Chapter Six: Lockhart's Lesson
Gilderoy Lockhart picks the worst time to be a nuisance, Ron struggles with being publicly embarrassed, and Fallen crosses a line to throw down the gauntlet.
The following day began normally enough, though Hermione decided that giving Ron and Harry the silent treatment was in some way going to be more terrifying than Severus' dangerous aura of disapproval, the Valerians' violent threats of physical harm, and the terrifying thought that they may have been expelled before even unpacking their things.
Needless to say, neither Ron nor Harry was all that worried about her.
Breakfast was still a tense affair.
Draco was watching Harry like a hawk, looking away only when Harry had taken a bite or two of the toast that the blond had forced onto his plate, and looking back again frequently to ensure that he was still eating it.
"He barely ate last night," Blaise quietly confided to Harry. "I think he was too worried about what had happened with you and Ron."
Neville glanced at Draco. "It's almost like he thinks you're going to drop dead if you're out of sight."
Blaise glanced at his friend sharply, causing Neville to flush slightly and return to his eggs.
In contrast to Harry, Ron had his full appetite, which was a spectacle to watch as he shoved anything and everything he could into his mouth and still managed to chew and swallow.
Draco's lip curled slightly. "Clearly this is going to be a yearly thing between you and me," he told the redhead.
Ron's mouth was too full to answer, but between the glare and the red tint to his ears, it was pretty safe to say that the dig had hit home and he slowed down a great deal, and he pulled his wand out to show Neville and Blaise that it had been snapped the night before.
Harry and Draco snorted and exchanged amused glances, as this was the first either of them had heard about Ron's broken wand.
Midway through breakfast, as Blaise was handing over Neville's ever-present roll of Spell-o-Tape, the air was flooded with the sound of wings.
Above them, dozens of owls and other messenger birds were descending, eagerly delivering the first letters of the school year to their recipients.
Draco made a disgusted noise as the ancient owl the Weasleys owned, Errol, upended his bowl of porridge as he came to 'land' on the Gryffindor table.
"I'm surprised your owl managed to survive the trip, Weasley!" he growled, sliding down and away from his dripping breakfast before it could get on his robes. "He's a bloody menace!"
There was no response from Ron, which was unusual, and Draco looked up from obsessively checking his robes to ensure not a drop of porridge had made it onto his clothes.
Ron was white as a ghost and staring at Errol, or more precisely, the red envelope that Errol had delivered.
"Shit, Ron," he breathed. "Your mum and dad must be pissed."
"Best to get it over with," Blaise murmured.
"Howlers are nasty business," Neville added.
Harry opened his mouth to ask what, exactly, was so bad about a Howler, but most of Gryffindor had put their hands over their ears, even Fallen and Yoko, lying casually in the path between the House tables, had put their paws over their ears as though to muffle sound.
Any questions he had about Howlers were quickly answered.
With his eyes closed and the look of a man going to his death, Ron had opened the red envelope and Molly Weasley's voice had erupted from the paper, berating her son for taking the car and getting his father into trouble at work.
The screaming seemed to go on forever and the eyes of everyone in the Great Hall were on Gryffindor, specifically on Ron.
Ginny, who had received a footnote to congratulate her on being Sorted (the process in which First Years' Houses were chosen) into Gryffindor, sank low into her seat, not wanting anything to do with the attention the Howler had brought upon her, flushing a dark red.
Even the twins were looking at their brother with pitying expressions because, for everything that they had ever done at Hogwarts, they'd never been in enough trouble to receive a Howler from their mother.
In the abrupt silence the followed the letter burning itself to ash, Hermione broke it.
"Well, I don't know what you were expecting, Ron-"
"Shut up, Granger," Draco said quietly, wincing as Ron shoved away from the table and stormed out of the hall.
"It's an experience you don't understand because you've never gotten one," Neville pointed out.
"No one deserves that kind of embarrassment," Harry said, pushing away from the table and ignoring Draco's hiss of his name.
Though his friend obviously wanted to follow, Harry was thankful that he didn't.
XX
Thankfully, Ron hadn't gotten far before Harry caught up to him because Harry hadn't really thought his plan through.
