The first hint Chaser had that something had changed came at lunch on Monday, the first day of classes for the term.
The welcoming feast had been largely spent worrying about the meeting with Dumbledore. Most of the questions about Ginny's absence ended up going to Ron and his brothers, all of whom repeated the line that "she was still recovering from an illness, and would be back in a week or so, and really we don't do much the first week back anyway so who cares?" A few of the lions remained curious, of course, but most simply asked the boys to tell their sister to get well soon.
Susan pulled him aside after the feast, and asked if he knew where Professor Lockhart had been during the meal. Chaser shrugged - embarrassed that he had not noticed the professor's absence. As he waited for Professor McGonagall, he consulted with the link, only to learn that the Defense professor had been in attendance at the feast in the other four worlds. In each, he had been chatting up Professor Vector once again, while she politely ignored him as much as possible.
But the man's absence did not worry Chaser for long, as he had other things to deal with.
The Gryffindor second years would not see Lockhart until their afternoon defense class on Tuesday, the second day of term. Hufflepuff, on the other hand, had their double Defense class with Ravenclaw on Monday mornings. Harry found himself curious about what Lockhart would have them doing. Would it be more of the same nonsense, his brief attack of conscience lost in his usual vanity and arrogance? Or would they see the Lockhart from the dueling club, who had realized that his job had real consequences?
Harry was convinced that the man wanted to change. There had been something about him, that night, something that suggested a man who wanted to own up to his mistakes. He had no idea how right he was.
At lunchtime, Susan sat down next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table, across from Ron and Harry. She was all smiles, which puzzled Harry and Ron, as they knew she had just come from Defense.
"Good afternoon, Susan," said Harry. She looked at him, and her grin got even bigger. She knew something.
"Hi Harry," she replied, making herself a sandwich.
Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. "Ummm," began Ron, "How was Lockhart today?"
Susan positively beamed at him. "I can honestly say that it was the best Defense class I've ever had.."
Harry had to set his fork down. "Really?"
"Oh, yes, absolutely." Susan confirmed, taking a drink of her juice. "The Professor did ask me to tell you to see him during your free period this afternoon."
Now Harry was really confused. "We haven't even had class yet this term, what would he need from me?" He doubted that Lockhart would want to draw attention to whatever he had discussed with Mister Fitzpatrick, if he had reached out to the solicitor at all. Even if Harry had seen Mister Fitzpatrick over the holiday (which he hadn't), he was too good a solicitor to reveal whether or not he had even spoken to Lockhart.
Susan chuckled. "He didn't say, but I can guess."
"What is it, then?" asked Hermione.
Now Susan turned to her, still grinning. "It's probably family business or something."
Despite their best efforts, they could not pry the information out of their friend. She even withstood her fellow hufflepuff Hannah Abbott, who seemed to know something of her own but spent lunch trying to talk Susan into revealing what she knew. Nothing.
So it was that a very confused Harry Potter made his way up to the Defense classroom, wondering exactly what the deal was with Professor Lockhart. A knock on the door, and the Professor responded.
"Come in!"
Chaser opened the door and stepped into the classroom, only to be confronted with the last person he ever expected to see.
"Dad?"
oOoOoOoOo
James Potter grinned at his son. "Hello, Harry."
Chaser closed the door behind him, still trying to work out what his father was doing at Hogwarts. "I'm supposed to meet with the Defense professor, or at least that's what Susan told me."
"Well," said James, "Today's your lucky day."
Harry set his bag on a desk in the front row. "No way."
That got a laugh. "Yes, way."
"Seriously?"
"No, my son," James replied, gesturing to a chair. "Sirius is too busy, so they had to settle for me."
Once the Potters settled down, James began to explain what had happened. During the pre-term staff meeting on Sunday, as the students were boarding the Express for the journey back to Hogwarts, an elf had delivered a letter of resignation from one Gilderoy Lockhart. He cited health concerns and personal matters that demanded his attention, but made a point to thank the Board and his now former colleagues for the wonderful opportunity. The Headmistress had been surprised, to say the least, and had reached out to the DMLE for another Auror substitute.
