Chapter 77
When I watched the movies in my past life, I thought the classroom changed along with the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, as the rooms were completely different every year. But I was wrong; the new teacher simply gave the classroom a complete overhaul every year, customizing it to suit his needs. Individualism is a hallmark of all wizards; everyone strives to stand out and be different from everyone else. Fortunately, the new professors used magic, otherwise the students would have had to pay for classroom renovations, new curtains, replacement windows, and so on every year. Lockhart was no exception, and, thank God, his classroom was very different from the one in the movies—well, almost.
Stepping into the classroom and glancing toward the teacher’s desk, I was momentarily stunned. Gilderoy Lockhart’s epic battle with the evil spirit was the first thing the students saw upon entering the classroom. A huge, gilded frame, reaching up to the ceiling—that’s five meters—hung directly behind the teacher’s desk in place of one of the chalkboards. Yes… Our new professor isn’t suffering from, but genuinely enjoying, his delusions of grandeur.
A huge canvas depicted an epic battle between a beaver and a donkey. Gilderoy Lockhart, clad in massive, glittering golden armor, bravely battled a colossal bone dragon. The necrotic beast, shrouded in black mist, tried to devour the knight of light, crush him with its enormous, clawed paws, or burn him to ashes in a dark purple tangle. In response, our hero deftly dodged and fought back with a two-meter-long club blazing with white flame (that was his sword, in case anyone hadn’t figured it out). In the end, good prevailed, and our new professor severed the ferocious monster’s head. Having finished off the vicious evil, he turned to the audience with the most idiotic grin on his face and began winking! When his fit of idiocy ended, this hero straightened his broad shoulders and modestly adjusted his disheveled golden hair. After the scene was over, everything started all over again, and praise be to the Creator, the film was silent – this organ grinder made no sound.
It certainly looked so-so, but it had an effect on many. Lavender and Parvati, for example, stared blankly at the film, practically drooling. I’ll have to invite the girls to the cinema sometime, especially since there’s a great excuse coming up soon: the second Cyborg Killer is scheduled to be released over the Christmas holidays, and then Cameroon will be filming Britannic. Yes, the very same one whose plot I recounted to the UEBI investigators. The higher-ups were impressed by the film’s box office gross of over a billion, so they decided to repeat its success. True, I changed the ending slightly, making the door a little bigger, but who would know? Imagining the faces of pure-blooded witches watching a film like that, I couldn’t help but smile and turned to my friends.
The girls stared at the canvas with searching eyes. Mia was likely intrigued by the unknown animation charms, since the living portraits of Hogwarts have static backdrops, while here the objects are completely destructible. Elvira, head bowed, studied the bone dragon; her mentor had mentioned them once, apparently even promising to teach her how to create something similar. Ron and Justin, however, were well versed in cinematography, so they couldn’t care less. They were boring.
We exchanged glances and headed to our seats, taking in the other changes to the classroom. The dueling platform remained, but the dragon skeleton hanging from the ceiling and the plants lining the tall windows were gone. The images of dangerous creatures and spell diagrams on the walls had been replaced with posters on dueling. Lockhart had haphazardly hung up various stands, recommended combinations, rulebooks, and portraits of champions, including Flitwick. The bookcase had also undergone a makeover; despite Quirrell’s obsession with Scum, he had filled it with excellent literature on combat magic; now the shelves were overflowing with books by Lockhart himself.
After examining the new furnishings and wincing at the light blue hue of the walls, we began taking our seats according to our tickets. Fortunately, the classroom was enormous and designed for a much larger number of students. The desks were arranged in three rows. The left one, closest to the windows, was occupied by the Slytherins, the middle one remained empty, like a demilitarized zone, and the right one was occupied by representatives of our house.
My brother knew that I preferred the back desks, so he and Neville took the very first one. I just chuckled at this, saying that we would have time to talk in the living room.