He hadn't gotten up more than a flight of stairs before he realized that he was alone, and the panic had begun to set in again.
It faded as he caught sight of Ron, stomping up the stairs with enough force that Harry was surprised they weren't cracking as he passed.
"Ron!" he called, jogging up the stairs to catch up.
"What?" Ron barked irritably.
"I'm sorry I got you and your dad into trouble," Harry said, falling into step with the redhead, but unable to look at him. "It wasn't your decision to take the car. I can-"
"Leave it alone, Harry," Ron snapped. "It's fine."
Harry flinched back and away, letting Ron continue up to the Tower without him.
He stayed on the stairs for several minutes, trying to decide if it was worth following his friend or waiting for the others when the twins suddenly appeared on either side of him, an arm around his shoulders.
"Don't worry about icky Ronnikins, Harry," George told him.
"He'll get over it when the embarrassment wears off," Fred added.
"Harsh way to get yelled at, those Howlers," George continued, steering Harry in the direction their brother had gone.
"Wouldn't wish it on anyone," Fred agreed.
Harry remained silent between the two fourth years, wondering if he should write a letter to the Weasleys and explain why Ron had agreed to drive the Anglia to Hogwarts.
XX
Considering breakfast had barely begun when Harry and Ron had left, there was still plenty of time before Draco, Blaise, and the Valerians arrived back at the Tower, and found Harry curled up on the couch in the common room.
Draco handed the brunette his schedule as he perched on the arm of the couch beside him, Blaise dropping properly onto the couch.
"Where'd Ron go to?" Draco asked, fluttering the redhead's schedule as though it would tempt the other Gryffindor out of hiding.
Harry shrugged. "Don't know," he admitted. "I think he's mad at me."
"Mad at you?" Blaise asked skeptically. "You didn't send him that Howler."
"It wasn't his idea to take the car," Harry revealed. "It was mine. I just…even in the car, I couldn't…I didn't feel safe. I convinced him that we should take the car to Hogwarts, that we could follow the train and make it there to join the rest of the students when they got off in Hogsmeade."
"Hypervigilance," Fallen said.
"What?"
"That feeling of everyone being a threat to you. It's hypervigilance. Considering what you've been through, not only over the summer but the entirety of last year, I'm not at all surprised that you're suffering from it. It's normal."
"It doesn't feel normal," Harry told him. "I didn't feel like this…Before."
Fallen dipped a shoulder in the wolf's version of a shrug. "You had…someone who could recognize and deal with threats for you. Your body and brain insisted you were safe, and it laid dormant, if you will. Once that safety net was taken away…."
Harry looked down at his knees.
"You three should gather your things," Yoko told them. "Herbology is your first class. You're going to be late."
XX
The boys were late to Herbology, though it was through no fault of their own.
They had left the castle, not necessarily at a run, but close enough that it wouldn't offend Draco's decorum and get them to class on time.
The greenhouses Herbology was held in were to the east of the castle, not far, Harry noticed absently, from the Whomping Willow he and Ron had crashed into the night before. They weren't far, at least, not in comparison to some of the other places their classes and activities took place, but apparently, it was too far.
They were stopped by Gilderoy Lockhart coming from the other direction.
"Morning, boys!" the man said brightly, stepping into their path despite Draco's attempt to go around him, Fallen slipping easily and with great practice between his charge and the encroaching adult.
Though the blond hid it well, having practically been raised doing it, he was uncomfortable around grown wizards he was unfamiliar with, and Fallen had been a physical wall between even accidental brushes long before Draco had entered Hogwarts.
"I wondered if I could have a word, Harry," the Defense Professor said, an eager and all too photogenic smile on his face.
"The boys have a class to get to, professor," Fallen sneered. "Class they are already running late for."
The silent order for the boys to keep moving was missed entirely by Lockhart, who stepped in front of the group again, still smiling at Harry. "It won't take more than a minute," he assured them. "I'll bring him by to Professor Sprout myself, I just left there, you see."
"Are you deaf, mortal?" Yoko asked scathingly. "You were warned in Diagon Alley and you're warned again here. Lord Potter is not here for your amusement."
