Author's note: Urgh. Sorry for the extra-long wait. I've been dealing with a combined personal/professional shit storm. It's been fun. Anyway, short chapter just covering Lockhart's ineptitude and the first Quidditch game, but I hope you enjoy it. Please review!

Guest #1: Thank you! I doubt Snape would've been pleased about Draco's Mudblood comment. He was so insistent in Deathly Hallows about the painting of Phineas Nigellus using the word that I can't imagine him approving. I doubt that even this early in the game he'd be able to say anything about it though. Can you imagine how much he'd want to hex Dumbledore if Dumbledore made that pun LOL. Truthfully, I haven't got any idea why Dumbledore might have hired Lockhart. Maybe he thought that Lockhart seemed least likely of all the candidates to be hiding Voldemort in the back of his head? McGonagall is my second favourite character (Snape being my favourite, duh), primarily because of the fifth book. Especially the scene of Harry's career consultation, where it dissolves into a shouting match between her and Umbridge. I'm sure that Snape hates me for making him deal with all these idiots, but I'll take my chances!

Guest #2 & H20: Thank you both!

Warnings: Swearing

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I referenced pages 126-130 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets while writing this.

The Rogue Bludger

If Dumbledore harboured suspicions of who was behind the writing on the wall and the Petrification of Mrs. Norris, he was keeping them to himself. He'd called a staff meeting, instructing the faculty to remain calm but keep an eye out for anything unusual. To Severus alone, he had been marginally more specific, bringing in the phrases "powerful Dark Magic" and "Voldemort is not gone" and "tread carefully." Severus had snidely replied that he could have figured out that much for himself.

Something which he couldn't figure out for himself was why the hell Dumbledore had hired Gilderoy Lockhart. He'd been badgering the Headmaster about it since the term began and had yet to receive anything more than ambiguous statements and vague hand-waving. There must have been a reason; Albus Dumbledore simply did not do "random." But this reason was rather a mystery, as Lockhart was arrogant, self-obsessed, useless, and utterly brainless.

Severus's colleagues seemed to share this opinion: There was often a mass exit when Lockhart came into the staff room, professors suddenly becoming very tired and leaving for bed, or realizing that there was a massive stack of papers they had forgotten to grade. On one memorable occasion, Minerva had shifted into her Animagus form when she heard Lockhart's loud voice in the hall, so she could sneak away without needing a justification. Seeing as plenty of students had cat familiars, it was a clever way to escape. Too bad she was the only one who could pull it off.

Lockhart was being even more annoying than usual today, if such a thing were possible. It was the first Quidditch match of the season, and he seemed to be under the impression that everybody wanted to hear about his supposed glory in intramurals.

"I was a brilliant Quidditch player," he was saying to Rolanda Hooch, who was very focused on stirring brown sugar into her oatmeal. "Of course, I still am, it's just that when you dedicate your life to fighting Dark forces, you don't have much time for games. But listen to me, if you ever find that the stress of coaching teams gets to you, don't hesitate to ask for assistance. I would be happy to give the kids a pep-talk, some tips and the likes. I know I have lots I could teach them."

"Were you on a Quidditch team when you were a student here?" Severus asked coolly, not looking up from the letter he was reading. In his periphery, he saw the rest of the faculty perk up. His mealtime interactions with the Defence professor had become routine and provided much entertainment.

"Of course I was, of course I was," Lockhart replied, "and our reputation skyrocketed."

"Then you should remember that Madam Hooch does not coach the individual teams. The Captains are charged with that task." Honestly, even Severus knew that, and it was no secret that he didn't like Quidditch.

Lockhart paused, eyebrows raised and a large smile pasted on his face. "Ah. Yes, of course. But"—he turned back to the flying instructor—"if you ever do find yourself needing help, or if any of the Captains come looking for help, do not be afraid to knock on my door. It's always open!"

"If one must knock on the door to gain entry, that implies the door is closed."

A collective fit of muffled coughing broke out around the table, and Lockhart, for a rare moment, looked at a loss for words.

As eleven o'clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadium. It was a muggy day with a hint of thunder in the air. Cheers came from the Ravenclaws, Gryffndors, and Hufflepuffs in the stands, while boos and hisses could be heard from the Slytherins. Severus scowled disapprovingly. Quidditch was not worth losing one's cool over.

"On my whistle," said Hooch from the ground, "three… two… one…."

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upwards, the fourteen players rose towards the leaden sky. Potter, in his typical, reckless fashion, flew the highest. It wasn't long until a Bludger came streaking towards him. Severus's hand went reflexively to his wand, but Potter narrowly avoided the ball and George Weasley soon came to his rescue, knocking it towards Adrian Pucey. Severus was just about to relax when the Bludger doubled back and shot straight for the Gryffindor Seeker again.

Despite the Weasley twins' best attempts, this Bludger seemed to be determined to unseat Potter. To make matters worse, it began to rain.

"Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero," called Lee Jordan unenthusiastically.

Severus glanced around. Why was nobody doing anything? Why did everybody pander to the boy but never actually try to keep him safe?—and Merlin knew Potter needed somebody to keep him safe. He had the self-sufficiency of a flobberworm.

Although it was a relief when Oliver Wood requested a time-out, the game resumed much too soon, the Bludger hell-bent on unseating Potter released again. No doubt the boy had insisted on playing, so as not to forfeit the win to Slytherin. He liked playing hero.

While Potter engaged in a series of dives and twirls to avoid the Bludger, Draco occupied himself by taunting Potter, rather than searching for the Snitch, that bloody Snitch. Somebody had to catch the thing, Severus didn't care who, but somebody had to catch the thing and end the game before the Boy Who Lived got himself killed.

Of course, that was too much to ask for.

"Shit," Severus swore under his breath. The people around him were panicking now, too.

The Bludger had smashed into Potter's elbow, and his right arm now dangled uselessly by his side. He swerved to avoid another hit, then took a sharp dive. Instead of landing as any sensible person would, however, he made a beeline for Draco Malfoy, who immediately careened out of his way. He reached up with his uninjured hand and plucked out of the air a small golden ball. The game was over. Potter descended and fell into a patch of mud.

"Aha, we've won," he said vaguely, before passing out.

It was a good time to go find Dumbledore.

As it turned out, Severus shouldn't have left. Of course, he'd thought that the Potter spawn would be safe in the care of Hooch and a smattering of other professors who had come to watch the game, but he hadn't take into account the obnoxious persistence of Gilderoy Lockhart.

Once again proving that he should not be entrusted with anything remotely important, Lockhart had managed to vanish all of the bones in Potter's arm. Poppy had done a poor job of hiding her irritation as she relayed this to Severus, giving him a heads-up that it might be wise to brew more Skele-Gro, as she had just given Potter four doses of the stuff, because of the sheer number of bones that Lockhart had vanished.

"Somebody should take that man's wand away," Severus had grumbled, and the matron hadn't disagreed.