Wrong.

Stepping into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom wasn't like stepping into a classroom at all, but rather a shrine. The walls were plastered with moving photographs and posters of none other than Gilderoy Lockhart himself. They all winked and flashed a charming, pearly smile at each student who passed through the doorway. Aralynn had remembered the room to be dark and dusty, exuding an air of mystery that matched nicely with the subject matter taught there. This room, however, reminded her nothing of the other. If she didn't take time to study her surroundings, she would've thought it was a different room altogether. The curtains had been removed, allowing bright, blazing sunlight to stream through the diagonal muntin windows. The furniture had been meticulously dusted, there wasn't a single particle to be seen floating.

The room was more colorful than before, too. There were water-filled vases of blue and purple bouquets set out on the many bookshelves. On the console tables were papier-mâché pinwheels of pink and yellow, which were enchanted to wave and wiggle and turn circles merrily. There was a large, white, frilly doily runner across the length of the professor's desk. Aralynn had never felt so nauseated by décor in her entire life. It was very effeminate, but that wasn't the issue. Sure, she had grown up with six brothers, but she considered herself plenty feminine. The issue came in from who had decorated. The flamboyance, just like his whole persona, seemed nothing more than a theatrical show. None of it seemed genuine. He hadn't yet emerged from his office, and Aralynn was already exhausted with him.

Aralynn took a seat next to Ron at one of the dual desks. She set her seven textbooks down in a neat stack before her. Ron had a scowl on his face while he flipped through Travels with Trolls. "D'you think he really did any of things he's written about?"

Aralynn looked at the back cover, watching Lockhart's photograph waving gleefully. "No," she answered.

"Finally," Ron sighed heavily. "I thought everyone had gone mental. They're all obsessed with him. It's gross."

Aralynn's gaze flickered ahead, where Hermione was talking adoringly about Lockhart to Harry, who was only smiling sheepishly in return. "I can see why. He's charismatic and charming. Good-looking, too."

Ron groaned. "Not you, too!"

Aralynn glared at him. "No, Ronald. All I'm saying is that I understand why people are drawn to him. He's a salesman, if anything. He sells himself well."

Ron was eyeing her. "You don't fancy him, then?"

Aralynn blanched. "No. He's intolerable."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ron's shoulders relaxing. However, he didn't say anything.

Aralynn looked at him suspiciously. "Why?"

Ron shrugged. "Had to make sure you weren't off your rocker, too. Hermione goes loopy enough when he's around."

Aralynn narrowed her eyes at him but looked ahead at Harry and Hermione. She hummed and turned towards Ron, speaking in a hushed, secretive tone, "Speaking of fancying, I think Harry likes Hermione."

Ron looked between the back of Harry's head and Aralynn's face. "Nah," he said with a shake of his head. "He can't be."

Aralynn raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"It'd be too weird," Ron explained. "They're best friends. Closer to siblings if you ask me."

Aralynn leaned back in her chair with a shrug. "If you say so. I think you're wrong, though."

Before Ron could say anything else, Professor Lockhart charged out of his office histrionically. He flashed them all the same scintillating smile that surrounded them on the photographs and posters. "Good afternoon," he said pleasantly. His rose-colored robes were glowing in the sunlight. "Wonderful to have you all here! Our subject matter today will be the most fascinating one there is… Me."

Beside her, Ron gagged.

The Professor gestured to one of the many posters of himself. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence 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!"

The classroom was silent apart from Lockhart's own chuckles. Aralynn distinctly recalled him mentioning his Witch Weekly awards earlier that very day.

Lockhart looked awkward when no one else laughed. However, it was short-lived, as he quickly regained his composure. "Anyway, I'm pleased to see all seven on my books before you! Hope you've had time to review them! They're wonderful reads if I do say so myself." Once again, he was the only one laughing. "Besides, I've prepared an exam this morning!"

As he walked between the desks and passed out the parchment, Lockhart kept a wide, toothy smile on his face. "I'll gladly sign that for you," he would say to random students, tapping their stacks of books. "No doubt it'll be worth a fortune one day. My signature is already worth a lot, you know." He winked at Aralynn as he passed her. "You might be able to hold your own signings one day. If you get there. I'll see what I can do, but no promises. We can't all be me."

Ron gaped at Aralynn. "Are you working with Lockhart?"

