Living with Sirius, Barbara and Phoebe was nice, no doubt, and it was comforting to Harry knowing that his family was nearby. But it was still also nice to get back to Hogwarts, a school he'd always loved, and it was nice to see Neville, Dean and Seamus again.

Harry and Ron told their three roommates a lot of what had happened during their action-packed summer, from the wedding to Phoebe's birth to almost everything having to do with Regulus (excepting, of course, his problems with Holly). Right now, they were reiterating the story of Harry's first Quidditch match involving Malfoy.

"So, basically," Ron was saying, as Harry grinned and the other three listened in a spellbound sort of way, "Sirius caused the Quaffle to hit Malfoy's stupid head—"

"It sounded like a basketball bouncing off the court," Harry added. Seamus and Neville looked confused, but Dean laughed.

"And when he was distracted, Harry grabbed the Golden Snitch!" Ron finished triumphantly, miming it with his hand. "Not to mention, Harry and I think Malfoy's in looove." He dragged out the word mockingly.

"In love?" Neville asked curiously. "With whom?"

"Astoria Greengrass, Holly's cousin." Ron was practically choking with laughter. "And he doesn't have a chance with her!"

"She's probably going to look like Holly in a few years, y'know," said Seamus. "Then he'll have even less of a chance."

"We didn't tell you the best part, though," said Harry. "You know Malfoy's father, Lucius?"

"Hmm, what's he like?" asked Dean.

"Imagine a grown-up version of Draco, only with all of his bad traits multiplied by ten," said Harry. "He was being a huge jerk, as usual, and he insulted the Black family. So one of Sirius's relatives whacked him with her cane so hard he fell onto the ground, and when he said a bad word, she hit him again."

"Sirius says it hurts a whole lot," Ron said delightedly.

"As our friends, you two are obligated to show us that beautiful memory in a Pensieve," Dean Thomas said mock-seriously.

Harry and Ron promised.

…

The next morning, however, Harry ran into a problem.

Although he liked being back at Hogwarts, one thing he didn't like was the fact that he had to get up early again. Sure, he was an early riser, but he liked to get up at eight or nine, and at Hogwarts (well, at most schools in general, really) class had already started by then. The early-morning classes, which Hermione took, started at seven!

That was why Harry accidentally overslept that morning, and by the time he got out of his shower, his watch sitting on the sink told him he didn't have time to towel-dry his hair, which was his first mistake. He put in the mousse anyway, which was his second mistake. And his third mistake was realizing too late that at Hogwarts, there was no electricity, therefore no hairdryers, and he didn't know Sirius's hair-drying spell. He didn't even know the incantation. He was running out of time; his roommates were already tying their shoes and grabbing their books, while he was standing in the bathroom, his hair wet and dripping with product, and he was wearing nothing but his emerald-green dressing gown.

So he ended up just slapping his pointed wizard's hat over his hair, even though nobody wore those except to special events or when it was very cold, and running to meet his friends in the common room. At least Ron and Hermione waited for him.

"Not a word about the hair," he told them, and they nodded.

When they got down to the Great Hall, though, there was a huge surprise waiting for them.

"Oh my God, look!" Hermione shrieked.

They looked. Sitting at the high table was a blonde wizard with a turquoise wizard hat perched on his head, perfectly matching his turquoise robes. He was talking to Sirius, who looked a little bit irritated. Harry recognized him as the wizard from his textbooks—Gilderoy Lockhart!

"Well, I guess that explains why our entire Defense booklist was written by him," said Harry.

"Why wasn't he here last night?" Ron added, raising an eyebrow.

"Probably on some important mission," said Hermione. "Have you read his books yet?"

"No," said Harry and Ron together.

"You should have!" Hermione said in surprise. "He's done so many amazing things."

As they sat down, they saw that most of the girls had their eyes on Lockhart.

"Do you think he's married?" said a girl named Lavender Brown, gazing up at their new teacher longingly.

