Professor Lockhart set his book down, finishing his droning for the day. "And that, children, is how I saved the President of the United States of America from being eaten by a werewolf."
No one moved a muscle or said a word. In the corner of a room, a fly buzzed and flew into the window, limply landing on the floor, twitching with its death spasms. Edwina was fast asleep, while Margo delicately sketched out drawings for the comic book she was creating. Ginny had crawled underneath the desk slowly throughout the class period, attempting to see when Lockhart had noticed.
She was currently crawling towards the door, dragging her bag behind her noisily, and he hadn't paid her the least bit of attention. Even the hundreds of portraits of him were all ignorant, gazing into images of themselves affectionately.
"Isn't that beautiful, children, how the power of love can save the day?" Lockhart sighed, flashing them a signature smile. "Colin, tell me—what are you passionate about?"
"Harry Potter," Harper muttered, kicking Colin from underneath the table.
Colin yelped and the rest of the room erupted into sleepy laughter. Colin carried around a camera with him at all times, taking pictures of the most absurd things. Alice considered herself to be fortunate that he wasn't aware that her parents were Edmund Holmes and Dymphna Blackstone. She had seen the way he pursued Harry Potter. It appeared hellish.
"Now, now, leave him alone," Lockhart instructed, standing up with a flourish as his golden cape whipped around him. "It's hard to handle ourselves around celebrities—I'm sure you all still have problems concentrating in my class. But, Colin, please tell me—what are you passionate about?"
Colin's face was a bright shade of red, and he glanced down at his camera for a moment, before looking back up at Lockhart. "Well, I like photography…"
"Excellent!" Lockhart smiled. "Let's see, let's see… Ginny Weasley, yes! What are you passionate about?"
Alice glanced over to Ginny. She had made her way almost to the door, and Lockhart hadn't moved his eyes from one of his many portraits. He had no clue where she was.
"I'm passionate about you, professor," Ginny answered, her face twisted with pride and confusion.
Lockhart laughed vicariously, sweeping his bangs over to the other side. "Right you are, Miss Weasley!"
Ginny shrugged from her position on the floor, and tempting fate, she rose to her feet, opened the door to the classroom, and left. Alice covered her hand with her mouth, attempting not to snicker.
Lockhart was entirely clueless. "Something you'd like to share with the class, Miss Holmes?"
"No," Alice answered quickly, her eyes darting towards the door. It opened once more, and Ginny's hand reached in, quickly grabbing a diary that had fallen out from her back. The diary slid across the floor, and then the door was slammed shut once more.
Lockhart didn't even blink. "If it really is as funny as it seems, Miss Holmes, then certainly you should share it with the class!"
Alice shrank down in her seat, biting her tongue. However, a moment of inspiration struck her. "It's about your story, professor—how you saved the President of the United States."
"Yes, Alice? What about it? Did you find it frightening? It's completely understandable if you did…" Lockhart trailed off, a thick smile plastered onto his face. His eyes were steely, little pinpricks of ice.
"You said that you saved President Buchanan, professor," Alice squeaked.
"I did," Lockhart nodded, sweeping into a slight bow. "What about it?"
"President Buchanan died about a century ago, professor," Alice explained. "So… So you couldn't have saved him from a werewolf, professor."
Lockhart's face froze, and the already quiet class dropped into further silence. Feeling as if she had made some grave transgression, Alice shrank even further into her seat, regretting her knowledge of America.
It's not my fault Dad played Buchanan in a film last year, Alice pouted. He wasn't even that good at it, either.
"Miss Holmes, do you realize who your professor is?" Lockhart asked, his smile widening mechanically, as if the movement of each individual muscle was some great effort.
"Yes, sir…" Alice frowned. "I'd be rather stupid if I didn't…sir."
Lockhart chuckled dryly, more sounding like he was attempting to dislodge something from his throat than genuine laughter. "And tell me, who is your professor?"
He's a pompous fool, Alice thought. Instead, she bit her tongue, watching as Lockhart unraveled himself. He didn't need her help to be pushed off of the deep end. However, she did regret not fleeing the room with Ginny. As much as she and Ginny fought outside of this class, they had a certain kinship within these glamorized walls.
"Miss Holmes, I can see that you're regretting your actions," Lockhart stated, walking on the perimeter of the classroom. "I doubt you're old enough to know much of America, but I can assure, President Buchanan is very much alive. He just recently served his term, in fact, and he gave me the highest honor known to the Americans."
"What was it, professor?" Colin asked eagerly, regaining some of his vigor.
"It is called the Super Size, my dear boy," Lockhart grinned. "Only the very best are allowed to obtain this high honor, and naturally, I happened to be one of the best. Of course, I was very humble when I accepted the award, insisted that they give it to some starving orphan instead of me…"
Isn't that a… food portion size? Alice frowned, though she didn't dare to contradict her teacher. It was like arguing with a brick wall. At the end, the only result would be that she would be immensely frustrated, and he would be as idiotic as ever.
