Chapter 24

Hate the Pixies, Loathe Lockhart

2nd September 1992, Hogwarts, Scotland

It was at a very early hour Alexandra rose the next day. She had passed a horrible night, with nightmares of the giant fire salamander pursuing her, only to flee straight in the awful and traumatising smile of Gilderoy Lockhart. The Potter Heiress had been extremely thankful for the fact that she had a room of her own in the Ravenclaw girl dormitories, because if not her scream would have woken up the other girls sharing it. In spite of her best efforts, the black-haired girl had been unable to sleep soundly again after this. At seven o'clock, Alexandra rose and began to prepare for the day which was just beginning. At least this year wasn't beginning in the infirmary, right?

The Ravenclaw Common Room was still almost empty when she traversed it, a seventh-year boy plunged in a large book being the only human presence she could see. The corridors had about the same frequentation, and when she entered the Great Hall Alexandra saw she was the fourth student to arrive, the second from Ravenclaw. Two Hufflepuffs from fifth or sixth year were also present. The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables were deserted and the Head Table where the professors gathered wasn't more occupied: only Professors Flitwick and McGonagall had woken up, and both were busy discussing with energy something from a magazine of Transfiguration Today.

Seeing no one she was particularly close to, Alexandra decided to profit from the calm to have a long breakfast before the crowd arrived. The young witch walked to the Ravenclaw table... and stopped. On the seat she usually took, was an enormous ginger cat watching her with a begging expression.

"Crookshanks." The black-haired witch sighed, only to be answered by a large purr. "Why aren't you with Hermione in the Gryffindor girl dorms?"

Crookshanks took a quite sheepish expression, meowing in distress and throwing hopeful looks towards the empty plates.

"Crookshanks, this place is the Great Hall. It's where the humans eat. Not the cats."

A loud meow was the answer, with the large ginger feline trying to look as innocent and cute as a kitten. Needless to say, he failed miserably.

"What I am going to do with you, endless stomach?" Alexandra sighed, closing her eyes. Once she reopened them, she saw the cat she had offered to Hermione having come back to his begging expression, marked by small meows.

"Fine. But I will make sure Hermione punish you, fat piece of ginger fur!"

In answer, Crookshanks simply opened its maw, purring in victory.

Pushing the cat on the seat to her left, Alexandra began to eat her breakfast, sometimes giving a piece of toast or something else to Crookshanks, who purred in joy and delight.

Too absorbed in eating and feeding the large feline, Alexandra only noticed Professor Flitwick when he was almost in front of her.

"Good morning, Miss Potter. I see you have found a new companion." Said humorously her Head of House.

"He's not mine, Professor. But it was I who offered him as a present to Hermione, and he seems to like me."

"I see." Professor Flitwick was definitely amused, if his large smile was any indication. On her left, Crookshanks purred loudly jumping in the table and passing a paw on his large stomach.

"You have my timetable, Professor?" Alexandra asked. There were not many reasons why Flitwick would visit her on the first day, after all.

"Yes." Agreed the former Duellist Master, passing her a parchment, with a more impressive roll half-hidden under it. Alexandra narrowed her eyes, but her Head of House showed a sad, sorry smile.

"I was wrong, Miss Potter." He whispered in a low voice. "My excuses."

Alexandra couldn't stop a grimace. So Dumbledore had really wanted to stop her from having Duellist lessons. Why wasn't she surprised? Hiding the roll of parchment in one of the inner pockets of her school uniform, she threw a look to her timetable for the coming year.

Monday Transfiguration (Professor Porchester) Charms (Professor Dhillon) Lunch Astronomy (Professor Agarkar)

Tuesday Herbology (Professor Sprout) Herbology Lunch Astronomy (at night)

Wednesday Potions (Professor Whitehead) Potions Lunch DADA (Professor Lockhart) DADA

Thursday Transfiguration Charms Lunch Transfiguration

Friday Charms History (Professor Tiroflan) Lunch History (Professor Binns)

"A lot of new Professors this year." Commented Alexandra, all the while throwing a piece of toast to Crookshanks who gulped it down in one go.

