There first class with Lockhart was later that day. Dudley, Ron and Dean got a bench together near the back. Neville saw with Seamus. Hermione was with Lavender and Parvati.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's copy of "Travels with Trolls", and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense 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!"

He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books - well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about - just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in-"

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes - start - now!"

Dudley looked down at his paper and read:

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?

On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:

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

Dudley scratched his chin. He hadn't read any of the books. He hated reading—unless it was the book on curses he bought last year. He had even struggled with his new book on Voodoo. He looked sneakily at Ron's paper, but he looked stumped too. On his other side, Dean had written turquoise as the answer to question one, so Dudley copied that.

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

"Tut, tut - hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti . And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully - I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples - though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogdens Old Firewhisky!"

He gave them another roguish wink. Ron was now staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face; Seamus Finnigan was shaking with silent laughter. "Is he for real?" Dean muttered. Dudley too thought that Lockhart was coming off as a bit of a prat. But he had defeated a number of dark creatures though.

Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her name.

"... but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions - good girl! In fact" - he flipped her paper over - "full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

Hermione raised a trembling hand.

"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so - to business-"

He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

"Now - be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

In spite of himself, Dudley leaned around his pile of books for a better look at the cage. Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Neville was looking nervous.

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."

Seamus Finnigan couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.

"Yes?" He smiled at Seamus.

"Well, they're not - they're not very dangerous, are they?" Seamus choked.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!" And he opened the cage.

It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, up-ended the waste basket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling.

"Come on," Dudley growled. He waved his wand, casting his favorite leglocker curse at a pixie which succeeded in binding its legs together but, since it could fly, did nothing to stop it from causing chaos.

"Come on now - round them up, round them up, they're only pixies," Lockhart shouted.

He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"

It had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized his wand and threw it out of the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who fell a second later as the chandelier gave way.

The bell rang and there was a mad rush toward the exit. Dudley grabbed Seamus by the back of his robes, hoisting him backwards out of the way and hurling him to the floor.

In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Seamus, Ron, and Dean, who were almost at the door, and said, "Well, I'll ask you three to just nip the rest of them back into their cage." He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.

Dudley chuckled, glad that he had escaped.

"Exciting lesson, eh Dudley?" Lockhart said, rubbing his hands together. His hair was mussed and he looked red-faced.

Dudley stared at him. Exciting was one word for it.

"I'm disappointed the class didn't handle that better. If you can't handle Cornish Pixies, how can you handle banshees and dementors and hags, eh Dudley?"

Dudley saw the sense of that. Though even he could tell the lesson had been pure chaos. It had been funny though.

"Not to worry, not to worry, I'll soon whip you all into shape," and with that he hurried off back towards his office.

Dudley waited at the dorm for the others to arrive. It took a long time. He passed it by looking through his voodoo book—he had suddenly felt that trying it on Malfoy would be a lot of fun.

The others eventually returned. Ron, Dean and Seamus all looked very tired and disheveled—they had rescued Neville from the remains of the desk and chandelier too.

Ron was in a very bad mood. "Three hours! Three hours!" he shouted, hurling himself down into a chair. "That's how long it took to get those little gits back into their cage. And they bite! Look!"

He showed Dudley his arm which, sure enough, was covered in tiny bite marks.

"They steal wands too," Dean said, sitting down too. He wasn't as angry as Ron. He just looked tired and, Dudley noticed, was dripping wet. "One grabbed mine and somehow fired a blast of water at me."

Dudley laughed again.

"I can't believe you got away, Dud," Ron said bitterly.

"Fun was it?" Dudley grinned.

"I'd rather spend three hours listening to Percy," Ron muttered.

"Merlin knows what he was thinking letting that lot loose," said Dean, wringing out the hem of his robes.

"If you can't handle pixies, how can you handle a banshee?" Dudley parroted.

"Bugger banshees," Ron said. "And bugger Lockhart. That was even worse than Quirrell's lesson."

"Maybe he just needs to get used to teaching," Dean suggested. "He seems a moron, but look at what he has done."

"If that prat has done half of what he says he has, I'll eat every earwax flavored Every Flavor Bean you can find," Ron muttered.