The sorting had been relatively mundane, with the hat singing a silly song about being left on a shelf all year with no one to talk to and Ginny getting into Gryffindor just like her brothers. Their first morning, however, was busy with herbology followed by transfiguration before lunch, Ron's inability to transfigure his beetle into a button putting him in a thoroughly horrible mood which wasn't helped by Hermione smugly showing the handful of perfect buttons that she'd created.

The situation had quickly dissolved during the latest meal and Harry sighed, quickly changing the subject before he had to listen to another shouting match. "What've we got this afternoon?"

"Defence against the dark arts." Hermione answered immediately. Ron peeked over her shoulder at her timetable and immediately grabbed it.

"Why," he demanded, "have you outlined all of DADA in love hearts?"

Hermione blushed fiercely, snatching it back. "Let's go." she urged. Harry snorted, following her out into the overcast courtyard and exchanging an amused shrug with Ron. Hermione sat on a bench, taking out one of Lockhart's books while Ron and Harry chatted about quidditch, until a prickling began on the back of Harry's neck.

He glanced around, subtly shifting until he spotted a mousy-haired boy watching him with an awe-struck expression. He was a Gryffindor, if Harry remembered correctly. Harry raised an eyebrow at him and he went bright red.

"A… Alright Harry?" he said breathlessly. "I'm Colin Creevey. I'm in Gryffindor too. Do you think- would it be okay if- could I have a picture?"

Harry blinked. "What? Why?"

"So I can prove I met you! I know all about you- Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead. And a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move." Colin bounced in excitement before continuing: "It's amazing here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you" imploringly, he looked at Harry - "maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?" Loud and scathing, Draco Malfoy's voice echoed around the courtyard. He had stopped right behind Colin, flanked as always by his large and thuggish friends Crabbe and Goyle.

"Everyone line up!" Malfoy hollered to the crowd. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"

Harry took a deep breath. "No, I'm not." He said calmly.

"You're just jealous." piped up Colin.

"Jealous?" said Malfoy in a more normal tone now that half the courtyard was listening in. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself."

"No Malfoy, you think getting a God-awful brand on your arm does." Harry replied quietly, but his voice carried across the whole courtyard which went utterly silent at his declaration.

Malfoy looked livid. "Why you-!" he threatened, stepping forward but was stopped when Ron moved in front of Harry.

"Eat slugs, Malfoy," he said angrily. Crabbe started rubbing his knuckles in a menacing way.

"Be careful, Weasley," sneered Malfoy, turning his attention to the redhead. "You don't want to start any trouble or your Mummy will have to come and take you away from school." He sneered. "Think your parents will send you out to earn your keep? They couldn't afford to keep you otherwise." A knot of Slytherin fifth-years nearby laughed loudly at this. "Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter," smirked Malfoy. "It'd be worth more than his family's whole house -"

Ron whipped out his Sellotaped wand, but Hermione shut Voyages with Vampires with a snap and whispered, "Look out!"

"What's all this, what's all this?" Gilderoy Lockhart was striding toward them, his turquoise robes fluttering behind him. "Who's giving out signed photos?" He caught sight of Harry, and stopped dead. "Harry Potter…" he beamed. "I have so been wanting to meet you!"

Harry felt his face begin burning with humiliation when the man wrapped an arm around him, drawing him in and he saw Malfoy slide- smirking- back into the crowd. "Come on then, Mr. Creevey," said Lockhart, beaming at Colin. "A double portrait, can't do better than that, and we'll both sign it for you." Colin fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind them, signalling the start of afternoon classes. "Off you go, move along there," Lockhart encouraged to the crowd and he set off back to the castle with Harry, who was wishing he knew a good Vanishing Spell, still clasped to his side. "A word to the wise, Harry," said Lockhart paternally as they entered the building through a side door. "I covered up for you back there with young Creevey - if he was photographing me, too, your schoolmates won't think you're setting yourself up so much . . . ." Deaf to Harry's stammers, Lockhart swept him down a corridor lined with staring students and up a staircase. "Let me just say that handing out signed pictures at this stage of your career isn't sensible - looks a tad big headed, Harry, to be frank. There may well come a time when, like me, you'll need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but" - he gave a little chortle - "I don't think you're quite there yet."

They had reached Lockhart's classroom and now in private, Harry twisted and grabbed the repellent man by the wrist, simultaneously stamping on his inner foot before wrenching the arm over his own head and kicking Lockhart's legs out the rest of the way from under him, using his own momentum to slam him to the floor. The man grunted, his breath whooshing out as he lay sprawled in the classroom.

"Touch me again, and I'll do a lot worse than take you down." Harry smiled sweetly, and took 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 Ron and Hermione sat down on either side of Harry. "You could've fried an egg on your face." smirked Ron. "You'd better hope Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fan club."

