Chapter Eight: The Dragonriders
The first Defense lesson with Lockhart had been highly anticipated by many, bare the Slytherins, as they were already quite aware of the fact that he was a fraud, and more of a bumbling fool than Lardbottom, which was a very hard title to earn.
They entered the room to find Potter already there, still looking quite put out at being accosted by Lockhart, which was a point towards the fraud professor, in Harry's opinion. There was a saying that went 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend', which applied in this specific situation.
"You could have fried an egg on your face," said Ron matter-of-factly to Jamie, and Harry and Draco overheard this conversation to their chosen seats directly behind the pair, Crabbe and Goyle to their left and Nott and Zabini to their left.
"You'd better hope Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fan club."
"Shut up," snapped Scarhead, clearly not in the mood to be trifled with. The last thing he needed was to have Lockhart hear 'Harry Potter fan club'.
When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.
"Me," he said, pointing at 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, and a few girls laughed weekly, giggling at the man they most all appeared to admire. Harry caught Daphne's eye from where she sat, across the room, and she made a wide yawning gesture, causing him to smile softly.
"I see that you've all bought a complete set of my books –– well done," said Lockhart, smiling 'charmingly' again, and Harry fought to roll his eyes.
It's not like we had to buy his books, or anything, Draco's snide tone resided in Harry's mind and the blond metamorphmagus had to fight hard to stifle laughter. Honestly, the man's such a blithering idiot, like the minds of Scarhead, Weasel-bee, and Lardbottom combined!
"––I thought we'd start today with a little quiz," Lockhart was continuing, which grabbed the attention of the children who had begun nodding off. "Nothing to worry about –– just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in ––"
When he handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes –– start –– now!"
Harry looked down at his paper and read:
1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?
2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?
3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?
On and on it went, over three sides of parchment, right down to:
54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be? Harry and Draco exchanged scoffs, and Harry set forth to try and answer the questions as ridiculously as he possibly could.
Q: What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition? A: That he may someday actually achieve something instead of wiping other people's memories and being the fraud he is.
Q: What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date? A: Managing to somehow fool the Headmaster of Hogwarts into believing that he is, in any way, suitable to teach children.
On and on the questions went, and, at the end, Harry put a little note.
Oh, and Lockhart, change a single memory in any of the Slytherins' minds, and I'll be sure to contact my father to… unveil your rather… unsavory secrets. Or, we can keep this between you and me. And do try to actually teach us something, instead of blithering around like the idiot you are.
Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.
"Tut, tut –– hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color 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 gift would be harmony between al magic and non-magic peoples –– though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky!"
He gave them another roguish wink. Nott and Zabini were now staring at Lockhart with looks of utter disbelief, Harry and Draco were shaking with silent laughter, but mudblood Granger, who was sitting in the front, was listening to Lockhart wiht rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her name.
"...but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret 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?"
The mudblood raised a trembling hand.
"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take five points to Gryffindor! And so –– to business ––" He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, 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 befall you whilst I am here. All I ask it that you remain calm."
Draco and Harry sniggered as all of the Gryffindorks went through leaps and bounds to try and get a better look at the cage, when they knew that Lockhart couldn't even fight a bunny rabbit, even if he tried.
"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them." As the Gryffindorks held their breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.
"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies." Draco and Harry erupted into howls of laughter, the other Slytherins soon following their lead, and not even Lockhart could mistake them for screams of terror.
"Yes?" he asked Harry, smiling.
"Oh, please, you daft, bumbling fool," spat Harry. "Saying Cornish pixies are dangerous! You're nothing but a fraud. Tell me, how would one subdue an angered hippogriff?" Lockhart sputtered for a moment, and then turned to Harry.
"Now see here––"
"You don't even know, do you," sneered Harry. "Hippogriffs are a right nasty bunch once they've been disrespected, and I would know, seeing as the Malfoys own our own herd in the Malfoy Forest. Your best bet against an angered one would be to bow low to the ground, or use a modified stunning spell against it." He turned to the rest of the class.
"I, for one, actually want a good education this year in Defense Against the Dark Arts. So, until you clean up your act, and trust me I will have my father bring this up with the Board of Education, I am simply not going to show up. Yet I expect full marks in this class because I am better than you."
Lockhart sputtered, and then turned red.
"Fine, then," he barked. "If those who want to leave can beat me in a duel, I will let them leave, full marks."
"Alright then," Harry snapped back. "Let's duel, you idiot."
They walked to the dueling podium that was set up near the back of the classroom, and all of the students swarmed to watch as they walked seven paces away from each other, and then bowed. Lockhart made a show of smiling charmingly at the females in the class –– which Harry found creepy and the behaviour of a pedophile –– flipping his curly golden locks to the side, his blue eyes twinkling almost unnervingly.