"Indeed." Approved Flitwick, who smiled widely at the picture of the enormous cat on her left standing to attention and purring for one more. "Most of the Senior Professors leave the second-years to the Junior teachers. Like my colleague of Transfiguration, I personally teach the first-years and the students of fifth year and beyond."

Alexandra felt a certain sadness hearing this. They wouldn't have a class with Flitwick for three years? Her worry must have appeared on her face, as Flitwick smiled widely.

"Don't worry, Miss Potter. Once a month, we generally teach a class of each year to see if the students are following the program schedule fixed by the Ministry. And Professor Dhillon, while not a Duellist Master like me, has gained his Charms Mastery with distinction and I've never heard a complain about him. Continue to work and train as you did last year, you will not have any problem to keep your ranking."

"Thank you, Professor." Alexandra replied, trying her best not to blush, and failing. After an eternity being reviled by the Dursleys to have the audacity of doing better than the enormous whale called Dudley, an adult approving her marks and efforts was a nice and pleasurable change.

As the Charms Professor turned back and marched to the Head Table, Alexandra fixed again her new timetable with a disgusted expression. Today was Wednesday, and sure enough the day promised to be a monumental chore. Potions and Lockhart, on the same day? It was a disaster waiting to happen. At least for this week it was not as hard it would be in later months: having Astronomy the night before was going to ensure everyone would arrive in the dungeons sleepy and tired. The only minor hope she had was the fact Professor Snape was not the teacher of the second-years.

By comparison, the rest of the week was much more amusing. With two classes of History and one of Charms on Friday, this day promised to be extremely relaxing and perfect to catch up the homework and sleep accumulated during the rest of the week.

Monday and Thursday were mixes of Charms, Astronomy and Transfiguration, and so shouldn't be too much of a problem, if the Junior Professors were like Professor Flitwick and McGonagall. And Tuesday was the day they passed in the greenhouses all morning. No overall, except Wednesday, not a bad timetable.

"Good news?" Asked a familiar voice. Posing the timetable on her knees, Alexandra rose her eyes to see Nigel taking a seat in front of her.

"Depends on the definition of good news." Said Alexandra, remarking the Great Hall was filling itself. "Oh, and your cat is a big scoundrel, Hermione." Seeing her bushy-haired friend sitting on her right.

"Figures." Grumbled the Hermione, who looked to have woken up on her left foot.

"Has something of note happened in Gryffindor Tower last night?" Alexandra asked.

"You could say that." Grimaced Nigel, while serving himself, a large part of porridge and several eggs. "Half of the House cheered for Longbottom, Weasley and Black, then the Weasley Twins threw an improvised party to celebrate their arrival. We couldn't go to our beds before midnight. Apparently, travelling to Hogwarts in a Flying Car is cool and epic." The tone of the Gryffindor boy was evidence enough he wasn't sharing the feeling.

"I wonder if they informed the rest of the Lions they lost one hundred and fifty points for Gryffindor when they made that stunt?" Hearing Hermione and Nigel gasp in shock, Alexandra realised the answer was no.

"I'm going to strangle them." Whispered Hermione in a cold and dangerous tone. Alexandra winced. Hermione had always taken pride in earning dozen of points for Gryffindor, a large mattress of rubies in the hourglass that the Boy-who-Lived and his accomplices emptied regularly. Alas, even for her, earning one hundred and fifty points was going to take a long time, assuming the troublemakers didn't lose more in the current month. Until then, Gryffindor was in the negative points and infamy.

It has to some kind of a record...

"The post is due any minute, now." Said Nigel in an ill-at-ease tone. "I hope my father was at home. I forgot some quills and clothes...

