Merry (late) Christmas! Hope everyone had a great Christmas and had/are having, depending on your time zone, a happy New Year! Here's another chapter to take you into 2013.

Harry Potter is, and never will be owned by me.

Chapter 6

Gilderoy Lockhart

The next morning, Jessica caught up with Ron and Harry in the common room. They'd had a much nicer sleep, but were nervous to hear that Hermione hadn't forgiven them for last night. They made their way down to the Great Hall where the four house tables were filled with tureens of porridge, piles of toast and dishes of eggs and bacon. The ceiling reflected the dull, cloudy day outside. Harry, Ron and Jessica sat down next to Hermione, her copy of Voyages with Vampires propped up against a milk jug beside her. "Morning," she said stiffly, then returned to her reading.

At that moment, Neville Longbottom arrived and greeted them cheerfully as he took a seat beside Ron. "Post should arrive any minute," he said. "I think Gran's sending on a few things I forgot."

Jessica was just biting down on a piece of toast when, sure enough, there was a rustling overhead and hundreds of owl s streamed in, circling the hall and dropping letters and packages in to the crowd. A large, lumpy parcel bounced off Neville's head, and a second later, something large and grey landed in Hermione's jug, spraying them all with milk and feathers.

"Errol!" gasped Ron, pulling the bedraggled owl by the feet. Errol slumped, unconscious, onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp red envelope in his mouth. Jessica gasped. She should have expected it, but there was no doubt about it: the owl had brought Ron a Howler.

"Oh no," said Ron.

"It's alright, he's still breathing," said Hermione.

"It's not that – it's that."

Ron was pointing at the Howler. Jessica had never gotten one herself, but she knew that Ron would be in deeper trouble if he didn't open it.

"Open it, Ron."

"I'm sorry, what is it?" asked Harry.

"She's – she's sent me a Howler," said Ron faintly.

"A what?"

"A Howler," said Jessica. "Oh, you'll find out in a minute."

"It'll be worse if you don't open it, Ron," said Neville in a timid whisper. "I got one from Gran once and I ignored it, and –" he gulped. "- it was horrible."

The Howler had begun to smoke at the edges.

"Come on Ron," said Jessica. "Open it. It'll be over in a few minutes."

Ron, hands shaking, reached out and eased the Howler from Errol's beak and slit it open. Jessica had just enough time to cover her ears before the sound of Mrs Weasley's yells, a hundred times louder than usual echoed around the hall.

"...STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK ABOUT WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT HAD GONE..."

Jessica couldn't help but smirking. She'd thought about Mr and Mrs Weasley before they had taken the car. All along the tables, cutlery and plates were vibrating. Everyone in the hall had fallen silent and turned to look at Ron who was sinking so low in his seat that only his crimson forehead was in sight.

"...LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU COULD HAVE DIED, HARRY AND JESSICA TOO..."

Jessica looked over to Harry, she'd been wondering when their names would come up. Harry looked as though he was trying to pretend that he couldn't hear anything at all, but he was beginning to turn a little red.

"...ABSOLUTELY DISCUSTED, YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK AND IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."

A silence over the Great Hall. The sound of the Howler had left a ringing in Jessica's ears, and as it faded, people slowly picked back their conversations as though nothing had happened. The Howler, which had dropped from Ron's hand, burst into flames and curled into ashes. Hermione closed Voyages with Vampires and looked down at the top of Ron's head.

"Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron but you–"

"Don't tell me I deserved it," Ron snapped.

Jessica put down her half-eaten breakfast. Guilt was eating her inside. Mr Weasley was facing an inquiry at work, and Jessica felt responsible for it. She'd given Ron the idea to take the car and hadn't been able to stop them when Harry and Ron dragged her along.

But there was no time to dwell on this; Professor McGonagall was moving along the Gryffindor table, handing out timetables. As Jessica took hers, she saw that they had Herbology first, with the Hufflepuffs.

Harry, Ron, Jessica and Hermione left the castle together and made their way across the vegetable patch to the greenhouses. It seemed that Hermione had decided that the Howler was punishment enough, and had forgiven Harry, Ron and Jessica as they chatted happily while they waited for Professor Sprout.