The classroom door slammed shut with the ringing of a bell, and Gilderoy Lockhart emerged from his chambers. The professor strode with a measured stride, the spurs on his shiny boots clicking, his back perfectly straight, as if he’d swallowed a crowbar. Or sat on one. His milky-white robes and golden hair fluttered as if in the wind, making it even more striking than the Prince’s. Arriving at the staff table, the wizard admired his enormous portrait for a few moments, then, with a moronic grin, turned his gaze to the students. Something didn’t seem right, however, and the professor frowned, still smiling moronicly. It seemed to me, or perhaps his lips had a life of their own, separate from the rest of his face.
“Hello everyone! You have no idea how lucky you are!” Lockhart began cheerfully, picking up a book with his portrait on it from the table. “It’s me! Gilderoy Lockhart himself! A brilliant wizard! A Knight of the Order of Merlin, Third Class, an active member of FISTING, and a ten-time winner of Witchweek magazine’s “Mouth of the Month” competition!”
– What the f*ck? – My eye twitched and I looked questioningly at Hermione.
“FISTING is the Federation of Exterminators of the Forces of Darkness and the Undead of the Vile.” My friend whispered another fucked-up acronym, but that wasn’t enough for her, so she decided to finish me off. “And ‘Mouth of the Month’ is a smile contest. Remember Lavender sent in her photoshoot last year? There was also a hairstyle contest, ‘Miss Furry,’ I think…”
“Thank you…” I turned away and, while musing about the fucked-up nature of this world, I turned my gaze to the professor, who continued to show off in front of the audience.
“So, you know me, but I don’t know you!” Lockhart’s smile widened with satisfaction, and his cheeks were about to split. “Let’s get to know each other better!” With these words, the professor waved his hand dramatically, and a magazine appeared in front of him: “Brown!”
– Professor. – Our blonde jumped up from her seat and literally devoured the handsome man with her eyes.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Brown.” The professor nodded contentedly. “You promise to grow up to be a true beauty! After Hogwarts, be sure to consider a modeling career; the fashion houses of Paris will welcome you with open arms! I have friends there, and I’d be happy to provide you with a patronage.”
“Thank you…” Lavender blushed and sat down, and the professor continued.
Every student in the class received some kind of praise or compliment, and the names were mentioned in a chaotic order. For example, after Brown, he mentioned Malfoy, marveled at Diana’s resemblance to the beautiful Narcissa, whom he knew personally, and finally hoped the girl was as good at dueling as her mother. Neville received praise for his excellent physical fitness; we’ll see how Lockhart reacts in a couple of months, when the hero’s best friend has gained weight. Soon it was Hermione’s turn, and I really didn’t like the look the professor gave my friend; there was something wrong with it. I activated my empathy, but from this distance, it was difficult to discern the cocktail of emotions bubbling within the handsome man. Then my name was called, and I had to stand up.
“Professor.” I smiled tenderly at Lockhart, and for some reason he flinched in response.
“Miss Hellsing,” the wizard repeated my name, his blue eyes scanning me like X-rays. “I’ve heard of your successes and am glad I can develop your talents. By the way, I still haven’t received any letters from your mother. Please tell that wonderful woman that I remember that mischievous look in her eyes, and her modesty only fuels the fire in my heart! I can’t wait to begin our correspondence!”
“Certainly, Professor.” I nodded, sat back down, and whispered quietly, “I’ll be sure to convey your words to Alucard.”
“Ria, I haven’t placed my bet yet!” My friend heard me and whispered loudly in my ear. “At least wait until the end of the month, and besides, he hasn’t done anything for us yet! What if Lockhart turns out to be a decent teacher?”
– And if not? – I looked skeptically into the chocolate-colored eyes.
“Then it’s easier to shoot…” The girl remembered something and broke into a satisfied smile. “Your ancient guardian has a very sick imagination…”
“If that handsome guy mentions my mom again, he’ll get to know Uncle Alik better…” I glanced at the professor, who was now actively shaking my brother’s hand and inviting him to practice fisting. “I don’t know why, but he pisses me off…”
“To me, he looks like an ordinary wizard. You understand he’s just acting, right?” The friend also looked at the bragging teacher. “His eyes and movements give him away. Maybe he’s just deliberately playing the fool?”
