Batman created by Bill Finger, Damian Wayne - by Grant Morrison, the rest - by J.K. Rowling. I own nothing. NOTHING!

Chapter Three

CHARMED

He was running. Heavy combat boots were hitting the stone floor with a dull, muffled sound, and he was already panting, loudly grabbing the cold mountain air with his mouth, which meant they even if they couldn't see him, they could hear him. The window behind him shattered, and yet another pursuer hit joined the hunt, leading their prey to the dead end. He didn't know who they were, but he knew that he and his allies must have been betrayed. As he reached the end of the hallway, he quickly went through a small door to the left, dodging a thrown knife, and started descending the spiral staircase. Suddenly, he froze, chuckled, and intentionally skipped the step, falling down and smashing his face on the steps. The world around him twitched and fell apart.

Somewhere in Hogwarts, Damian Wayne woke up with a frown on his face. That nightmare was starting to annoy him. He looked out of the window at the brightening horizon, stretched, and got up. It was no use trying to sleep after using Jason Todd's method of dealing with nightmares, even if it left the user feeling completely wrecked. And if he hurried up, he could still fit a short training session before classes started, freeing an hour in the evening.

Unbeknown to him, another student was awake in Hogwarts.

When the first rays of the rising sun hit the glade of the Hogwarts lake, Colin Creevey was already washed, dressed and aiming his camera. He spent the last hour waiting for this moment, choosing the best location and angle well before the sun even started to brighten the horizon. Finally, the water came alive with light, that immediately started toying with the waves, chasing them towards the shore, where they hit the sand and retreated back. The Whomping Willow slowly shook, seemingly stretching before a long day and shaking down its drying leaves. Colin smiled and gently squeezed the shutter of his camera, catching a small photocard before it could fall down. Considering that Colin was currently leaning out of the window of his room in Gryffindor Tower – down was a long way to go.

As he studied the result, a small frown crept on his face. He wished he had a better camera, one of those long-ranged designs he had seen on TV, that could capture the details even smaller than the human eye could see… but he was also content with the result. "Camera doesn't matter", used to tell his dad, who spent his whole life in company of an old film camera, that used to belong to his dad, Colin's grandfather.

"It's the man that holds it." quietly finished the saying Colin, placing the photocard inside a small album and placing a new card in the camera. He still couldn't believe his dad let him take this Polaroid with him – after all, he's been practicing for less than a year, taking pictures around the neighbourhood. But his father believed that Colin had an eye for it, a natural talent of seeing beauty in regular things and showing it to others. And Colin wasn't going to disappoint his dad.

Looking back at the lake, he smiled. He still remembered, how afraid he was the day before, and, to be fair, he still wasn't sure if he would ever be able to swim in the lake. But there was beauty in it too, chaotic, primeval beauty. Colin realised, that that's how the waters of Innsmouth would have looked, had the town actually existed. He shuddered. Hopefully, there weren't any fishmen at the bottom of the lake.

Climbing down from the windowsill, he quietly placed the album and the camera back into his trunk and pulled out his timetable for today. Charms with Ravenclaws, then Transfiguration, followed by Care for Magical Creatures with Hufflepuffs. Colin found his copies of Standard Book of Spells: volume 1, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration and threw them into his school bag. After that – he checked the schedule again – two hours of Defence Against the Dark Arts with once again, Ravenclaws. Colin pulled out all of Lockhart's books and stared at them in confusion. Of course, he wouldn't need them all… would he? He could probably fit them all in his bag, yes, but that'd be rather stupid of him – having the physique of a twig, he would be heaving on the staircases. Colin shrugged and threw his copy of Wandering with Werewolves into the bag, due to it having the most badass cover – Gilderoy Lockhart, in all of his glory, battled three monstrous wolves, while winking at the reader.

After finishing up his loadout with an ink well, two quills and a thick stack of parchment, Colin checked the time on a wind-up alarm clock. Breakfast started in an hour, so he had time to kill. He pulled out an unfinished bag of Berty Botts and settled down on his bed with Marauding with Monsters in hand. So far, Lockhart seemed like a major badass, even though Colin's dad had to spend almost 200 pounds on his books – roughly as much as on the rest of the reading material. Colin carefully opened the book and started reading.

Behind the window, a small figure in a Muggle sport costume finished doing sit-ups and started its run around the lake.