Barely a minute after they'd arrived, Professor Sprout appeared, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart. Professor Sprout was carrying bandages, and Jessica felt another twinge of guilt as she saw many branches of the Whomping Willow in slings.

"Oh hello there!" called Lockhart, beaming at the assembled students. "Just been showing Professor Sprout the proper way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running around 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!" said Professor Sprout, who was looking distinctly disgruntled and not her usual cheery self.

There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in Greenhouse One before – Greenhouse Three housed much more interesting and dangerous plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Jessica caught the smell of dirt and fertiliser, and the perfume from large, bright flowers dangling from the roof. She was about to enter when Lockhart's hand shot out.

"Harry, Jessica! I've been wanting a word – you don't mind if they're a couple of minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?"

Judging by Professor Sprout's scowl, she did mind, but Lockhart said, "That's the ticket," and closed the greenhouse door in her face.

"You two," said Lockhart, his large white teeth gleaming in the sunlight as he shook his head. "My, my, my."

A little confused, Jessica stayed silent.

"When I heard – well of course, it was all my fault. Could have kicked myself."

"I'm sorry – er – Professor, but what's your fault?" asked Jessica.

"Jessica, Jessica, Jessica," sighed Lockhart. "You flew a car to Hogwarts! I don't know when I've been more shocked. Of course, I knew at once why you'd done it. Stood out a mile."

It was remarkable how he could show off every one of his magnificent white teeth, even when he wasn't talking.

"Gave you both a taste for publicity, didn't I?" said Lockhart. "Gave you the bug. You got onto the front page of the paper with me and you couldn't wait to do it again."

Jessica looked to Harry in shock. Did Lockhart really think that?

"Oh – no, professor," said Harry. "In fact we –"

"Harry, Harry, Harry," said Lockhart, reaching out and grasping Harry's shoulder. "I understand. Natural to want a bit more after you've had that first taste – and I blame myself for giving you both that, bound to go to your heads – but see here, you can't start flying cars to get yourselves noticed. Plenty of time for that when you're older. Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking, 'It's alright for him, he's an internationally famous wizard already!' But when I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now. In fact, I'd say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven't they? All that business with He Who Must Not Be Named!" He glanced at the lightning scar on Harry's forehead, and Jessica nervously traced the scar on her neck. "I know, it's not quite as good as winning Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award five times in a row, as I have – but it's a start."

He gave Harry and Jessica a hearty wink and strode off. Both of them stood stunned for a few seconds, before they remembered that they were supposed to be inside the greenhouse, Harry held the door open and they both slid inside.

Professor Sprout was standing behind a behind a bench in the centre of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different coloured earmuffs were lying on it. When Harry and Jessica took their places beside Ron and Hermione, she said, "We'll be re-potting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

To no one's surprise, Hermione's was the first hand in the air.

"Mandrake, or Mandragora is a powerful restorative. It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed into their original state."

"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

This time, it was Jessica's hand that beat Hermione's.

"The cry of an adult Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it."

"Precisely. Another ten points," said Professor Sprout. "Now the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."

She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in colour, were growing in rows.

"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout.

There was a scramble as everyone tried to get a colour they liked. Jessica let out a giggle as she saw that Ron had ended up with a pair that was pink and fluffy, so she traded them for the green ones she had.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give the thumbs up. Right – earmuffs on."

Jessica slipped the earmuffs over her ears. They blocked out all sound entirely. Professor Sprout put on a pair of her own, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.

As the mandrake came out of the pot, Jessica sensed many people gasp, but couldn't hear them. Instead of roots, there was a very ugly baby with green skin. The leaves grew right out of its head. Jessica was glad for the earmuffs, the mandrake was screaming at the top of its lungs.

Professor Sprout took a large pot from under the table and plunged the mandrake into it, burying it in dark, damp compost until only the leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs up and removed her earmuffs.

"As our mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," she said calmly. "However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up. Four to a tray – there is a large supply of pots here – compost in the sacks over there – and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it's teething."