"Your Aunt Amelia was not happy," continued James. "Two years in a row, the Defense professor leaves early, and she has to send one of her aurors to the castle to fill in." He held up a hand, anticipating Chaser's reply. "Yes, yes, I know, this time the professor in question actually survived his tenure."
"Good thing," said Chaser, with a grin that matched his father's. Then the grin faded. "But why did Professor Lockhart leave, then?"
James looked at his son for a moment, considering his response. Then he pulled a letter out of his robes. "He didn't say. But Mister Fitzgerald said he received this letter from Lockhart, addressed to you specifically." He looked over his glasses at Harry. "I need to know, did you have something to do with Professor Lockhart leaving?"
Harry had opened the letter, and did not answer his father's question. From what he saw, though, it was clear that he had indeed had a hand in what had happened. The fact that Lockhart had written him at all was a testament to that - and the length of the letter was proof as well.
Mister Potter,
As you will have learned by now, I've resigned from Hogwarts.
You'll recall our conversation last December, I hope. We talked about the various books on sale in Britain, each claiming to tell our stories. With yours, as you said, everyone knew them to be fiction. With mine, on the other hand, no one really did.
I did travel the world, seeing magical places that would dazzle your mind, places of such beauty as to steal the breath from you. And I saw such magnificent beasts, magical animals so grand that no one could hope to properly tame them. The stories I told were my own, embellished and altered and obscured. But every story was based on the accounts of some poor wizard who actually lived the tale. That they became my stories in the telling is my shame - one that you saw on full display.
You were not the only student to figure things out. My publisher had told me just that morning that another student had asked if the dates given in the books were accurate. He assured her that they changed the dates to obscure the true identities of the parties involved, and they did - but did they change them enough?
I was already halfway to a panic about that, before the Dueling Club ever began. That evening… well, you were there.
I've written this letter to thank you. You see, it was our conversation, after the Dueling Club, that put things into perspective for me. I can't carry the weight of this anymore, and staying at Hogwarts would only make that guilt worse. What's more, I'm rubbish as a teacher, as was evident during the last term. Self-promotion? I'm all over it. Putting pen to parchment? However inaccurate the facts, I did at least write the books, and they sold quite well.
But I can't shake the notion that someone will try to apply a lesson from my books in a crisis, and end up getting themselves injured. Or worse - getting someone else injured, or even killed. No, I really can't live with that.
It would be impossible for me to go back over my travels and undo the damage I've done, repair the lives I've damaged. And there are many whose lives I've damaged over the years. Against that I balance my good looks and winning smile (for not everything was fake), and a Charms Mastery - perhaps the only accolade I actually earned. Will I be successful in doing something of benefit with my life, to balance out my many mistakes? I honestly don't know.
But I plan to try.
Yours,
Gilderoy Lockhart
Harry looked up at his father, before wordlessly handing the letter over. James took it, but kept his eyes on his son. With a sigh, Harry began to explain.
"I saw that Lockhart was having a panic attack after the dueling club, just before the end of the last term. He was freaking out because Justin Finch-Fletchley almost got bitten by a snake. When I talked to him, the subject of his books came up, and he all but admitted that they weren't quite accurate. He seemed to be guilty about that, about taking a professorship he really didn't feel qualified for, and other things he didn't mention." Harry shrugged. "So I gave him Mister Fitzpatrick's information, and said that he might be able to help."
James nodded, his eyes scanning the letter. "I see. Well, Robert floo'ed me last night and said that Lockhart was taking an apprenticeship at Saint Mungo's. I thought I had misheard, and that he was being committed to Saint Mungo's."
Harry chuckled at that. "He did come off as a bit odd, didn't he?" James could only agree - the Potters had discussed the defense professor and his eccentricities at length, that holiday.
"He did. But from this letter, it sounds like he was stuck beneath his own lies. He faked it until he made it, I suppose - and then had to keep faking it." James shook his head. "He could have gotten someone killed."
"Well," said Harry, "I hope everything works out for him." He looked about the room, seeing that all of the many portraits of Lockhart had been removed. The Hogwarts elves did quick work, he thought. Then he saw one of their own training dummies, set up against the side of the classroom. He looked back to his father, raising an eyebrow. "You're not filling in for the entire term, are you?"