Harry simply rolled up the sleeves on his cloak, making sure his hair was short and out of the way, and actually shortening it about an inch, so that he ensure that no hair would be swept into his face during the duel.
"One, two –– three!" said Seamus Finnigan, and Harry began the duel.
"Orbis!" the Gryffindorks watched in amazement as their supposedly great teacher was sucked into the podium, and the Slytherins cheers.
"Diffindo! Anteoculatia!" even the Gryffindors laughed when Lockhart's prized hair turned into a pair of antlers, albeit a measly one. "Stupefy!" Lockhart slumped to the ground, unconscious, and Harry smiled.
"Expelliarmus!" Lockharts wand went flying into Harry's hand, and he smiled.
"Rennervate," muttered Draco, and the fraud woke up, still stuck in the podium, his head off balance from the weight of the antlers.
"Thank you for that, Professor," said Harry with a sneer. "As per the binding magical contract you agreed to when we began dueling, I am now guaranteed an 'O' in your class for the remainder of the year. Thank you very much."
"Educam de terra," said Draco, and the podium spat Lockhart out.
"Oh, and since my brother so kindly let you out of your little confined prison, he gets off, too." Harry tossed Lockhart's wand back to him and walked suavely out of the room, while Draco swaggered out behind him.
"Oh, and one more thing," said Harry, piling his and Draco's books together. "Incendio!" The class watched in morbid fascination as the books burned, and Lockhart completely lost control of his class. Only three more stepped forward to duel him, Zabini, Nott, and Daphne, and they all one, and walked out of the class to join where Harry and Draco were laughing in the Slytherin Common Room.
"That was a brilliant idea, Harry," said Daphne, smiling at him.
"I was sick of listening to his rubbish," said Harry, smiling back. "I just wanted out."
"Well, I thought it was fantastic," said Daphne, and she leaned in and gave Harry a soft peck on the cheek before standing up. "Well, I'm off to do the charms assignment, I'll see you later." Harry sat there for a moment, sputtering and touching his cheek, and the other boys present ribbed him good-naturedly.
An hour later, students began to walk back into the Common Room, and the story of Harry outwitting Lockhart spread like wildfire, and all of the older students began eagerly planning their duel with him. Harry became something of the hero of Slytherin, for a short while, and he and Draco basked in the warm rays of their praise.
Uncle Sev came in the Common Room later, and looked at Draco and Harry.
"I hear you undermined the Defense Professor," he drawled at them, and Harry and Draco simply nodded, bored, and Uncle Sev smiled softly. "Fifty points to Slytherin… each." After Snape's announcement, the seventh years snuck to the kitchens and snagged some butterbeers and snacks, and a small party was held for the bringing down of Lockhart, who couldn't do anything about it, as it was a magically binding contract, and, in that case, only the Head of House could punish them. And Snape sure wasn't going to do anything.
The next morning, the Slytherins got a note that they would be allowed to practice, overriding the Gryffindork's allotted time, in order to test out their new beaters.
First, though, they had all gathered together in the courtyard in full Slytherin Quidditch uniform. Flint, of course, was the captain and a Chaser, along with Jonathan Carrow and Jeremiah Carrow (twins). Bletchley was Keeper, Higgs was Seeker, and Harry and Draco were now the Beaters.
"Now," said Harry, addressing the team. "As a present for getting on the team, our Father ––" he motioned to Draco. "Decided to gift the team these." Flint's eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he saw the seven pristine Dragonriders, and the silent question was answered by Draco.
"Yes, they are real. Yes, our Father has connections. Yes, you will be able to keep them, even when you leave the team, we'll just provide more." They cheered, and Harry and Draco found great pleasure in handing them out, and each broom now had it's owners name and position inscribed on them in emerald.
"Let's go kick the Gryffindorks off of our field!" said Flint, and the Slytherins began their little march, standing side-by-side, as they walked to the edge of the Quidditch pitch and then entered it.
"FLINT!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!" Flint, though, was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of rom for all of us, Wood."
Johnson, Spinnet, and Bell, the girls of the Gryffindor team had come over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team this year, and all of the lads in green were standing shoulder to shoulder, facing the Gryffindors, leering to a man.
"But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"
"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Beaters."
"You've got new Beaters?" asked Wood, distracted. "Where?" And from behind the five towering upper-years, Harry and Draco emerged, smirking.
"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's sprogs?" asked one of the twin terrors, looking at Harry and Draco with dislike.
"Funny you should mention their father," said Flint, as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team." All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine emerald lettering spelling the words the Dragonrider gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early morning sun.