"Hmm…Magical Me doesn't mention a woman," her best friend, Parvati, added hopefully. "And there's no marriage ring!"

"Oh, come on," said Ron. "If he tried to marry one of you, he would get arrested."

"You're one to talk." Lavender turned to Parvati and grinned. "Remember the way he was pining after Holly Greengrass last year?"

"That was different," said Ron, but the girls just giggled.

…

September 2, 1992 was a Wednesday, and the second-year Gryffindors found out that they had Care of Magical Creatures with Sirius every Thursday. Today, they had Herbology and Transfiguration before lunch, then after lunch and break, Defense Against the Dark Arts.

In Herbology, Professor Sprout showed them what Mandrakes were and how to repot them. They all had to wear earmuffs, so the baby Mandrakes' cries wouldn't knock them out (although Neville apparently didn't have his on properly, because as soon as the demonstration Mandrake was pulled out of its pot, he promptly collapsed onto the floor). They also met a Hufflepuff boy named Justin Flinch-Fletchley, who seemed to be a big Lockhart fan.

"Awfully brave chap," he was saying about Lockhart. "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."

"What do you mean, zap?" said Harry, who hadn't bothered to read Lockhart's books. "Werewolves are people too, you know."

"He used the Homorphus Charm on it, that's all," said Justin.

"Is that a real spell?" said Harry, turning to Hermione.

"Well, he mentioned how complex it is, so maybe that's why we haven't learned it yet," she replied, but Harry thought if Hermione hadn't heard of it before she read Lockhart's books, it might not be a real spell. But they didn't talk anymore after that, because they had to repot the Mandrakes.

It was only during lunch, though, after Transfiguration, that Harry began to worry about Hermione. She was acting just like Lavender and Parvati—well, just like all the other girls, really. Harry tried to tell himself it was only a silly crush, similar to Ron's crush on Holly, just like Lavender said. But that didn't exactly make him feel better.

Things went from bad to worse around break-time. Harry thought he'd gotten used to celebrity by now, remembering the warning Sirius gave him the summer before last—that people might act like idiots just because he was famous.

"People might be a little…impolite," Sirius said in an undertone. "Insensitive. They might ask you if you remember what Voldemort looks like or if you heard him say the Killing Curse or if the scar hurt when you got it—things like that. You have to forgive them, you know; it's part of celebrity."

"Oh…I see," said Harry nervously.

"Even if they don't," Sirius continued, standing up, "they're still going to want to talk to you, shake your hand, and you can bet they'll be staring at that scar. You'll forgive me for being blunt, but you're going to have to get used to it."

Harry was ambushed by the camera of Colin Creevey, a first-year who looked like he was about six or seven years old, he was still taken off guard. Instead of remembering the walk Sirius taught him or the tips in posture and tone of voice, all he could think of was what Sirius had said to Regulus and Remus upon the discovery of Harry's being a Parselmouth—that Harry ran away from the spotlight, instead of "embracing" it like James had. Colin Creevey, after snapping some photos of his own, asked for Ron to take a picture and then sign it.

Things might have been just fine if Malfoy (and later, Lockhart) hadn't shown up. Malfoy was already smarting about the Quidditch match last summer, Harry knew, but Lockhart insisted on taking a photo with Harry.

"Come on then, Mr. Creevey," Lockhart told Colin. "A double portrait, can't do better than that, and we'll both sign it for you."

Malfoy and his cronies were laughing hysterically while Lockhart had his arm around Harry, posing for the camera with his huge, gleaming white teeth. It was horrible. Harry was trying to get away when Lockhart turned suddenly.

"Oh my GOD!" Colin screeched, reminding Harry of Dylan, the teenage father who used to work at Reggie's Pizza Empire. "IT'S SIRIUS BLACK!"

Once again, Harry felt incredibly thankful for his godfather. Now the focus was on him.

