I kinda added a few gaps into the Howler since Ron's entire focus word be on it so he would pay attention to every single word.

Just letting you know :)

Chapter 25: Special Delivery

The next day, Harry and I sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Hermione, who had her copy of Voyages with Vampires propped open against a milk jug. There was a slight stiffness in the way she said "Morning," which told me that she was still disapproving of the way we had arrived.

Neville, on the other hand, greeted us cheerfully. "Mail's due any minute. "he said. "I think Gran's sending a few things I forgot."

Sure enough, hundreds of owls streamed in, dropping letters and packages to their respective owners. A big, lumpy package bounced off Neville's head and, a second later, something large and gray fell into Hermione's jug, spraying us all with milk and feathers.

"Errol!" I said, picking the insane bird up by his feet. Errol slumped, unconscious, onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp red envelope in his beak.

I instantly knew what it was. "Oh shit..." I mumbled.

"It's all right, he's still alive." said Hermione, prodding Errol gently with the tip of her finger.

"It's not that - it's that ." I said, pointing at the red envelope. I knew I was going to be in trouble, but I didn't expect I would get one of those bloody things.

"What's the matter?" said Harry.

"She's - she's sent me a Howler." I said faintly, eyes glued to the red envelope.

"You'd better open it, Ron," said Neville in a timid whisper. "It'll be worse if you don't. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it. It was horrible."

"What's a Howler?" I thought I heard Harry ask. I was too into watching the envelope steam.

"Open it," Neville urged. "It'll all be over in a few minutes-"

I stretched out a shaking hand, eased the envelope from Errol's beak, and slit it open. Neville stuffed his fingers in his ears. A split second later, a roar of sound filled the huge hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

"RONALD WEASLEY! HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU! YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU! I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE! WHEN WE GOT THAT LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED! I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME!"

I dropped the letter on the table and it burst into flames, curling into ashes. I looked at the ashes. A few people were laughing around me. Harry looked at me as if he felt sorry.

I sat there, not know if I should move or not. It was positively embarrassing, not to mention almost deafening.

Hermione looked a mix between smugness, and feeling sorry. "Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you-"

"I don't want to hear it." I interrupted her.

I felt like rubbish. I had gotten my father into trouble. That totally did not cross my mind at all. What would happen? Would he be demoted? What he be fired?

My thoughts were interrupted with McGonagall handing us our timetables. Double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs first.

We left the castle together, crossed the vegetable patch, and made for the greenhouses, where the magical plants were kept. At least the Howler had done one good thing. Hermione seemed to think we had now been punished enough and was being perfectly friendly again.

She talked about the her last day before term was, even though I had already known from the letter I had gotten from her that night. Her parents had taken her to some boring and expensive restaurant with nasty food that she couldn't pronounce and all she wanted was a burger and a salad. Then, Harry and her started talking about a muggle thing called "fast food" and that peaked my interest. Places like Prêt A Manger and McDonalds.

As we neared the greenhouses we passed by Professor Sprout, whose arms were full of bandages. We spotted the Whomping Willow in the distance, several of its branches now in slings.

I didn't in the least feel sorry. Killer fucking tree.

Professor Sprout was a chubby little witch who wore a patched hat over her hair. She usually had dirt on her clothes and hands. Mum would have fainted if she walked into the Burrow looking like that. Lockhart, however, looked like some pompous wizard fashion in robes of blue, with his blond hair standing out against the blue.

"Oh, hello there!" he said, smiling as the rest of us as if we really wanted to see all 32 of his teeth "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels..."

"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" said Professor Sprout, who looked like she wanted to throw dirt on his outfit.

Everybody started whispering in curiosity. Greenhouse three had all the interesting and dangerous plants in it. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Hermione as I walked inside and stood in line with the others.

Hermione tapped me on the shoulder. "Where's Harry?" she whispered.

I looked back. Sure enough, Harry hadn't walked in with us.

"Wasn't he just behind us?" I asked.

He was. Maybe we should go and look for him, he couldn't be far."

Let's just stay here." I said. " Lockhart probably has him and wanted an autograph or some shit."

"Language, Ronald..."

Professor sprout had us take our seats behind colorful pairs of fuzzy earmuffs. Hermione and I sat down, making sure to save a seat for Harry.

"Oh great." said Hermione, who was starting to fuss with the ends of her hair.

"What's wrong?"

"This place is so humid. Humidity and my hair do not mix."

