Chapter 3: Light and Dark

"Herbology first. Can't wait, we'll actually be dealing with interesting plants!"

"You think all plants are interesting Nev, you'd spend months studying daisies if you had the opportunity…"

"Well they are… there're so many uses for them, almost limitless!"

"Yeah yeah… what have we got this afternoon?"

"History of Magic –"

"Oh great…"

"Followed by Defence Against the Dark Arts with Lockhart."

"Oh, it's with Lockhart is it Hermione? Is that a good thing? Go on, don't tell us, you've covered the timetable block with little hearts!"

"Actually Ronald – give that back!"

"Oh dear Merlin you really have! And I thought you were the smart one of the group…"

"Oh shut up!"

As Harry and his friends wandered down to the greenhouses, bickering good-naturedly, they spotted the gleaming figure of Gilderoy Lockhart strolling out of the first greenhouse. The squat figure of Professor Sprout was stomping behind him; even from this distance, it was obvious that she was not in a good mood. Reluctant to meet Lockhart unless strictly necessary, Harry ducked into the stone circle at the top of the hill, followed by Ron and Neville; Hermione looked as if she wanted to call out in greeting, but a glare from Harry quelled that urge. However, Lockhart wandered off in the direction of Hagrid's hut, in the other direction to the greenhouses. Harry stepped out again, sighing in relief and ignoring Hermione's sigh of exasperation.

As they carried on down the hill, Neville started to look over his shoulder. Noticing the others looking at him, he began to explain, but before he could Harry had spotted a small blond boy. He had a slightly manic grin, and was gazing at Harry in something approaching adoration. He scurried forward a few paces, before stopping; he raised his arm timidly and waved at Harry. Harry shrugged, and waved back. The boy let out a loud squeak of excitement, jumping and nearly falling over. As Ron began to snigger Harry and Hermione went to help him up.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked him gently.

"Oh yes! It's just so brilliant you know, finally being able to see Harry Potter in the flesh! Oh, I'm Colin Creevey, I'm in Gryffindor too. I'm a big fan Harry!"

Colin clearly wasn't all that adept at reading facial expressions; Harry had a stony look on his face, suggesting bad things would happen if the boy continued.

"I've got all the newspaper clippings ever written about you Harry, they're in my dorm –"

"Yes, that's lovely Colin, but we really must be off now, we've got classes. We'll… we'll see you later, ok? Won't we Harry?"

Harry glared at her, but forced a smile onto his face, nodding swiftly.

"It was… very nice to meet you Colin. See you later."

Colin squeaked again, before running back up the slope. Harry shot another glare at Hermione, who was just about managing to suppress a grin, before walking back past Ron and Neville, who were now quivering with laughter.

"Yeah yeah, laugh it up… He looks the type to pester you lot as well."

Ron shrugged.

"It'll be worth it just for the look on your face."

Throughout the Herbology lesson, it was obvious that Harry's guess as to Professor Sprout's mood had been accurate; the lesson wasn't entirely dissimilar to Potions when Snape was in one of his better moods. Of course, it was a rather creepier lesson than normal anyway – Harry could not bring himself to enjoy pulling screaming, deformed babies out of tubs – and of course, the Mandrakes they were re-potting were more dangerous than normal plants; their cry wasn't fatal at this stage in their life, but could still knock you out, making earmuffs a necessity. Naturally, the earmuffs supplied were a hideous pink, which was particularly bad in Ron's case, causing a magnificent clash with his hair. It was odd, Harry mused, yanking another plant out of its pot, that the most dangerous lessons they had involved plants. In Herbology, the plants tried to eat you, and in Potions, the wrong plant at the wrong time could make it blow up in your face, always a bad thing.

Still, it was more interesting than History of Magic, where Professor Binns was surpassing himself. They were covering the Sorcery Wars, which meant battles that had left large areas of the planet uninhabitable for centuries, and nearly ripped apart the walls of reality. In other words, just the kind of history to grab the attention. But half the class was asleep; the other half were occupying themselves in doodling, or hangman, or other worthwhile pursuits. The Hufflepuff student next to Harry leaned back, yawning.

"God this is dull. How can he make wars between the most powerful people ever boring? It's like his own unique magical gift. Sorry, the name's Justin, Justin Finch-Fletchly."

The boy put out his hand, and Harry shook it, welcome for the distraction from the lesson.