"Ah, I do remember," Lockhart told them, turning his attention to the fox for the first time, smile a little less 'picture perfect' and a little more strained. "I'm afraid we couldn't find any agent for young Harry. It's one of the reasons I was so keen to speak to him. Offer him a little wisdom from someone who's been there."
And it was here that Lockhart made his second mistake.
He reached out a hand to pat Harry on the shoulder, as though the two were sharing a joke or experience.
Harry, never comfortable with unwelcome or unexpected touch, stumbled backward and nearly tripped over Yoko as the fox slipped between Harry and Blaise to intervene, physically if necessary. He was kept upright by quick thinking and reflexes on Draco's part, and the part of the Malfoy heir that was uncomfortable with Lockhart was swallowed whole by the part of him that would kill for his friends.
"Are you out of your bloody mind?" Draco snapped. "That's twice now that you've tried to put hands on my friend. Unwelcome hands. There's a word for adults who try to do that to children, and don't think I won't be telling my father about this. If you don't mind, Professor, we have Herbology right now, and are already running late, no thanks to you."
The Valerians didn't lay claw or fang on the professor, but their presence alone pushed him several steps back as they advanced on him.
"Harry Potter is a Second Year Hogwarts student, Gilderoy Lockhart," Yoko said menacingly. "He is not a celebrity. He is not to be used to further your image."
"The Malfoys will likely be getting in touch with a solicitor shortly," Fallen added. "To see what, if any, actions should be taken against you. In the meantime, you should think long and hard about how stupid you want to be today, Lockhart, because if you come near any Gryffindor, there will be spilled blood, and I assure you it won't be mind."
Draco glanced over his shoulder as he urged Blaise and Harry ahead of him and scoffed. "As though he would know the first thing about being a House Lord," he sneered, loud enough that Lockhart was sure to hear him.
And hear him Lockhart did, flushing darkly as he watched the three boys and their guardians hurry towards the greenhouses.
XX
Professor Pomona Sprout was, at first, unimpressed with the three boys as they stumbled into Greenhouse Three, several minutes after the class had begun.
"Sorry, Professor!" they chorused.
"They ran afoul of Lockhart on the way down," Yoko said, bypassing the students to greet one of his two favorite professors at Hogwarts.
"Ah," the witch said evenly. "Say no more."
Sprout was a cheerful, squat witch with an almost eternal layer of dirt on her clothes and beneath her fingernails. As a wielder of the Earth Element, the friendship between Yoko and Sprout was far from one-sided, and she crouched down to quickly pat the fox between the ears.
"We're actually just getting into the nitty-gritty ourselves," she said. "Find a place, boys, we're working with mandrakes today."
Being some of the last ones to the class, there wasn't a space large enough for all three boys to stand together, and they separated quickly, not wanting to risk the light-hearted professor's potential wrath.
"Specifically, we'll be repotting mandrakes," Sprout said once they were settled. "Who can tell me the properties of the mandrake?"
It was unsurprising to find Hermione, the bookworm that she was, with her hand in the air first.
"Mandrake, or Mandragora," Hermione said, sounding very much like she'd swallowed the textbook whole, "is a powerful restorative. It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."
Sprout nodded. "Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor. The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"
Hermione's hand was in the air so fast it could have flown.
But, after a nudge from Blaise, Neville raised his own with a flush on his cheeks.
The sheer surprise at seeing him volunteer information in class, had Sprout flicking a finger in her favorite student's direction.
"Its cry is fatal," Neville mumbled.
"Sorry?"
"The mandrake's cry is fatal," Neville repeated, a little louder.
"Precisely," Sprout said, smiling brightly. "Take another ten points, Gryffindor."
Yoko, hidden by the many tables, grinned into his paws.
It wasn't often that someone else in Gryffindor got credit for their knowledge, Hermione's extensive knowledge base, and her drive to always know, were difficult to beat.
Sprout sent Yoko and Fallen out of the greenhouse, as she didn't have earmuffs in their size that she trusted, while she demonstrated and put her class to work, repotting the growing mandrakes into larger pots.