I looked over at her already bushy mane. It was starting to frizz up even more. The little frizzy ends were starting to curl, and it looked neat to watch them do it. It wasn't doing that to my hair. Just made it seem like it was sweating.

A couple seconds later. harry had came in and sat between Hermione and I, breaking my concentration on the end a of her hair.

"Where were you?" I whispered to him.

"Bloody Lockhart." snorted Harry. "Trying to tell me how to deal with fame."

"We'll be repotting Mandrakes today." said Sprout. "Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

To nobody's surprise, Hermione's hand was first into the air.

"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative." said Hermione, sounding as though she had swallowed the textbook. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."

"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor." said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

Hermione's hand almost hit Harry in the face when it shot up.

"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it." she said, finishing her textbook statement.

"Precisely. Take another ten points." said Professor Sprout. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."

"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs." said Professor Sprout.

I quickly thruster the pink ones into Harry's hand and snatched the blue ones up for myself. Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry smirked and pushed my arm.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered." said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right - earmuffs on."

I snapped the earmuffs over his ears. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the plants firmly, and pulled hard.

What she pulled out was only a face a mother could love. Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, lumpy skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.

Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the leaves on the top of his head were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave us all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.

"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," she said as if it were nothing. "However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up. Four to a tray - there is a large supply of pots here - compost in the sacks over there - and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it's teething."

Harry, Hermione, and I were joined at our tray by some curly-haired Hufflepuff boy that I had seen around, but never talked to.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said brightly, shaking Harry by the hand. "Know who you are, of course, the famous Harry Potter. And you're Hermione Granger , always top in everything(Hermione smiled widely as she had her hand shaken too), and Ron Weasley. Wasn't that your flying car?"

I nodded. Didn't feel like speaking on something that I just got bitched out about.

"That Lockhart's something, isn't he?" said Justin happily as we began to fill our plant pots with dragon dung compost (Merlin it stunk). "Awfully brave chap. Have you read his books? I'd have died of fear if I'd been cornered in a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and - zap - just fantastic. My name was down-"

I began to tune him out. He had made be think about the whole car thing. I wondered what was going on with my father. If he was in real serious trouble. I would hate myself if he lost his job because of my foolish decision.

And my brothers? Oh bloody hell, I knew Mum probably wrote Bill and Charlie straight away and told them. I would probably have two more Howlers by the end of the week.

We put our ear muffs back on and began to concentrate on the Mandrakes. Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn't. The little buggers didn't like coming out of the earth. At the same time, they didn't seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, tried to punch at us, and even tried nipping at us. Harry had this fat ass one that refused to go into the pot.

By the end of the class, we were all tired, sweaty, and dirty. Sprout allowed us to have enough time to go up to the tower and wash before Transfiguration.

Professor McGonagall's classes were always hard work, but today was especially difficult. We was supposed to be turning a beetle into a button.

I was having the most problems. I had to patch up my wand with some Spellotape, however, that didn't seem to help much. It kept crackling and sparking at odd moments, and every time I tried to transfigure my beetle, thick gray smoke that smelled of rotten eggs would shoot out. I ended up squishing the thing with my elbow because I couldn't see, so I had to ask for a new one. McGonagall wasn't pleased.

"Stupid - useless - thing-" I said, whacking it on the desk

"Write home for another one," Harry said.

"Oh, yeah, and get another Howler back." I huffed, stuffing the now hissing wand into my bag. " 'It's your own fault your wand got snapped, Ronald Weasley.' "

"Look!" said Hermione, showing off five buttons she had perfectly made.

"Right about now you can take your buttons and-"

"What've we got this afternoon?" said Harry, interrupting me and changing the subject.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione as she looked at her schedule. I glanced at it out the corner of my eye.

"Why," I demanded, seizing her schedule, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously. "Mind your own schedule." she said quickly. I rolled my eyes. Surely, Hermione wasn't going to be one of those swooning girls that thought the sun rose and set in Lockhart's ass.

We finished lunch and went outside into the courtyard. Hermione sat down and started reading (as always) and Harry and I stood around talking about Quidditch for a while. All of a sudden, Harry started looking around.

"Lost something?" I asked.

"No, I just feel like..."

"Like what?"

"Like someone is watching me." he said, looking over at some mousy-haired firstie who looked as if he shouldn't be at Hogwarts yet. He was holding a muggle camera and blushing.

