Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to the authors, producers, and companies with whom the material in question is affiliated.
A/N: Here's some Q & A that's popped up since the start of this story.
Q: Malfoy, court wizard?
A: This is likely canon. Although JK never mentions it explicitly, the details she provides makes it likely Malfoy's family came over with William the Conqueror, and the name is French. The part about the Wizengamot is entirely my imagining, but not improbable. It has to start somewhere, and probably the population wasn't great enough or organised enough to start or maintain its own between when Rome fell and William took over.
Q: Robin Hood and Hedwig?
A: If you've kept up with the Doctor on BBC, now on his twelfth version, 13th or 14th regen – I can never keep up with that – he just visited Robin Hood in our reality. In 10.2's parallel reality, King John's war went a lot differently. It was as the Doctor describes minus the goblins and magic. In HP and the Sorcerer's Stone, JK says Harry names his owl after a 'Hedwig' he found in his history text, likely after one of the saint Hedwigs canonised by the Roman Catholic Church. But again, we're in a parallel reality, so for us, Hedwig was a goblin warrioress, a matriarch, and she assisted Robin Hood in restoring order to Britain.
Q: Did you know Dudley is Doctor 2's grandkid?
A: I didn't! That's a lovely bit of trivia. I always kind of wondered whether JK was a Whovian growing up, though, because a lot of the magical things in her universe resonate with the Doctor's universe. Bigger-on-the-inside tents and all that. I'm sure if she was, she giggled to herself when she saw the casting decision for Dudley.
Chapter Seven – The Illustrious Professor
Saturday, 7 September 2013
"Poor dear. I saw Lockhart managed to mangle half your mandrakes."
The witch hummed a soothing, deep sound of understanding at Professor Sprout's answering sniffle and shot her a sympathetic smile across the table. She tucked one of her long, slim, dark braids back behind her ear, added another cube of sugar to her tea, and shot a mild warming charm at it so steam rose again from its wonderfully dark, fragrant depths.
"That's not the whole of it either, Aurora" the normally jolly professor harrumphed. "The rest were so upset, their squalling put down three of my students. I've never seen Poppy so furious, well, saving after that business last year. I thought Albus wouldn't ever recover from that tongue-lashing."
"Don't remind me," the Jamaican intonation in her voice slightly more pronounced with her momentary ire. "But how did they manage that through the mufflers?"
"They broke their pots!" Professor Sprout exclaimed. "Never in all my time here as a teacher or a student have I seen such an upset. I had nine roots go off one after the other, throwing clay everywhere, scaring my kids half to death."
She rubbed her hands over her temples and sighed again.
"Poor Miss Bones, Mr Rivers and Miss Bulstrode lost their ear protection in the panic. Thank the powers that be for Mr Potter's quick thinking and Miss Granger's wand, or I would have had more in the hospital wing, too," she elaborated. "Lockhart wanted to 'help' me clean up the aftermath, said he could treat the injured or re-condition the bruised roots for me. Potter must have been worried about what might have befallen Miss Bones, because I've never seen him move that fast to intercept someone off the pitch. No doubt the poor boy had to endure a lecture on 'fame management' or some such nonsense. You know, that idiot thinks the child wants the attention? To think-!"
"That again?" Professor Vector grumbled, strolling into the staffroom with a Prophet folded under her arm. "We deal with him enough at meals and during this useless exercise. Why give him more of your attention?"
Sprout grimaced, but the Astronomy Professor shrugged.
"Perhaps it is because the other inclinations he inspires are less admirable than venting," she suggested. "A person can only hold onto hate so long afore she turns to other relief methods."
"Less admirable than gossiping about how much we dislike the ponce?" Septima laughed, sliding into a seat across from the other two women. "Isn't there anything else you might want to talk about?"
"I'm sure you can guess," Pomona giggled with a vague gesture. "They're certainly causing a stir."
"You mean the professors Smith?"
Aurora nodded, taking a sip of her tea.
"Who else?" she laughed. "They're clever, brilliant with the children, handsome-"
"Very handsome, you mean," Pomona added conspiratorially. "The both of them."
"Oh, you!"