– Anything is possible…
Meanwhile, the professor finished the introduction procedure, frowned and looked at the students, lingering at the back desks.
“There was inter-house feuding back when I was a student, too, but it was purely competitive! In my classes, everyone is equal; only your knowledge matters, not the length of your pedigree!” Lockhart pointed his index finger at the ceiling. “Everyone knows that my greatest dream is world peace! Therefore, Miss Hellsing, Miss Granger, please move here.” The professor pointed his finger at the first desk in the middle row.
The golden-haired wizard didn’t stop there, and Nott and Zabini were moved to the second desk, followed by the Weasleys and Finch-Fletchy. I was a little uneasy about having two vindictive little brats sitting behind me; I’d have to be more careful and keep an eye on them with empathy. Of course, our friends were sitting behind the Slytherins, but that pair might be distracted by something more important, like a game of Battleship or tic-tac-toe.
After waiting for us to lay out our textbooks and writing materials, the heroic teacher waved his wand, and a sizable pile of papers appeared on his desk. Another dramatic wave sent the parchments soaring toward the ceiling and gently landing in front of the students.
“Before I begin, I want to confirm your level of knowledge. Believe me, I defeated a bloodthirsty vampire and a treacherous hag not with a smile, but with my skills and abilities!” Lockhart broke into another idiotic grin and tapped his temple with his index finger. “The questions are based on Professor Quirrell’s syllabus. You have until the end of this lesson, good luck! Don’t disappoint me!”
Having handed out the tests, the teacher sat back down, not forgetting to dramatically wave the hem of his robes. He then pulled a fresh copy of Witchweek from his desk drawer and immersed himself in the press. I merely chuckled and glanced at the list of questions. Luckily, they were different from the ones in the movies and only covered the first-year curriculum. Well, let’s get started.
Question one:
Protective spells are a special type of magic that aim to protect a wizard from attack by another wizard, a magical creature, or…
1) Dementors
2) Necromages
3) Natural disasters
4) Magic herbs
Option number three, naturally. So, what’s next?
The questions were easy, but there were a lot of them, so we finished a couple of minutes before the bell rang. The professor accepted our work and promised to check everything by the start of the next class. After waiting for the others, we went down to the great hall and indulged in a feast. The meal itself was fairly calm, except for the overexcited Brown and Patil, who chattered away about Lockhart and discussed his courage and beauty. Ignoring the chatter, I ate calmly, and when it was time for dessert, Ginny and Luna joined us.
Noticing their sister, the twins joined us and began asking the girl about school and how she’d settled into the Raven Tower. I watched this commotion with half an eye, finishing my fragrant tea and smiling occasionally. Fred and George could turn even a simple conversation into a circus. And while recess was long, it wasn’t unlimited, and soon our group began to gather for lessons. Already at the gates of the Great Hall, we arranged with the first-years to meet in the library after dinner and have a little chat about our own, girlish things.
On that fine note, we returned to the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom, which had undergone another makeover. First, a large cage covered with thick black cloth had appeared near the teacher’s desk. The professor himself had also changed; while we were eating, he’d managed to change and now greeted us in a sky-blue robe and a three-piece suit to match. I wonder if he transforms after every class?
Sitting down at the front desk, I turned and winked at Ron and Justin, who gave me a thumbs-up in return, much to the dismay of a couple of Slytherins. Nott and Zabini pointedly turned away when I appeared, but didn’t dare say anything against it. They remember my kindness, the bastards. Lockhart waited until everyone was seated and then called Lavender over, handing her a stack of parchments with the test answers.
“I’ve checked your work and I’m satisfied!” While Brown was handing out the papers, the professor decided to talk to us. “But there are some shortcomings. Miss Hellsing, Miss Granger, when you encounter a hag, you should run, not empty your entire pistol into her. The same goes for Doxys; these creatures need to be incapacitated with Doxycide, not burned in a cleansing flame.”
“Yes, professor.” I nodded in response, completely forgetting that I was supposed to answer according to the textbook, and not how I thought was right.