"Shut up," groaned Harry. The last thing he needed was for Lockhart to hear the phrase Harry Potter fan club.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly- apparently recovered- 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 but Harry just smacked his head onto the table.

"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!" He handed out the test and glanced at his watch. "You have thirty minutes - start - now!"

Harry looked down at his paper and read:

1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart 's favourite colour?

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: When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?

Harry smirked, bending over his paper and tapping his lip with his quill. His own hair colour. He wrote for the first. To contribute massively to the overpopulation of the world was for the second. He pondered the third for a while, torn between remaining in the closet for so long and not tripping over his robes on an hourly basis.

He continued like this the whole way through until half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them at the front of the class and tutting. "Hardly any of you remembered that my favourite colour 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 peoples - though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogdens Old Firewhisky!"

He gave them another roguish wink. Ron was now staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face; 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 started when he mentioned her name. ". . . 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 wizard-kind! 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."

In spite of himself, Harry leaned around his pile of books for a better look at the cage. Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Dean and Seamus had stopped laughing now. Neville had clenched his fists from his front row seat. "I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

The whole class held its breath and Lockhart whipped off the cover. "Yes!" he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."

Harry shook his head while Seamus dissolved into laughter next to Dean, who had both his hands clapped to his mouth as he struggled to remain calm. "Nope. No no no." Harry said, sweeping his books into his bag and marching to the front of the class. Lockhart was blinking at him.

"Is- is there a problem Harry?"

"May I have a copy of that test please sir?" Harry asked politely. Confused, Lockhart handed him one.

"Thank you."

And Harry turned on his heel and walked out of class.

He was going to get an earful from multiple people, he knew, but couldn't really bring himself to care. He went straight to the transfiguration classroom, peering in the door to see a group of sixth years. His aunt spotted him immediately, frowning worriedly but he smiled reassuringly and mouthed 'office!'

She nodded, and he withdrew, padding over to her office and greeting the portrait that hung at the entrance. "Hullo Sir Knight."

"Hello young Harry! How was your summer?" the knight asked jovially.

"It was okay, thank you. A leannan."

"Correct! You may enter!" the portrait swung open and Harry slipped inside, dropping his bag to the floor and curling up in one of the chairs, pulling out a book to read until Minerva could slip away. It took twenty minutes before she entered and quickly cast privacy charms.

"What happened?" she asked immediately. Wordlessly, Harry handed her the test from Lockhart. She read it, frown deepening the further she got. "What in Merlin's name is this?" she demanded.

"That was our test in DADA. Followed by another fifteen minutes to mark them and the plan was then an in depth lesson on Cornish pixies." Harry explained flatly.

"You're not serious?"

"Yep." Harry sat back in his chair. "Quite frankly, I'm not sure whether this year or last year is worse."

Minerva sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she sank into the seat next to him. "He was the only applicant for the teaching position this year." She muttered.

"Auntie, with all due respect we'd be better off without a teacher!" exclaimed Harry incredulously.

She sighed again. "I'll talk to professor Dumbledore." She promised. "Have you spoken to Rose?"

Harry shook his head. "I was going to tonight. Does she need to owl you if she talks to me?"

"No- just tell me if she doesn't talk to you and Hedwig hasn't arrived." Minerva watched him for a moment. "What's really wrong Harry?"

"Nothing." Harry denied. She arched an eyebrow.

"I know that's not true." She said gently. "What's wrong a leannan?"

Harry bit his lip. "I keep thinking about Quirrell." He confessed. "And mum, and Voldemort."

"Oh Harry…"

"He's going to come back again." He continued quietly. "I know he is- mum knew too, that's why she had Rose and me duelling everyday and doing twice as much defence as anything else."

Minerva pressed her lips together, her heart breaking for the boy in front of her. "Harry listen to me." she moved to kneel in front of him. "I promise you, no matter what happens with Lockhart, you will be prepared if V-Voldemort comes after you. And you will not be alone, not if I can help it."

She cupped his face and he nodded, sliding forwards to hug her. She rocked him slightly, pressing her lips to his temple when he buried his face in her shoulder and hot tears soaked into the fabric of her robe.


Rose had been rolling around in laughter when Harry described his class with Lockhart after they'd chatted for a while, but sobered towards the end of his story and nodded in agreement with their aunt. "She's right. Do you really think I'll be anywhere but right next to you?"

Harry smiled, pausing as he heard Ron shifting around in the next bed. Rose quietened too, until Harry had looked back to the mirror. "I should go." he whispered. She nodded.

"Call me soon, won't you?"

"I will." He promised. "Bonne nuit."

"Bonne nuit."

Harry tucked the mirror back into his trunk under the cloak and settled back into bed, hoping Lockhart wouldn't be around for his next lesson.