"You've thought it, too, Septima," the astronomy professor said innocently. "Anyhow, I'm glad they're here, however unorthodox they may be. I've never seen the students eager for either subject, before, and with how well it's gone so far, we may even get N.E.W.T. certifications back for both."
"Did you hear about Rose's proposal, though?" Sprout wondered with no small amount of admiration. "An outing for all her classes! How does she propose to fund such a thing?"
Professor Vector tossed her chestnut hair over her shoulder.
"I imagine she'll put in a request for part of the discretionary fund," she mused.
Pomona looked at her doubtfully.
"Lucius Malfoy won't like that," she said regretfully.
The women shared a long look at the thought of the most active school regent.
"Well," Septima quipped. "Perhaps it's time his little Christmas bonus was put to its originally intended use. Otherwise, she's resourceful. I'm sure she'll find a way."
The door at the end of the long, oval-shaped room opened again to admit Flitwick, who smiled jovially at the ladies before climbing atop the stack of books helpfully balanced in one of the seats near their end of the table.
"Good morning!" he chirruped. "Did I miss anything, fair ladies?"
"No, dear man," Vector sighed. "We were just remarking on changes certain members of our staff have wrought on the school."
"Oh!" Flitwick gasped, so enthused he nearly toppled off his books. "Speaking of which, have you heard about Potter and Granger's zeppelin?"
"What in the world is that?" Sprout frowned.
Vector drew her wand over the surface of the table, outlining the shape in scorch marks.
"It's a flying ship muggles use to travel long distances," she explained to her older friend. "It's not as fast as the top racing brooms, but quite a lot more comfortable, from what I hear."
"And two young children are building such a thing?" the herbologist protested.
"Not a full-sized one, but a model, surely," Septima suggested.
Filius fairly trembled in his excitement as he leaned forward on his stack.
"Not quite a model," he disagreed. "And they're not building it on their own. They've got the Doctor overseeing the project, and darling Rose has invited her students to work on it with them for addition course credit. Not only that, but the project stemmed from a minor disagreement on muggle ingenuity, so half the class is building one without a blueprint to some basic guidelines. They'll be judged at Christmas, and it seems they intend to let young Miss Renette pilot them assuming both are deemed safe by the esteemed couple."
"She's yet a babe," Sinistra frowned.
"She'll be fine," the Doctor interjected, loping through the open door. "Filius has already volunteered his assistance to keep everything safe and fair, and Renette's more than eager to try. She's already got a broom, after all."
"If you say so, Doctor," Aurora said a little cheekily.
The Doctor smiled rakishly and spun a chair to straddle it with his arms folded over its back. Sinistra frowned at the briefcase he nudged across the table toward her.
"I finally figured out how to forward my post to my quarters, and I've finally got the latest issue of that Astronomy journal I was telling you about," he explained. "I've already copied it, so it's yours. There's a fantastic article about the galaxy filament they discovered – Beautiful photographs, too. Also dug the back-issues out of storage"
"Thank you!" the woman breathed, eagerly rifling through the case.
The Doctor shrugged off her appreciation.
"I still can't believe they're making you teach such basic astronomical calculations," he lamented. "I mean, really, your talents are completely wasted on the 'Ministry Accredited' curriculum."
"Well," she sighed. "You flatter me, but what can I do? The idea of wizarding primary school hasn't caught on, yet, because the people who could fund it prefer private tutilege, and the board refuses to compare our certifications with the international standard. In the meantime, I have to do my best with my independent study students."
"Oh, what I could have showed you if I had the Tardis, still."
"What's a-" Pomona began.
"Don't ask," Septima interrupted. "His explanation leaves much to be desired and induces headaches after a few seconds."
"Aw," the Doctor pouted. "I'm wounded."
Whatever Professor Vector wanted say was lost beneath a wild, carefree laugh, followed by a very familiar, sour grumble.
"…Really, Sev?" Rose's voice carried through the door. "You've never, not even once-?"
Those seated in the staffroom exchanged interested and slightly bemused glances, save for the Doctor, who looked unflappable as ever.
"I've had more important pursuits these past seventeen years," Severus drawled. "One doesn't earn my level of mastery by wasting time chasing pointless diversion."