"I'm Harry –"

"Potter, of course. Everyone knows who you are! The next Lockhart they were saying last night!"

Harry stiffened. People were comparing him to Lockhart?

"Why? I wouldn't say I'm anything like him."

"Well, maybe not in terms of your personality, but you're similar aren't you? I mean, obviously he's achieved much more than you, but he is older isn't he? Give it a few years and you'll be as famous as he is!"

Neville, sitting in the row in front, turned round at this, a look of sheer incredulity on his face, before turning back around, having taken note of the look on Harry's face.

"So – you're a fan of Lockhart then?"

"Oh Lord yes, man's amazing! I'd have died of fright if I'd faced half the stuff he has – werewolf in a phone box? No problem, just zap! And no more problem. He's absolutely brilliant."

On the other side of the room, a deep crack appeared in the blackboard. In any other class, this would have caused comment, but since Binns was incapable of lifting the chalk, no-one was looking at the board. Harry noticed though; with an audible gulp, he focussed his mind on quashing his magic's attempts to lash out. He didn't have a headache though…

"I say, are you all right?"

Harry looked back at Justin, who had a worried look on his face.

"I'm fine; why do you ask?"

"Oh… Sorry, must have been a trick of the light. Your eyes looked like they'd turned red, imagine that!"

Justin carried on talking, while Harry replayed his remark over and over in his head: Your eyes looked like they'd turned red…

Harry hadn't given much thought to the block on his magical core recently; since he wasn't allowed to use magic over the holidays, there was no chance of it being worn down, if he understood Dumbledore correctly. And aside from turning his bedroom walls blue, he hadn't had any 'problems' since the end of his first year, which was a definite improvement.

But now he had just lost control, not because he was under great emotional stress, as in the majority of cases prior to this, but because he was talking to an idiot. And he wasn't even getting the headaches which, while painful and something he dreaded, had at least served as a useful early warning system. And coupled with his persistent glimpses of himself with red eyes, now confirmed by someone else…

This was definitely something he needed to tell Dumbledore about, next time they spoke. For now though, he needed to concentrate on shutting Justin up. The boy really was talking rubbish.

The class poured out of the History of Magic classroom with an almost indecent haste, desperate to escape the cloying atmosphere of tedium that clung to the classroom like a spider's web. Harry was venting his frustration over Justin's remarks about Lockhart to his friends.

"Why would anybody want to compare me to him? He's a preening idiot, I'm nothing like him!"

Hermione glared at him.

"I think Justin meant that you're both heroes Harry. He wasn't trying to insult you. And Lockhart isn't an idiot! Just read his books – how can you say he's an idiot after saving villages from werewolves, and fighting yetis?"

Neville adopted the same incredulous look he had shown during Justin's speech.

"Hermione, Harry stopped You-Know-Who. I'm not disputing that Lockhart's done a lot of good, but a couple of villages against stopping a wizard so Dark, so vicious that people are still scared to say his name over ten years later? No contest, sorry. Harry's more famous than Lockhart will ever be, no matter how much he smiles in glossy photos."

"That's the point though; I don't want to be famous. I just want a normal life, where I don't have to worry about being a hero or not."

"Then why are you so annoyed with Justin then?"

"Because I find his comparison offensive! I don't care if he doesn't think I'm that much of a hero, but if he thinks Lockhart's better than me…"

Hermione rolled her eyes, folding her arms and glaring at them.

"I really don't know what you've got against him you know! Well, you'll all see this afternoon."

And with that she stormed off in the direction of the library. The others stared after her, before wandering off to get some lunch, moving onto more pleasant topics. There was a rumour going round that Dumbledore had forced Snape to tone his teaching down this year; Harry thought it was wishful thinking, given the length of time it had gone on for, but crossed his fingers all the same. Ron was also excited about the Quidditch trials at the weekend; while he wouldn't be trying out himself, he would be watching Harry fly with glee, and was telling Neville all about the experience of flying the Nimbus.

Harry let all of this wash over him, making only perfunctory replies, still thinking about the events of the History lesson.

Having quickly polished off a decent helping of lunch, the trio wandered into the courtyard, still chatting about unimportant but pleasant topics. Nott was lounging under a tree, reading something; he looked up at the sound of their voices and sneered at them, which Harry ignored. Collapsing under a tree of their own, they continued their chat.