"You will be fine." Said Alexandra, noticing Morag MacDougal was taking the place directly on her left. Weird, she had supposed it had been only curiosity which had made her first-mate housemate speak with her last night, but apparently the red-haired girl wanted something more.

What she wanted, though, passed to the second rank of Alexandra preoccupations as hundreds of owls streamed into the Great Hall, dropping here and there dozens of letters and packets to the assembled students. An ordinary brown owl delivered Alexandra the Daily Prophet to her, normal as her subscription she had given in the summer would continue for three more days. Morag MacDougal received a letter from an owl she was used to communicate with, if the caresses and the bit of bacon given were any indication. A big, lumpy parcel bounced off in Nigel's plate, the big owl apparently not judging good to stop one more instant to adjust its precision.

"It was my grandfather's owl." Said Nigel in a gloomy tone which explained everything.

But the real attraction was happening at the Gryffindor table this morning, where Ronal Weasley pushed a loud scream at the sight of a red, smoking envelope.

"Oh, look." Said Morag. "Weasley has received a Howler."

"Is it too late to leave the Great Hall?" Asked Alexandra rhetorically. She had heard two of the noise bombs last year when the Weasley Twins had blown up a toilet and for something else. The least that could be said, was that the voice of the Weasley matriarch had the level appropriate to raise the dead and flee for their resurrected lives.

In a shaking hand, the youngest boy of the Weasley opened the letter. Most of the students around him had stuffed their fingers in their ears and one brief second later the reason became quite evident. For a moment, most of the students were left reeling, as a roar of legendary proportions had echoed in the Hall.

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

Alexandra didn't know if Mrs Weasley screams had the same power in reality, having never met the woman when roused in anger, but her wrath certainly seemed formidable. The implements and the plates were rattling, and the sound was echoed magically off the walls of Hogwarts. Worse from the red-haired boy point of view, it was so sonorous that almost everybody had stopped eating and chatting to see and hear who had been the unfortunate student receiving the Howler.

"… LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU, LEO AND NEVILLE COULD BOTH HAVE DIED …"

Alexandra was really interested by this point. She knew most of the correspondence out of the school was handled by Professor McGonagall, but the Weasleys had received one letter from Dumbledore? The adults of the Weasley family had certainly a particular relationship with the Headmaster, then.

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

A loud silence fell in the Hall, the children and teenagers still under the shock their eardrums had recorded in all its fury. The red envelope, which had dropped from Ronald Weasley hand, burst into flames and curled into ashes. In the middle of the Hogwarts table, Neville, Leo and Ronald stood stunned, just as a hurricane had sent them to another plane of existence.

Gradually, the talks restarted, with loud laughs coming from the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables, with several second and third-years pointing and parodying the guilty trio.

"Oh, no." In spite of the conversations returning, the voice of Neville Longbottom carried very well and Alexandra was fast enough to redirect her attention on the Gryffindor to see a familiar red letter fall right in front of the Boy-Who-Lived. Judging her ears had taken enough with the Weasley Howler, Alexandra quickly told a "See you later at Lunch" to Nigel and Hermione before racing out of the Great Hall. Not fast enough, alas.

"NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM! NEVER I HAVE FELT SO ASHAMED OF BEING YOUR GRANDMOTHER! WHEN YOU COME BACK HOME..."

Going back to Ravenclaw Tower to take her Potions affairs, Alexandra winced in pain under the loud voices still ringing in her head. First her nightmares during the night and then this. Was it possible to have a journey at Hogwarts without any loud animations?

BOOM!

"PEEVES!" Screamed the caretaker Filch, running in a nearby corridor." WAIT A MINUTE I WILL CATCH YOU!" Okay, apparently not.

Half an hour later, Alexandra was in front of the Potions classroom in the dungeons. The atmosphere in this place was as dark and gloomy as ever, and the twelve-year old girl wondered once more time how the members of House Slytherin weren't all depressed this environment. There was really little light, and even for the beginning of September the temperature was rather cold.