"There has to be someone," Rose insisted. "I mean, you're not a stone."
The potions master's face flushed when the man registered the audience waiting for them. He quickly arranged his features into their usual dour expression and nodded absently before taking a seat. Rose rolled her eyes but followed him in with a smile to sit beside the Doctor and peck him on the cheek.
"Hello, gorgeous. Did you already drop Jen with Harry and the others?"
"Yup," the Doctor affirmed. "They're probably circulating the astronomy tower, by now."
"I'm still not so sure about letting her fly all over," she worried, pulling some notes from the folio she carried.
The other professors had started to find their own weekly updates as the clock wound its way toward eleven, but some gave her odd looks at her comment.
"Not to worry, my dear," Flitwick kindly squeaked. "Hagrid takes it upon himself to keep an eye out when classes aren't in session, and the castle's quite adept at finding ways to keep her children safe."
The mother pursed her lips.
"You know, I lived for years in a mad box that was bigger on the inside and could make decisions for itself –"
"Herself," the Doctor corrected.
"Fine," Rose rolled her eyes. "Herself, and I'm still not used to the idea that buildings and whatnot can even have room for those sorts of feelings. I mean, where do they keep their brains?"
Vector blinked and looked between the two in confusion.
"I'm sorry, but what are you two talking about?" she asked incredulously. "I've never heard of any place with quite the magical consciousness as Hogwarts."
"That would fall under the headache-inducing topics I still urge you not to broach," Aurora sing-songed.
"We'll hear if anything happens," the Doctor assured her
"How's that?" Rose laughed. "Unless…"
Her carefully sculpted brows drew together.
"You didn't," she accused, glaring at him. "Did you?"
The Doctor affected an innocent expression.
"I've not the slightest idea what you're talking about," he said.
His wife sighed.
"I'm just going to let you deal with whatever you did on your own, all right? I'm not digging you out of it when Jenny goes on the warpath because you broke broomstick."
The others grinned at their spousal antics, but quickly lost their good cheer as the remaining staff joined them. Minerva, always compassionate behind her stern façade, gave them all a warning grimace upon her entry. Moments later, they heard Professor Lockhart's voice approaching down the hall, answered every so often by the headmaster's patient, if weary, rumble.
The Doctor plopped his chin into his hand and rolled his eyes.
"I don't know if he's got actual treacle for brains, or if it's just a complex," he stage whispered to Rose. "But if I have to put up with another account of how he did whatever the same month he did six other things half the world over, I think I might let Torchwood have him for experimentation purposes."
Jenny had waited for this moment all day. First, her parents had been dreadfully slow waking up, and then they took forever getting dressed. She had stepped into a long-sleeved shirt and the least frilly romper she owned of her witch's wardrobe immediately after brushing her teeth promptly at six-thirty that morning. After that, she waited nearly until seven, when her mum and dad finally finished putting their clothes on.
"Now, Jen," her dad had said, crouching to grip her shoulders in the entryway to their modest apartments. "You've got to promise me you'll not wander off. Not like my companions promised in all my stories. A real promise. It's really dangerous for you to go off on your own. If your mum or I aren't with you, you've got to stick to Harry, and if something happens to him, you need to fly to Hagrid, Severus or Filius. Do you understand?"
Jenny nearly whined, but she could tell how serious her dad was, so she nodded and very maturely constructed her answer.
"I promise, Dad. I understand."
He smiled at her and stood up.
"Now please can we go explore the castle?" she begged, nearly trembling with excitement.
Rose laughed, tickling her from behind. She plopped a kiss on Jenny's cheek, and her daughter wiped the moist spot aggressively.
"Mu-um," she complained.
"Yes, we can. Betcha can't catch me!"
Rose raced from through the portrait, her daughter and husband hot on her heels. Jenny and her parents laughed uproariously as they explored Hogwarts, drawing odd looks from the few people awake to see them. Jenny couldn't believe it! She'd gotten to see Hogwarts over the summer, but it was a completely different place with students casting real, actual magic around every corner. Everywhere she turned, something amazing caught her eye. The portraits complained at her, just as cranky at being woken as her mum could be. The suits of armour squeaked, and the staircases moved unexpectedly underfoot. Her dad took her hand, and though Rose had gotten a head start from their apartment, they somehow beat her to the great hall.