Aralynn sniffed. "According to nobody but him." She looked down at the parchment and felt her soul die a little.

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?

The questions, all about Lockhart and nothing important at all, went on for three pieces of parchment, front and back.

54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?

It was unbelievable. It was a questionnaire of the most conceited kind. Aralynn wondered if they would be learning anything relevant to the class at all, or if it would simply be months' worth of lessons on Lockhart's favorite fragrances, or what his mother had gifted him for his ninth birthday. She swore she could feel her brain cells disintegrating.

Lockhart moved behind his desk again, raising his hands. "You will have thirty minutes to complete your exam. On my mark… Go!"

Aralynn was lucky she had bothered to read his bibliography, despite how excruciating it was. Lockhart was a fair writer, she could credit him that much, but his arrogance was sickening. She felt confident in her knowledge as she wrote, though she wanted to purposely answer some questions incorrectly, out of spite. The last thing she wanted was for the Professor to think she was an avid fan. Not that she could answer questions incorrectly, considering Ron was frequently glancing at her writings. She wasn't as much of a stickler as Hermione when it came to Ron or Harry copying her work, and she was sure that he needed all the help he could get.

Once they had finished, Lockhart swept around the room to collect their answers. He sat on his desk while he looked them over, often tutting and shaking his head disapprovingly. "I'm really quite disappointed," he told them. "Few of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac!" He sighed louder than was necessary. "At least Miss Potter remembered that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples!"

Hermione sunk down in her chair.

"Ah, as it seems, Miss Granger knew that my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions. Well done, Miss Granger!" He looked over her exam, beaming. "In fact, full marks."

Hermione perked up again. Harry was frowning at her.

"Only one of Miss Potter's questions were missing some vital details, but I suppose we could let that pass…" He winked at her. "For such commendable work, I award you both ten points to Gryffindor!"

One-hundred-and-ten points in the trenches.

Lockhart set the exams down on the desk and bent down, out of sight, for a few moments. They leaned forward over their own desks, trying to get a peek at what he was doing. When he stood upright again, there was a covered caged in his hands. He set it down on his desk, then leaned his side against it with one hand pressing into the tabletop.

"I simply must ask," he began, and they hoped it would be relevant to Defence Against the Dark Arts. "How impressed you were by my quick thinking during the events of Year with the Yeti?" There was a collective sigh of frustration. Lockhart mistook this for praise and smiled brightly. "I know, I know… I agree. It was quite clever."

Aralynn wanted to stand up and say, "Nobody said that! Can we talk about something that doesn't feed your ego? Maybe even learn something?" She, however, remained seated and silent. McGonagall's threats of expulsion were looming over her.

"A head cold!" he reminisced blissfully. "Who would have thought?" Then he laughed. "Seems I did, eh?"

"It was quite brilliant, Professor," said Hermione dreamily. "Everything you've done has been brilliant."

Lockhart feigned humility. "I appreciate your kind words, Miss Granger." The humility ended. "I quite agree. It was brilliant."

Dean Thomas hesitantly raised his hand. "Professor?" he called. "What's in that cage?"

They were relieved when Lockhart waved a hand. "Ah!" He grabbed the sheet and looked out at them mysteriously. "Now, before I show you this, I must ask you not to scream… It might might provoke them!" He whipped the cover back, revealing a bunch of little blue creatures with wings and sharp features inside. They were rattling the bars with their hands, pointing around at the students with their fingers, and snickering tauntingly.

Seamus Finnegan blinked. "Cornish Pixies?"

Lockhart smirked. "Freshly caught Cornish Pixies!"

Seamus audibly scoffed. "They're Pixies," he said, sounding as though Lockhart was the dumbest person he had ever spoken to. Aralynn was inclined to agree. "It's not like they're dangerous."

Lockhart squinted at Seamus. "Well, if you're so sure… why don't we see how you lot deal with them?"

Without instruction or warning, Lockhart opened the door to the cage. The Pixies went whirring out, immediately beginning to cause as much devastation as they could. They were swarming the room; yanking books from the shelves and throwing them, sometimes at students; ripping the papier-mâché pinwheels to shreds, dumping jars of bouquets onto peoples' heads. One of them had taken an engraved silver music box and thrown it through the windows, sending shattered glass onto them. The room was engulfed in chaos. Students were fleeing the room, but some weren't fast enough. Parvati Patil had the length of her hair chopped in half by a massive pair of scissors.