“Don’t get so upset and worried, you’re still learning!” Lockhart began to reassure me. “I’ve left my comments on each paper. Please review them, and then we’ll continue.”
Lavender placed our parchments on the table, and Hermione and I began reading the professor’s explanations of our answers, and I had to admit, they were quite insightful. He even acknowledged our speech about the flamethrower and firearms, but advised against relying too much on Muggle weapons when we had a wand at hand. At the end, he even added a list of recommended reading, naturally, most of which consisted of his own books. I’ll have to get acquainted with this writer’s work, after all.
“So, I’ve tested your theoretical knowledge, now it’s time for practice!” The professor jumped up from his chair, dramatically swinging the hem of his robe, and approached the cage. “Yes, yes, I believe that theory without practice is dead! So I want to see how you handle harmless and mischievous magical creatures.”
As all eyes focused on Lockhart, he waved his wand, the thick fabric slowly rose to the ceiling, revealing the cage’s contents. Behind the fine, finely grated bars, fifty enraged pixies languished. The tiny, bright purple creatures, about twenty centimeters tall, screeched loudly and attempted to gnaw through the steel bars with their needle-like, extremely sharp teeth. Lockhart noticed this activity and decided to encourage it with a few stinging spells, causing the little creatures to howl even louder and thrash about much more vigorously.
“Meet the Cornish Pixies!” the professor said contentedly. “We’ll now take a closer look at these magical creatures, and then we’ll move on to some fun practice. So, open your notebooks and grab your quills.”
Lockhart cast a Silencing Charm on the cage with a wave of his hand, then slathered the prisoners with a couple of weak Baubillius (as you can imagine, the chain lightning only further angered the blue fairies). Nodding contentedly, the professor cleared his throat and began to narrate cheerfully:
Pixies are very mischievous creatures, primarily found in Cornwall. Hence their other name, Cornish Pixies. Some consider their pranks quite dangerous. The story of Dymphma Furmag, who was visiting relatives in the 17th century and was kidnapped by a swarm of pixies, became widely known. The unfortunate woman’s torn and mutilated body was found only several days later. Subsequently, her relatives were unable to convince the Wizengamot to exterminate all pixies humanely. Ahem… But that’s not the point now. The first mention of these creatures dates back to 1450; they were brought to the islands by Phoenician sailors. According to the Ministry of Magic’s classification, they belong to category XXX, meaning a competent mage can easily deal with them. These creatures live exclusively in colonies…
Over the next fifteen minutes, the professor briefly and succinctly provided the basic information about these small, but quite dangerous creatures. His presentation was so captivating and engaging that all the students listened with delight, carefully taking notes on every word. He reminded me of Flitwick; the half-goblin also presented new material with enthusiasm and a cheerful manner.
“…so always watch your step, the so-called ‘Curse of Turf’ can confuse even a strong and experienced wizard. And remember, pixies are a first-level dark creature! These little rascals are imbued with magical powers and can lift dozens of times their own weight. Got everything down?” The students nodded contentedly. “Excellent! Now let’s look at ways to combat them. A repelling and immobilizing spell would be most effective. Watch your hand closely and memorize the pronunciation: Peski-pixi Pester-nOmi! In both words, the stress is on the second part of the activator word! Now, everyone, repeat after me!”
– Peskipiksi Pesternomi! – The students began to draw a rather complex and intricate gesture with their magic wands.
“You’ve done great! Now let’s practice this new spell!” Lockhart grinned with anticipation. “My task will be very simple: I’ll open the cage, and you’ll have to return the mischief-makers to their place. Try not to cause them any harm, as I’m supposed to return them to their native clearing in Cornwall this evening. Is that clear?”
The students nodded again and readied their wands, and the smartest ones even hid their things in their bags; they didn’t want to have to collect notebooks all over the classroom. However, it wasn’t just the students who were prepared. Vasya, sensing easy prey, poked his cheeky snout out of his sleeve. At the sight of the cage, the snake licked its lips contentedly and soon found itself completely on the desk, coiled up like a hose, hungry and insolent. Flora, too, wasn’t far behind. The tiny fairy, half the size of a pixie, let out a semblance of a battle cry and swooped down on her scaly friend’s head. The little thing began to prepare for battle, menacingly spreading its wings, and lightning began to play on its tiny palms. I’ve read that fairies use magic for protection, but I’ve never seen one in person. It looks like today the winged beauty will show off her full glory. It’s not for nothing that pixies, doxies, and fairies are considered natural enemies.
