall sniffs

"Homework: write a poem about my Wagga Wagga Werewolf conquest! The best one gets a signed copy of Magical Me!" The students started to exit. Harry rejoined Ron and Hermione at the back. "Ready?" he whispered. "Let's wait for everyone to leave," Hermione replied anxiously. "Okay..." Approaching Lockhart's desk, paper in hand, with Harry and Ron in tow, Hermione hesitated. "Um, Professor Lockhart?" she faltered. "I wanted to borrow this book from the library for some additional reading." She extended the paper.

"But the issue is, it's located in the Restricted Section of the library, so I require a teacher's signature for it—I'm convinced it would aid in understanding your explanation in 'Gadding with Ghouls' about slow-acting venoms." "Ah, 'Gadding with Ghouls!'" exclaimed Lockhart, accepting the note from Hermione with a broad smile. "Possibly my favorite book. Did you enjoy it?" "Oh, yes," Hermione replied eagerly. "The way you ensnared that last one with the tea-strainer was so ingenious—" "Well, I'm certain no one would object to me offering a bit of extra help to the best student of the year," Lockhart said warmly, producing a large peacock quill. "Nice, isn't it?" he added, misinterpreting Ron's disgusted expression.

"I usually reserve it for book signings." He scribbled a flamboyant signature on the note and returned it to Hermione. "So, Harry," Lockhart continued, as Hermione folded the note with trembling fingers and tucked it into her bag, "tomorrow's the first Quidditch match of the season, right? Gryffindor versus Slytherin, I believe? I've heard you're a skilled player. I was a Seeker too. I had the opportunity to try out for the National Squad but chose to dedicate my life to combating the Dark Forces. However, should you ever desire some private training, feel free to ask. I'm always eager to share my expertise with less experienced players..." Harry muttered something unintelligible and quickly followed Ron and Hermione. 

"Harry could fly circles around this idiot any day of the week."

"I can't believe it," he muttered as they inspected the note's signature. "He didn't even glance at the book we wanted." "That's because he's an idiot," Ron declared. "But it doesn't matter, we got what we needed—" "He's not an idiot," Hermione countered sharply as they sped towards the library. "Just because he complimented you as the best student of the year—" Their voices hushed as they entered the library's quiet. Madam Pince, the librarian, was a slender, grouchy woman resembling a malnourished vulture.