Since it was pretty much the tail end of August, not necessarily the beginning of September, despite the date, the two Valerians lounged in the warm sun as they waited for the class to end.
XX
The Gryffindors joined the Valerians at the end of class.
Neville and Hermione are sharing their knowledge of mandrakes at a rate that made it difficult for anyone who didn't like the subject to follow, so Blaise left them to it and hung back, watching Harry dig through his bag as they walked back up to the castle.
"He seems less against having come back," he told Yoko.
The fox followed his gaze up to the brunette and tilted his head. 'I suppose,' he said thoughtfully. 'It's rather early to tell, of course, but if he does keep this attitude, I fear that he may use his classes and workload as an excuse to not sleep.'
"Draco and I can keep an eye on him once you and Fallen go back to patrolling the school again," Blaise told him. "We'll let you know if he suddenly stops coming up to bed."
Yoko didn't verbally respond, merely sending a pulse of gratitude to his charge.
He hadn't discussed it with Fallen, but he was fairly sure that barring an emergency, neither Valerian had plans to patrol the school as they had the year before.
The year before, Dark and Arcana had been visible and violent threats to the students at Hogwarts, necessitating the Valerians' potential intervention. They had no real interest in keeping students in bed, which was the reason the professors patrolled the school corridors after curfew.
If they were going to do anything, it would likely be to stretch their legs or do a quick 'warm-up run' before they headed out to the Forbidden Forest to hunt.
It wasn't helped by the urge to remain close to their charges, official and unofficial, when the boys were at their most vulnerable.
XX
Transfiguration turned out to be a difficult class, more so than usual at any rate, because Ron's wand was not okay.
Even after the class ended, the thing was whistling like a tea kettle, muffled by Ron's books and the fabric of his messenger bag.
The wand, like much else that belonged to Ron, was a hand-me-down from one of his brothers, and as such, it had never performed particularly great for him - any wizard would tell you that someone else's wand would never work half as well as your own did - but he had managed.
"I think your core was snapped, Ron," Yoko told him, eyeing the bag warily, ears pressed back against his skull.
"Why didn't you write home about it last night?" Draco asked. "Or even this morning?"
Ron snorted. "And get another Howler?" he asked. He shook his head. "I can see it hear it now: 'it's your own fault your wand got snapped'. Are you mental?"
Draco sneered at him.
"It's certainly not Draco's fault that you and Harry were in that car yesterday, Weasley," Fallen growled warningly.
Ron's eyes darted to Harry before quickly looking away.
The brunette in question looked down at his feet but said nothing.
Fallen glanced at Yoko, but the fox was distracted by Neville.
XX
Whatever issue Hermione was having with Ron and Harry, she was over it by lunch, though Ron would have preferred the silent treatment.
"You know that wand is a danger to yourself and others, Ron," she told him. "You really should write home and ask for a replacement."
"Mind your business," Ron growled into his lunch.
"I don't know if you remember, Granger," Draco interrupted, "but it isn't exactly like you can order a new wand from the Daily Prophet. You need to actually be the-why have you outlined all our Defense class blocks in little hearts?"
Hermione flushed and went silent.
Ron glanced up at Draco and nodded sharply.
Draco tilted his head, before looking at Harry and grabbing another serving of potatoes for him.
Harry sighed but didn't protest.
"Mother, may I please have the steak and kidney pudding?" Blaise muttered in a very convincing falsetto.
Draco flicked him two fingers, but his cheeks were a ruddy pink as he handed the requested dish to the dark-skinned Gryffindor regardless.
XX
After lunch, the Gryffindors joined the multitude of other students trying to soak up the fading warmth of summer as autumn fought for its place.
The sun of the morning was covered in fluffy clouds, which Draco eyed carefully though they weren't dark enough to signify potential rain.
Draco and Ron were talking quidditch matches that Harry hadn't had the chance to hear about, Hermione was rereading (because it was Hermione and there was no way that she hadn't already read through all the coursebooks for the year) Voyages with Vampires, and Blaise and Neville were talking quietly about Horus, the falcon that Blaise and Yoko had given to Neville as a late Christmas gift the year before.