"The best of its kind," said Harry pompously. "Not to be released to the public for several years yet." He looked at all of the Gryffindors' brooms with distaste. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a landslide. As for the old Cleansweeps" –– he smiled nastily at the twin terrors, who were both sporting Cleansweep Fives –– "sweeps the board with them."
For once, the Gryffindors seemed to be stunned into silence, not thinking of a coherent thought to respond with. The Slytherins simply continued smirking, mentally patting themselves on the back.
"Oh, look," said Flint. "A field invasion." Weasel-bee, Lardbottom, and mudblood Granger were crossing the grass to see what was going on.
"What happened?" asked Weasel-bee. "Why aren't you playing? And what're they doing here?" He was looking at the Malfoys, taking in their Slytherin Quidditch robes.
"We're the new Slytherin Beaters, Weasley," said Draco haughtily. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."
Weasel-bee gaped, open mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.
"Good, aren't they?" Harry continued smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives, I expect a museum would bid for them."
The Slytherin team howled with laughter.
"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent." Harry smirked at her, obviously remembering the incident in first year, before he scrunched up his nose in distaste.
"No one asked your opinion," he said snidely, raising his head slightly, chin jutting out. "––you filthy little mudblood." The reactions were quite funny, really. Flint stood in front of Harry to prevent the twin terrors from jumping on him, Draco doubled over in laughter, Spinnet shrieked, "How dare you!", and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulling out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Harry's face while Jamie comforted Hermione with Neville's help.
A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Weasel-bee's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.
"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" asked the mudblood, rushing over to him. Weasel-bee opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he gave an almighty belch, and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap.
The Slytherin team was paralyzed with laughter. Flint was doubled up, hanging onto his new broomstick for support. Harry and Draco were both rolling around on the ground, laughing. The Gryffindors were gathered around Ron, who kept belching up large, glistening slugs. Nobody seemed to want to touch him.
"Serves him right, trying to help a mudblood," Draco had to add in his own two knuts once he'd regained composure, and the Gryffindor team merely shot him and his brother looks of utter loathing while mudblood Creevey began to snap pictures, and then they hurried to get Weasel-bee to Hagrid.
"You tell your Beaters to watch their mouths," Wood snarled at Flint as the Gryffindork dunderheads made their way to the beast's hut.
"Or what?" asked Harry snidely. "It's not like you blood-traitors could actually do anything. Free speech, and all of that rubbish." His grin was practically face-splitting as he sneered at Wood.
"Had that curse actually worked," he said aloud. "I would have had to inform Father about the events that had transpired, and he would have told my dear old Uncle Fudge that his son, and the Minister's honorary nephew, had been attacked by a rogue Gryffindor." He smiled sweetly.
"And then all those involved in the attack would be expelled, and you'd be out of a few potential players, and your Beaters" –– Harry motioned to Fred and George, who were being restrained –– "and you wouldn't want that, now would you, Wood?" The sixth year glared at him intensely before he barked the command at his team-mates.
"Gryffindors! MOVE OUT!" Flint smiled snidely and turned to his fellow Slytherin Quidditch members.
"Let's go practice!" he said, and they whooped and quickly mounted their brooms and took to the air. The practice went incredibly smoothly, Draco and Harry working seamlessly together, and Flint was very pleased with the overall outcome. The rest of the Slytherin second years came to congratulate them afterwards, as well as thank them for the lovely show they'd provided with the Gryffindors earlier.
"Honestly, I don't know why the blood-traitors are so sensitive with that word," said Daphne as she held onto Harry's offered bent arm. "Mudbloods are mudbloods, it is what it is, simple as that."
"Well," said Harry, shooting her a charming smile. "They are blood-traitors. What did you expect?" Laughter ensued and the Slytherins made their way back to the common room, chatting amiably about the other failures of the Gryffindorks thus far in the school year.
As they were walking back to the Common Room, Harry heard the sound of hissing through the walls, as the great snake they'd helped to unleashed made its first journey of many through the pipes of Hogwarts. The voice was constantly talking about ripping and killing, and devouring flesh, though Harry supposed that would be a creature's priority after being locked up inside of a Chamber so long, with only having small sources of food like rodents.
This, of course, was wonderful news. For a while, he had thought that Weasley the youngest might have actually been smart enough to not write in the diary, but no, she proved she was just as stupid as the rest of her blood-traitor siblings. After all, it was common sense to not trust something that you couldn't see where its brain was. Honestly, it was one of the common signs of something being a Dark Artefact, and her father worked with those frequently!
Oh, well. The death of Ginny Weasley would simply mean that there would be one less blood traitor in the world, and that was always a good thing.
He smiled.