𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 | 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘗𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳

22 || Harry Almost Dies (Again)

I snorted loudly as Harry was forced to moan like an animal when Lockhart held him on the floor, his wand at his throat. He was playing a Werewolf, just one of the many characters that Lockhart made him portray as he re-enacted his books.

"Higher than that, Harry--" Harry moaned again and I guffawed so loudly that the entire class turned to look at me, suppressing smiles of their own. Harry was beet red and rolled his eyes at me, causing me to laugh harder when he stuck his tongue out.

The bell rang, and Lockhart got 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!"

Harry returned to the back of the classroom and shoved my shoulder.

"Thanks, Ash," he grumbled, his face fading to pink.

"Come on, we need your lying skills," Hermione whispered. "Pull yourself together." She was smiling, though.

I calmed myself down and resumed a calm demeanor.

"Ready."

I approached Professor Lockhart with Hermione, Harry and Ron following close behind.

"Professor?" I asked sweetly. "I was wondering if you could sign this form? The book is in the Restricted Section of the library, but Hermione and I wanted to check it out, I'm sure it would help us understand what you say in Gadding With Ghouls--"

"Ah, Gadding with Ghouls!" said Lockhart, taking the note from me and smiling widely at the four of us. "Possibly my very favorite book. You enjoyed it?"

"Oh, yes," I said, lying through my teeth.

"Well, I'm sure no one will mind me giving the best student of the year a little extra help," said Lockhart warmly, completely ignoring the fact that I was the one asking for the note, and he pulled out an enormous peacock quill.

"Yes, nice, isn't it?" he said, misreading the revolted look on Ron's face. "I usually save it for book-signings." He scrawled an enormous loopy signature on the note and handed it back to me.

"So, Harry," said Lockhart, while I folded up the note and put it in my bag. "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 ever you feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players..."

Harry made an indistinct noise in his throat and then hurried off after Ron and Hermione, while I went back to laughing behind him.

"I don't believe it," he said as the four of us looked at the note. "He didn't even look at the book we wanted."

"That's because he's a brainless git," said Ron. "But who cares, we've got what we needed -"

"He is not a brainless git," said Hermione shrilly as we half ran back to the library.

"He is too," I said. I handed the note to Madam Pince, the librarian, who looked at it with beady eyes, like she was trying to detect a forgery.

We grabbed Moste Potente Potions off of its place on a tall, dark shelf and went back to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, our choice hideout.

"I still don't get why we have to do this in a bathroom," Ron said, whispering so as to avoid detection.

"No one's going to think to look in here," Hermione hissed. "Now shut up so I can find the instructions."