Harry let himself drift, secure in his safety as Fallen and Yoko lay at the bottom of the stairs and his friends surrounded him but was brought back, almost abruptly, by the feeling of eyes on him.
A little way away, a small, mousy-haired boy stood with a muggle camera pressed to his chest.
The way he was looking at Harry, and just how small he was, marked him as a First Year and the scarlet tie around his neck made him a Gryffindor.
Before Harry could question his attention, Draco sought out the change in Harry's.
"Can we help you?" Draco asked, eyeing the boy with a curled lip.
Registering that he was doing a poor job of hiding his gaze, the boy went bright red. "I'm-I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, glancing at the two canines curled up by the side of the stairs as he took a tentative step forward. "I'm in Gryffindor, too."
Draco snorted. "We can see that, Creevey. What do you want?"
"Draco."
Draco rolled his eyes, as he always did when Fallen reminded him that he was being more rude than blunt.
"I was just…I was wondering if I could have a picture?"
"I don't think that's a good idea, child," Yoko said evenly. "Harry isn't that kind of celebrity."
Creevey looked over at Harry hopefully. "I was just hoping to prove I'd met you," he assured them. "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-"
"Stop your rambling." Fallen told him, not necessarily kindly but kinder than he normally was to students who irritated him. "Get to the point."
"I was hoping…maybe you could take one with me and…you could sign it?"
Draco's gaze flicked to the approaching group of Slytherins moments before his cousin opened her big mouth.
"Signed photos?" Katelyn sneered loudly. "You're giving out signed photos, Potter? What happened to all that defensiveness at Flourish and Blotts over the summer? Are you ready to try and be a real celebrity now?"
"He hasn't agreed to anything," Blaise pointed out.
Katelyn waved the remark and sentiment aside as unimportant. "Everyone line up!" she yelled to the courtyard. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"
"He will be doing no such thing," Yoko said, his voice deceptively calm as he curled a paw and delicately licked his claws.
"There's really no need for this jealousy, Katelyn," Draco told her. "I'm sure if you asked nicely, Lockhart might even pay you a bit of attention."
Katelyn's lips snapped shut and she glared at her cousin with pink-tinged ears.
"She can have all of it," Harry mumbled, ignoring the nudge from Draco's shoe for having done so.
Draco was a firm believer in the fact that, as a Lord, Harry should never slouch, mumble, or raise his voice in public. His rules, in some cases, also applied to Blaise, though Blaise had gotten a - just as thorough - set of lessons of his own growing up.
For the most part, Harry put up with it, because Draco had grown up this way, and learning such things didn't really do much to hurt in the long run.
"Shit," Blaise muttered, getting to his feet and moving aside as Lockhart swanned towards the growing nexus of muttering students, each eagerly watching this newest confrontation between the Malfoy cousins.
"What's all this?" the professor called jovially. "Someone giving out signed photos?"
"No one, professor," Draco sneered, while Katelyn pointed a metaphorical finger at Harry, loudly proclaiming otherwise.
Lockhart smiled and shook his head. "Should've known," he said, coming even closer as the crowd of eager students began to disperse with the arrival of a teacher, regardless of his 'usefulness'. "Shouldn't've let you off so easy, Harry. This is how it all starts!"
"Lockhart-"
"Come now, Mr. Creevey," Lockhart said, maneuvering himself between Draco and Harry in such a way that Draco instinctively flailed backward to avoid being touched, accidentally or otherwise, by the blond professor. "We'll both sign it for you."
The flash went off just as Fallen pushed himself between the First Year and his photography subjects.
Objectively, Draco almost couldn't wait to see what that picture looked like, because Lockhart's face, for the second it took for him to collect himself again, was awash in pure terror as the wolf stalked towards him.
Yoko pressed between Harry and Lockhart, bodily prying the boy from Lockhart's fear-slackened grip.
"You really don't have any sense of common sense or courtesy, do you, Lockhart?" Yoko asked, head hunched low between his shoulders. "I highly suggest you all return inside. You're decades too young to see what comes next."
Hermione twined her arm with Harry and dragged him fully into the castle, the rest of the school rushing to do the same.
The side door shut on Fallen calling him a 'masquerading moron'.