She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long tentacles that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

Harry, Ron Hermione and Jessica picked a tray and began setting up their pots for the mandrakes.

"So what did Lockhart want, then?" asked Ron.

"He said that it was all his fault that we flew a car into the Whomping Willow, because we wanted to be on the front page again after we were with him. And that's not what we should be doing at this stage in our life in the public eye. Load of nonsense if you ask me," said Harry.

"Harry, he was only trying to help. I'm sure he wouldn't have said that if we didn't need to hear it. And besides, he's right about it being a bad idea to fly that car."

After that, they didn't have a chance to talk. They all put on their earmuffs and began re-potting the Mandrakes. It was much harder than Jessica expected, because the Mandrakes didn't want to come out of their pots nor did they want to go into the new ones. They would kick, wriggle, bite and swing their sharp little fists. Jessica spent a lot of the lesson trying to push a particularly fat one into the pot, and by the time they had to pack up, she, like the whole class, was sweaty, aching and covered in dirt. They went back to the castle to wash up, and then the Gryffindors hurried to Transfiguration.

Professor McGonagall's classes were always hard work, but today Jessica was finding it especially difficult. They were supposed to turn beetles to buttons, but most of what she'd learnt last year last leaked out of her brain over summer and it took a while before she had a button sitting on her desk. After the first one through, she found it easier and between them, she and Hermione had a small collection of buttons. The same couldn't be said for Ron and Harry, though. Harry had only managed to give his beetle a lot of exercise as he chased it around the desk with his wand, and Ron had tried to mend his wand with Spellotape, but it kept backfiring at random times and would engulf Ron in a grey cloud of smoke that smelt like rotten eggs. Unable to see, he'd squashed his beetle with his elbow and had to ask a disapproving Professor McGonagall for a new one.

When the lunch bell went, Hermione and Jessica gathered up their buttons and made their way to the Great Hall. After a few minutes, they joined by Harry and Ron, who looked very jealous of the pile of buttons Jessica and Hermione had accumulated during Transfiguration.

"So what have we got after lunch?" asked Harry hastily.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione at once.

"Why," said Ron, seizing her timetable, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

Hermione snatched the timetable back, blushing furiously.

They finished lunch and moved out into the overcast courtyard. Hermione sat down on a stone step and buried her nose in voyages with Vampires, while Jessica sat beside her reading Year with the Yeti. Harry and Ron were talking about Quidditch. Several minutes later, Jessica glanced up from her book to see a short, first year Gryffindor with a muggle camera talking animatedly to Harry.

"Wow! Is that your sister?" he asked, noticing Jessica.

"Yes, I'm his sister," said Jessica. "But who are you?"

"I'm Colin Creevy. I was sorted into Gryffindor, too. I can't believe I'm meeting you two – I can't believe any of this; I didn't know that all the strange things I could do was magic! My Dad was surprised too – he's a milkman, he won't believe the things that can happen, so I'm taking pictures of everything so I can show him! And a boy in my dormitory says that if you develop the pictures in a certain potion, they'll move! So could I get a picture with the two of you? Your friend here can take it."

It took Jessica a moment to process everything that had been said. "Uh, sure."

Colin handed the camera to Ron and jumped between Jessica and Harry, pulling a toothy grin.

"The button on the top, Ron." Said Jessica as she pulled a weak smile,

After Ron took the picture, Jessica settled back to her book. She didn't get to read for long though, as Colin asked them to sign the picture and a mocking voice echoed around the courtyard.

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?"

Jessica was thankful to be hiding behind her book as Draco Malfoy approached, flanked as usual by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Everyone queue up!" Malfoy sneered. "Potter's handing out signed photos!"

"No, I'm not," said Harry angrily. "Shut up Malfoy."

"You're just jealous," piped up Colin, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe's head.

"Jealous?" said Malfoy, who no longer had to shout because almost the whole courtyard was listening. "Of what? I don't want a fowl scar across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head makes you special, myself."

Crabbe and Goyle were snickering stupidly.