A look of mock horror crossed James' face. "Merlin, no. I'm told that the Board of Governors already has a candidate scheduled to arrive next Monday. The word is that she and the Headmistress don't exactly have the warmest working relationship. Which might not matter, in the long run - they need a Defense professor, not an auror screwing about for a week."
Now Susan's enthusiasm for that morning's class made sense. "Susan and the hufflepuffs seem to have had fun. She said it was the best defense class she had ever had."
James looked surprised at the praise. "Really?"
Harry shrugged. "I mean, between a faker and the Dark Lord, surely you can top them both, right, old man?"
The look of indignation on James' face was priceless. "Oi!" shouted Lord Potter. "I'm only 32, I'm not old!"
oOoOoOoOo
Chaser wished that Gryffindor had their double Defense on Tuesdays, rather than the shorter single period. As had been the case with Susan, it was the best single class in the subject that he had ever had.
The Defense classroom was set up to allow small duels or other limited spellcasting demonstrations, either from students or the professor. That meant that there was a built-in ward scheme that could throw a shield between the student desks and the front of the classroom. James (and Sirius, via mirror) had come up with a fun way to test the wards out. And if they broke the classroom? Then the Board should have spent the galleons on upgrades.
James fully intended to enjoy his week of teaching.
The second year gryffindors, alongside their slytherin yearmates, entered the classroom that Tuesday to find a training dummy set up and ready to go. Lord Potter, in his professor's robes, was standing next to the blackboard. He had diagrammed the wand movement for the Protego charm, the shield charm that Lockhart had half-heartedly attempted to teach during the Dueling Club.
"Good afternoon, class, as you've no doubt heard, I am Professor Potter, and I will be filling in for this week's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Now, we're not going to review everything that your, er, previous professor had you learning, because I don't know what the new one will have you doing next week. So today, we're just going to re-learn a basic shield charm. So, who knows the incantation for a shield charm?"
Hermione's hand shot up immediately, as expected. "Miss Granger?"
"Protego, sir." Chaser grinned at his father's eye roll at being called 'sir'.
"Correct, take two points for Gryffindor. Yes, the basic shield charm is called the Protego, and it is quite a useful general purpose shield. You'll find that some shields are better at dealing with some sorts of curses, while others have additional benefits like reflecting the spell back at its caster or creating a flash of light that might disorient your opponent." James leaned back against his desk, adopting an easy-going posture. "There is even a shield charm that converts the blocked spell into a blast of sound that follows the spell's path back to the caster, also in an attempt to disorient them."
Another hand. "Yes, Miss Greengrass?" Daphne looked annoyed at Professor Potter's lackadaisical attitude. Wait for it, Chaser thought.
"Professor," she began, "Why would you bother with the light show, when a regular shield works just as well?"
"An excellent question, Miss Greengrass, take a point for Slytherin. The reason is that it gives your opponent something else to worry about. It may blind them, it may distract them, and it may give you that one extra second you need to either stun them, disable them, or get the hell away from them. For example." James' wand appeared in his hand, and he cast a bright blue curse at the dummy. Its shield flared to life, causing the slytherins on that side of the room to shield their eyes. When they looked up, James had his wand aimed at the ceiling above them. Even with a demonstration such as this, he was not going to aim his wand at a student.
Instead, he shouted "BANG!" and the sonorus he had cast while they were disoriented made his voice boom. "Now I've stunned you. Or worse." He turned back toward Daphne, who had a thoughtful expression. "Does that answer you, Miss Greengrass?" He received a nod from the slytherin, and gave one in return. "Right, good. Any other questions?"
"Do shields block objects, Professor?" This came from Lavender Brown.
Before he could answer, James heard snickering from the front row. Glancing over, he saw Draco Malfoy sharing a laugh at the question with Crabbe and Goyle. Eyes narrowing, James transfigured a paperweight into a brick, and then gave the Gryffindor side of the room a wink. With a quick motion, James threw the brick at Malfoy's head.