He was running once more. Only this time, it wasn't heavy boots and ceremonial robes that he was wearing – they were replaced with far more sensible trainers and loose cotton clothes. The air was cold, just like in the dream, but it did not bite. Not yet – while autumn had already come to Scotland, Damian had suspicions that it was going to get much colder later on. Not that it mattered – he was used to Gotham's weather, and thus was no stranger to cold.

Something to his right moved. Without losing his tempo, he looked to the side and saw the Whomping Willow furiously swinging at the grey cat, that hissed and immediately ran away to the castle. Wayne smiled, remembering Alfred – not the butler, although he dearly missed the old hoot too – but his cat, given to Damian in the very beginning of his campaign as Robin by the aforementioned old hoot. Originally Wayne wanted to bring him to Hogwarts too, but decided against it as time went by. With all of his great qualities, Alfred did not like traveling, clearly taking after his namesake. As he turned around the lake, starting his run back, Damian sighed. Maybe next year.

He looked up and saw the castle of Hogwarts in front of him. And it made him once again wonder of the words he heard from the Sorting Hat the day before – of students, who defied the Sorting. Originally, Wayne assumed it to be Colin, escaping Hufflepuff due to his desire to be like Harry Potter, but now that he had a night to think about it, he was not so sure. The newly christened Gryffindor had shown some guts back on the lake, when he saw Hogwarts for the first time, which made him maybe a bit poor, but still a fit. Damian bit his lip – he clearly had to think about it more.

He checked the mechanical watch on his hand and sped up, kicking the ground harder. He had only half-an-hour to take a shower and get to breakfast. His bag had been, of course, already packed in the evening.

Colin turned the page and threw another bean in his mouth, before suddenly cringing – it turned out to be sour cabbage. Lockhart in the book was battling an Abyssinian drake at the moment, deep into Lybian desert, where he got lost while searching for a missing expedition. As the foreword to the chapter said, expedition was never found and the mission was a failure, but Lockhart chose to include this story in the book as a great example of how dangerous wild drakes were and why there had been a "capture dead or alive" order on them in most of the civilized countries.

Overall, Lockhart's book seemed to be worth its money. While professor sometimes went into long monologues about his own perfection, most of the book talked about creatures Colin already knew from Fantastic Beasts. Only Lockhart, unlike Newt Scamander, didn't care about their rations or habitats. Instead, professor talked about his encounters with the monstrous beasts and the ways he managed to stay alive. For example, he escaped the Abyssinian drake by using a Sunstone – not a gem, but a miniature device employed by Romanian vampire hunters to create a powerful flash of sunlight. While the dragon was recovering its sight, Lockhart hid in the cranny of a dune, cast a Bubblehead charm and buried himself deep in the hot sand, making drake's temperature sense useless. In conclusion, professor explained, that the most a single wizard can hope for when faced with an angry drake was simple survival, while actual Drake-catcher teams usually consisted of at least a dozen experienced wizards. As for drakes' older relatives – True Dragons – Lockhart shamefully admitted, that he had never met a wild dragon, not to mention had a privilege of fighting the sentient beast. Footnotes to the chapter contained names for a couple of spells that could replicate the effect of the Sunstone – out of them all, Lockhart recommended Conjuctivitus, which he suggested to look for in Genteman's Arsenal: A Guide to the Competitive Duelling, issue 24, 1978.

Colin put the book down and stared at the ceiling. He was wrong – Lockhart wasn't a badass. He was the badass. Suddenly, the alarm clocks on the drawers started to ring. Creevey checked the time – fifteen minutes before the beginning of breakfast. To his right, a still half-asleep body of Luke Wen plopped out of the bed and with a mumbled 'Morning' went on the journey to the restrooms.

Ten minutes later, a happy crowd of first-year boys descended into the Common Room of Gryffindor. Jared – a fat, pudgy boy with curly blond hair and round face – was telling the rest of the group what the lessons would be like. Colin, despite thinking that Jared was full of it, listened – after all, Jared had an older brother in Hufflepuff, so he was bound to know something. And even if the History of Magic wasn't taught by an actual ghost… what of it? It made for a decent story, and Colin loved stories.

A tall, thin figure with glasses and a ponytail of brown hair was already waiting for them near the entrance to the Common Room, surrounded by a crowd of very displeased first-year girls.