Others were tearing robes. Two had grabbed hold of Neville's ears and lifted him up towards the ceiling. The round-faced boy trashed and protested and screamed, but they hooked him to one of the chandeliers by the back of his cloak and then sped away. Lockhart was looking quite pleased with himself. "Not to worry!" he laughed heartily. He raised his wand, waving it above his head, and cried, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!" However, nothing happened, and the Pixies dove down to steal the wand from his hand. Lockhart went white. While he hurried towards his office, his own portraits began to retreat with him. He paused with his hand on the knob, looking out at Ron, Harry, Aralynn, and Hermione. "I trust you four can take care of this?" It wasn't a question. Immediately after speaking, Lockhart ducked behind the door and locked himself inside.

"That slimy git!" Ron roared angrily as he whacked a Pixie with Gadding with Ghouls. "He's brainless!"

"He is not," Hermione replied hotly, trying to reach for her wand while the Pixies tugged at her cloak sleeves.

"What d'you call this, then?" Ron growled.

"An accident!" Hermione said sharply.

Aralynn snarled. "Oh, give it up, 'Mione! He's an idiot!" She jerked her own wand from her robes and pointed it. "Immobulus!"

Between Hermione and Aralynn, they worked to freeze each of the Pixies wherever they were. Which took time because some were harder to find than others. After forty-five minutes, they figured they had gotten them all. The pandemonium died down.

The room was eerily quiet. There was squeaking from the chandelier where Neville was spinning very slowly, looking defeated. "Why is it always me?"

"Oh, Neville, I'm sorry," Aralynn said. While Ron and Harry stuffed the Cornish Pixies back into their cage, and Hermione swept around the room, cleaning up as much as she could; Aralynn used the Levitation Charm to free Neville Longbottom from the chandelier and set him safely down on the floor. "Alright?"

Neville grinned weakly at her. "I'm okay. Thanks, Ara."

Aralynn watched Neville shuffle out of the classroom with a sympathetic gaze in her eyes. She turned to help the boys lock the remaining Pixies away again. She locked the cage door and wiped sweat from her forehead. "Wow," she breathed. "That was…"

"Complete madness," Ron muttered.

Harry was watching the bushy-haired girl. "Hermione, you should let Lockhart clean up. He made the mess."

Hermione grinned at him. "I'm happy to help, Harry."

"Why?" asked Ron incredulously.

Hermione glowered. "Mistakes happen, Ron."

"Mistake?" Ron gaped. "Get real! How can you keep defending him after this? He couldn't even stop them!"

"They took his wand," Hermione pointed out.

"After his ridiculous incantation failed!" Ron shouted. "I don't even think it was a real spell!"

"Well, I'll admit I've never heard of it, but…"

"Exactly," added Aralynn.

Hermione glared pointedly. "Wizards create spells all the time."

"I'd reckon they usually work, though," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Aralynn stroked her fingers through her auburn hair. "Hermione, you have to admit that it's a little suspicious."

"He set Pixies loose on us without any instruction!" Ron griped.

"I hardly see why you're complaining about a bit of hands-on learning," Hermione replied.

Ron stared at her. "You're mad," he said, turning to Harry and Aralynn. "She's mad." He snatched his books off the desk and stomped out of the room.

They gathered in the courtyard with numerous other students during their afternoon break before dinner. Aralynn, Ron, and Harry sat on the ledge of the large, central fountain while Hermione sat on the ground with her back against the fountain wall and continued reading Voyages with Vampires.

While Aralynn dabbed at Ron's bleeding ear where one of the Cornish Pixies had bitten him, she focused on the chatter around her as means to drown out the whispers woven in. She could feel eyes on her but didn't acknowledge them. Despite her mind urging her to address those gossiping about her, she decided that she would follow Hermione's advice and continue her routine as normal. Her friend was right when she said that there was nothing Aralynn could do to convince people that she hadn't changed if they didn't want to believe it. All she could do was to show them as such, and that would only happen if she was unequivocally herself.

Ron was still looking annoyed about their previous class. He huffed and puffed and muttered under his breath, occasionally looking at the top of Hermione's head to shake his own unfavorably. He hissed when Aralynn (intentionally) pressed too hard on his ear. "Bloody hell," he grumbled. "Could be a little gentler, Ara."