Harry was almost dozing off in the sun when a shadow fell over him. He opened his eyes to see Colin Creevey standing over him. He suppressed a groan with some effort, and fixed a cheery smile on his face.

"Hey there Colin! What can we do for you?"

The blond boy flushed vividly.

"Well I… I was wondering if I could have a picture. Of the two of us, you know. I mean, one of the other boys was telling me if I soaked them in the right potion the pictures would move, and I thought it would be cool if I had one of us – so I could, well, prove I'd met you. If that's all right?"

Harry stared at him in shock. Ron was shaking with laughter, and Neville had quickly pulled out a book to smirk into. It was most unfair of his friends to abandon him in his hour of need Harry thought.

"Well… I don't really like publicity Colin…"

The boy's face fell.

"Oh. No, no, that's ok, I can understand…"

The sheer dejection in his voice struck at Harry like a club; the younger boy looked close to tears. As creepy as the boy's apparent obsession with him was, Harry couldn't refuse him when he looked like that. Mentally screaming at himself for his utter stupidity, he found himself speaking:

"Still… I guess, maybe one photo, for a… For a friend."

Judging by the way Creevey's face lit up, and the gleam in his eye, he hadn't noticed Harry's forced smile and reluctant tone; he'd barely been able to grind out the word "friend". But Creevey looked like he'd just seen Santa pop out of the chimney with a large, full sack.

"That'd be great! And then maybe you could sign it!"

"Sign it?"

Ron let out a loud snort of laughter. Harry stared at the boy incredulously; again, he didn't seem to pick up that Harry wasn't totally enthralled with the idea.

"Colin, why do you want me to sign it?"

"You're doing what Potter?"

Harry turned; Theodore Nott had given up on his book and walked over to them. He had an unpleasant grin on his face.

"Signed photos? Well, we wouldn't want anyone to miss out would we Potter? We should let everyone know don't you think? Come on everyone, Potter's giving out signed photos!"

A few curious faces looked up, and one or two people began to stroll over. Nott turned back to them again, smirking gleefully, only to freeze as Harry pointed his wand into his face.

"Piss off Nott. Now."

"You wouldn't dare Potter…"

Harry smiled slightly, before shrugging and lowering his wand slightly.

"Amorphophallus!"

Nott cried out, doubling over in pain, flushing a deep red. Ron and Neville roared with laughter, while Colin merely looked slightly bemused. Nott looked up at Harry, his face flaming red with a mixture of embarrassment and pain.

"Cancel it!"

"No."

"Please!"

"Sorry, can't. Go and see Madame Pomfrey, she'll be able to sort it out…"

Nott stared at him, a nasty look in his eyes.

"You'll pay for this Potter, you'll pay…"

And he turned away, staggering off in the direction of the Hospital Wing, still bent over. Ron was rolling on the ground with laughter. Harry grinned to himself. He'd probably get into trouble for it, but still… it had felt very good.

"Harry? Can… Can I have that photo?"

"If you really must I suppose Colin…"

"Great! Smile!"

There was a flash, and Colin was smiling inanely, a manic grin on his face. Harry rubbed his eyes, and grabbed the boy by the shoulder.

"Don't – don't tell anyone about this ok Colin? Our little secret?"

"Sure, anything you say Harry – this is so cool!"

Harry flopped back down under the tree, Ron and Neville still sniggering. He glared at them, before lying down, muttering to himself. They thought they heard "like kicking a puppy…" but the rest was inaudible.

Half an hour later, they were standing outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, awaiting their first lesson with Lockhart, which would be shared with the Slytherins. Nott was conspicuous by his absence. Harry had a harassed look about him; Ron and Neville would not stop teasing him about his photo shoot earlier. The click of shoes on stone alerted him to the presence of someone else, and he looked up to see Hermione approaching. A wave of relief flooded through him. She could at least be relied upon not to be too amused by the incident. Strangely though, she strode straight up to him and stood facing him, hands on hips.

"What's this about signed photos? And how come I haven't got one? I mean, if you're handing them out to all and sundry, you ought to give your closest friends one shouldn't you? Harry?"

Harry stared at her, gaping like a goldfish. Ron and Neville began to snigger again.

"Hermione –"

He stopped. There was a glint in her eye… He slumped his shoulders again.

"That was nasty."

"Yes. But quite funny, you've got to admit."

Harry scowled.

"I only agreed because he looked like he was going to cry."

"I'm sure that's true." Hermione's gaze softened. "Fred and George found him looking at it. I think they're making copies."