'I told you already, Tina, we have to wait for… ah, here they are!' Vlad Pierson, fifth year Prefect of Gryffindor, rose his head on the boys. 'Come on, let's go!' he opened up the portrait and crawled out first, leading the hungry party towards the Great Hall.

'Could have come sooner…' said Tina in whisper, that was heard by anyone interested.

'Boys!' scoffed her neighbour. 'Don't bother with them, Tina, they are not worth it. Right, Ginny? Ginny?'

The redhead slowly shook her head and looked at the girl in mild confusion. 'Yes, Lisa, whatever.'

'Didn't sleep well?' smiled Lisa.

Ginny yawned and nodded, before continuing her downward trudge to the bottom of the tower. Colin noticed that she indeed looked tired and even more pale than usually.

Damian was already at the Ravenclaw table when Colin got to the Great Hall, picking at his food. Creevey waved at his friend and received a curt nod back. Breakfast consisted of oatmeal, boiled eggs, beans and sausages – something that Colin gladly dug into. He liked meat, even though it was hard to tell from his stature.

Jared kept talking about lessons. According to him, Charms were taught by a short professor Flitwick, who was very excitable and forgiving… that is, until you really set him off. Flitwick used to be a master duelist in the past, but abandoned this art shortly before coming to Hogwarts. Luke and Max – another roommate of Colin's, who said barely two words since introducing himself – were listening attentively, sometimes even forgetting about food, while Desmond – the last roommate of Colin's – was instead chewing it at full speed, stories be damned.

Colin washed the food down with a glass of pumpkin juice and was going to leave the Hall, when Harry Potter, in company of his friends from the previous day, walked into the Hall and, still grumbling, sat in front of Creevey. Colin froze.

'…bunch of rotten luck, mate.' finished saying something the redhead – Ron, quickly remembered Colin.

'Seriously, Ronald.' sighed Hermione. 'Sixty hours of detention is not that bad for what you've done. If you ask me…'

'I don't.' interrupted Ron.

'If you ask me, she went easy here.' finished Hermione. 'You are lucky she knew your parents and preferred not to get them in trouble.'

Ron pursed his lips into a string, sighed and took a small bite of sausage.

'She's right, you know…' quietly said Harry, hunching down and putting his chin on his arms.

'She always is…' grumbled Ron before looking up, right at Colin. 'And what do you want?'

Colin flinched. Hermione also looked up and smiled. 'Oh, hi. We met on the train, didn't we?'

Colin slowly nodded, before offering his hand. 'C-Colin.' He mentally cursed his nervousness.

'Hermione.' she shook it in a smooth motion and nodded at her neighbour. 'That's Harry. The jerk is Ron.'

Ron scoffed, but took it and shook Colin's hand too. Harry mumbled something resembling 'hi' and went back to staring at his glass of pumpkin juice.

Colin's smile faltered and he retracted his hand. 'Nice t-to meet you...' he said, quietly, and looked at the dark haired boy. Bracing himself, he, in full of hope voice, asked. 'Are… are you really Harry Potter?'

Harry groaned and lifted his hair, showing his scar, while giving Colin a glare. The boy instantly deflated. 'Sorry.'

'It's alright.' sighed Harry, letting his hair down. 'What did you want?' he asked in a heavy voice.

Colin reached for his camera, but remembered that he left it behind, in his room. Thinking on the go, he blabbered, 'Could I take a picture of you? When we get back to the tower, I mean?'

Harry sighed again and hid his face in his hands.

'You mean a picture with him?' slowly asked Hermione.

Such possibility had never entered Colin's mind until that moment, but he knew a helping hand when he saw one, so he quickly nodded a couple of times. Ron, who, apparently, was finding it all incredibly amusing, elbowed his friend. Hermione also whispered something into his ear.

'Deal.' finally agreed Harry. 'One picture. With all of us.', he emphasized. 'As friends.'

Colin, with a goofy smile, frantically nodded, mumbled "Thank you!" and started to stand up. He found Damian and met his gaze, nodding at the doors. Wayne, who was still chewing on a sausage and egg sandwich he made, shook his head and Colin went to the exit alone, still feeling like he was on the seventh heaven. That's why he almost crashed into Luna in the doors, which immediately grounded him. She quickly bumbled her apologies and rushed to the Ravenclaw table without even letting him start on his. Shrugging, Colin looked at the clock above the gates and ran up the Grand Staircase – it was less than five minutes before the Charm lesson began.

