"STEALING THAT CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF YOU'D BEEN EXPELLED, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU—"

The next morning, I entered the Great Hall just in time to see a red letter explode with the force of an atomic bomb. Ron's red forehead and even redder face sank out of sight until he was practically hiding under the table; the whole Great Hall stopped all conversation for two reasons—one, to see who'd received the Howler, and two, it was too loud to continue talking anyway.

Once the ringing in everyone's ears subsided, there were some chuckles and sniggering before normal conversation resumed. Figuring it was now safe to proceed—I hardly doubted Harry would receive even a response from his Muggle family, much less a Howler—I walked towards my friends.

When I sat down, Professor McGonagall handed me my schedule with a small smile. Our first class would be double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs: not bad at all. Afterwards followed Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts, both with the Slytherins. Sigh.

After looking over our schedules, we finished our breakfast and hastened to the greenhouses. Professor Sprout was already waiting for us, her face bright and her arms full of bandages. Off in the distance, the Whomping Willow could be seen with many of its branches in slings. Harry and Ron both cringed at the sight.

But then I realized—they hadn't cringed because of guilt. It was because Professor Lockhart was beside Professor Sprout.

"Oh, hello there!" he called, flashing us that oh-so-charming smile. "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels…"

"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" Professor Sprout shouted over Lockhart, her face no longer so bright.

Harry and I walked towards the greenhouse—but he was yanked back. Of course, it was Professor Lockhart, who exclaimed, "Harry! I've been wanting a word—you don't mind if he's a couple minutes late, do you Professor Sprout? That's the ticket," he said before Professor Sprout could even open her mouth, and then he slammed the door in her face.

Professor Sprout, looking thoroughly murderous, huffed. "All right, class! Now, we've never been in greenhouse three before, so I must ask you to be very careful and follow my instructions exactly. I've got lots of earmuffs here on the table." Indeed she did; one pair was pink and fluffy… too pink to be likable. "So you'll need a pair of those."

Harry sidled back into the room, looking thoroughly disgruntled, and took a spot next to me.

"We'll be re-potting Mandrakes today," continued Sprout, apparently content to not draw attention away from the lesson. "Who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

Of course, Hermione's hand was first in the air. "Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative. It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state," she recited, smiling a little smugly.

Professor Sprout's usual smile returned slightly as she exclaimed, "Excellent, ten points to Gryffindor. The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

I raised my hand as Hermione almost knocked Harry's glasses off. This time, Professor Sprout pointed to me, and so I answered, "The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears."

"Precisely," Professor Sprout nodded, smiling again. "Take another ten points to Gryffindor. Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young, so their cries won't kill yet. Everyone take a pair of earmuffs."

A storm of hands raided the table, all of which avoided the alarmingly pink earmuffs. Professor Sprout took the pink fluffy pair and announced, "When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered. When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right—earmuffs on!"

I slapped my earmuffs over my ears, and then there was silence.

The class watched as Professor Sprout yanked up one of the Mandrakes—it looked like a dirty, earthy baby. She dumped it rather haphazardly into a new pot and began throwing dirt over it; though I couldn't hear its cries, its mouth was open, very obviously screeching.

Finally, she gave the thumbs-up, allowing us to take our earmuffs off. Smiling, she beckoned, "Now you, go on!"

We re-potted Mandrakes all hour alongside someone from Hufflepuff named Justin Finch-Fletchley. He seemed excitable, eager to meet new people: I liked him and was mainly the one talking to him in between re-potting Mandrakes, seeing as Harry still had clenched teeth from his discussion with Lockhart, Hermione was absorbed in her work, and Ron was still pale from the Howler.

Next was Transfiguration, where I met Draco's gaze and raised an eyebrow. He nodded—and that was all I needed to know we'd be partners again for both Professor McGonagall's and Professor Snape's classes.

Transfiguration was also when I first learned of the accident with Ron's newly broken wand. I offered to see if Robbie could mail in our emergency spare, but as he usually did regarding financial matters, Ron's ears turned pink, and he flat-out refused. I attempted to convince him multiple times to change his mind, to no avail.

After Transfiguration was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Just before we could enter Lockhart's classroom, a first-year with mousy brown hair came up to us. There was a Muggle camera fastened around his neck. "All right, Harry? I'm—I'm Colin Creevy. I'm in Gryffindor, too. Do you think—would it be all right if… can I have a picture?"

Harry stared at him blankly. "A picture?"