Jenny stared appreciatively at the ceiling, where little wisps of condensed water vapour floated lazily high above their heads, creating swirls in the beautiful, clear blue sky. Someone cleared her throat and Jenny looked down to find a very stern, very tall, thin woman looking down at her.
"Good morning, Miss Smith," she said, her lips somewhat pursed beneath very sharp eyes.
"Good morning, ma'am," Jenny said, trying to smile.
"Have you come to join us for breakfast?"
Jenny nodded and stood on tiptoe to peek at the elaborate spread weighing down the head table.
"Are there blueberry preserves? Daddy makes toast and eggs every morning," she explained. "But he always forgets to put out jam."
McGonagall put on an exaggerated look of disappointment.
"No jam? What a travesty," she gave the Doctor a playfully stern look. "What sort of person forgets the jam?"
With that, she took Jenny's hand and led her to the empty space beside her seat, where she conjured a taller-than-normal chair and poured her young friend a large glass of pumpkin juice. The Doctor and Rose sat on their daughter's other side, both smiling at their daughter's overwhelmingly warm reception since she set foot in the castle.
Jenny adored breakfasts in the Great Hall and hadn't joined the staff for one since term started. Though her dad made tasty bacon and omelettes, she missed fluffy scones with sweet honey-butter and sticky, elf-made jam. She also enjoyed the attention. It was a bit like having extra aunts and uncles, and she missed that feeling since moving away from Sutton. Jack, Mickey, Tony or Gwen had made a habit of dropping by unannounced with presents, sweets, and tales of their latest adventures.
Students began coming down for breakfast not long after she took her seat, and though not everyone noticed the addition to the head table at the start, soon everyone was looking up at her and whispering excitedly. She sat straight and tried not to drop anything on herself while she watched the Slytherins come in. It took him forever to come down for breakfast with Daphne and Draco. He gave her a huge grin and a wave almost as soon as he passed the threshold. She waved back and finally focused on finishing her jam-and-crispy-bacon-stuffed scones, which she thought were much better than toast.
Professor Snape followed his students a little later to take the seat next to Rose, which the Doctor had abandoned after scarfing down some tomatoes and eggs in his haste to talk to Professor Sinistra.
"So, is the inquisition over yet?" her mum asked once the Slytherin head-of-house had drawn a serviette over his lap.
The dour, sallow-faced potions master took a long draught of tea and took his time cutting up his bangers.
"For the most part," he answered in a deep drawl. "My prefects managed to hold it off until the second morning, and Mr Tyler answered their questions with reasonable politesse."
Rose refilled Jenny's milk glass and speared a fried tomato.
"I hear a 'but' somewhere in there."
"I was trying to be polite, but since you insist," the potions master smirked. "He lies poorly. He is fortunate, indeed, to have such gifts in masking his mind. He's also lucky his housemates are so reduced from what Slytherins used to be."
Jenny perked up at this, not only because she was taught she should not lie, but also because she knew her brother to be one of the most honest people she'd ever met. Which said quite a lot, because other kids' older brothers and sisters were habitual liars and mean ones, at that.
" – A gift Mr Tyler would do well to cultivate in your daughter, too, it would seem," Snape added, pinning Jenny with a bland stare. "Especially when she seems so eager to listen to others' conversations."
Jenny shrank in her seat, her cheeks flushing, and Rose smacked Snape's arm lightly.
"Oi, no scaring my kid," she admonished. "And don't worry so much. The Doctor has already taken care of that."
"Why is it you insist on calling him that?" he griped. "You say it as a singularity – The Doctor. Why not use his name?"
Rose sighed and smiled wryly.
"Something about endangering parallel realities. Ask him about it. Or don't. It seems our colleagues think it leads to migraines."
Jenny couldn't worry too much about the adults' odd conversation, though, because her father returned from his visit to the other end of the table.
"Done with your breakfast?" he asked, bending to kiss the top of her head.
Snape made a sound of complaint in the back of his throat.
"Yes!" Jenny crowed, hopping down from her taller-than-normal chair.