Harry let out a small moan, while the laughter behind him increased.

"I don't suppose you happen to know the incantation for the Killing Curse do you Hermione?"

She shook her head, a small smile on her face. Behind them, the door opened, and Lockhart stuck his head out, beaming grin plastered on his face.

"Ah, good afternoon all of you! Come in, come in! Lots to do you know…"

The students filed into the room, some looking excited, some apprehensive, some (mainly Harry and Ron) bored. The room had undergone a significant change from the previous year. Quirrell had stuck various posters and diagrams up, detailing the effects of dark magic. Lockhart had put himself up. Portraits, posters, photographs… He covered every surface, in a variety of elegant robes. He looked immaculate in each of them, and was grinning toothily, bowing graciously every time someone walked past to sit down. Harry felt an almost irresistible urge to start flinging around a few burning spells, but he gritted his teeth and sat down, making a pile of his books. Lockhart strode to the front of the room, and turned to face them, beaming at them.

"Welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts. I am your teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart; Order of Merlin, third class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and of course, five times winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming Smile award – although I don't talk about that one much obviously. After all, I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

He waited, still beaming, for people to laugh. A few people offered weak smiles.

"Now, a brief quiz to start with, just to make sure you've all done your preparatory reading. You have thirty minutes, starting… Now!"

The class bent over the paper; Harry nearly walked out when he looked at some of the questions – who gave a toss what Lockhart's favourite colour was? – but decided to reserve his anger for later in the lesson. He was sure that Lockhart would do something to deserve it. He nearly exploded when Hermione received full marks; she did have the decency to blush when this was announced. Then Lockhart stood up again, a serious expression on his face.

"Now, to the lesson proper! As I have said, this is the Defence Against the Dark Arts class; you will not always enjoy this class. Sometimes, you may be scared. You are here to be armed against the dangers of the world, which are numerous and deadly. My books cover only the tip of the iceberg of Darkness boys and girls – I'm not going to lie to you, there is danger, be it Dark creature or Dark wizard. However, you may be assured that while you are in this classroom, you will suffer no harm. You are perfectly safe."

Harry grudgingly awarded Lockhart a few points mentally. He knew how to make a speech at least, and it wasn't complete gibberish.

"We will cover some practical work later on, but first I want to cover a little about the theory behind Light and Dark magic."

Harry sat up despite himself. Lockhart hadn't touched on this in his books, and he was curious as to the man's beliefs.

"The difference between the two is often held up to be extremely complex, taking into account the nature of the spell, the caster's intent, and so forth. In reality, it is extremely simple. Light magic first then. Light magic is pure magic. It is defensive magic. Dark magic is the opposite. Dark magic is magic that is designed to hurt people, it is purely offensive magic. Of course, there is lots of magic that falls between the two, household magic and so forth, but by and large that is all one needs to know on the subject."

Harry growled softly. He had been right; Lockhart was an idiot. Unfortunately, he was idiot with good hearing.

"Is something wrong Mr Potter?"

Harry stayed silent for a moment, trying to control his urge to yell at his teacher. Then: hell with it.

"That theory is wrong Professor. You can't define it like that, although you're right, it is simple. Light magic is controlled; Dark is wild. Obviously, there are some exceptions, like the Unforgivables, but mainly that's the rule."

"Mr Potter, I think I know a little more about magic than you, particularly Dark magic."

"A little's right…"

"I beg your pardon Mr Potter?"

"I said that I do have some experience with Dark magic. Sir."

"Well obviously, but nevertheless, I am your teacher and –"

"And you're teaching us rubbish sir."

"Mr Potter! 20 points from Gryffindor! You will not speak to me in such a fashion again is that understood?"

Harry stared at him, simmering with anger. Even the Ministry wasn't that narrow-minded! But with a deep breath he buried his anger under a layer of calm.

"Of course sir, I'm very sorry."

"Right, well, see that it doesn't happen again, understand? Now that we have the theory out of the way, let's move onto the practical."

He lifted a cage, with a cloth over it, onto his desk.

"Try not to scream; you may alarm them."

He whipped the cloth off, revealing a dozen or so Cornish Pixies. He reached down and opened the door…

A/N: As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Also, for those who are interested, the spell Harry uses against Nott is, according to QI (British quiz show), the Latin name for the smallest plant in the world. So I can't claim credit for it sadly.