Apparently pleased that Harry wasn't telling him off, Colin nodded and continued rambling. "To prove I've met you; I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead. A boy in my dormitory said that if I develop the film in the right position, the pictures will move. It's amazing here, isn't it? I never knew all this odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you, maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then could you sign it?"

Poor Harry looked overwhelmed, his jaw clenched—before he could speak, a familiar voice laughed, "Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?"

Up marched Draco, flanked as usual by Crabbe and Goyle. "Everyone line up!" yelled Draco, waving his arms. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"

"No I'm not," Harry responded, his face turning pink.

Not really having the energy to deal with the such hostility, I exasperatedly sighed, "Draco, honestly."

My words and sentiments were ignored, however, as Draco's attention had been snared by Colin Creevy, who exclaimed, "You're just jealous."

Draco laughed and repeated, "Jealous?" He didn't need to shout anymore; people were staring at us from across the courtyard. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar on my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself."

"Eat slugs, Malfoy," grumbled Ron.

"Be careful, Weasley," Draco muttered, stepping forward. "You don't want to start any trouble or your Mommy will have to come and take you away from school. If you put another toe out of line, we'll bring you straight home!" Hearing the laughter from the watching Slytherins, he smirked. "Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter. It'd be worth more than his family's whole house."

Ron retrieved his broken wand and was about ready to curse him when Hermione whispered, "Look out!"

Sauntering down the hallway was Lockhart, asking, "What's all this, what's all this? Who's giving out signed photos?"

Then he saw Harry. Lockhart grinned—smarmy git, his grin made me want to vomit—and exclaimed, "I shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry! Come on, then, Mr. Creevy. A double portrait, you can't do better than that, and then we'll both sign it."

As Professor Lockhart was speaking, Draco and his cronies slipped away. His disappearance made me purse my lips. I'd hoped he might be more tolerable this year…

Hermione, Ron, and I proceeded to Defense Against the Dark Arts at Lockhart's insistence. Harry tried to follow but was once more pulled aside by the doofus we were forced to call a professor so he could take that photograph.

They returned only a moment or so later; the look on Harry's face was one that could kill. He slammed his bag atop the table next to me and didn't say a word.

The first thing Lockhart did was give us a quiz about himself. Questions ranged from Lockhart's favourite color to Lockhart's ultimate goal to Lockhart's proudest adventure… I was so disgusted I almost didn't fill out the quiz. There were fifty-four questions in total, which was fifty-four too many.

But unfortunately, it was for a grade, so I had to try.

When Lockhart began swiftly grading our quizzes, I locked eyes with Harry. His murderous look was still prominent—hoping to cheer him up, I shot him an exaggerated eye-roll, which did crack through the stoniness of his face. We were shooting looks at each other from across the table before long, trying to stifle our ridiculous giggles as Lockhart scribbled over our papers with a quill.

Close to the end of class, he handed back our quizzes and began disciplining us for not remembering his life story. Seamus and Dean started biting their fists to keep from laughing; as tempted as I was to join, I figured it would be safer to snort upon hearing Lockhart's favorite color was lilac, and content myself with that.

Afterward, finally, things became more interesting. Lockhart had a cage with a tarp over it sitting in the middle of the room… although it was completely still, it certainly wasn't empty.

I was intrigued despite myself as Professor Lockhart announced, "Now—be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizard-kind! 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."

Neville shrank in his seat; Seamus and I exchanged excited looks.

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart. "It might… provoke them!"

He whipped the cover off of the cage—when Seamus and I saw what was inside, we burst into hysterical laughter that not even Lockhart could possibly morph into gasps or screams. Through tears of hilarity, Seamus cried, "Cornish pixies?"

"Aha! Freshly caught Cornish pixies! Devilishly tricky blighters they can be!" Lockhart corrected him, far more dramatically than was necessary. "Now… let's see what you make of them!"

He opened the cage, and the tiny pixies burst out of their container. Some of them flew straight out the window, breaking the glass and showering the back row with shards. Two went towards the books on Lockhart's desk and began ripping them to shreds—others turned over rubbish bins. Three threw things out the broken window; another two seized Neville by the ears and hauled him into the air, to the iron chandelier above our heads.

"Come on, now, round them up, they're only pixies!" Lockhart chided.

"Neville!" I cried. Making sure to shoot Lockhart a dirty glare, I carefully aimed at one of the pixies carrying Neville to the chandelier. "Rictusempra!"

