Chapter 25: Sleepless in Hogwarts

"Hari."

"Yes, Daphne?"

Daphne opened her mouth and then shook her head and walked out of the Common Room.

"Um . . ." Hari turned to Blaise. "Can you translate?"

"Did you do anything to her since we last spoke?"

"No."

Blaise looked at Hermione. "What did he do?"

"I'm not quite sure." Hermione cocked her head. "Nothing really spectacular. He had me teaching Girl-Tobi—I must learn her real name—how to cast the levitation spell with a wand. It was a pain, too, because I'm finally comfortable not using one. And Daphne spent the night glaring at a pebble."

Blaise frowned. "When you say 'the night' . . . Do you mean the whole night?"

"Well, yes." Hermione shrugged. "Why?"

"And Daphne's sister was also up the whole night?"

"I don't think it bothered her. She had more and more energy. I swear, it was exhausting to just watch her bounce."

"I think I may have stumbled on the answer, Hari." Blaise spun in a circle. "Hari?"

"I think he got bored," said Millicent as she and Pansy went by. "He left while you were talking to Hermione."

"Speaking of which," Blaise glared at Hermione, "why do you seem so blasé about this?"

She shrugged. "I had to put up with it all last year. It just didn't faze me. I was much more annoyed by him sticking a ten-year-old in my bed without warning." Hermione closed her eyes for a moment. "And the worst part was that her feet were cold."

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"Aren't you going to ask her why she's upset?" hissed Tracy. When she got no answer, she nudged Hari. Rather, she tried and nearly fell off the bench as he dodged. "Well?"

"Ask who what?" replied Hari. He was having a slice of toast with jam—he'd found that some local food had merit. Even if the crumbs got everywhere.

"Daphne!"

"What about Daphne?"

Further down the table, Daphne was pointedly not looking at Hari. People who were skilled in reading minutia of body language, in possession of a Byakugan, or both, could tell she was paying attention to every word of the conversation. From the glower, someone who was interested in reading her expression could glean that she was displeased with its progress.

"Aren't you going to ask her why she's upset?" Tracy blinked. "Why is Astoria running around the Gryffindor table?"

"She appears to be full of energy." Hari facing away from the table in question. "Apparently she is energized by staying up all night." Hari had been forced to raise his voice slightly to be heard over the sounds of 'wheeeee!' coming from behind him.

"She's the only one," growled Hermione as she slammed her bag down next to Hari. "Most people need sleep."

"Only after a few days."

"I didn't mind teaching her," continued Hermione, ignoring him, "it was fun. She's a really sweet girl," there was a snort from Daphne, "but I'm not going to do it all night again. At midnight, I'm going to sleep."

"What about Girl-Tobi?" asked Blaise.

"She seems to be fine."

"Why aren't you upset about anything?" Blaise was frowning at his friend in concern.

"I'm on the far side of exhausted," muttered Hermione. "I passed through the furious stage at about four a.m. At this point, I'm hard pressed to care about anything."

"Ah."

"HARIHARIHARI!"

"Yes, Girl-Tobi?"

"You know," grumbled Hermione, "it's totally unfair that he's not even hyper."

"Willyoubecomingtoclasswithmetoday?"

"Maybe." Hari cocked his head. "I can skip Herbology, so I'll come with you for your first period."

"Yay!"

"I'll make your excuses to Professor Sprout," said Hermione. "I'll tell her you suggested she go boil her head."

"Sure."

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"Mister Potter."

"Yes, Professor Snape?"

"I cannot help noticing that you are in my classroom."

"Yes, Professor Snape."

"I only comment on this otherwise rare occurrence because you are not, in fact, supposed to be here."

Hari just stared at him.

"It is, to be clear here, time for the Hufflepuff-Gryffindor class. The First Year Hufflepuff-Gryffindor class."

"Yes, Professor Snape."

"Are you a First Year?"

"No, Professor Snape."

"And if I told you to leave?"

"I'd stay where I am."

"I see."

"I'm glad, sir; I'd hate to think you were blind."

Hari kept a hand on Astoria's shoulder, preventing her from bouncing out of her seat as Professor Snape began his usual first-year-lecture. "Pay attention, Girl-Tobi," instructed Hari. "This can be useful and he isn't lying like the rest of your teachers."

Snape blinked for almost fifteen seconds before managing to remember what he'd been talking about and resume his speech. It took almost twice as long as usual; for some odd reason, he continued to dwell on the dangers of failing to follow instructions and the hazards of improper or careless preparation. By the time he got to the day's potion, nearly the entire class was looking at its cauldrons in stark terror. Snape, meanwhile, was staring at the blonde who he kept expecting to levitate out of her seat on the power of vibrating hyperactivity alone.

