This is short. I apologise if people get annoyed because of this, but - anyone who has read any of my earlier fics will know - if I try to write chapters many thousands of words long, I burn out and nothing gets updated for months, or years.

Thanks for all the awesome reviews! Enjoy this chapter (with more Lockhart bashing)

Disclaimer: For some reason the St Andrews university website had a picture of Harry Potter on it, with no explanation as to why (people speculate it's because we're getting closer to mastering invisibility). This has nothing to do with the fact I own nothing, just thought I'd share that rather confusing titbit...


Eye of the Beholder - Chapter Twenty Eight

When they were well on their way to Hogwarts to start their second year, or third academically in Harry's case, Harry wondered to himself what would occur during the coming months. It would be disappointing if all the excitement occurred during his first year, and from then on he suffered through the years with nothing but academics to keep his interest. He would worry more about that, if not for Lucius taking them aside before they left – after the one-sided verbal battle with between Lucius and Arthur Weasley – and told them that whatever happened that year, they would stand aside and let it happen, not making targets of themselves or drawing any unnecessary attention. Harry had wanted to question Lucius about what plans he had put into motion and for what purpose, but Lucius had forcefully pushed him onto the train before he could get a word of question out. The glare he had sent in return, through the glass, had shown he was not impressed by the elder Malfoy's methods of avoiding conversation. He would be sending Hedwig with a message to Voldemort, to see if he had heard any whispers of a plot being put into action during his glamoured trips to Diagon and Knockturn Alley. If the Dark Lord hadn't heard anything, he would be even more cautious about what was about to occur, and keep his eyes peeled for the first signs, and get further guidance if necessary.

He placed his book aside as the three of them changed into their school uniforms before slipping it back into his trunk as the train pulled into Hogsmeade. The booming voice of the groundskeeper was, unfortunately, the first thing he heard upon exiting the magical train. The trio made their way over to the awaiting carriages that appeared to have nothing to pull them to the naked eye. To Harry, he could see the magic twisting around whatever creature it was that was hidden from his normal view. He motioned Draco and Theo into the vehicle, not bothering further when they ignored his instructions. Cautiously, he reached one hand out to the area perforated with magic furthest away from the carriage, assuming as best he could, that that would be the head area. It still came as a shock when he felt a nose curiously butt against his palm, blowing hot air across the skin. Slowly, he moved his hand down the side of its muzzle, keeping the rest of his body perfectly still before patting gently at what he could only guess was part of its cheek. Pleased, and aware of the fact that most of the carriages had departed, leaving him to receive strange looks from the remaining students, he stepped back and walked back to where Draco and Theo watched, completely confused about what had just happened. He just smirked at the pair, and refused them any explanation.

When they reached the castle, Professor Flitwick was waiting for him in the Entrance Hall, and asked him for a moment alone before he headed to the Ravenclaw table. More than willing to oblige the teacher, and also having his own question to ask, he moved to the opposite side of the room as the few boys loitering made their way into the hall.

"Mr Potter, I just need to let you know about your timetable for this year. As you'll be taking three electives, rather than two, Professor Kettleburn has agreed to spend two evenings a week with you to cover the three lessons your other peers will receive whilst you are in Arithmancy. I am sure you'll be more than able to keep up, though if you have any worries, you'll come to speak with me?"

Harry nodded, "Of course Professor, though I'm sure I won't have to disturb you for anything as such. However, I was wondering if you would be willing to continue our duelling lessons? They were most definately my favourite part of last year, second being your Charms classes or course sir."

Flitwick chuckled merrily at his flattery, "As much as I am pleased to hear how much you enjoyed them, Harry," he easily took note of the change to a more familiar atmosphere in relation to their duelling lessons. Obviously Flitwick considered him as more than just a student after their lessons last year, "however I think you should give the new year a few weeks before you decide to take them on again. You'll have a lot more work this year, with the extra classes. If you still feel the same way after three weeks, then by all means drop by my office and we'll arrange something that suits both of us. Now, I do believe the new first years will be arriving any second, we'd best be making our way into the hall."

With an accepting nod, the two walked into the hall and Harry took a seat at the very end of the Ravenclaw table, much to Flitwick's consternation.


Harry didn't find any purpose in paying attention to the outcome of the sorting; he hardly associated with his year mates, why would he associate with those younger than him? Though that was hard to do when, halfway through eating his meal silently, a small boy popped up before him, snapped a picture of him with a blinding flash before running back to the Gryffindor table again without a word, only a blinding grin. The entire hall went silent for a few moments as he froze where he had been when the picture was taken: fork halfway to his mouth and eyes staring at the now empty space. Many thoughts ran through his mind, most involving the obviously first year Gryffindor suffering through many painful trials. Finally he settled on returning to eating, ignoring the glances he received from various students, some nervous, others, frustratingly, humoured. Oh how he'd love to practice some of the basic Dark Arts he'd learned that summer on those who smirked at him, particularly those who did it whilst looking down their noses at him: one day they'd pay. For now, he settled for smirking evilly at the table, only widening when the smirks fell from the others' faces rather quickly.


It seemed, during his first day of classes with his fellow third years, that the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart, held a grudge against him for the incident in Diagon Alley. Though he suspected the biggest upset had occurred when the article on him had fallen from front page, with no doubt excessive numbers of pictures, to a short article squeezed in a few pages back, composed entirely of text.

As a method of showing his dislike of the Boy-Who-Lived, Lockhart implemented the tactic of completely ignoring him, which Harry was completely happy with, until he docked points and confiscated the book he had been reading. Harry would have been happy with the reaction to the glare he sent – a squeak, gulp then a rather high-pitched attempt at continuing the class – if it hadn't been for the fact his book still remained at the teacher's desk.

With nothing else to do, he began composing a letter, trying as much as possible to block out the biography being told first hand from the front. Harry found it a rather disheartening indication of his peers when all of the girls seemed utterly entranced by each of his words, sighing dreamily every other word.

He signed his name at the bottom of the letter before transfiguring a clump of hairs he pulled from his head – drawing the attention of several boys sitting around him, including Higgins, whom he found himself once more sharing desk space with – into a piece of ribbon to tie the parchment closed.

Content with the message, he stood from his seat, took his bag and headed for the door, ignoring the entire class that was watching him curiously, and enviously in the case of the boys.

"And what do you think you're doing, Mr Potter?" the blonde fool asked him, raising one eyebrow in question when Harry turned to look at him.

"I am going to send a letter, Professor Lockhart. From what I have seen, and I don't think I need to see any further, we are in need of a new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. I for one don't want to spend a year learning about how you defeated a Yeti in the mountains, or how you taught an entire group of house elves, not only proper grammar, but to sing the deplorable Hogwarts school song. I will be back for my book at the end of the day."

He continued walking out of the room, and barely heard the declaration that Ravenclaw had lost twenty points and he had detention for a week over the sound of several more chairs being pushed back and possessions being gathered. He smiled to himself pleasantly: it was always fun causing a stir every now and then.


As a quick note on Harry's timetable, I know in the book Hermione did more and got a timeturner, however, they made it seem it was a one-off and no-one else was ever given that option from the Ministry, but other people (e.g. Tom Riddle) must have taken more than the required subjects before so this was the way I figured they would do it when the student is smart and is only taking one extra class. I don't think at this point in their education they had free periods...