Damian noticed Luna entering the Hall and relaxed. He had noticed the girl's absence a long time ago and was immediately worried for her. Luna seemed to have this fragile sense around her, something Damian couldn't really explain. He tried to come up with a rational name for it, but the closest thing he found was "innocence", which was still far too imprecise for his taste.

Frowning, he stood up and went for the exit, finishing the sandwich on the go. Luna decided to sit at the end of the table, and was hastily eating a boiled egg with a spoon. As he was passing by, Damian stopped near her.

'Hey, do you know how to get to the Charms class?'

Luna quickly swallowed the remains of the egg and nodded. 'Third floor, to the left.' she said, pointing with her spoon.

'Thanks.' smiled Damian and went for the exit. His smile slid off his face the moment he stepped through the door. He wasn't wrong – tips of Luna fingers were covered in ink. But what could she be writing on the night before school? And why did she look so tired, like she had barely gotten any sleep? Frowning, Wayne increased Luna's priority level on the list.

'Magic!' began professor Flitwick, standing on the stack of books behind his table. Colin thought that he looked rather funny, but kept it to himself, just like most of the rest of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws sitting around the room. Although Luke, who was sitting to his right, still coughed from time to time, hiding laughs.

'Magic is incredible. Astonishing. Unpredictable. Magic allows you to take the world and rebuild it in your own name – although, of course, professor McGonagall's discipline is much more fitting for this sort of task. Magic can help you defeat any foe – but of that you will learn from professor Lockhart. But I, I will teach you how to make magic your friend. How to start a fire. How to keep yourself warm. How to do thousands of maybe menial and routine, but important tasks… and how to do them right.'

He produced his wand, which seemed to be as long as his forearm, and swished it through the air. All the books, ink wells, quills and other trivia on the students' tables flew up in the air, slowly rotating. Ink spilled out of ink wells, but continued floating around them in massive blobs of violet. Astonished students watched the spectacle with open mouths.

'Charms have a reputation of being a boring lesson.' smiled professor, showing off unusually sharp teeth. 'A housekeeper's discipline, they call them. They are not wrong here, by the way – knowing your Charms allows you to make your home a better place much easier. But let me tell you something. A professional opinion, if I may.' he started slowly circling with the tip of his wand, increasing the speed of the objects' rotation. 'Charms.' he swished and flicked his wand, and the books in the air flew back to their owners, landing in the same places as they originally laid. 'Is anything.' He swished again and so did the quills, parchments and other knick-knacks. 'But boring.' finished professor, once more waving his wand through the air. The ink immediately returned to the ink wells. Luke and Max started to applaud, and were immediately supported by the rest of the class.

'What you just saw,' continued professor, 'Was an expert use of a Charm we are going to learn in a couple of months. But for now – let us start with something smaller.'

He flicked the wand on the blackboard and it started filling itself with instructions.

'The incantation is Lumos.' said professor Flitwick. 'And its beauty is that you can use it in any position, with any move. My, some wizards can even cast it without holding a wand. The result should be,' he slowly levelled the tip of his wand in front of his eyes and whispered 'Lumos.'

The wand lit up. First a small, barely visible spark settled itself on its tip, but a second later it grew to the size of a rosary bead. Then – to the size of a tennis ball. In the end, professor Flitwick held an orange-sized ball of cold, blue light on the tip of his wand, brighter than the sunlight that came through the windows. After confirming that everyone in the room saw it, he whispered 'Nox.' The ball disappeared.

'But before we begin,' said Flitwick, 'There's something you should know. If you read your books on Theory of Magic, you probably already know, but I'll repeat.' he jumped from his pedestal and walked into the middle of the classroom. 'A spell – a Charm, a Curse, a Jinx, or whatever else you call it – is not just words and form. Spell is also intent, your will, your desire to do something. Some of the most powerful…' a dark shadow appeared on his usually happy face, making him look much more frightful than he was, 'some of the most powerful spells are driven completely by intent.'

'So,' he clapped his hands, and just like that he was a smiling, small professor once more. 'Why don't we begin?'

Colin, who was listening and watching with an open mouth, silently nodded and pulled his wand out of his pocket. Like Flitwick, he put it in front of his nose and whispered 'Lumos!'. Nothing happened. Frowning, the boy looked around and saw the same confused faces.