XX
The Defense class was, predictably, late to start.
It gave Draco plenty of time to complain about the stupidity of their new professor while Blaise teased Harry about Colin Creevey's obvious hero-worship, likening it to Ginny Weasley's own.
Harry was ashamed to admit that he hadn't really noticed the only Weasley girl, too focused on other things over the summer. What little he had seen was often her back, as she fled the room he was in, or the pitying and sympathetic looks that had been a staple for most of the Weasleys, regardless of their age.
"Don't say that," he hissed to Blaise's comment about a fan club. "Not even as a bloody joke. With my luck, Lockhart'll hear it and that'll be the end."
Draco snorted. "Seriously, what rock was the man born under that he can't recognize a real threat when it literally comes up and bites him?"
Ron rolled his eyes.
XX
It was almost twenty minutes into the class period before Lockhart swanned out of his second-floor office, wearing a new outfit and a smile large enough to take over half the room.
Yoko snickered quietly, aware of several reasons that could have necessitated the need for new clothes, beginning with pissing his pants in terror and ending with nearly bleeding out before Fallen had let him go to Pomfrey.
His pleasure, however, took a backseat when, fifteen minutes later, Fallen still hadn't joined them.
Not even the inane personality quiz Lockhart handed out to his students could distract Yoko from the mix of rage and worry.
He and Fallen had promised Harry to watch over him as best they were able, but this was the first time that they'd needed to put it into practice. The blood Fallen had spilled in defense of a child not under his Bonded care, could be grounds to get him dismissed from the school entirely.
XX
As Yoko had predicted, Fallen wasn't likely to make it to the Defense lesson, because he was too busy following a grim McGonagall to the Headmaster's office.
He was at once amused by the Gryffindor Head's gumption, as she had stepped between himself and Lockhart with little hesitation on her part, despite the damage he had done to the man - and was clearly intending to add to - and irritated that she had interfered at all.
Dumbledore stared at the wolf as his Deputy Headmistress closed the door behind her, heading to the class she was already late to teach.
"Fallen-"
"General will do just fine, Headmaster," Fallen interrupted. "Especially if you plan to attempt to bring me up on sanctions or whatever foolishness this is."
"General," Dumbledore said, inclining his head in acceptance. "I understand that you and Yoko -Lord Yoko - are suffering greatly at this trying time, but I must remind you that if I feel the students and staff are in danger, I must ask you to leave."
"You're welcome to ask, Headmaster," Fallen sneered, "however, I don't recall it being my job to ensure that your staff remembers their place. I feel that I've been rather lenient with Professor Lockhart, given that he is clearly mentally challenged. He has been warned on three occasions to mind his hands." The wolf's eyes narrowed. "Or is physical trauma the only trauma you see in these confrontations?"
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed warningly. "That is a grave accusation to be making, General."
Fallen scoffed. "Prove me wrong, Headmaster. Harry Potter and Blaise Zabini are both traumatized children in their own ways, and no adult has any business coming near them for anything short of school-related topics. Taking pictures and attempting to advise a child how to manage his fame is in no way school-related. I stand by my leniency and my judgment on Gilderoy Lockhart's obvious mental deficiency, because the only alternative is sheer stupidity, and I know you would never subject students to a subpar teacher."
Dumbledore straightened in his chair, steepling his fingers and watching the General. "It would appear that I have been misinformed of the situation."
"I would imagine so," Fallen sneered. "Control your staff, Dumbledore, because Minerva McGonagall is likely the only one with balls enough to step between myself and my target and she won't be there all the time. Eventually, I will kill someone to prove a point."
"I will speak with Gilderoy by day's end," Dumbledore assured him, he hesitated for a second. "May I ask after Harry's well-being? I don't wish to put undue pressure on him at this time."
Fallen curled a lip, but pointedly didn't mention him having blatantly done so the night before.
"He's lost his second mother-figure on his birthday and likely watched her bleed out because those muggles you left him with are certainly useless in all other areas, and I doubt they were all that concerned with his emotional well-being at the time. He is in no condition to be putting up with Gilderoy Lockhart's idiocy or with your overbearing 'concern'. I will repeat myself only once: if Lockhart, or anyone else, comes near him again, I will tear out their beating hearts and offer it to my Own. Do we understand one another, Headmaster?"