When she arrived, there were only two Ravenclaws present of her own year: Stephen Cornfoot and Antony Goldstein. Alexandra didn't know the two boys well, and judging by the face they made when they saw her, this state of affairs was not quite likely to change. Soon enough, however, a loud chatter announced the arrival of all the second-year Hufflepuffs and the rest of the Ravenclaw boys and girls.

"Oh, here you are." Said Morag MacDougal, who had been in the group which had just arrived. "You missed all the fun."

"I think my ears will thank me later from having escaped the Howler of Mrs Longbottom." Affirmed Alexandra in a sarcastic tone.

"Mrs Longbottom? Oh, no, I was talking about the Howler Sirius Black sent to his son. Told all the Great Hall all proud he was of him, how flying to Hogwarts was a superb prank worthy of the Marauders."

Something clicked in Alexandra's head and she suddenly remembered where she had heard the term 'Marauders' the last time. It had been in one of the old issues of the Daily Prophet, when she had searched for information about her parents. James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. The Marauders. A group of extremely brilliant students, taking some of the highest scores ever recorded at their OWLS. And some of the worst punishments and detention records for their pranks and permanent indiscipline. Longbottom and co wanted to follow on their predecessors steps, didn't they?

"Completely irresponsible." Alexandra answered to Morag. "At least Weasley and Longbottom received a message telling them they were idiots, and not to do it again. This Sirius Black doesn't look like an adult which has the sense of responsibilities."

The saddest part of this was that the man had been named her godfather by her parents and her potential guardian if something happened to them. Only the man had refused to take care of her and let Dumbledore of all people become her magical guardian. Proof that her parents' judgement on the man had been totally unreliable.

"Agreed." Said Morag. She had not the time to say more. A wizard looking to be in his thirties with hair oscillating between the brown and the black came into view and opened the door with a flick of his wand.

"Enter!" He barked, in a snap all too reminiscent of Snape the last year. So the man was Professor Timothy Whitehead, the Junior Potions Professor. The wizard didn't look like a pleasant man. His face was a nasty sneer, he had an ugly scar near his throat and his clothes were of a scaly material which looked similar to the dragon-skin gloves all the students wore in Potions. Everything in his attitude screamed 'arrogant pure-blood'.

Entering the dungeons, Alexandra felt all her hopes that Potions class would be better this year evaporate like water in the forges of Barad-Dûr. The classroom was as sinister as the one of Professor Snape, and there were already names enchanted over the different seats, sign they were not going to have the choice of partner for this lesson.

Alexandra was not the only one in a sombre mood. Most of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff present had clearly hoped that not having Professor Snape was the next best thing to a victory, only to realise his replacement in front of them was perhaps worse. Okay, not worse, maybe as bad. Moreover, most of them had passed last year with a single partner and knowing you had to work with another partner in Potions was an unpleasant change.

Alexandra personally didn't mind, as she had always been paired with Zacharias Smith, and the boy was to be polite a disaster in Potions. Generally, handling him for more than a few minutes under Snape's taunts was more than enough to put anyone in a bad mood. It was with a certain relief therefore, that she noticed her partner for the morning would be none other than Morag MacDougal. Smith, on the other side of the room, seemed to have understood the challenge waiting for him. His partner Sally-Anne Perks was sending him threatening glares promising painful retribution if he exploded something.

Whitehead didn't bother asking questions. After having called their names, he took their holidays homework and unveiled the instructions to make a potion easing digestion problems. According to the Professor, the final result would be an azure blue colour with a smell of lemon.

"Prepare the ingredients, Morag." Alexandra whispered to her designed partner, drawing her wand and lighting a fire under the cauldron they shared. "I will deal with the rest." The red-haired witch on her right didn't protest, and her face sounded almost relieved when Alexandra took charge of the cauldron.

