Chapter 22

                                    

                                          
2nd Of September, 1992
Professor McGonagall’s classes were always hard work, but today was especially difficult. Everything Harry and Arcturus had learned last year seemed to have leaked out of their heads during the summer. They were supposed to be turning a beetle into a button, but all they managed to do was give the beetles a lot of exercise as they scuttled over the desktop, avoiding their wand.
Harry was relieved to hear the lunch bell. His brain felt like a wrung sponge. Everyone filed out of the classroom.
They went down to lunch in a bad mood. "What’ve we got this afternoon?" said Harry, hastily changing the subject.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione at once. "Why," demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, "have you outlined all Lockhart’s lessons in little hearts?"
Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously.
After finishing lunch, they headed to Lockhart’s classroom. Harry headed for a seat at the very back of the class, where he busied himself with piling all seven of Lockhart’s books in front of him so that he could avoid looking at the real thing.
The rest of the class came clattering in, and Arcturus and Hermione sat down on either side of 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; a few people smiled weakly. "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 and 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!” Harry looked down at his paper and read:
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?
On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:
54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart’s birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?
Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.
"Tut, tut, hardly any of you remember that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in the 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 Firewhisky!"
He gave them another roguish wink. Arcturus and Ron Weasley, who was sitting on the bench on their left side, were staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on their faces, while Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her name.
"But Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition was 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! Ten points for Gryffindor! And so now 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.”
As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.
"Cornish Pixies?" Seamus Finnigan, laughing, asked
Lockhart said, "Freshly caught Cornish Pixies, laugh if you will, Mr. Finnigan, but Cornish Pixies can be tricky little blighters!"
"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let’s see what you make of them!" And he opened the cage.
It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets.

Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them; shredded books and papers; tore pictures from the walls; upended the wastebasket; grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling.
"Come on now, round them up, round them up, they’re only pixies," Lockhart shouted. He 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. 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, Arcturus, and Hermione, who were almost at the door, and said, "Well, I’ll ask you three to just nip the rest of them back into their cage." He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.
"Can you believe him?" roared Arcturus as he immobilized a pixie that was coming his way.
“He just wants to give us some hands-on experience,” said Hermione, who was trying to grab a pixie dancing out of reach with its tongue out.
"Hands on?” said Harry, immobilizing two pixies at once with a clever Freezing Charm and stuffing them back into their cage. "Hermione, he didn’t have a clue what he was doing."
"Rubbish," said Hermione. "You’ve read his books; look at all those amazing things he’s done."
"He says he’s done," Arcturus muttered.