Dumbledore stared at the General, so very different from Tarana, and knew that there would be no further warning if Fallen took offense to a move made against or for Harry, regardless of the laws that protected the population from the Valerians.
"We understand one another perfectly, General."
Fallen nodded and, turning on his tail, paced out of the office without another word.
XX
By the time the quiz had been collected, Yoko had decided that Fallen, for all that he was likely being chewed/thrown out, was not going to have all the fun.
For every question Lockhart went over from the quiz, Yoko had the answer and a smart remark for all of them.
"Hardly any of you remembered my favorite color is-"
"Lilac," Yoko answered promptly, startling Lockhart, and causing Harry to sink into his seat, hoping the attention on the fox didn't somehow transfer over to him. "Though I always found the pastels to be rather feminine, I suppose it suits your type."
Lockhart stared at him, not sure if he was being offended or not, before dismissing it and moving on to the next one.
"And some of you clearly need to reread Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully-I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be-"
"Harmony between magic and non-magic peoples," Yoko answered. "Though honestly, considering the separate sides can't have harmony among themselves, I don't foresee them finding peace with one another." He gave the professor a slow blink before snorting. "I suppose everyone needs dreams, however, even piped ones."
Lockhart was hanging onto his smile by the skin of his teeth, considering a hefty chunk of the boys in the class were snickering, and Ron was looking down at the fox as though he were the new messiah.
"At least Ms. Granger knew my secret ambition is to-"
"Rid the world of evil and market hair care products," Yoko yawned. "Ambitions are good, Professor, but you really should make yours a little more reasonable. Evil is eternal, after all. Considering how much practice you must have; however, I would be interested to see what sort of products you create. I can see them being immensely popular."
"Please tell me you didn't actually read any of those books, Yoko," Draco said, amused.
Yoko tipped his head back to look at the blond behind him. "Of course, I did, Draco," he replied. "How else was I to find out if there was a lick of sense to the man?"
"And did you?" Seamus Finnegan asked, half-turned to look back at the fox with a grin.
Yoko's smile was all teeth. "Not a blessed, bloody ounce."
Lockhart decided to cut his losses and dropped the quizzes to the desk, clapping his hands together as though to reset the ordeal entirely, ignoring the entire corner where Yoko and the Gryffindors had holed up.
"Well," he said loudly, as though to drown out Yoko's voice even though the fox hadn't said a word out of turn. "I certainly didn't become a master of the Dark Arts by smiling at them-"
"I'd certainly hope so, Professor," Yoko said pleasantly. "We're in Defense Against the Dark Arts, after all."
Draco, face half-hidden with his fingers, snorted. "Here's to hoping he mastered that at the very least," he muttered to the fox. "Otherwise the class as a whole is useless to us."
Oblivious, the man bent down beneath his desk and hauled a covered cage onto it.
"Be warned," he told the class, putting a hand on the top of it. "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-"
"Not likely," Blaise muttered under his breath.
"Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here-"
"Do you promise? Because Fallen needs to floss more often," Ron muttered, grinning at Blaise.
Yoko chuckled, pleased with the chaos he had wrought on the professor, even if he either didn't hear it or was ignoring them.
"All I ask is that you remain calm."
Blaise glanced down at Yoko. "Any ideas?"
'This is going to be rough first lesson,' Yoko told him, nostrils flaring as he scented the room again.
"For him or for us?"
'I suppose that depends on how stupid he is,' Yoko admitted.
"Great," Blaise muttered, shaking his head, turning his attention back to Lockhart just as the man was tugging the cloth covering off the cage.
"Freshly caught Cornish pixies!"
Seamus coughed so hard trying to keep his laughter hidden that nearly broke his nose on his desk.
"Yes?" Lockhart asked, smiling pleasantly at him, though Yoko noticed there was tension between his eyes. This was obviously not going as seamlessly as the man had planned.
"It just…they're not very dangerous, are they?" the Gryffindor choked, still trying to smother his snickers.