'Oh, try again, try again!' laughed the professor. 'Persistency is an important quality in a wizard, after all. Just take a deep breath, focus, and…' he produced his wand, whispered "Lumos!" and had shown its glowing tip to the class. 'And try again.'

Colin doubtfully looked at his own wand. He flicked it in front of him and cast the spell once more. Nothing happened. So he did it again. And again. And again, until suddenly a small spark ran through it, culminating into a bright, silent explosion of blinding blue light on the tip.

'Oh, dear.' said Flitwick, running up to Colin, 'Not like this, not like this. That was great job, mister…' he paused.

'Creevey,' answered Colin. 'Colin Creevey.'

'Mister Creevey.' nodded the small professor. 'As I was saying, you did amazingly, but you did the wrong thing. You got angry, didn't you?'

Colin slowly nodded. Indeed, he was feeling rather stupid and angry at himself by the third attempt.

'You shouldn't have,' smiled Flitwick. 'Your bond with your wand is still in early days, it doesn't understand yet that you are not always calm. So, feeling your distress, it sent a lot of power into the spell – far more than it needed. And this is dangerous – it may drain you dry and make you sick. So, mister Creevey, if you want to keep casting your spells properly,' professor winked at Colin, 'do try to stay calm. Or at least positive. Do you understand?'

'Yes, sir.' smiled back Colin, took a deep breath and tried again. This time the tip of his wand didn't explore, but instead lit up – the light was smaller and dimmer than Flitwick's, in fact it was no bigger than a pinhead, but it was there. Colin wiped the sweat off his forehead and leaned back into his chair, letting go of all subconscious doubts he ever had. He was a wizard. And two points to Gryffindor had only just proven it.

The rest of the lessons were kind of a blur to Colin. Even though other professors seemed to want to impress the students too, no one reached the heights of professor Flitwick. Professor McGonagall came pretty close with her transformation into a cat, though. Care of Magical Creatures, on the other hand, was a bit of a disappointment – professor Kettleburn didn't let them near anything really majestic. By man's own words, he got tired of losing limbs and now offered for the most part theoretical lessons while the school was looking for a replacement. Although, Colin had to admit – a realistic animated poster of a dragon that Kettleburn had on his classroom's wall was incredibly cool. Even if it was only ¼ scale.

Now, Colin was standing in front of DADA classroom, desperately trying to stop his knees from jiggling. He couldn't stop but read more Lockhart on breaks, and he had to hand it to the man – if Marauding with Monsters was a collection of small stories, Wandering with Werewolves was a terrifying mystical thriller set in Australian outback. Thinking, that Lockhart actually lived through it sent shivers down Colin's spine. All alone, it a small far away town, investigating horrific murders and knowing that everyone can turn out a flesh-eating monster… Professor Lockhart must have had guts of pure steel.

'Hey, you OK?' asked Luke, creeping up from behind. Original plan was to suddenly scare Colin, but seeing his roommate's face made him reconsider.

'Y-yeah…' whispered Colin back. 'It's just…' he stammered, in a loss of a word.

'Too much for today?' asked Max, who was, as always, shadowing his friend.

Colin nodded, relieved that someone else understood. 'Way too much.'

'You'll get used to it!' clapped him on the shoulder Luke. 'We are wizards now, it's in the job description!'

Colin smiled, although he felt some hollowness in his stomach. His heart pumped in his ears, and he tried taking deep slow breaths, waiting till the lesson began.

Finally, the door unlocked itself, and the older students started coming out one by one. Judging by their robes, they were Hufflepuffs, although Colin had never seen angry Hufflepuffs before. While the girls were mostly giggly and laughing, with some them having rather dreamy expressions, boys were mostly downright mad.

'Don't worry, Ced, it could literally have happened to anyone…' said one of the boys to the other, who had a Prefect's badge on his robe. But his words seemed to be moot, because the boy continued walking forward, ignoring his friends and screeching his teeth.

'I'll show him a ravenous ghoul!' heard Colin as the boy walked past him, muttering under his breath. His friend let him go and slowed down, watching him walk away, before turning to a slightly plump girl that stopped next to him.

'Dear, Cedrick has gone bye-bye.' he said, hugging her around her waist. She laughed, whispered something in his ear and together they followed the murderous Cedrick.