"Mister Potter." Professor Snape was standing next to Astoria's cauldron.

"Yes, Professor Snape?"

"Might I enquire as to why you are here?" He watched as Hari's hand snapped out and grabbed a stray rat-tongue before it could fall into the cauldron. At that stage in the brewing, it would have caused the entire concoction to melt through the cast iron and then the stone floor below until it ran out of steam some unMerlinly place near the core of the Earth.

"I felt it best, sir."

Snape closed his eyes for a moment and massaged his temples. "Yes. I can see that. Loathe as I am to do this . . . ten points to Slytherin for making my life slightly less difficult. Carry on."

"What was that about, Hari?" asked Astoria.

"Nothing," Hari replied. He absently prevented her from adding a bit of platypus spleen to the mixture—which would have made the otherwise rather harmless color-change potion become a source of chlorine gas. "Don't worry about it." Although it was against his principles, he decided to let Girl-Tobi sleep when she had Potions the next day. He'd been counting and there had already been a half-dozen near-fatalities. It was getting silly.

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"Now, Girl-Tobi," said Hari. "I'm going to go to my Defense class. So be on your best behavior." He paused. "It's Herbology next for you, so you don't have to pay much attention. Unless Professor Sprout says that it's a dangerous plant, you can just ignore her." He shoved his way through a group of upper years without comment. "But don't be rude."

"Yes, Hari."

"Good." Hari waved to the group of Gryffindors as he walked off. There was something odd about the girl-who-turned-out-to-be-a-Weasley. Her expression was off. Was that adoration and contempt? And she had a weird aura around her. It was probably something he should mention to the Medic if he saw her.

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"How was her first period?" asked Tracy. She knew her best friend wanted to ask. Probably. Then again, Daphne loved Astoria from a distance. The closer her sister was, the less she liked the girl.

"Not bad," said Hari. He'd been sitting in the Defense classroom when they walked in. "I think she only nearly killed everyone twice."

There was a silence.

"Really?" snapped Hermione. "You're all shocked? Did you miss how last year, Neville alone had twice that many incidents every class?"

"You seem to be annoyed again." Blaise shifted his seat slightly further from her.

"The adrenalin is wearing off."

"Welcome, class!" Gilderoy Lockhart danced into the room. And it was a dance. The man had three pirouettes in it. He'd even ended on a bow so low that his impressively golden hair brushed the stone floor. "This year I will be teaching you how to defend yourselves from the most dangerous things in the magical world."

Hari raised an eyebrow. It seemed that the façade was going to be continued here. How odd. What was Lockhart playing at here at Hogwarts?

"There are a great many things to worry about in our world. I have faced nearly all of the magical threats that exist. Banshees and Bollywogs, Neccromancers and Narcophiliacs, Thestrals and Thwibituftins. I was the only survivor of the hunt for the Dread Gazeebo of Tahiti. I even dueled in single combat the Fwfrmlbrnfsdkr of Ouoaiuoaeauaieoeoioieauieuaiestan. Compared to these, you all can rest easy in the knowledge that you have had the worst fended off for you, but that is no excuse for failing to pay attention in this class. Don't forget that the greatest challenge I've ever had is keeping my place as winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award for five years running. There are always challenges, no matter your life. For more on my secrets to a charming smile, you can purchase my book How to Grin Your Best, available at all good book shops everywhere for the low, low price of just forty galleons. If you order it in the next twenty-four hours, I'll throw in my book of grooming charms—just the thing to keep you at your most handsome before an important appearance.

"But first, we will begin our journey of adventure together by doing some preparations! I will now administer a test to see how well you have prepared yourselves for my class." There was something disconcerting about how Harry Potter's one visible eye was spinning and the raised eyebrow over it wasn't helping. Lockhart hurriedly went down the aisles, handing each student a rolled up scroll.

Hari turned to Blaise and Hermione. "He's really quizzing us on things like his favorite color?" There was a sound of skepticism in his voice normally reserved for people who are literally having trouble believing their own eyes.

"What are you talking about?" hissed Hermione. She had already begun forming something of a low opinion of Lockhart on her own. She'd tried to look up a couple of his more prominent victories and had the unfortunate problem of discovering that no one had heard of the place that it had happened in and similar issues. On the other hand, she'd been raised properly and so was trying to pay deference to politeness towards the teacher.

Hari didn't respond.

When Lockhart reached the front of the class, he turned and bowed, "you may unfurl the scrolls and begin."

There was some rustling. "How did you know?" came Miss Granger's voice.

"Trade secret."

"What trade?"