"I heard about you!" Colin was saying. "Didn't you get framed for killing thirteen people? And didn't one of them turn out to not be dead after all? And didn't you almost bite his arm off? And isn't he in Azkaban now?"

"That's right, Colin," said Sirius with a small sigh, then he turned to Lockhart. "Can you explain to me what you are doing with Harry?"

"Potter is giving out signed photos!" Malfoy shouted again.

"I didn't ask you, Malfoy," said Sirius, glowering at him, then turned back to Lockhart. "Well?"

"Just giving this student an eyeful of the two most famous people in the world!" Lockhart replied cheerily.

Harry pleaded Sirius with his eyes, trying to communicate telepathically: Help me!

"Well, he's got to get to class in a few minutes," said Sirius, reaching down and disentangling Harry's arm from Lockhart's. "Maybe Colin can take a picture of just you. Oh and by the way, Gilderoy, I've been meaning to tell you—I've got some hair potions that could really help you with volume and shine. I'm sure you have almost as many hair products as I do, but your execution needs some work."

Lockhart looked positively gobsmacked. Harry suddenly realized Lockhart was probably the only man as vain about his hair as Sirius was, so this was a pretty big blow.

"I'll have you know, Sirius," said Lockhart, recovering his calm, "that I am a hair genius, and my dream is to market my own hair potion line."

Sirius snorted. "Well, I guess after awhile a name can sell on its own."

"I can show you some hairspray tricks to keep it out of your eyes," Lockhart said back, touching Sirius's bangs, but Sirius swatted his hand away.

"My hair looks effortlessly natural," said Sirius. "I'll bet yours wouldn't even move in a gale."

"It looks like you need to work on your moisturizing." Lockhart pointed at Sirius's hands. "Are those dry palms I see?"

"Your palms would be dry, too, if you had a newborn daughter at home," Sirius snapped. "I'm sorry I don't have time to moisturize my whole self after every shower anymore."

"Looks like you don't have time to shave, either," Lockhart pointed out. "What, do you never pick up a razor?"

"Do you?" Sirius reached out and touched Lockhart's cheek, which was as smooth as a baby's bottom. "Hmm, once you hit puberty, I bet it'll really start growing in."

"When was the last time you got your nails manicured?" Lockhart fired back. "Is that thirty-two years' worth of buildup I see on your cuticles? Tut, tut."

"Well, at least I don't wear blue eyeshadow," Sirius grouched.

"It brings out the beautiful blue in my eyes," Lockhart informed him. "Have you even had a color analysis?"

"Don't need one," Sirius said. "I look good in everything."

It was kind of funny to see the two of them at odds. Sirius had been the dreamboat professor last year, the girls hanging on his every word, but now Lockhart was taking over that role. Harry wondered if Sirius was jealous of Lockhart for trying to take away his title as the sexiest thing to ever walk the halls of Hogwarts. To Harry, there was absolutely no competition as to who was a better man, and certainly a better wizard, but then, the Green-Eyed Monster could blind you to things like that.

Hermione was eventually the one to break them up.

"Come on, guys," she said imploringly. "Don't fight. I think you could be friends."

Sirius and Lockhart looked at each other like they doubted it, but before they could argue any longer, the bell rang to signal the end of break. Harry was about to leave for Defense with his friends, but Sirius held him back.

"Speaking of hair," said Sirius with a grin as he took Harry's hat off of his head, "what is this?"

"Shut up," said Harry, cramming his hat back on his head, but he eventually told Sirius the whole sordid story.

"That was my fault," said Sirius, shaking his head. "I should have shown you the hair-drying spell…Tell you what. Come to my teacher's quarters after class, and I'll show you how to do your hair with magic. I invented the spell when I was in first year, after all."

Sirius took Harry to the wizards' room to help him wash the mousse out, used his wand to dry his hair quickly, and wrote him a hall pass. Harry stuffed his hat in his book bag and left, and before he knew it, he found himself Lockhart's classroom.

TO BE CONTINUED!