The shouts from his classmates were enough to get Draco's attention, just in time to see the brick flying right toward him. In a panic, he stumbled into the aisle between the desks, landing on his rear.
The brick shattered against the ward shield between the students and the front of the class. A few snickers were heard, as Draco brushed himself off and took his seat. No one remarked on how much paler he looked.
James, meanwhile, simply shrugged and looked back at Lavender. "It would seem that they can, Miss Brown." He turned to the blackboard. "Alright, take this down." As the class began to take their notes, Chaser could not keep the grin off his face.
Definitely, best class ever. Chaser couldn't wait to tell the link.
oOoOoOoOo
The five spent much of their Friday night conference discussing Lockhart - and trying to figure out if the other versions of the professor might also be tempted to depart.
Chaser enjoyed comparing his defense classes that week with the usual drivel the others had to endure. His father had tried to make the lessons enjoyable, and seemed to have done quite well at it. Susan had suggested that he might consider teaching on a full time basis once he retired from the auror corps, an idea that Chaser loved.
Spellforged worried less about who the professor was (though anyone would be better than Lockhart, he thought), and more about what they were - or weren't - learning. He had looked up the shield charm over the holidays, and suggested that the others do the same, as it was dead useful.
To his surprise, Marigold had already done exactly that, both as a reaction to the dueling club incident and as an attempt to figure out just what she had done to the bludger that Dobby had sent after her. The reports said that she created a powerful shield with a burst of accidental magic, which of course she dismissed as nonsense. She had intended to defend herself, had hoped against hope that she could do so, somehow.
And she had.
So they had a project. Spellforged found it harder to discuss wand movements over the link than he had the hand movements of Goblin magic, so his instruction was limited at best. Fortunately, the library had books on wand-based spells, something it obviously lacked for Goblin magic.
As the discussion wound on, only Rose noticed that Seeker had stayed much more quiet than usual. She considered asking him what was on his mind, but decided against it - for, were the positions reversed, she would likely want to be left alone as well.
oOoOoOoOo
That Saturday, Daphne Greengrass found Seeker in her spot on the fourth floor, sitting in the window and watching the winter sunset.
The slytherin had been approached in the library by a very nervous Hermione Granger, much to her surprise. After a few quiet minutes, during which each of the girls worked on their own assignments, Hermione had thanked her for helping them look into the Heir of Slytherin last term. Daphne had nodded in acknowledgement, saying that it was obvious that Potter was not the Heir, to anyone who had eyes to see.
Hermione seemed inclined to keep her own counsel about her friend. As someone who often found herself doing much the same, Daphne could respect that. The interesting thing about that afternoon had been that the longer they sat there, working on their homework, the more they ended up talking about Harry Potter. She found herself telling Hermione about the dinner Harry had attended with her family over the holidays, and Hermione in turn told her how much Harry had enjoyed the evening.
This eventually turned the conversation back to the school, and the ongoing whispers about Harry and his being the Heir. Daphne scoffed once more, but understood how upset he might be about the rumors. Hermione agreed, and wondered what could be done about it. The most interesting point she raised is that she had not actually seen Harry all day - which worried her, as he tended to withdraw when he was upset. Daphne shrugged - she had no idea where he might be.
Their homework done, the pair soon found themselves packing their bags and walking out of the library. Daphne agreed that she would tell Harry to find Hermione, if she saw him before dinner. Hermione had thanked her for that, and for the help on her homework. The footsteps behind her, of what turned out to be a group of hufflepuffs, told Daphne that the comment had been meant for their ears, as a cover for the impromptu summit between a pureblood slytherin and a muggleborn gryffindor.
The strange meeting was still on Daphne's mind as she thought about where Harry might be hiding out. As she passed the entrance hall, she saw that the sky was clear and cloudless, and that evening was fast approaching. That gave her an idea of where Harry could be found. Maybe.
On the fourth floor, along the west-facing wall between the Arithmancy and History of Magic classrooms, Daphne found Seeker sitting in a window. The thick stone walls of the castle meant that the window sill was deep enough to almost conceal the gryffindor - but not his bag, which sat on the ground.