The pixie froze, doubling over in a fit of laughter. Now there was only one pixie holding onto Neville, and it wasn't strong enough to support a human's weight on its own.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

Neville, who had been toppling back down to the ground, froze in midair. It seemed like his flight had been slowed, at least a little—but then a pixie pulled at my hair, making me howl in pain, and he collapsed onto the floor again.

Seeing the duress I was now under, Harry leapt forward to seize the little bugger and toss it back in its cage. He made doubly-sure to lock it after.

Brilliant. One down, two dozen to go.

Lockhart shot me another one of those ridiculous smiles and exclaimed, "Very good, very good! Miss Skylar and Mr. Potter have got one, everybody! How about the rest of you?"

We looked around the classroom only to see that everyone had ditched the classroom in favor of the hallway. Only Harry, Hermione, and Ron were left with me… and poor Neville, who was groaning upon the floor.

"Professor, do something!" I shouted, hardly able to constrain my rage.

"Very well! Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"

Before the spell could go off—if it even was a legitimate spell—one of the pixies grabbed Lockhart's wand and chucked it straight out the window. Gulping, our professor turned to us, smiled, and said, "I'll just ask the four of you to nip them back in their cage."

Then he ran back into his office and slammed the door shut.

Harry, Ron, and I exchanged exasperated looks. It was Ron who roared, as a pixie bit his earlobe, "Can you believe him?"

Hermione, immobilizing as many pixies as she could, sighed dreamily. "He just wants us to get some hands-on experience, Ronald."

"Hands-on experience?" Harry and I repeated with disbelief. Harry lunged over my shoulder and managed to stun one with its tongue sticking out at him before adding, "Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he was doing—"

"Rubbish," Hermione argued. "You've read his books—"

"No I haven't."

"Look at all the things he's done!"

"What he says he's done," Ron muttered under his breath.

I was definitely with Ron on that one. Knowing, however, that we still needed to get the pixies back into their cage so they couldn't wreak havoc on Hogwarts, I cried, "We'll figure out how much of a dunce he is later! Anyone have any ideas?"

One of the pixies whizzed over my head, screaming, "WHEEEE!" almost directly into my ear. Forgoing magic, I lunged out and swiped it out of midair, chucking it angrily back into the cage after.

"Only one," replied Hermione, though she made sure to give me a bit of a scalding look at my dismissal of our new professor. She raised her wand to the air and cried, "Immobulus!"

Five of the bastards zooming around our classroom were caught in the range of the spell—Hermione scooped them into the cage and cast a spell on the ones inside, to put them to sleep so they couldn't escape.

Noting the success she had been met with, Harry, Ron, and I followed in her lead. With each time we shouted this spell, the number of pixies littering the room lessened: the chaos was dying down, there was less chittering and chattering, less clattering of objects being dislocated…

It took five minutes and plenty of scratches, but at last, we had done it. The last of the devils were locked back in their cage—Ron tossed the tarp back over it with an angry huff.

The four of us stared at one another, taking heaving breaths. Harry had a few bite marks on his neck and scratches upon his cheek—apparently I did too, because he reached a fatigued hand out and wiped some blood from the side of my face with the words, "We should… probably get to the hospital wing…"

At the words 'hospital wing,' something froze up inside me. "Erm—no, I'll be all right. It's just a few scratches, they'll heal up in a few days. It's… fine. You three go on ahead if you want."

Harry shot me an odd look at the whiteness to my face. But all he said was, "All right, then I guess I won't go either. Let's get some lunch. I'm starved."

Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement at this; and then, frustrated and hungry as we were, we left our ridiculous lesson in favor of the Great Hall.


Hi, it's me again! :) For those of you that are reading as I post, I just wanted to let you know I recently edited all of my previous chapters of this story and added some additional content in certain places! You might have noticed I added a new fear for Belle: a fear of the hospital wing. In case you want to see some of the new stuff I wrote and/or want some context for future chapters I may write, I would recommend checking out the following chapters:

-Year 1: Chapter 9

-Year 1: Chapter 11

-Year 1: Chapter 13

-Year 2: Chapter 3

Of course, please don't feel like you won't understand anything going forward if you don't revisit these chapters because that is not the case at all. It's just my way of saying I added more stuff like character fears, relationships (both friendly and not-so-friendly), and just general tomfoolery and goonery.

Thanks again for reading everyone. Have a great day!