"All right, Harry? I'm - I'm Colin Creevey." he said as if he were standing in front of the greatest thing in the universe. "I'm in Gryffindor, too. D'you think - would it be all right if - can I have a picture?"

I snickered.

"A picture?" Harry repeated blankly.

"So I can prove I've met you," said Colin inching forward. "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" (he looked up at Harry's hairline) "and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures will move ."

He said all that in one huge breath. Reminded me of Hermione when she first met us on the train last year.

"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" - he looked imploringly 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?" came Malfoy's despicable voice echoing around the courtyard. He was with his meaty bodyguards who looked like they went up a few pants sizes over the summer

"Everyone line up!" Malfoy said loudly. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"

"No, I'm not," said Harry angrily, his fists clenching. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"You're just jealous," piped up Colin, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe's neck.

"Jealous? 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." spat Malfoy.

Knowing damn well he was jealous. It was either jealousy or he was secretly crushing on him.

"Bugger off, Malfoy." I said, balling my fists up. Crabbe stopped laughing and started rubbing his knuckles in a menacing way.

"Be careful, Weasley," sneered Malfoy, staring me down. "You don't want to start any trouble or your Mommy'll have to come and take you away from school."

He then started to mock my mother. " If you put another toe out of line."

It took everything in me not to bash his face in.

"Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter." smirked Malfoy. "It'd be worth more than his family's whole house!"

I whipped out my wand ready to hex him into oblivion, when Hermione whispered "Look out!"

"What's all this, what's all this?"

Lockhart was striding toward us, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. "Who's giving out signed photos?"

Harry started to speak but he was cut short as Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulders and thundered cheerfully "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry!"

Harry winced as Malfoy started snickering with his Slytherin cronies.

"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."

Merlin, this was embarrassing. Why couldn't he just leave Harry alone?

Colin fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind ua, signaling the start of afternoon classes.

"Off you go, move along there," Lockhart called to the crowd, and he set off back to the castle with Harry under his arm trying desperately not to be dragged off.

Hermione and I looked at each other and sighed.

"That was painful to watch." I said as we headed towards Defense of the Dark Arts.

"I must agree, that had to be very embarrassing." said Hermione. "But Colin couldn't help it. Just excited to meet someone he admired. Though a bit overly enthusiastic, I must say."

When we got to the classroom with the rest of the class, we went and sat on either side of Harry, for he was already there.

"You could've fried an egg on your face, mate." I said, trying to lighten his mood. "You'd better hope Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fan club."

"Shut up," snapped Harry, a small grin appearing. "Harry Potter fan club"

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville'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. He only got a few forced grins.

"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-"

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes - start - now!"

I looked down at my paper and read the most barmiest questions I ever had the displeasure of reading:

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?

Thirty minutes later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

"Tut, tut - hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color 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 Ogden's Old Firewhiskey!"

I couldn't help but stare at him in disbelief. What the fuck did any of this have to do with defending myself against dark arts?

Seamus and Dean, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart as if he were reciting poetry and gave a start 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, full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

Hermione raised a shaky hand. I looked at her, flabbergasted. Seriously, she actually fancy this nutter?

"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so - to business-"

"Nutcase business" I whispered. Harry snickered.

Lockhart 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."

Hermione looked as if she were bracing herself. Harry and i could help but lean in. Dean and Seamus had stopped laughing now. Neville was cowering in his front row seat.

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."

Seamus took one look at the cage and laughed. Loudly and long

"Yes?" He smiled at Seamus.

"Well, they're not - they're not very - dangerous , are they?" Seamus choked.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so bloody annoying it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. They were shaking the cage, making faces at us.

"Right, then." Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!"

And then the pompous idiot opened the cage.

It was a shit storm. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them grabbed 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, up-ended the waste basket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, we were hiding under desks trying to dodge them, 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. " Peskipiksi Pesternomi! "

It did absolutely nothing and the pixies took his wand and threw it out of the window. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, as Neville came crashing down on the floor

Everyone rushed out the classroom when the bell rang. Harry, Hermione, and I were almost out of the door, when that nitwit called us back.

"Well, I'll ask you three to just nip the rest of them back into their cage." he said, running into his office.

"Can you believe him?" I yelled. "Ow! Get the fuck off my ear!" One of those menaces was now tugging at my ear as if I were a Mandrake.

"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience." said Hermione. immobilizing two pixies at once with a Freezing Charm and stuffing them back into their cage.

"Hands on ? "said Harry. "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!"

"So he says." I muttered, earning me a death stare from Hermione.