"Sir, on a completely unrelated subject, were you a Hufflepuff?" Edwina asked, gazing pointedly towards Alice.
She had developed this theory that all of the other houses were garbage disposals, of sorts, for those who couldn't make it in Slytherin. Ravenclaw was where all of the boring people went—those who had potential, but instead decided to do silly things such as cure Dragon Pox. Gryffindor was the home for those who were too stupid to prevent themselves from dying. And Hufflepuff was the home for those who were boring, stupid, and easy to manipulate.
The entire notion made Alice uncomfortable, yet most of Slytherin house seemed to agree with Edwina's line of reasoning. Each day, it seemed as if the divide between them and the other houses increased more and more, until the anger the other houses felt towards Slytherin was entirely justifiable.
"I was in Ravenclaw, actually," Lockhart corrected. "Home of the intelligence and wise, as you are aware."
Edwina's face fell, seeing her entire system shattered to pieces in front of her. Alice, however, smirked. It did confuse her that Lockhart would ever be sorted into Ravenclaw, but at least Edwina's discriminatory notion hadn't been upheld this time.
"But don't you worry, children," Lockhart mused. "I won't hold it against you that you were sorted into the other houses—I'm sure you'll all grow up to be decent… Though you most certainly won't be saving President Buchanan!"
He laughed, and waved his wand, causing the door to open and slam closed. He blinked at it in surprise. "Well, I suppose you can just let yourselves out then… I want a summary of Voyages with Vampires by tomorrow. No less than five feet of parchment—ten feet for you, Mr. Creevey, your handwriting is far too large to be fair to the other students."
The chairs scraped against the floor in a glorious symphony as everyone rose to their feet. Margo busily shoved her books and paper back into her bag, while Edwina stepped up towards Professor Lockhart tentatively. Alice frowned, wondering what Edwina possibly had to say to that clown.
Well, he was right about one thing—we won't be saving President Buchanan, Alice joked to herself. He's definitely dead.
Alice slung her book bag over her shoulder, before walking up to join Edwina. Edwina brushed her hair back, and Lockhart turned around with a plastic grin, devoting his full attention to her.
"What can I help you with, Miss Fawley?"
"You know so much, professor, I thought I might ask you a question," Edwina pressed, putting on her sweetest smile.
"Anything for my top student," Lockhart chuckled. "What is your question?"
"Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets, sir? I'm sure you must have, in one of your many travels," Edwina questioned, throwing in an ample amount of flattery.
Lockhart paused, rocking back on his feet. Alice could practically see the gears grinding in his head. Most likely, every teacher at Hogwarts knew very well what the Chamber of Secrets was. Draco had explained that it meant each person of filthy blood was doomed to die—yet he hadn't known anything beyond that.
For all Alice, Edwina, and Margo knew, a giant marshmallow would swallow each person to the theme song for I Love Lucy.
"I do know something about it," Lockhart murmured, letting his vanity win over his common sense. "According to legend, a monster was hidden inside of the school, prepared to drink the blood of anyone who it deemed unworthy…"
Edwina frowned, sharing a skeptical glance with Alice. "Are you sure about that, professor? That seems…wrong."
Well, he doesn't have any credibility to start with, Alice reasoned. She still wasn't quite sure why Edwina had chosen to ask him of all people. Professor Snape was more likely to know the right answer and to inform them of it. He loved his Slytherins.
"It's most certainly the truth, Miss Fawley," Lockhart nodded, his face painted with false pain and sadness. "But not to worry—when the monster appears, I shall prove ample to face it."
"Just like you saved President Buchanan," Edwina said slyly.
"Precisely!" Lockhart replied. "Do you have any other questions, Miss Fawley?"
Edwina hesitated, before shaking her head. "None that I think you're qualified to answer, professor. We'll be seeing you on Wednesday for the next lesson, then."
Lockhart chuckled, before sweeping into a bow. He turned his back on them quickly, walking over towards his desk. A huge stack of letters, the majority of them lilac, spilled all over his desk.
"I can't believe people can be a fan of him," Margo muttered, joining the pair of them at the door.
"Trust me, people can be fans of a lot of stupid people," Alice whispered. "I know all about it."
Alice left the Slytherin Common Room late that afternoon, when November was halfway wasted, and headed towards Myrtle's bathroom. She hadn't told Edwina or Margo about her practice area, instead enjoying having one space where she didn't have to pretend about anything.
Today, though, rather than practice spells, she had a letter from her father to read. From the thickness of the envelope, she could tell that there was something inside of it. By the chance that it might be something only muggles would possess, she had decided to read it in the relative privacy of Myrtle's bathroom. No one ever went there. It was perfect.
"You're back, I see," Myrtle sniffed. "Here to make fun of me?"