“Flora, what’s wrong?” Mia asked her familiar. The little fairy looked at her mistress with her beady eyes and bared her teeth, showing them her sharp teeth. Then she nodded toward the cage and ran her thumb across her throat.
“Flower, fuck them, and I’ll cover for you. ” Vasya looked at his winged girlfriend, and the bone crest on his head turned into a crown.
“I’m even curious how this will end…” I smiled and looked at my friend.
– Me too, but if they hurt Flora… – Hermione’s look spoke for itself, this girl is ready to kill for her own.
“Oh, come on, they’re just pixies!” Lockhart noticed the students’ fighting spirit and broke into a satisfied grin. “Happy hunting!”
Did I imagine it, or did he say that to the pixie? The next moment, the professor waved his wand, opening the cage containing the frenzied flying creatures and stepping aside, casting a powerful kinetic shield on himself. A horde of tiny zerg—where the hell did that word come from—flew out of the cage and rushed toward their captor. But the wizard’s shield turned out to be very good, and the most zealous pixies smashed against it like flies against a car windshield. Then one of the students sent a Stupefy into the horde…
The Defense Academy classroom had become a Stalingrad: cries of pain and despair echoed through the ruins, brave soldiers fought for the remains of every desk, but the odds were unequal. Small purple Junkers bombers filled the sky, mercilessly and with impunity pulverizing the infantry entrenched in the trenches. Due to poor preparation, the air defense forces had been knocked out early on and were now fighting the enemy hand-to-hand, using whatever was at hand, including textbooks and even the legs of broken chairs. It was like that everywhere; wounded but determined, the second-year students continued to fight for their lives…
Lockhart may be a good wizard, but he really needs to learn how to teach! Fifteen minutes to learn and practice a new spell?! Seriously!? Naturally, no one succeeded! The pixies, sensing impunity, started causing utter chaos, brazenly diving down on the second-years. And their destructive capabilities would have been the envy of ancient barbarians. In my presence, one purple creature slammed into Nott and Zabini’s desk like a Japanese kamikaze into an American aircraft carrier, and it shattered into pieces! For the first five minutes, the kids tried casting Pussy-Pussy, pardon me, Peskypixie Pesternomi, but then they gave up and started using familiar and well-practiced charms, which only made matters worse.
For example, Crabbe and Goyle couldn’t think of anything smarter and resorted to using Bombarda and Reducto to protect Daphne and Diana. The Slytherin jocks’ spells weren’t particularly powerful, but they were numerous, and this anti-aircraft battery successfully repelled them until it knocked out a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The enormous iron contraption crashed down on the students’ heads with a loud thud, nearly crushing Lavender and Parvati in the process.
Our gossips managed to jump aside and continued throwing weak Stupefies. The girls’ spells, though weak, were enough for Thomas; now his unconscious body was being dragged toward the open window by several pixies, holding him by his ears and belt. Potter and Longbottom didn’t even try to save their vassal; they were now thinking of their own skins and working in perfect coordination. My brother transfigured a Beater’s bat and accurately knocked down the fliers, while Neville was already finishing them off on the ground, mercilessly kicking them.
Mia and I were having a blast too, thanks to Flora, who attracted the bright purple Messerschmitts like a magnet. The fairy took down the first two with well-aimed lightning strikes, and their bodies immediately ended up in the jaws of a hungry snake, along with a couple more who hadn’t been paying attention. But there were too many pixies, and even Vasya’s reaction wasn’t enough to deal with them all. Soon, Flora was knocked down by a nimble pixie, and a hand-to-hand fight broke out between them. My friend, afraid to strike the tangled mass of bodies, began to drive the others away, and I followed her example. Firearms or combat spells were useless in this case; the creatures were too nimble, and hitting them was almost impossible! So I pulled a long bayonet from my boot and pinned the “mischievous one” to the desk as she tried to grab Vasya by the tail. I shouldn’t have done that… Having smelled blood, these creatures became even more ferocious and aggressive.