The two hours which passed after that were not a pleasant time for the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws. Last year, the magical potions made lasted rarely more than an hour; the work they had just been demanded lasted two, and while not extremely complicated one step missed was enough to utterly ruin the potion. Not surprisingly, Zacharias Smith had managed to transform the cauldron in front of him into a substance half-metal half-acid and was sent to the infirmary with burns on his hands. Just in face of Whitehead's desk, the cauldron of Wayne Hopkins and Terry Boot made sounds and was illuminated of a reddish colour which presaged nothing good.

Professor Whitehead was anything but a help in this class. The man was looking more and more like a cheap version of the much more dangerous Professor Snape, making snide remarks and useless comments, but missing completely the lectures or what exactly had went wrong for a potion. Professor Snape was extremely talented in Potions, even his greatest critics were forced to admit it; by comparison Whitehead looked like he had had his Potions licence in a trickster kit. The adult only useful acts appeared to vanish the failed potions which turned dangerous and send to the infirmary those who were wounded. Alexandra was sure the accident which had befallen Roger Malone was pretty much the teacher's fault: the man had pretty much interrupted the Hufflepuff with one of his nasty mockeries in order to make him forget the timing to add the cloves. No wonder Potions was no one's favourite class.

"Looks like it's good." Whispered Morag, at the end of the imposed class. Indeed the liquid inside the cauldron had taken a pale blue consistence, and Whitehead had not bothered making a comment at his last pass, instead choosing to go critic the poor Hannah Abbot behind Morag.

When the bell rang to signal the end of the double class of Potions, Alexandra's pair and the tandem between Susan Bones and Su Li were the only ones to have a potions to the Professor's expectations and received as a result 'only' five inches on the possible uses for the potions they had just done. The rest of the class was less lucky, twenty inches to give back next Wednesday, along with a dissertation how they had failed today. In all Ravenclaw had lost nine points and Hufflepuff eighteen. No one had managed to earn any House points, and the students were in low spirits when they filtered back in the Great Hall.

Great teaching, Professor. Superb teaching.

At lunch, Alexandra saw Hermione and Nigel were perhaps in a worse state than her, having just undergone a session with Binns. The ghost teacher, not to be worried, was as boring as ever.

"What've you got this afternoon?" Asked Alexandra, changing the subject. Speaking about Binns was in general sure to put you under sleep. The lassitude generated by the ghost knew no limits.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts." Affirmed Hermione too quickly not to be suspicious at once.

"Why," asked Nigel, throwing a look over Hermione's shoulder to glimpse the Gryffindor timetable, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

Hermione plunged back the piece of parchment in her school bag, flushing furiously. Alexandra turned her head towards Morag, expect the Ravenclaw girl was red like a tomato too.

"Don't tell I did not warn you about Lockhart." Alexandra remarked with a snout reflex.

Nigel, Hermione and Alexandra finished lunch and then began to march towards the Defence's class, Alexandra always closely followed by Morag. Hermione had still her nose buried in the Voyage with Vampires book, and was almost rammed in the corridors three times.

As they reached the room where the class was supposed to happen, the four students heard the pompous voice of Gilderoy Lockhart high and clear giving advice.

"A word to the wise, Neville, I covered up for you back there with young Creevey – if he was photographing me, too, your schoolfellows won't think you're setting yourself up so much …"

The new Senior Professor of Defence was dragging a stammering Boy-Who-Lived up the stairs, not really caring about Neville's protestations. Lockhart was not finished delivering his advice, alas.

"Let me just say that handing out signed pictures at this stage of your career isn't sensible – looks a tad bigheaded, Neville, to be frank. There may well come a time when, like me, you'll need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but –" the blonde-haired threat gave a little chortle, "I don't think you're quite there yet."

Alexandra was not sure to laugh or to cry at that last sentence. Well, it was not like her Professor had a small ego, wasn't it? Finally, Gilderoy Lockhart let Neville go once they were right in front of the class, and the Boy-Who-Lived fled faster than you could say 'Quidditch', being understandably willing to put the greatest distance possible between him and Lockhart.

