Magic and Mystery Coil by Allegory_for_Hatred

Mice

Dazai blinked once, then twice.

I'm not the villain here, he wanted to protest. But with the black shadow of the Port Mafia always hanging over him, Dazai wasn't entirely sure that was true.

Still, Dazai was convinced that, at the very least, Lockhart was no champion of the people. The man had yet to go even a full minute without finding some way to compliment himself. At least when Draco boasted his prowess, the snake didn't immediately follow it up with a declaration of war.

Lockhart looked incredibly pleased with himself. Dazai wanted little more than to shatter that self-satisfied expression. But he knew he needed to maintain some level of restraint here with Lucius watching.

With everyone watching.

Damn Mori for not giving him a heads up.

No—damn Mori for letting things get this far. Dazai was sure the doctor could have shaken off the Daily Prophet somehow. It was almost like he wanted the Demon Student story to spread its fingers through the cracks of magical society.

Everyone here was terrified of him. And they were angry about it.

Hmm... what was the best solution here? Dazai usually had plenty of time to consider his schemes. And then when he executed them, it would be done methodically and, often, from the shadows. Now, Dazai would have to do so on the fly with a sizable audience. Mori would call it a good challenge. Dazai would call it annoying.

Deciding on his plan of action, Dazai gave the crowd a rigid smile. "There is no monster here to defeat, Lockhart. Why don't you defeat You-Know-Who and write a book on that instead?" Dazai asked coyly. At the last second, he remembered to change Voldemort's name to its censored version. Even with the switch, however, quite a few faces in the audience flinched back as though struck. "That must be more interesting to your readers than you beating up a twelve-year-old child."

Lockhart's smile was beginning to look more like a grimace. Good. "Nonsense! That vile man lives no longer. The only monster here is you."

Dazai bristled minutely. Voldemort no longer? Then whose face had he glared down just a few months earlier? Keeping his cool demeanor, Dazai raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Consider it, is all I mean. Anyway, I'm more likely to kill myself than you are to defeat me. Let's just call it a draw from the outset."

For just a second, Dazai saw Lockhart's eyes narrow like the man was trying to figure him out. However, it was replaced not a second after by another of his shining, fatuous smirks. "You shouldn't lie about such things," he said with a scolding tongue.

Taking a step forward, Lockhart approached Dazai.

He couldn't help the way his body tensed up in anticipation. But he still made sure to keep his expression flat.

The author came to a stop just a step away then, without indication, dropped his hand down onto Dazai's shoulder. He pulled Dazai, pressing the boy tightly into his side. The discomfort and disgust must have been palpable on Dazai's face, because a moment later Lockhart lauded, "That's it! That's the front-page photograph right there. Make sure to snap a couple—I can use one for the book cover once its finished."

There was a flash of light, and the sound of a camera shuttering from somewhere within in the crowd.

Lockhart's hand was on his shoulder, pressing near his neck. And half the man's body was poking into him. Dazai wanted to stay rational—to grin and bear it. But the only thing he could think was get off get off get off! Followed by the burning feeling of tar in the back of his throat. Dazai nearly choked on it.

Remembered how Quirrell would do the same thing.

How Mori still did.

Subtly, he tried to pry himself out of Lockhart's grasp, but found he couldn't break free. Lockhart tugged him back to his side immediately.