Michael Brown
„Quidditch is a blood sport, straight and simple. It's no different than gladiators killing each other in ancient Rome, fighting and dying for the amusement of the masses" I declared to my audience, pointing at the show taking place before us. Gryffindor and Slytherin players were flying above us, risking their lives for our pleasure, competing against each other in mortal competition. "Because of the purebloods, averse to any change, Wizarding world's society is still primitive enough to enjoy young men and women throw each other from their broomsticks or get hit by lightning-fast iron balls"
"So now Quidditch is bad too, Brown? Isn't it enough that you ridiculed the house system? Do you really have to go against another tradition?" Marcus asked, playing the part of the critic, a person unwilling to listen to my words "And if you are so against it, why are you grinning so much while looking at the game?"
"I never said I am against it. I actually quite like watching quidditch. I'm just saying we should accept that quidditch is a brutal, sadistic game and most of the people watch it just to see its participants get hurt" I gently corrected him "People around us didn't come to see beautiful maneuvers or graceful defences of the players, as most of the game is too fast for casual observer. No, they just want to see someone get hit in the face by the bludger, preferably someone from the less liked team"
I was currently on Quidditch pitch, sitting with my year in Ravenclaw tower, giving them an improvised lecture while watching the Gryffindor-Slytherin match. I didn't have much luck with getting a classroom for the official lecture yet (For some reason Flitwick decided that agitating other students into distrusting the school and the Ministry would be a little 'too controversial' for his liking), so I decided that until I got a permission I would educate willing students in a less official manner. The Quidditch match was a good opportunity, as I would be able to show them a good example of the Wizarding world's backward mentality, while also being able to watch some Quidditch. And if my artificial memories were correct, my 'followers' would be even able to experience a peak Lockhart performance in action.
The group following me was admittedly quite small so far, consisting of only Luna and five other Ravenclaw first years, but I wasn't complaining. Even Tom had to start with a small group before spreading his ideals to the entire wizarding population. I was sure I would eventually be able to do the same.
Marcus Fawley also came with us, but he actually wasn't a member of my group. He was there to, in his own words, stop me from spreading lies and misinformation among the students. I wasn't really against it, as it was actually quite beneficial for me. Rebutting a critic's arguments would only make me more credible in the eyes of my group.
"I am not saying that enjoying quidditch is wrong, far from it. I myself find a certain beauty in seeing various teens engaging in potentially lethal competition, where throwing someone off a broom at a height of several tens of meters is within the rules" I declared, not wanting my audience to get a wrong impression. Quidditch was quite an enjoyable sport, if a brutal one. It wasn't the point I was trying to make though "I am just saying that it's only this popular for two reasons. One, it's a blood sport, so it speaks to humanity's primal desires and two, no other professional sport was introduced to the wizarding world yet"
Predictably, Marcus rushed to rebuke me, defender of the pureblood tradition that he was.
"That's quite an unfair conclusion. Fatalities in Quidditch are quite rare, so it can't be really considered a 'blood sport'" Marcus responded "And if people really wanted to play some other sports, nothing is stopping them. The fact that quidditch is still so popular is a sign that wizards don't actually need another sports"
"The fact that you use the words 'quite rare' in the context of people dying in the game is already proof that quidditch is a blood sport, you know?" I replied, quite thankful for his presence. It would be much harder without someone like him trying to sabotage my efforts "Also, despite what you might think, it's not that easy to just introduce a new professional sport to the population. You need either a lot of money or connections for something like this, so most of the muggle-born wouldn't be able to do that. In practice it means that it can be done either by a wealthy pureblood or a person with a wealthy pureblood sponsor. And good luck achieving that. If purebloods are not even ready to switch from quills to mechanical pens, they are not ready to promote a muggle-originated sport"
"What is a mechanical pen?" asked Marcus, confused, apparently not familiar with the term. It was like he wasn't even trying to challenge me.
"exactly my point! Quidditch and quills are perfect examples of cultural and technological stagnation of the wizarding world, perpetuated by the noble caste!"
I was about to continue my speech when something unexpected (or in my case, expected) had happened. One of the bludgers, previously flying around the pitch in hopes of denting the skull of anyone unlucky to encounter it, suddenly decided it would be better to focus on one person, namely Gryffindor's rising star, Harry James Potter.