"That's your problem, Malfoy," said Jessica, standing up to face him. "Because I don't think that's true. Having a scar like that on your forehead does make you special. Harry has that scar for a reason."

"Oh look who it is," jeered Malfoy. "It's the other one. What makes you so important, then? I don't see an awful scar across your face. Oh, that's right, I forgot, you're the Girl Who Will Never Be."

"You'll pay for that, Malfoy," snarled Harry, fists clenching. "One more word..."

"I wouldn't if I were you, Potter," said Malfoy. "Don't want any more scars on that face, do we?"

"Eat slugs, Malfoy!" said Ron angrily.

"Mind your mouth, Weasley," Malfoy put on a high voice, "if you put another toe out of line –"

A group of Slytherin fifth years nearby laughed loudly.

"You should give Weasley a signed photo, Potter. It'll be worth more than his house."

Ron whipped out his Spellotaped wand, but Hermione closed Voyages with Vampires with a snap and whispered, "Look out!"

At that moment, Gilderoy Lockhart approached them, his cloak billowing as he walked.

"Who's handing out signed photos?" Then he spotted Harry. "Harry Potter, shouldn't have asked. Here take one of us together and we'll both sign it." He pulled Harry, who was now turning bright red, to his side and Colin was furiously snapping photos of them. When Lockhart seemed satisfied that Colin had taken enough pictures, he strode off, talking animatedly to Harry, who he was dragging with him. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle left Jessica, Ron and Hermione as they became bored.

"That's it," said Jessica. "I'm going to start tying my hair up."

"What are you on about, Jess?"

"Did you hear Malfoy? People think I'm not as good as Harry because they can see his scar and not mine. Even Lockhart didn't think to get me for that photo, and I was right here. You don't think that though, do you guys?"

"Course not. Are you mad?" said Ron. "I mean, the real proof is in the scar and we haven't seen yours, but I believe it's there."

Just then, the bell rang and they set off to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. When they arrived, they found Harry hiding behind his pile of Lockhart books at the very back of the room. They all sat in a group.

"You could've fried an egg on your face," said Ron. "You'd better hope Colin doesn't meet, they'd start a Potter fan club."

"Oh god, then they'll start calling themselves Potterheads or something," joked Jessica.

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

"Me," he said, pointing to it and winking as well, "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, third class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence 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 that you've read them, how much you've taken in..."

He handed out the papers then returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes. Start now!"

Jessica looked at her quiz and was glad to see questions she knew the answers to.

What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour?

What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?

What, in your opinion is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?

It went on over three sheets of paper, right down to:

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

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

"Tut, tut – hardly any of you remembered that my favourite colour 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 present would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples – though I wouldn't say no to some Ogden's Old Firewhiskey!"

Jessica rolled her eyes. Of course the hardest question was in the one book she hadn't read.

"... but Miss Hermione Granger knew that my 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. "Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so, to business..."

He bent down below his desk and lifted a 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 come to you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm. I must ask you not to scream, you 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.

"Yes?" Lockhart smiled at him.

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

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger 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 bunch of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocking around, rattling the bars and pulling bizarre faces at the people nearest them

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

It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like little blue 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, upended the waste bin, grabbed bags and books and threw them out the smashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the candelabra in the ceiling.

"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 Lockhart's wand and threw it out the window too. Lockhart gulped and ducked under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who fell a second later as the candelabra gave way.

The bell rang and there was a mad rush for the door. In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Harry, Ron, Hermione and Jessica, who were almost at the exit, and said, "Well, I'll just ask you four to nip the rest back into their cage." He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.

"Can you believe him?" roared Ron, as one of the remaining pixies bit him painfully on the ear.

"He just wants to give us a hands-on experience," said Hermione, immobilising two pixies at once and stuffing them back into their cage.

"Hands-on?" said Harry, who was trying to grab a pixie dancing just out of his reach with its tongue out. "Hermione, he didn't have a clue what he was doing."

"What do you mean?" said Jessica as she froze the pixie Harry was trying to catch and it fell into his hand. "You read his books. Can't you see all the things he's done?"

"He says he's done," Ron muttered.