"Don't be so sure!" Lockhart rebuked, shaking a finger at him. "Devilish, tricky little blighters they can be!"
"That is the very definition of a pixie, Lockhart," Yoko said, amused. "If you look up 'devilishly tricky' in the dictionary, you will likely find a picture of a pixie there."
Despite himself, Blaise leaned forward, trying to get a good look at the Cornish pixies outside of the books he'd read on them.
Animals, be they magical or mundane, fascinated him.
The pixies were electric blue and, though it was difficult with them all crammed into the cage together, couldn't be more than eight or nine inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was almost overwhelming.
They were currently rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the front row of students.
Draco and Harry exchanged grim looks, already packing their books away.
There was no way this was going to end well.
XX
'You don't seriously think he's going to abide by that bullshit you just spouted, do you Fallen?' Brandon asked. 'He's got every intention of using Lockhart's fixation to force Harry to go to him to make the idiot leave him alone.'
Fallen snorted. 'A rather weak gambit if it's the move he chooses,' Fallen countered. 'For one, I've just made it perfectly clear that I will kill for Harry if the need arises, which will neatly end any overtures Lockhart makes to the Boy-Who-Lived, and even if I hadn't, Harry has already chosen the staff member he takes his problems to. The only one She trusted enough to allow into the infirmary while he was convalescing last year.'
Brandon chuckled. 'Ah, and as the man who turned Severus into a double agent, there is likely no one who knows the level of danger he represents better.' The wolf's Other fell into brief, thoughtful silence. 'You really should let Severus have a crack at him, Fallen, if nothing else, it will entertain.'
Fallen let himself bask in the vision of a confrontation between the potions master and his boss, as he opened the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, aware that he could just as easily wait outside it, as the bell was due to ring any minute.
He walked into pure pandemonium.
Most students were hiding under their desks, the professor was nowhere to be seen, the few students not hiding beneath the furniture-his group of Gryffindors among them-were standing with their wands drawn as they faced off against a dozen or so Cornish Pixies.
A second, quick, glance through the room as he took another step into the room and all but slammed the door closed behind him to keep the creatures contained to the one room, found his fox half on the professor's desk, half hung off of it, as he looked down at something beneath it.
A tilt of his own head and he caught a flash of magenta robes.
Lockhart then.
A particularly brave pixie tugged at one of his ears and shrieked into it.
He tapped his Element and it, and its kindred, against the back wall.
The pixies immediately fell silent and dropped to the ground, stunned or unconscious, Fallen found he didn't much care.
"What. The. Bloody. Hell?" he rumbled darkly.
Yoko, maintaining his perch, turned his head to look at the wolf in the doorway, mischief glittering in green eyes. "You have impeccable timing, General," he said cheerfully. "The professor planned to step out and leave the students to test themselves against his out of control guests."
Fallen's lip curled. "And how many points did you plan to give your Hufflepuff and Gryffindor students for doing your job for you, Professor?"
Lockhart popped his head up over the desk and, seeing that the pixies were no longer tearing apart his classroom, quickly stood and brushed his robes down. "Twenty points to both Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, of course." He said quickly, the smile he threw to the class was weak.
Fallen rolled his eyes as the Gryffindors and Yoko approached, the bell going off above them.
"Perhaps you should refrain from practical lessons for a while, Professor," Yoko said, trilling the man's title mockingly. "At least until you can get a handle on that beastly ego of yours."
The class quickly left the room, none of them wanting to be around when the pixies regained consciousness.
Fallen stood in the doorway, watching the last of the Gryffindors leave. "A couple of words of advice, Professor, never try and outmaneuver someone of my caliber again. The Headmaster and I have come to an agreement regarding you, so I suggest you watch your step going forward." He tilted his head towards the back of the classroom, where one of the pixies was swaying drunkenly back into the air, the others twitching and pushing themselves to upright. "Also, you really might want to gather them quickly," he glanced around the room. "It doesn't look like you have much classroom left, but it wouldn't do to have the rest trashed when your next class comes in, would it?"
The General let the door close on the high-pitched squeak the man emitted as he was left alone with his pixies.