He was leaning against the far side of the window, eyes firmly fixed on the horizon. Daphne saw his hand move to his wand, and knew that he had heard her - but then, when it relaxed, she realized that he knew that it was her. Or, at least, someone he recognized. Drawing close to the window, she decided to merely lean against the edge opposite him, where she too could see the sunset.
As she had suspected, it was a breathtaking view. Ever since he had told her about this spot, she had tried to come up here at least once every few weeks, when the skies were clear enough to make it worthwhile.
Eventually, it was Harry who broke the silence.
"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked. She smiled at that, keeping her eyes on the reddening skies.
"If Miss Granger is any indication, that should probably be my line." Daphne retorted, with amusement in her voice to take the edge off the rebuke.
"Hermione worries too much, I think." Seeker replied.
"Perhaps," allowed Daphne. "But that does not mean she's wrong to worry."
Harry said nothing. After another minute, the quiet was broken by a spinning knut, twirling its way across the flat stone of the window sill. He looked up at the slytherin, the question on his face.
"Knut for your thoughts?" She asked, smiling.
Picking up the coin, he began passing it through his fingers, moving it from one hand to the other in a practiced motion. She said nothing - he was clearly gathering his thoughts.
"What did you think of our Defense classes this week?" he asked, as if changing the subject.
Daphne raised an eyebrow at the digression, but considered her answer nonetheless. "They were… as expected, I suppose."
Harry laughed at that. "Not a fan of the great Gilderoy Lockhart, then?" asked Harry. Her scoff answered him, and he laughed again. "Guess not." Her only reply was a soft chuckle. "Right, well, I was just thinking about that class, you know? Wondering what would happen if, oh, say Lockhart got outed as a fraud and did a runner."
A shrug. "I imagine they would bring in an auror or some similar official to teach the class, perhaps multiple aurors on a rotating basis." She did not mention the fraud allegation, for it was an open secret in Slytherin that Lockhart had done exactly none of the feats he claimed.
Harry nodded. "That's probably what they'd do. Madam Bones would grumble about losing an auror for however long it took to find a replacement, but she'd do it." He looked over to her. "Of all the classes you need to join the auror corps, Defense is top of the list. She wouldn't let it be neglected if she could avoid it."
Daphne returned his nod, not sure where he was going with this.
"It got me to thinking," Harry said, quietly. "My father was an auror when he died. Had been almost since he graduated. Turns out a civil war eats up aurors pretty quickly." When Daphne said nothing, he continued. "I'll bet, if he were alive, he'd be front of the line to take a few weeks off and teach." Now he had a soft smile as he spoke. "Especially if his son were a student? No question he'd want to come and see how he was doing."
Daphne sat down on the sill, watching him. His eyes had returned to the horizon, and the now darkening sky. There was clearly emotion on his face - regret and sorrow mainly, if she read him correctly - but he was not as upset as he might have been. This had clearly weighed on him, that much was obvious.
"The last Heir of Slytherin," he said, "was a man named Tom Riddle. He opened the chamber in the forties, right up until he killed a student in 1943. When the board threatened to close the school in response to the attacks, he stopped them. Later, he took on another name." He looked over, and saw her eyes widening at the revelation. "You may have heard of him as Lord Voldemort."
She gasped - not at the name, but at the implications. Before she could respond, he had continued on.
"That… creature… took so much from me," Harry said, the emotion plain in his voice. "He took my mother, he took my father, he took my home, he took everything from me. How could anyone think I would follow in his footsteps and attack anyone?" He turned back to the window, struggling to keep his voice even and controlled. Daphne was honestly surprised that he was this collected, given what had clearly been on his mind all week.
Harry shook his head, sadly. "I sit in that stupid classroom, with those awful portraits sneering down at me, and just think how much my father would have loved teaching. He'd keep the Blonde Ponce on his toes, that's for sure." She could not contain the snicker that escaped her, and saw him grin as well. "Bet you he'd test Draco's shields by chucking a brick at his head." That got another laugh from the pair, breaking some of the tension.
She saw him wipe his eyes, and realized why they were wet.