Aralynn was pleased that she successfully diverted his attention away from Hermione. "Just trying to help, Ron."

Ron grinned with one-half of his mouth. "Right. Thanks. Dunno if I've said that yet."

"You haven't," Aralynn informed, looking past him where she could see an umber skinned Slytherin girl with coiled raven hair standing with her back against the courtyard walls. Her copper eyes shifted between the other students. She looked nervous and uncomfortable.

"At least I'm saying it now," said Ron. He looked curiously at her. "What're you staring at?"

"Nothing," Aralynn quickly answered, looking away from the girl she was sure she hadn't seen before. She handed him the rag she had been dabbing his ear with. "The bleeding has slowed but keep applying pressure."

Ron blinked when she stood up. "Where are you going?"

Before Aralynn could answer, or even walk away, a boy with light, mousy brown hair stepped in her path. He was smiling widely between Harry and herself. "Hi!" he greeted eagerly. "My name's Colin Creevey!"

Harry stared at the boy. "Uh… Hello, Colin."

"You're Harry Potter!" Colin exclaimed, wide eyes shifting, "and Aralynn Potter! The Twins Who Lived! Wow! I'm so happy to be meeting you!"

Aralynn watched Colin warily. "It's nice to meet you, Colin."

Colin Creevey fingered longingly at the camera dangling from his neck. "I'm a Gryffindor, too. First-year. I was wondering if I could take a photo. Of you both, of course!"

Harry looked towards Aralynn. "Er—a photo?"

"Yeah!" Colin squeaked. "Everyone has told me all about you! I'm a big fan! So, I just… I thought I could take a picture. Y'know, for proof!"

Aralynn watched his hands shake around his camera. "Proof of what?"

"That I've met you, of course! I want to show my little brother, Dennis. Once I tell him about you and defeating the Dark Lord, and all. He'll be really impressed." He was breathless from speaking so quickly. "So, can I?"

Harry hesitated. "Can you…?"

"Take a picture!"

Aralynn looked uneasily towards Harry, but still offered Colin an awkward smile. "Sure," she said. "Why not?"

Harry stared up at her. It clearly wasn't something he wanted to do. Aralynn shared the sentiment, but she wanted to make Colin happy. She had never seen someone so excited to meet either of them before. "Sure?" he questioned her, but Colin took it as his agreement, too.

Colin shoved his camera into Ron's hands. "Brilliant! Thanks so much! I'll just stand here between you, and your friend can take it!"

Harry stood awkwardly at Colin's opposite side. Ron, looking even more annoyed, moved in front of them. Aralynn grinned at the lens, blinking spots from her eyes when the light flashed.

Colin ushered forward, snatching the camera back from Ron. He bounced on his feet. "Thanks so much! I've heard the picture will move if I develop it in the right potion. Is that true? Hey—d'you think you could sign it?"

Before Aralynn could open her mouth, Harry quickly answered. "No, Colin, I don't think—"

"—Handing out signed photos, are you, Potter?" said Draco Malfoy's biting voice as he swaggered forward. He looked Aralynn over reproachfully. "Or should I say Potters."

"No," Harry replied, hard.

"Line up, everyone!" Draco called to the courtyard. "Step up, step up! Celebrity photo signing over here!"

Aralynn crossed her arms over her chest. "Bugger off, Malfoy."

Draco stepped towards her with a hateful smirk. "Who'd want your signature, anyway? It'd be worth less than the barn you probably call home. What good is it to have that ugly scar when you're still on the verge of being homeless?"

Aralynn clenched her fists. "Keep my family out of your mouth."

"Family?" Draco laughed coldly. "You don't have a family. Have you forgotten? You're an orphan. Bet those ratty Weasleys only took you in because they thought you'd be their meal ticket. They probably regretted having you around the moment they figured out you weren't going to earn them a fortune but cost them one. How does it feel knowing you're bankrupting those sods you call family?"

Aralynn was seething. She watched the way Malfoy's mouth curled around his callous words and imagined him spitting teeth out when she socked him right in the jaw. "You'd be wise to mind your mouth."

"Oh yeah?" Malfoy sneered. "I don't think I will. You don't scare me."