– Pussies… F*ck… Pussies… Bitch! – This bacchanalia drove me crazy, and I decided to move on to something heavier and more effective. – Confingo! – A large translucent clot burst from the tip of my concentrator.
Two of the five creatures diving at me were torn to pieces, spattering everything around with bright purple blood and entrails. My anger was caused by Lockhart; our teacher stood to the side, polishing his nails with a file, a joyful smile on his face, shouting encouraging comments without looking up. This peacock was enjoying our helplessness; he could have stopped everything at any moment, but for some reason he didn’t. Realizing there was no help to be had, Mia and I switched to area-effect and lethal spells.
– Seko! Seko! Die, Seko! – Hermione went into a frenzy when Flora, who had almost won in hand-to-hand combat, was attacked by two more pixies. – Reducto!
Three more purple “mischief-makers” fell to the floor as shapeless, bloody chunks of meat. Vasya, too, was not one to shirk, quickly snatching up another loudly squeaking creature and gobbling it down with a satisfying slurp. Meanwhile, our fairy emerged victorious from the fight, having simply gnawed out her opponent’s throat. Flora squealed a victory cry and, taking flight, performed a lap of honor over the corpse of her slain enemy. Landing, the fairy plunged her tiny hand into the dead pixie’s chest and ripped out its heart, then gobbled down the bloody, bright purple lump with a satisfied purr. Mia and I even froze for a second, admiring this touching sight. Flora is such a sweetheart.
“Confingo!” The pixie formation deftly dodged my spell and continued diving towards Flora, who was demonstrating her victory to everyone.
“Get in line, you sons of bitches, get in line! ” Vasya hissed angrily, turning toward the attack and opening his mouth in anticipation. ” For Mistress and Flower!”
We prepared for another raid, but it never happened, as Lockhart finally decided to intervene and stopped the whole mess with one spell.
“Peskipiksy Pesternomi!” The professor’s voice sounded confident, and all the pixies froze in mid-air, and then, as if by a vacuum cleaner, they were sucked back into the cage.
Lockhart himself stood in the corner, a stupid smile on his face, looking contentedly at the devastated classroom. I activated my empathy and felt disappointment, joy, sexual arousal, and anticipation. Fuck! What kind of cocktail is this?! I can’t even begin to understand what he’s feeling. Maybe he actually has a split personality? I just don’t know how to explain it; even Dumbledore was easier to understand.
Meanwhile, the students realized the threat had passed and began to abandon their positions and get themselves in order, casting disgruntled glances at the beaming, satisfied Lockhart. The heroic writer wasn’t idle either; with a wave of his wand, he returned the fallen chandelier to its place and began counting the surviving pixies.
“Dear friends, what lesson have you learned today?” the wizard asked, without taking his eyes off the cage. “What interesting things have you learned?”
“Pixies are very dangerous, Professor,” Lavender replied, and began to style her disheveled hair.
– Okay, five points to Gryffindor, what else? – Lockhart finished his lesson and began to study the disheveled students. – Miss Malfoy?
– Um… – The Slytherin was just removing a silver feather from the eye socket of a dead pixie, whose bright purple carcass lay on her desk. – Were we not prepared enough?
– Exactly! Ten points to Slytherin! – The professor almost clapped his hands. – I deliberately gave you so little time to practice the new spell and let these cheerful little rascals out to play! Did you like it?
The students shook their heads, then looked at the “mischievous girls” in the cage, purring contentedly as they finished off and devoured their wounded brethren. Thomas, having regained consciousness, turned green and turned away, while Parvati couldn’t resist displaying everything she’d eaten for lunch. Lockhart merely chuckled contentedly at this sight and broke into a wicked smile.
– Professor, why? – My brother spoke up, trying to clean the books of purple blood.