Colin, feeling rather put off by all this debacle, carefully looked into the DADA classroom. The entire interior was undeniably Lockhart. As in, every wall had portraits of heroic professor, some of them so much, that there was no free space at all. The original copy was currently setting back an overturned desk – surprisingly, by hand. Finally, with a loud THUMP, the desk took its place and Lockhart wiped his sweat with a small handkerchief he produced from his chest pocket. He looked up, saw Creevey and smiled, waving his hand.

'Come in, come in! Never let it be said that Gilderoy Lockhart made someone wait… unless he had a reputable excuse, ho-ho!' professor laughed. 'We will begin in a moment.' he said, looking around, checking if everything else was in order.

'It's alright, professor.' said Tina, unsurely following Colin into the classroom. 'Claws are not even here yet.'

'Oh!' perked up the professor. 'And why is that? I thought they were the studious ones, ho-ho!'

'Might have something to do with their schedule…' thoughtfully said Jared, sitting at the newly set up desk.

Lockhart stared at him in confusion for a moment, but then his face cleared. 'Potions?'

Jared nodded melancholically and shivered. Gryffindors had Potions on Friday, but he had already enlightened his friends about many virtues of professor Snape.

'Then we shall wait.' smiled professor, stepping to the side of his desk and leaning on it with one hand. 'Does anyone want a story? I seem to remember one. It was in the Swiss Alps, in the middle of winter…'

On his way to DADA classroom, Damian evaluated his experience in Potions and realised that he liked it. Snape seemed to employ the 'harsh love' technique, allowing his students to make all the mistakes on their own and then judging their result. Explanation of said mistakes was optional, and more often than not took a shape of additional homework. Now, to almost anyone else it would seem like Hell – and it did – but Damian was almost instantly reminded of his own teachers in Nanda Parbat. Particularly, Lady Shiva, who had shown up irregularly to beat the crap out of him in the ring and then point out his mistake. One, usually the least crucial one. If he had wanted more – he had had to find them on his own, or go annoy Bronze Tiger, Cheshire or Mother.

Wayne wondered for a moment, whether the local library had some pointers on Potions – idea to show Snape up in his own game was intoxicating to him right now. Especially once he remembered surprised (and heavily bruised) face of Lady Shiva after his first victory. Seeing the same expression on Snape's face would be priceless, especially if it won't be just because Snape slipped on the tatami. And he himself, hopefully, won't get humiliated in forty different ways immediately afterwards. Thinking about this, he walked up to the massive wooden door, which was surprisingly open.

'…and then I pushed the yeti into the abyss!' said Lockhart, bowing to "oohs" and "ahs" from first years, just as Damian looked into the classroom. 'Ah,' he looked up. 'Here are our wayward students!'

Damian looked back and indeed, the rest of his Ravenclaw peers seemed to have caught up with him.

'Don't be shy, come in!' continued Lockhart. 'We were just killing some time, telling tales, ho-ho…' After ensuring that everyone was inside, Lockhart swished his wand and the doors closed. 'But now we may truly begin!'

As the Ravenclaws took their seats, Lockhart whipped out a thick stack of parchment and tapped it with his wand. The parchments immediately started flying out, landing in front of the students. After ensuring that everyone had a copy, professor continued. 'I know that you have bought my books – my, to most of you I signed them myself, ho-ho! So I would like to see how much you have already learned from them!'

Damian, who sat alone – perks of letting everyone else take their sits first – grabbed his and studied it. And then studied it once more, because it made no sense. How in hell was he supposed to know Lockhart's secret ambition? Or the best birthday present? Or his favourite colou… Wayne looked around and froze. Oh, the man was good. He wasn't testing them for knowledge, he was testing them for an ability to acquire it! Surely, he must have left some clues in this room or in his speeches before!

'You have twenty minutes to complete it.' said Lockhart, taking his seat and moving aside dozens of envelopes that filled his desk. 'Ready?' He produced an hourglass and put it in front of him. 'Go!'

With that, he turned the stopwatch and with a snappy THUD! placed it back on the table, returning to his mail. Damian immediately filled his quill and went to work,

Favourite colour… Damian looked up to Lockhart, who was wearing a set of dark red robes with beige accents. Wayne supposed they were rsther tasteful for a wizarding fashion… except for a lilac handkerchief that stuck out of Lockhart's chest pocket, breaking the colours in a rather jarring way. A quick look at the portraits confirmed – Lockhart always had something lilac on him. Heh. One point for Gotham.

