SOLSTICE

036

Cyril sat at the back of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, arms crossed, leaning back in his chair as Gilderoy Lockhart made his grand entrance, strutting like some overly groomed peacock. The walls were plastered with portraits of the man himself, each one more nauseating than the last. Cyril’s grey eyes flicked to the professor, his expression a mixture of disdain and indifference. 

“He is already so done.”

"Look at his face, he’s so cute!" Isabella squealed, causing several heads to turn her way, all staring as though she’d sprouted antlers.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with exaggerated disbelief as he fluttered his eyelashes. "Bells, darling, from which angel exactly does that face look cute to you?" He placed a hand over his heart, mock-serious, as if deeply concerned for her eyesight. 

She turned her head, a chill creeping over her as she sensed the weight of a stare. Her breath hitched when her eyes found Cyril. He was watching her, his gaze intense yet unreadable, swirling with emotions she couldn’t quite pin down. But whatever it was, tugged at something deep inside her.

“Let me introduce you to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher: me, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner... of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award,” he announced, flashing his dazzling grin. The girls in the class looked utterly captivated by him, while the boys exchanged confused glances.

"But I don't talk about that," he added with a chuckle, though no one else laughed along. 

No, course you don’t, Cyril thought dryly. He didn't care one bit about Lockhart’s 'accomplishments,' if you could even call them that. The man was a walking joke, nothing more.

Barty Crouch Jr. leaned forward, his eyes wide with a manic glint, "Look at him—look at this pompous little peacock!"

He lets out a twisted giggle, almost gleeful. "A Cruciatus would have him crying for his mummy in seconds."

Evan Rosier grinned darkly, arms crossed, voice low but sinister.

"No, Barty, I don’t think he'd last long enough to scream. One good curse, and he’d fold like wet parchment.

“Stop it. You two are scaring the kids.” Regulus smacked them at their heads earning pouts from both.

“I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at him.” He chuckled once more, completely unfazed by the lack of response from his audience.

Lockhart continued, undeterred. “I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books, well done.” He paused, gathering some papers from his desk. “Now, I thought we'd start today with... a little quiz.” He began handing out the sheets, and the students exchanged worried glances.

Cyril gave his parchment a half-hearted glance. What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s ideal breakfast? Which exotic ingredient does Gilderoy Lockhart use in his signature hair potion? What color does Gilderoy Lockhart prefer for his autograph quill ink?

"Is this what passes for Defense Against the Dark Arts these days? First that stupid git and now this thing. The school board has clearly lost its mind if they think this peacock can teach anything of substance... utterly useless." Lord Black leans back, fingers steepled, disdain dripping from every word.

Seriously, this git is testing my patience. Cyril narrowed his eyes in annoyance.

“Nothing to worry about,” he reassured them with a wave of his hand, “just to... check how well you've read them.”