"I just…. I don't know, Daphne, it never does any good to dwell on what might've been, but I can't help it." He sighed heavily. "I've just been in my head all week, I guess." Turning, he looked over to her. "It's good to know I'm not alone. Not anymore. Thank you for letting me ramble on, Daphne." He flipped the knut toward her, and grinned when she snatched it out of the air.
"It would seem I got my money's worth then," She said with a smile. Pocketing the coin, she picked up her bag, seeing that he had gone for his own. "You know that you're never alone, right?"
He nodded, seeming more amused by that statement than she would have expected. "I know. You and Ron and Neville and Hermione have kept me sane, this last month or so. I owe you all."
She nodded, almost formally, in response. "I will hold you to that, Heir Potter." Then she gave an exaggerated curtsey, causing them both to laugh.
"Indeed, Heiress Greengrass," was Harry's mockingly formal response, before offering a deep bow of his own. Their renewed laughter echoed down the empty corridor, long after the stars shone in the black sky.
oOoOoOoOoOo
The following Monday, true to James' word, Susan Bones met their new Defense Professor.
The woman was the opposite of Gilderoy Lockhart in every conceivable way. She was a tall woman, approaching two meters in height. Her white-blonde hair was kept short and neat, much like many of the female aurors Susan had met through her Aunt. The Professor's blue eyes seemed to track each student as they entered the classroom, another sign that she had at least had auror training at one point. Her robes were black with burgundy accents - which surprised her, as usually Hogwarts professors wore at least some element of their house colors when teaching.
When the hufflepuffs and ravenclaws were seated, the professor walked to a podium. She carried only the attendance sheet, no other notes.
"Good morning. My name is Professor Alexandria Knight-Ketterhagen, and I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the remainder of the year. You may call me Professor Knight." Her eyes continued to scan the classroom, getting an idea for who was or was not paying attention. Her voice had traces of what sounded like a German accent, one that had been worn off over years of living in Britain.
The professor continued. "I graduated in 1959 from the Oslo Academy of Magical Studies. Unlike my esteemed predecessor," and here she paused for snickers from the ravenclaw side of the room - and, to Susan's surprise, from the 'puffs as well. "I hold masteries in both Transfiguration and Defense. The upper years will be applying some of their Transfiguration lessons to practical defense, as some curses can only be blocked by physical objects, rather than cast shields. For your class, well," She held up a copy of Magical Me. "Let's just say we have a lot of work to do to catch up."
In a move that won her the instant support of every student in the room, Professor Knight tossed the book in the air. Out came her wand - a long straight wand of a red wood. Wordlessly, and without a visible spell flying, the book caught fire. It landed with a thump on the floor, already beginning to fall apart. Gilderoy Lockhart's portrait on the cover was desperately trying to extinguish his robes, which had also caught fire. In short order, the memoir was nothing more than ash.
Professor Knight let the applause die before she walked to the blackboard.
"Parchment out, everyone. Let's talk about magical and mundane fire…"
Susan took out her notes, and shared a look with Hannah Abbott. Both found themselves looking forward to Professor Knight's tenure.
A/N: Welcome, Professor Knight. I wonder how the DADA curse handles partial years? We'll have to find out.
Seeker's had a rough go of things, as he would have in canon. And then, he gets a headful of Chaser laughing and telling stories about his father's Defense lessons, all while sitting in Lockhart's class doing, well, whatever the hell it is that he does while pretending to be a professor. This chapter began as little more than setting up Professor Knight and giving Chaser some family time, as well as dispensing (for now) with our Guilty!Lockhart. Part of what I love about writing this story is that moments like Seeker and Daphne's seem to just grow organically from completely unrelated moments in the other worlds. I'm thrilled that the story allows me to indulge those moments like this - and that the readers enjoy that sort of thing, or at least seem to.
Rest assured, things will pick up in pace as we barrel toward the end of the year.
As this is posted on the 1st of January, Happy New Year! Good fortune to you and yours, etc etc. I hope your 2019 is better than your 2018, however good it may or may not have been for you.
Feedback, as always, is welcome.