"Trade secret."

"You know, I'm really torn."

"Oh?"

"I could easily ace this test. But I'm not sure I care enough." Lockhart cleared his throat. "I guess I might as well ace it. Why not."

"Disbutandum de est non gustibus." Hari took out a ballpoint pen.

"Hari?"

"Yes?"

"Did you just quote jumbled Latin?"

"No."

"I'm pretty sure you did."

"Nope." Hari quickly began to jot down answers. "Everyone, the answer to the secret bonus question is three inches." There was a clatter as Lockhart's peacock quill dropped from his fingers and onto the floor. "Trade secret."

By the time the class had finished its collective scribbling of answers, Lockhart had regained his composure and was humming a song by Undead Victoria and the Imperial Ambitions. "Let's see how you did." He walked the rows, collecting the filled out tests.

"How many people knew that my favorite color is magenta? Not bad, not bad. How did you come to 'vomit green' Mister Goyle? I advise you to reread my collected works on the Balygowan Banshee. All six volumes. Very good work, Miss Granger, citing chapter and line . . . Mister Potter? Might I ask why you answered 'my guts on the floor'?"

"I didn't."

"Oh." Lockhart shuffled the pages. "And again, I commend Miss Granger on her exact knowledge of my text detailing the Tracking of the Timbuktu Tyrant in which I mention that I am fond of sleeping on the left side of the bed." He looked at a page with a distinct lack of scratch marks from a quill and his face turned bright red. "While your answer is technically correct, Mister Potter, I would prefer it to be in a less purple phrasing."

"I thought you liked purple, Professor."

Lockhart stared at Hari for several moments before apparently deciding he hadn't just heard that and went back to sitting on his desk, reading the tests. "Oh my. Mister Malfoy, I have to say that your commitment to the strength of our way of life is commendable, but the greatest threat to our society is not 'those horrid know-it-all mudbloods who should all go die'. Very good work, Miss Granger at knowing that it is, indeed, mindless bigotry. On the other hand, Mister Malfoy, excellent knowledge of textiles for your answer that Acromantula silk is my least favorite cloth fibre. You are most right that it chafes and is only used by silly Nuevo Riche. And no, Mister Potter, it is not 'the skin of my many victims, cured in the blood of unicorns'."

"You mean you prefer that to Acromantula silk, Professor?"

"What?"

"Oh that."

"Moving on. I do worry that some of you didn't bother to read the textbooks before class. How did you all miss the question about the Autocratic Automobile of Austro-Hungary? Except for you, Miss Granger. Kudos on remembering that the weak point on a Muggle Automobile is the driver. I was able to stop the dangerous device without loss of life by cutting off the Muggle's head."

"Without loss of life?"

"Of course. Not a single Witch or Wizard was ever put in danger at all. Also, I commend your detailed answer on the methods by which the natives of Mongolia taught me to track through Yucatan ruins and hunt the jaguar that terrorize their lives daily as well the dangers of their majestic Rocky Mountains."

"I wanted to ask you about that, Professor . . ."

"But I am most heartened to see that almost all of you realized that the greatest gift I could ever receive would be absolute world peace for everyone. Except for you, Mister Potter. I'm a bit concerned by your thought that I would most like . . . well . . . that is . . . umm . . . you really shouldn't have told everyone the answer to the secret question!"

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"What on earth did you write as his desired, gift, Hari?" muttered Millicent.

"Never mind what, how about why did you write things that made him worried?" interjected Pansy.

"Well, to tell the truth, I want to meet the real Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Explain," ordered Hermione. She had noticed that despite the normal, human tendency to request a second iteration of input that didn't register as making sense, Hari had no patience for it and so bypassed it by asking for clarification instead.

"Well, Lockhart is quite possibly the most accomplished Wizard of all time, right?"

"Excepting maybe Merlin and Albus Dumbledore and a few others? Yes."

"Exactly." Hari had worked it out. He knew that plenty of important people used body doubles. There was no other reason why the handsome man would be just a pudgy, balding dork under glamours. And the act? It had to be an act. The more memorable the double, the less likely people were to remember the real one. After seeing this guy, who would look for someone less flamboyant, even wearing the same face. That was to say nothing of the blatant inconsistencies in his books. What better way to throw off his enemies than to hide the truth of his exploits in absolute rubbish so that no one could be sure which were real and which weren't? It was genius.

Hari was determined to meet the man behind the man, so to speak. He could learn so much from a man so skilled at casual slaughter of dangerous foes.

(A/N John)

I realized I should explain Hari's attitude. So I did. I wish I could say I had a lot of stuff to comment on this chapter, but I feel like it really speaks for itself.