McGonagall chuckled as Jenny half-dragged her dad from the great hall, and the little girl barely heard the older woman heckle Snape.
"What is it? Can't handle a little sweetness in the morning?" she teased.
"…I simply think more decorum would be appropriate. It's slightly sickening."
"Shut up, Sev," Rose laughed. "Suck it up and enjoy life, for once."
Outside, the stubbornly bright sun had burned away the dew and chill, leaving a wide, blue sky in their wake. Fluffy white clouds dotted the skyline above the forest and reflected on the calm surface of the lake. The Doctor led her from the entryway to the path around the castle's other side, which opened up into a courtyard that looked over a sweeping hill. Below, the massive Quidditch pitch's towers rose like points from a crown around the tall spectators' stands. Specks zoomed overhead between the shining gold goalposts, but none could fly faster than Jenny's brother.
Suddenly, the boy somersaulted midair and dove for the ground. The Doctor whooped, and the few kids in the stands echoed his cheer. Jenny tensed. Harry hadn't slowed, and any second he would collide with the lawn. At the last second, he dug in his heels and pulled up to rocket not quite a foot above the ground. Her dad dropped her hand, and she looked up in confusion until she felt an arm grab her tight. She squealed in delight as Harry slowed enough for her to straddle the broom behind him, and she grinned as the familiar feeling of a sticking charm glued her arms around his waist and her bum to the broom.
The kids' father grinned after them as they shot back into the sky. Peals of faint laughter reached him from six hundred feet in the air. Just to be safe, he toggled a switch on his sonic-enhanced wand and spelled an amplified wide-area cushioning charm across the entire field.
Despite the Doctor, Rose and Harry's combined worries, the castle's thousand-some denizens seemed to shrug at their presence and combined madness as something one might expect from Harry Potter's family. They experienced easy acceptance, and as it turned out, everyone seemed even more impressed with Jenny than they had with the Doctor and Rose together. It seemed Jenny's age, her nonchalance in the face of her brother's fame and her parents' self-admitted strangeness, her gender (though Harry and Jenny both asserted it wouldn't have mattered), and her own vivacious personality led everyone to believe she was destined to be an even greater force than anyone else in her family, simply by virtue of her apparent normalness. In their mind, only a true mistress of subversion possessing the greatest intellect and greater madness could act normal amidst her family's nonsense. At least, that was how Hermione and Daphne explained it to Harry one afternoon.
Her skills on a broom only enhanced her reputation among the students, which only grew when Harry thought to invite her to help Draco and him in agility training. She often out-flew them by virtue of the safety features installed on her nimbus, which let her accomplish stunts her musculature might not have allowed and the boys had no chance of doing without intensive strength training.
Some thought Harry might even feel frustrated with all the attention heaped on his sister, but they needn't have worried. Harry nearly strutted with pride for his sibling and thoroughly enjoyed everyone's easy acceptance of her presence in the castle.
Meanwhile, classes progressed as everyone expected they would. With actual lessons in History featuring engaging content and an infinitely entertaining professor, History quickly became a favourite among the students of Hogwarts to rival Charms. As the most casting-intensive course, it had long stood as high point in most everyone's mind, but Flitwick seemed not to mind having equally popular colleagues. For the second-years, the material had advanced in difficulty, too, and lessons relied less on revision and more on putting to use the theory studied for homework.
In Transfiguration, Harry and his friends started working with larger animals like rats and birds. He felt badly about it, at first, until McGonagall explained the creatures experienced no harm by it under the temporary version of transfiguration practiced at their level.
"The magic sustains them and, as far as any trials have shown, they feel no pain and have little memory of it at all," she explained to the class at large to allay the others' fears. "We do this because it is the most efficient way to get you all accustomed to gauging volume, mass and energy required to successfully transfigure a living thing, which is supremely important for our studies next year."
The Doctor, who had avoided animal experimentation in his own studies and during his many mastery completions over the previous year, felt infinitely intrigued by the explanation when Harry later brought it up. Ever the scientist, he launched into a new set of trials during the weekends, and Harry and Hermione eagerly assisted him whenever their schedules allowed.