"I've never made fun of you," Alice muttered, rolling her eyes. "Can you try to stop flooding the place? It's getting annoying."
"Nope!" Myrtle squeaked, crossing her arms as she flew up towards the ceiling of the bathroom.
Alice didn't mind it when Myrtle was up high, as far away from her as possible. She went to the last stall in the restroom and sat the lid down, using it as a seat on which she could read. Opening the letter, she found that her suspicions were partially correct.
Two all access passes to the Golden Globes were inside. Her eyes widened, reading the date they were marked for—January 23rd, 1993. They were just a little more than a two months away.
Giddy with excitement and fear, she pulled up the letter from her father. It read:
Dear Alice,
I hope everything is going well at Hogwarts. I cannot wait to see you over the holidays. Anyways, I've been nominated for a Golden Globe. I'd love for you to attend, and my agent wants you to bring a young man with you for publicity reasons. Pick any of the lads at your school.
Let me know by Christmas who you'll be bringing. We'll need to get them an appropriate outfit.
Don't scare the other children,
Dad
Alice chuckled a bit, yet then she paled. There wasn't anyone whom she could ask to come with her, was there? But of course, if her father's agent said she needed to bring a male friend with her, then she would have to. There'd be no arguing about it.
I could ask Draco, Alice considered. He wouldn't know that her father was a muggle. In fact, she would explain that given that it was a muggle event, they wouldn't be using an magic. He'd understand the need to take jobs in both the muggle world and the magical world.
Maybe he'll even think it's cool—taking advantage of magic like that, Alice pondered. Her mother certainly did do that on a daily basis, and everyone in Slytherin was under the impression her parents were simply awful at magic. She could also tell Draco she had made her father promise not to do any magic, in order to not embarrass her.
It was either him or Colin Creevey, she realized with a shudder. The choice was an easy one, then. All she'd have to do would be to convince Draco to—
Wait… What was that?
Alice froze, and delicately, she pulled the stall door in towards her and brought her knees to her chest. No one would be able to spot her, had someone decided to actually visit the restroom. She strained her hearing, and she could hear approximately three people enter, their feet splashing around in the water.
"We'll brew it in here, then," a female voice, loud and confident, said. "No one ever goes in this bathroom anyways."
"But Hermione…It's the girls' bathroom," a male voice whined. "What if we get caught?"
"We won't," Hermione said. "Trust me—I know exactly what we're doing. Myrtle is perfectly pleasant as well, and the potion will be able to brew safely in here."
"How long is this going to take, exactly?" a third voice chimed in.
There was more splashing. A stall door creaked open, and Alice held her breath, desperate not to be caught. As far as she could tell, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were in the bathroom. Those three had a reputation among Slytherin house. She'd been warned about them.
"A month," Hermione answered quickly. "It'll be safe here—the only risky part is getting the ingredients we're going to need."
"Please tell me they aren't anything illegal," the whiny voice—Ron's—whimpered. "Mum'll kill me if I get into anymore trouble."
Hermione scoffed a bit. "Honestly, Ronald, your mother wouldn't actually kill you. But this will be breaking a lot of school rules—it isn't easy to brew Polyjuice Potion either."
Polyjuice Potion? Alice wondered, her eyes widening. Her mother kept a batch of it on her at home, though it was locked away, and Alice was forbidden to even touch it. The wizarding theatre productions she starred in tended to use it for stunt doubles, as well as for twins and cases of mistaken identity.
Somehow, Alice didn't think Harry, Hermione, and Ron were using it for a play.
"But we need to know what Malfoy's up to," Harry insisted. "He matches all of the criteria—he's the heir of Slytherin!"
"It's true," Ron sighed. "Well, as long as I get half of your gold when Mum disowns me, Harry, then I'm in."
Alice had to stifle a laugh.
"Hermione… Did you hear that?" Harry asked, tension creeping into his voice.
"It's just the pipes," Hermione explained. "Like I said, no one ever goes in here. I can come in and check on the potion as much as I need to, and no one is going to touch it. It's the only way we can make this work."
There was a pause.
"Alright, then. Let's do this," Harry responded.
More splashing occurred, and then the door slammed. Once again, Alice was alone in the girls' bathroom—well, with the exception of Myrtle.
Slowly, Alice began to relax. She shoved the letter from her father and the passes into the pocket of her cloak, and she left the stall, peeking out slowly first to ensure that everyone had left.
"You're going to do something, aren't you?" Myrtle commented, floating down from her spot up by the ceiling. "I can tell."
"Whatever," Alice muttered. "Maybe I am going to do something—it's none of your business."
"You're in my bathroom," Myrtle pointed out. "I can do whatever I like—teehee!"
She squealed, doing a few loops in the air, before vanishing once again from sight. Alice bit her lip, glancing at the stall in question where Hermione had been explaining her plan to Ron and Harry. Somehow, Alice had a feeling that having some of that potion would come in handy this year.
It may even just save her life.