The boy looked around and noticed that he was pretty much the only relatively calm person. The boys were mostly freaked out by the surprise test – although two Gryffindors were actually collaborating on theirs, sometimes exploding in silent laughter – while the girls were gushing over the tests and carefully trading information. And then there was Luna, that methodically filled the blanks, not a care in the world, but Wayne had no idea whether she actually knew the answers. If the Herbology was any indicator, the girl definitely thought she knew a lot of things, but her knowledge was unconventional at best. Although he was definitely going to write Drake on the subject of Fireplums. Those things sounded way too useful to be left unchecked.

Anyway, next question. He skipped the secret ambition one, since that would definitely require a lot of thoughts. 'What is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?' whispered Damian under his nose, remembering the Opening Feast yesterday. Shrugging, he wrote down "Winning Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award five times." and moved on. "Favourite genre of music" was deemed to be jazz, once Wayne saw a portrait playing a saxophone. "Favorite pet" almost led him to a dead end, until he looked at the mail on the table and an empty perch in the corner. "Best side for photographs...", "The fiercest enemy defeated…" – on and on it went.

At the end Wayne was left with two minutes to spare and two questions to answer. Well, three, but he had no idea what types of brooms there were in the wizarding world, much less which type Lockhart preferred. So he just wrote down "sport class" – one of professor's portraits was wearing the Quidditch uniform.

That left him with Lockhart's secret ambition and Lockhart's birthday. Thinking that he missed something, Damian went over every interaction with a heroic professor in his head. Nothing sprang. Observations of the classroom's interior yielded zilch too. "Well,", thought the boy, "if you don't know the answer to something – there's always an option of trusting your hunch. Or," he chuckled, "as Tim puts it – nightwinging it". Thus, the secret ambition became "to become the best in every field", which lined up nicely with his observations. As for the birthday – Damian humbly scribbled "July, 26", with the desired present being "another pet". He actually had absolutely no idea on this one, so that shot in the dark was as good as anything else.

The sand in the stopwatch ended and, with another loud THUD! it turned itself. Lockhart, startled by the noise, almost dropped the piece of parchment he was currently reading and looked up.

'Ah, excellent!' waved his wand professor. The tests were swept by a mighty gust of wind and on a nearly ballistic speed flew at Lockhart, throwing him out of his chair. Some of the girls gasped and rushed over to help him – Diana Tyler, Ravenclaw and a self-appointed leader of Lockhart fan-club in their year, at the lead – but Lockhart himself managed to stood up just fine, although coughing and trying to catch his breath.

'Sorry, sorry… Overpowered my spell a little…' awkwardly smiled professor, raising his hands in a calming gesture. 'Please, ladies, I am flattered, but there's no need for your help. Gilderoy Lockhart can take care of himself just fine." he winked and picked up the tests, this time by hand.

'Now, then…' Lockhart checked the time, as the girls came back to their seats, scowling. 'Ah, yes, we still have just enough. Would you like to hear another story?'

Without waiting for an answer, he walked in front of his table. 'It happened in…' he stumbled. 'No, I am sorry, it just doesn't work like this. I will need an assistant.' He rose his head and looked over the class. 'A brave soul, that won't be ashamed to play a part of one of the most despicable monsters I have ever faced. Is this person among you?' he asked with a slight smile.

Wayne frowned. All this clowning around must have had a deeper meaning, but he still couldn't see it. Maybe, he was way too quick in declaring himself a detective. Still, he refused to give up and rose his hand – just like at least a half of the students.

'You.' finally decided Lockhart, pointing at Luna, out of all people, and causing an audible groan among the rest of the female first-years. Damian frowned – Luna didn't even put her hand up. Something felt very wrong, but he already got used to the fact, that Lockhart was better than him. So he took a deep breath and, as Luna gracefully walked forward, ran the whole thing through his brain once more. And then once again, since the only result he got was "Her weird style will make him look even more fabulous", and that was just silly.

While Damian was working his way through this brain twister, Luna walked to the improvised stage and turned around. She looked beyond tense, but she relaxed a little after a look at the Gryffindor students, where Ginny had shown her a thumbs up.

'You, miss…' stumbled Lockhart for a moment.

'Lovegood, sir.' answered Luna. 'Will I be the Heliopath Queen?'

'Miss Lovegood.' nodded professor. 'And no. You will be…' he took a dramatic pause, 'The Edinburg Hag! Actually, wait…' he swung his wand and Luna's hair swished into a complete mess. 'There, it should help you feel the role better.'