Charms progressed as interestingly as ever and focused on spells geared toward everyday use or possible self-defence: flash-bangs, enlarging, shrinking, cleaning, fixing, freezing, unfreezing, drying, and generally improving the fine motor skills necessary to conduct spellwork with any accuracy.
Unfortunately, defence only worsened by the day.
Harry had hoped his harmless prank would deter Lockhart from singling him out, but he thought perhaps the man's megalomania and habit of self-promotion outweighed his common sense. Within two weeks of the 'Zappa incident' (as those familiar with the American guitarist termed it) the foppish professor turned his sites again on Harry in what the Slytherin recognised as a bid to boost his own name recognition.
"Harry, Harry, Harry," he sung as the bells tolled the hour and called the class to session.
The Slytherin felt his classmates pause their side conversations to look strangely at him for the Professor's familiarity. Lockhart grinned as he strolled down the aisle toward Harry's desk.
"I wanted to let you know I forgive you completely for your little earlier this month. I realised I haven't spoken with you about it. I wanted to let you know how terribly funny I thought it, but you really ought to have been more direct. Of course, I'm entirely at fault after our meet in Diagon Alley."
Draco shook with silent amusement at his side, while Harry felt his face slacken in utter confusion. The professor leaned forward to clasp his student's shoulder and proceed in a stage whisper.
"I know a call for attention when I see one," he continued with a patronising wink. "I understand, after having a taste of the spotlight, how you might want to achieve it again. I could have kicked myself when I realised – Anyhow, never you worry. I already knew you might want some mentorship during my tenure here, and I intend to give you the best of the wisdom I've amassed over the years."
By the whispers and giggles sweeping the room, Harry had no doubt his classmates heard every word. He felt his face burning hotly in shades of red left previously unexplored.
"But you can't just jinx your teachers, you know. Sends the wrong message. Yes, I know, I know – 'It's fine for a man known and loved the world over to say something like that!' But it's not so bad. At your age, I was your average nobody, as well. Maybe more so, what with all that business with You-Know-Who."
His blue eyes automatically sought the lightning scar, and Harry felt his embarrassment melt behind incredulity and building anger as understanding of the man's insinuation clicked into place.
"-But don't worry, dear boy. It may not be quite the same as becoming Witch Weekly's five-time Best-Smile and Most-Charming-Bachelor five years running, as I am, but it's an admirable start – A most admirable start to a promising career if you stick with me."
The laughter died away as a beatific smile stretched across Harry's face. Kilat writhed in her secret pouch, hissing violent promises in response to her human's elevated heart rate, temperature, and tension. He clenched his fists under his desk, and while he could feel a shift in Draco's posture beside him and the tang of anxiety colouring his classmates' magic, the professor seemed mollified by the boy's suddenly angelic expression.
"Thank you professor," he said too cheerily. "I will most certainly take what you've said to heart."
Apparently satisfied in having fulfilled his duty as a role model, Lockhart gave him another exaggerated wink and gambolled back to the front of the classroom. The professor finally started his lecture, and though he felt the Ravenclaws relax by degrees, he knew Draco, Blaise, Daphne and Tracy tensely awaited the retribution they read on Harry's face. He was one to let things go, but they had learned over the previous year that he happily shelved his good-natured comportment and live-and-let-live attitude when the occasion called for it. He didn't let people walk on him for their pleasure. Draco had gotten a small taste of the boy's backbone early on, and while Harry hadn't felt a cause to do more than trade a few witty barbs with anyone else yet, his friends knew he had the power, the smarts, and the control to do quite a lot more.
The others felt his change in mindset with that uncharacteristic grin.
"Now of course," the professor said at the front of the room, apparently done with his self-aggrandising re-enactment of wrestling werewolves at Terry Boot's expense. "We won't be practicing the immobilising charm on anything as dangerous as a werewolf. However, there'd be little point in preparing for our self defence if our foes weren't at least a little challenging."
He leaned forward on his podium and dropped his voice into a lower, almost forbidding murmur.
"Indeed, you will face all manner of creatures in this class. Some, I'm sure, may be too much for you to handle. But do not fear. No harm shall come to you in my charge."