Aralynn felt a hand on her arm. She looked down to see Ron holding it in place. Still, she set Malfoy aflame with her eyes, who only seemed amused by Ron holding her back.

"Isn't that cute?" he taunted. "Look at Weasley coming to your defense. You two dating now that you aren't brother and sister? Or maybe that never mattered. Wouldn't put it past your filthy family."

Ron looked furious. "Eat slugs!"

Draco laughed again. "Or what?"

Aralynn lurched forward. "I'll show you what!"

"Leave them alone!" demanded an unknown voice. Aralynn jerked her attention over to the unfamiliar Slytherin girl she had seen against the wall. She had an accent that Aralynn didn't recognize. "You've made your point. Why don't you go be a jerk somewhere else?"

Draco Malfoy glowered at her. "Don't think I was talking to you, now, was I?"

"Yeah, well, I'm talking to you," said the girl. "Get lost before I punch you myself."

Professor Lockhart, who was a very unwelcome sight after the Pixie debacle, came sauntering over. "What're you lot up to?"

Draco backed off. "Just talking, Professor."

"He was being a jerk," the unnamed girl corrected. "He was harassing them."

Lockhart watched her gesture between Harry and Aralynn. "Now, now, children… We must play nice! What's the problem?"

"Potter was handing out signed photographs, sir," said Draco. "I only wanted one."

"That's a lie!" Aralynn hissed.

Lockhart laughed loudly. "Signed photos? That's a bit premature, don't you think, Potters?"

When Lockhart wrapped a tight arm around Harry's shoulders, Aralynn ducked out of the way before he could grab her, too. Just as he began lecturing her brother about time and place, she stomped furiously away from the congregation. She leaned back against a column and raked her hand through her hair. The Slytherin girl hesitantly approached.

"Sorry about that," she said. "I'm sure you could have handled him yourself. It's just… Well, I heard about what happened with the car, and I didn't think it would be a good idea if you got in trouble for hitting him."

Aralynn looked up at her, staring at the silver and green stripes on her tie. "It's okay. You're probably right."

"I'm Kiyana," she said, grinning at Aralynn. "Kiyana Davis. You can call me 'Kiya,' though."

"Aralynn," she greeted. "Potter."

Kiyana, however, didn't seem to know who she was. Which, admittedly, was quite a relief. "It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too," Aralynn replied. She was quiet for a few minutes after that. Since last year, there had been a strange dynamic between Slytherins and Gryffindors that she didn't exactly approve of. This girl, on the other hand, seemed completely unaware of that. "I don't believe I've seen you around the castle before."

"Oh," Kiyana began, pinkness peeking out from beneath her cheeks. "Yeah… I'm a second-year transfer."

"From where?" Aralynn asked.

"Ilvermorny," said Kiyana.

Aralynn stared. "Where?"

Kiyana chuckled. "Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It's the wizarding school in North America. I'm from Vermont."

Aralynn blinked. Well, that certainly explained why she couldn't recognize Kiyana's accent. "You're a long way from the United States."

She laughed. "My dad is an engineer. He was offered a job, so we moved to London in June."

Aralynn looked confusedly at her. "What's an engineer?"

She looked like she was considering explaining, but then decided against it. "You must not come from a No-Maj family."

Kiyana had said several things that Aralynn didn't understand, and she was starting to feel stupid. Instead of asking, she just stared.

"Oh, right… Um, No-Maj… I think you call them Muggles here?"

"Non-magic people?" Aralynn finally asked.

"Exactly," she smiled. "My parents are No—Muggles."

Aralynn wondered if Draco Malfoy knew that. "I hope you're enjoying Britain so far."

"It's cool," Kiyana said, looking around at the castle. "I'm still getting used to it, but I'm coming along."

Aralynn smiled weakly at her. "I'm glad. Ah… Thanks for helping with Draco. You definitely stopped me from doing something really stupid."

The girl smiled brightly at her. "Don't mention it. He was being a jerk."

"He always is," Aralynn said with a humorless laugh. She looked up when the bell sounded. "Dinnertime. I'll see you around, Kiya."

Kiyana waved her off as she rejoined Ron, Hermione, and a pale-faced Harry. "Bye, Aralynn!"

Ron was eyeing Kiyana suspiciously over his shoulder. "Who's that? One of Malfoy's cronies?"

"No," said Aralynn. "She's a new friend."