Such a development actually made everyone even more excited about the game, as apparently the audience was quite eager to see their chosen one getting pulverized by the enchanted metal ball, so they started cheering even louder than before , especially people in the Slytherin stands. Potter, homicidal maniac he was, seemed to take that personally, as he decided to lead bludger there, flying through the stands in reckless abandon and forcing Slytherin students to frantically dodge the flying ball of death. After he was done punishing Slytherin, he apparently decided to torment other houses too, as he decided it would be a good idea to escape the bludger by flying around the Pitch's towers. It led to bludger smashing through towers' elevations, endangering everyone there, though in very Gryffindor fashion Potter didn't particularly care. He even used the opportunity to dismount Malfoy in quite a brutal manner, making himself the only seeker in the field.
He was actually handling himself quite well until bludger finally got lucky and broke his arm. Apparently that didn't faze him though, as he decided to just catch the golden snitch with the remaining one, even if it cost him a fall off his broom and hitting the ground. After that he just laid there, instant victory in his hand.
"Harry Potter caught a snitch! Gryffindor wins!" Exclaimed Lee Jordan excitedly, making Gryffindor, and to a lesser extent Hufflepuff, loudly cheer. Potter himself didn't have time to enjoy his victory though, as the bludger attempted to dent his skull again, only this time with Potter defenceless on the ground. I didn't know what exactly Dobby's plan was, but at this point I was sure he wasn't actually trying to 'protect' Harry, as his attempts were much too lethal for that. He was probably trying to assassinate him for real, but his continued failures would eventually make Malfoy fire him for his incompetence. Only then Dobby would join Potter, pretending to be on his side all along.
Scarred boy was desperately dodging bludger's murder attempts for a while, doing everything to stay alive, until Hermione, apparently the only person around actually interested in saving him, arrived and destroyed the bludger with a spell. It would be quite a happy ending for everyone involved if not for a fact that few seconds later Lockhart also appeared on the field. Finally.
"Okay guys, listen up! Now is a chance for all of us to learn something valuable! Lockhart will surely give us an amazing performance!" I exclaimed loudly, already excited to see his 'accidental' failure. I didn't have to wait for long, as after several seconds of talking Lockhart took out his wand and cast a spell on Potter's arm. A moment later the arm became completely boneless, bending in unnatural angles. Amazing!
In my opinion it was truly a peak of Lockhart's deception. Normally, a shitty mage would do anything to avoid having to cast a complicated spell in front of an audience, but not Lockhart! He intentionally approached Potter and messed up a spell, showing everyone how much of a failure he was! And everyone believed him!
It was obvious that mistakes like that wouldn't happen accidentally. Intent was very important in spell casting, so I didn't know what would have to happen for someone to accidentally annihilate a target's bones while trying to mend them. It just had to be intentional. But everyone believed it was an accident because Lockhart was that good of an actor. He was simply amazing!
"Professor Lockhart, you are an amazing fraud!" I shouted, unable to contain myself. I just had to express my appreciation for his craft. The rest of my group, as well as other Ravenclaws around me looked at me confused, unsure how to react to my statement. I was afraid no one would join me, but after a few seconds Robert Danvers, the first person to join my spontaneous educational trip, stood up.
"Professor Lockhart, you are an amazing fraud!" He shouted loudly, eyes wide and voice excited. Seeing that other members of my group followed his example, joining us in shouting as well. Their enthusiasm seemed to be infectious, as after a while other Ravenclaws started chanting as well, soon followed by the rest of the match's audience.
It however appeared that my original chant 'Professor Lockhart, you are an amazing fraud' was a little too long to shout continuously, as soon it changed into something much shorter, namely 'Lockhart Fraud'. It was a little different, but the meaning stayed the same: Lockhart was an amazing actor and his idiot mask was simply perfect, with everyone on the pitch buying it. I was sure he was feeling quite vindicated by these shouts.
As both Potter, now boneless, and Lockhart, now vindicated, were leaving the pitch, surrounded by the audience's chant, I felt I did quite a good job in helping Lockhart convince everyone of his stupidity. I was sure he would be quite grateful for my assistance.
I also realized something much more important. My artificial memories, faulty as they were, suggested that there would be another Hydra's attack happening in the evening/night following Potter's hospitalization. It only meant one thing.
It was time to wander around the school alone at night, looking for Slytherin's monster.