And with that, Lockhart pulled a large, square cage from the compartment in the wide, deep podium and set it on the table nearby. The cloth covering it fluttered, and the metal rattled. Something that sounded like a lot of small birds – Harry could have sworn he'd heard that sound before – emanated from behind the cloth.
"I ask you not to scream," Lockhart added. "It could provoke them!"
With that, he whipped the cloth away, revealing fifty very angry, electric-blue pixies. They had large, shining black eyes, black mouths filled with sharp teeth, and dragonfly-like wings jutting from their bony backs. Each stood no taller than a man's hand-span, all beating and rattling the cage's bars.
"Pixies?" Theodore Nott scoffed. "We're going to be fighting pixies?"
The professor wagged a finger.
"Only if you let them put up a fight. Remember, the immobilising charm. Of course, they can be extremely tricky little devils if you let them."
Padma Patil raised her hand, her face halfway between admiration and confusion.
"Professor? Do you mean we're to…"
Lockhart granted her a crooked smile.
"Get them back in the cage, yes. I'm sure you'll have no problem, Miss Patil," he reassured her.
The girl blushed prettily, and several other girls giggled.
"Let's see how well you've been paying attention!"
As soon as the professor raised the catch on the cage, the pixies shot out like so many rockets to zip across the room at impressive and destructive speed. Books, inkpots, chairs, wands – anything small enough for their evil little hands to grab sailed through the air. The children shrieked, ducking under desks to avoid the chaos raining down on them. Crabbe screamed as four especially industrious pixies lifted him by the ears in an attempt to hang him from the chandelier. Fortunately, Henry caught him as the pixies went by so the boy hung from the dragon skeleton's lower teeth.
"Come on now! Like I taught you. These are pixies not werewolves," Lockhart admonished, brandishing his wand like a sword.
"Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"
But he was overzealous, and his wand flew across the room at the end of his exaggerated flourish. The pixies laughed in their shrill way, and one helpfully fetched it up and dropped it into an empty torch sconce twelve feet up the wall.
"He's afraid," Kilat hissed, her tiny head poking out of the collar of Harry's shirt.
The boy tried not to laugh. He couldn't have asked for a better turnaround for that day's class.
"Don't worry professor!" he shouted over the screaming. "I'll handle it."
And he did.
He breathed deeply in, feeling the magic tingling across his skin as he raised his wand. The pixies seemed to sense his intention and began circling overhead, swarming just as he shouted –
"Immobilous!"
They dropped from the air, their eyes comically wide with rage and their bodies temporarily rigid. A few more industrious Ravenclaws who had yet to flee ducked out from under their desks and quickly scooped up an armful of the stiff little bodies to stuff them unceremoniously back in their cage. The others caught on quickly, and the last few remaining pixies quickly found themselves cornered and immobilised by the other students. When they finally finished rounding them up, the room lay in shambles. Crabbe still shouted down at them from his place, hanging from the jaws of the dragon remains. Anything made of glass lay shattered and sprinkled the floor like sharp bits of glitter, and most of the paper goods had undergone a quick and violent transformation to confetti. Ink splattered skin, clothes, and shoes. Harry even spotted a small fire burning in a wastepaper basket.
"Good one, chap," Draco commented, slapping him on the shoulder. "Quick thinking."
"Glad someone was thinking, at all," Daphne added, smirking a little.
Harry tried not to grin. She saw through him, of course.
"Very good, Harry, my boy!" Lockhart finally crowed. "Exactly as I showed you! Ten points for Slytherin."
The Slytherins gamefully broke into light applause at their professor's lead. The rest of the class stared at him incredulously, save for his admirers, who had already gotten over the ruined state of their things.
"And let this be a lesson to you all," Lockhart finally said, once the room had been put to rights. "Never underestimate your enemies, and always be quick on your feet."
The bell finally rang, and Harry finished scouring ink from his face and hands before following his friends to the door. They waited outside for him with expectant expressions.
"What are you going to do?" Daphne whispered as she looped an arm through his.
Tracy mirrored him on his other side with a shark-like glint to her smile, but Draco glared at her until she huffed and let him resume his usual spot on Harry's right.
"I'm going to talk to Mum and Dad," he said nonchalantly. "I don't mind getting detention as long as I don't lose us too many points, but I really would rather not be grounded."