“It’s all very simple, my young friend.” Gilderoy approached Potter and patted him on the shoulder in a fatherly manner. “I taught you an important lesson today, and I hope you’ve learned it!” The wizard saw the incomprehension in the national hero’s eyes and, sighing sadly, shook his head. “Okay, let’s go through this point by point. I recommend you get out your notebooks and write it down.”
We exchanged glances and, settling into the remaining desks, prepared to take notes on the important information. Lockhart had by this time returned to his desk, drank a glass of water, and dramatically cleared his throat.
“Remember, any spell, even the simplest, requires careful study and extensive practice! Today you’ve seen that knowing the gesture and the trigger word isn’t enough; it’s far more important to know how to use it, and that’s impossible without long and painstaking work. You didn’t succeed today, and that’s okay! You’re still children and just learning; that’s why you came to Hogwarts. Believe me, experienced wizards spend months, even years, learning the higher spells!” The professor rose from his desk and began pacing in front of the students. “I hope today’s lesson will save you from the mistakes of all beginners, who, having barely learned a new spell, immediately jump into practice or are even eager to fight… Please, take your time. I repeat, you’re still children and your main task is to learn. To combat dark forces and mad wizards, there are specially trained, powerful wizards like me!” I don’t want to brag, but I saved several dozen defenseless wizards, and they are still very grateful to me.
Lockhart paused, squared his shoulders proudly, winked at the attentive audience, and then waved his wand. A detailed drawing of the gesture for the new spell appeared on the chalkboard, and below it was its correct pronunciation. I, like everyone else, immediately copied it into my notebook; the squiggle was indeed quite complex.
“The homework will be extremely simple. By next lesson, you must have mastered your wand movements and the spell’s pronunciation. Is that clear?” The students nodded contentedly. “Anything is fine with us, as long as it’s not another essay.” “And Quentin Trimble and his book, Dark Forces, Chapter Twenty-Four, will help you with that. There will be a short quiz at the beginning of the next lesson, and then we’ll practice a new spell! Any questions?”
Naturally, there weren’t any; the students were still reeling from the “epic battle” and simply wanted to escape the devastated classroom as far away as possible, preferably to the common room. There were clean clothes and a hot shower there, to boot. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my neighbors were already quietly packing up, and Ron and Justin had even brazenly moved closer to the exit.
“Then I won’t keep you!” Lockhart looked around at the students and the devastated room with a satisfied smile, then waved his hand towards the opening door. “Have a great weekend!”
“Thank you!” I nodded in response, like many others, and headed for the exit, weaving between broken desks and chairs.
“I wonder who’s going to clean up this mess?” Ron asked as our group gathered in the hallway. “The professor himself or the house-elves?”
– Does it matter to you? – Justin caught up with his friend.
“That’s not what I mean, guys,” Weasley said, drawing attention to himself. “So, does this mean we’re going to be trashing the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom every class this year?”
“Unlikely. The professor taught us an important lesson today, I think he’ll stop there.” I smiled at the dejected boy. “You know yourself that broken things can’t be repaired with magic forever; everything has its limits, and Dumbledore probably wouldn’t approve of that approach.”
– That’s true… – Ron scratched the back of his head. – Girls, where are you going now?
“We have some business on the second floor.” I decided not to tell the guys about the search for the Secret Room for now.
– What’s there? – Finch-Fletchley looked at us with interest. – Can I help you?
“Justin, that’s the women’s room,” Hermione answered the boy with a smile. “But if you insist…”
– Got it, see you in the living room! – The boy became a little embarrassed and fell behind.
We soon found ourselves in the main tower with the revolving staircases and split up, the boys went about their business, and we headed to Moaning Myrtle’s toilet.
“Jas, why do girls go to the toilet in groups?” Weasley’s voice came from the stairs.
“How should I know?!” the young aristocrat replied. “Go ask, maybe…”
We didn’t hear what happened next, as we turned the corner. Ahead of us was a toilet, inhabited by a fucking ghost. I hope the entrance to the secret room is there, otherwise I simply don’t know where to look…
