Not Again//Harry Potter [2]

7

With a loud thump, Autumn threw her books onto the desk of her next class: Defense of the Dark Arts. If Lockhart turned out like last year's teacher, she was out of luck. She wanted the teacher to know she was there; it was no secret to any of the students or teachers of what the four did last year: they defeated an evil wizard. If Lockhart worked for Voldemort, then she wanted to be prepared.

Harry was already sat in the classroom, Ron taking a seat on the one side of him, Autumn sitting on the other side of Harry. Hermione hummed a sweet melody as she sat next to Autumn, delicately pulling out her quill and some parchment as she hummed.

"You could've fried an egg on your face," said Ron to Harry. "You'd better hope Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fan club."

"Shut up," snapped Harry. 

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own winking portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "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 -- but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

He waited for them to laugh. While few smiled weakly, Autumn groaned quietly as she put her head on the desk. She was going to hate this class. At least she knew one thing for sure -- this man was way to self-centered to work for Voldemort.

A lot of the men Madam Dreace brought back were just like this. They either did one accomplishment and dragged it out for as long as they could around her, or they made up an entire story; the only reason Autumn knew they made it up was because she knew a lot of the shop owners who were actually at the events.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books. Well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about; just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in."

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes -- start now!"

Autumn stared at the quiz.

1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?
2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?
3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?

It went on for three pages.

Autumn rested her head on the desk again. She couldn't bare reading the books -- they seemed so. . . fake and arrogant. She lifted her head and looked around. Ron and Harry, on the left of her, chuckled quietly at her misery; but she knew that they felt the same about the teacher.  Autumn looked to her right; Hermione quickly scribbled in the answers on the quiz. She sighed, realizing that she had to start sometime.

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

"Tut, tut -- hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully. I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic people. Though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey!"

Autumn had a sense of deja vu as she cringed to the Professor's words. She did remember that part of the book, unfortunately.

". . .but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair care potions. Good girl! In fact," He flipped her paper over. "—full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

Hermione raised a trembling hand.

"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so to business." He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it. "Now, be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

Autumn leaned to the edge of her seat, wondering what he had. Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Dean and Seamus had stopped laughing now. Neville was cowering in his front row seat.

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."

Seamus Finnigan couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.

"Yes?" He smiled at Seamus.

"Well, they're not, they're not very, dangerous, are they?" Seamus choked.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!" And he opened the cage. 

It was chaos. Pixies were everywhere at once. Two pulled Neville up in the air by his ears. Several flew through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom. 

They threw ink, shredded books and papers and tore down a few of Lockhart's 'precious paintings'.

After a few minutes, everyone was under their desks and Neville was up in the air, hanging on the chandelier.

"Come on now -- round them up, round them up, they're only pixies," Lockhart shouted. "Right, Seamus?"

Autumn rolled her eyes as she held her textbook over her head, looking at the others protectively. She never knew that someone could be this stupid.

Lockhart rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"

It had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized his wand and threw it out of the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who fell a second later as the chandelier gave way.

A few pixies grabbed Hermione by the hair, to which Harry grabbed a book and hit them off.

The bell rang and there was a mad rush toward the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Harry, Ron, Autumn, and Hermione, who were almost at the door, and said, "Well, I'll ask you four to just nip the rest of them back into their cage." He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.

Autumn lowered the textbook from her hair and swung at more pixies. When she felt one tug at her hair, she turned to hit it, but ended up getting smacked in the face by a book.

"Sorry!" Ron said, cringing his face.

Autumn paid no attention to Ron and kicked the fallen pixie towards the cage.

"Immobulus!" Hermione yelled, causing all the pixies to float in the air. 

After all the pixies were put away and Neville was safely on the ground, they left the classroom.

"Can you believe him?" Ron said.

"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience," said Hermione.

"Hands on?" said Harry. "Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he was doing—"

"I'd have to agree with Harry on this one." Autumn said. "It looks like he hasn't a clue about anything."

"Rubbish," said Hermione. "You've read his books. Look at all those amazing things he's done—"

"He says he's done," Ron muttered. 

Autumn smirked. Ron's suspicions may just be right.