The students laughed. Luna merely nodded, removing loose strands of hair out of her face.

'Fabulous!' clapped his hands professor, changing his voice a little on the spooky side. 'Now, it happened in November of 1983, in the outskirts of Edinburg, where a disgusting, monstrous hag has been stealing and eating little children. But the peril of brave Welshmen didn't last long…'

Ten minutes later, Damian, for maybe the fourth or fifth time in his life, was feeling confused. He had run every possible scenario in his head, but still hadn't found Lockhart's Master Plan. Not to mention, that Lockhart was incredibly obnoxious on the stage, and by the time Lockhart and the Edinburg Hag finally met, only Lockhart's fan club continued to laugh at his jokes. Even Luna was putting out more believable performance, and she was pretty much being herself.

Finally, the Hag was defeated with a Pulverizing Curse and Luna, with her trademark grace, walked back to her seat. Wayne added the performance to his intel and ran the analysis again. A weird, completely impossible idea started forming in his head as professor gave out homework – to read and write down their impressions on his fight with Count Krasnowsky in Voyages with Vampires.

Luna was the first one out of the door, almost running, but Wayne paid her little mind. Colin called for him, but Damian shook his head and his friend went to the exit alone. Some of Lockhart's fanclub stuck around to tell their idol how much they loved him, so Damian had to wait until they too were gone, but he had to know for sure.

Finally, they were left alone, and Damian slipped on a mask of a respectful, adoring fan.

'Sir… I just wanted to say that you are amazing and I want to be like you when I grow up!' Damian bit his lip, realising that he overdid it, but Lockhart didn't seem to notice, nodding along with a smile. Seeing that he was safe, Wayne continued. 'I have been a fan of yours since I was five. Sir, could I… Could you show me something?'

'Yes, yes, of course!' smiled Lockhart. 'Anything for my fans! Ask away, mister…'

'Wayne.' quickly said Damian. 'I just wanted to know…' he shyly looked down.

'Yes, yes…' said Lockhart, intrigued.

'Could you show me your duelling stance?'

Colin Creevey was finishing his dinner, when his Ravenclaw friend sat in front of him, staring straight ahead without blinking.

'Hey, you OK?' asked Colin, feeling a little freaked out by Wayne's glare and his pale face. Damian blinked and curtly nodded. 'Any reason you have decided to sit here?' continued Colin.

'Just wanted to say I'm sorry.' gave him a pained smile Damian. 'It was a long day and I was ignoring you...'

'O-OK…' slowly said Colin, looking at his friend with suspicion. Damian smiled and stood up, reaching over the table and clapping him on his shoulder.

'We cool?' asked Wayne, smiling.

'Yeah.' nodded completely shocked Colin.

'Good.' said Damian, turning to walk away. 'See you later, I guess.'

'Yeah, same to you…' mumbled Colin. Suddenly, he felt something in his chest pocket. As Damian walked to the Ravenclaw table, Creevey pulled out of his pocket a small, folded piece of parchment that he definitely didn't put there. Ensuring that no one was looking at him, Colin slowly unfolded it under the table and looked inside.

"Lockhart is a liar and a fraud." said the parchment. "I have proof, but I will need your help to take him down."

Colin blinked and looked up. Damian was watching him from the Ravenclaw table with the same unblinking stare.

Whoo, boy...

That was a tough one. Lockhart is incredibly hard to write for me - I really want to make him at least a little bit more competent. But I can't, and thus I end up rewriting his scenes over and over (and over and over) again. Hope I did him justice in the end. And yeah - he won't stick around for long anyway. If everything goes according to plan - next week we will have a bunch of timeskips, fall of Lockhart, and a first "hello" from some T. M. Riddle. Overall, exposition is done and it's time to get down to business.

Also, I updated Chapter 2 a little bit, fixing the spelling of "McGonagall". Yeah, I done screwed up. Thank you, anonymous reader. Also, I might revamp it a little at some point, but it's grown on me lately, so I don't know. Let's make it a maybe.

I thank you for your reviews for Chapter 2, and I will reply to them right now. I'm sorry for not doing it earlier, but I was very busy this week. Still - keep them coming. Paraphrasing Brooklyn 9-9, "Terry loves reviews" :)

The working title of the next chapter is "The Clash of Ideals". I will see you there.

With love, farfromrefuge.