All the Gryffindor and the Ravenclaw entered the class, and Alexandra had placed herself in the last places of the queue, so she wasn't able to see the decoration of the classroom before the rest. Once she had a vision of it though, the black-haired witch gasped. Someone, and Alexandra had a good idea of who, had painted the whole class in a nauseating pink colour, leaving only the black board, well black. Over every wall, were hanged dozen of Lockhart pictures or paintings. And with the magic of the wizarding world, all were moving smiling, prancing, strutting about their hair, smiles and stimulating Lockhart's ego. It was a sickening display of how big the Defence Professor ego was.

"I think in hindsight I preferred garlic..." Murmured Alexandra.

Immediately, she searched the place the place the furthest away from Lockhart and sat at the end of the room, with Nigel sitting on her right. To her surprise, neither Morag no Hermione had followed the two, instead choosing to fight for the places on the first ranks. It was Longbottom, Black and Weasley who sat on the places just before and Nigel.

Ronal Weasley was sniggering right now.

"You could've fried an egg on your face," said the red-hair Gryffindor menace. "You'd better hope Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, they'll be starting a Neville Longbottom fan club."

Oh, Ronald Weasley. You are so far behind the news.

The Boy-Who-Lived sent a glare filled with so much venom the Weasley boy moved back unconsciously.

"Shut up." The Potter Heiress heard him snap in an angered tone. Looks like Gilderoy Lockhart had been very efficient in hitting his nerves.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Hermione's copy of Voyage with Vampires and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well in a completely ridiculous manner, "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five times 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!"

Alexandra had a sudden envy to levitate her desk and send it straight at her professor's face.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books – well done."

As if we had the choice, thought Alexandra bitterly.

"I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about – just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in …"

Lockhart then proceeded to hand-out a large pile of parchments, which looked quite voluminous. Against herself, Alexandra felt hope appear. Maybe, just maybe the teacher wasn't so bad. Controlling their knowledge could be the mark of someone who cared about their curriculum, no?

When he had handed out the test papers Lockhart returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes. Start – now!"

Alexandra looked down at her paper. And read the first question. Then the second. By the time, she had arrived to the tenth, she knew without doubt Lockhart was useless. By the twentieth, there was still no sign of anything concerning Defence against the Dark Arts. Just Lockhart, Lockhart and again Lockhart.

By the fortieth, she was devastated. By the last and fifty-fourth question she was openly laughing, having realised the idea of joking about this waste of paper was better than crying. She and Nigel looked at each other, and she whispered a quick "useless" to which Nigel approved darkly.

If this was the norm of every classes with this sad excuse of a professor, Alexandra swore she wasn't going to stay long in this class. Exhaling a loud breath, she then began to write her own answers.

1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour?

Rose-Fuchsia. Disgusting colour, but what do I know?

2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?

Becoming Minister of Magic. Being promoted over your level of incompetence is the norm in politics.

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

Selling so many of his books to the students of Hogwarts. He must have made a fortune with it.

4. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite food?

Ambrosia. With his ego, only the food of the gods is enough.

5. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite drink?

Nectar. With his ego, only the drink of the gods is enough.

6. How many witches did Gilderoy Lockhart save in Voyage with Vampires?

None. It was the witches who saved him.

7. How many werewolves did Gilderoy Lockhart defeat in Wandering with Werewolves?

None. He ran away when he heard their howls.

8. How many ghouls did Gilderoy Lockhart defeat in Gadding with Ghouls?

None. The ghouls were insulted by his smile and went elsewhere.

9. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's only weakness?

Skill. Having a mouth bigger than his capabilities. Having an ego bigger than a mountain. Oh, I'm sorry. You only needed one?

10. What has Gilderoy Lockhart ridden of by only smiling?

His brain cells and the intelligence of many witches.

11. In how many countries are Gilderoy Lockhart's books published?

One. No country but Britain is stupid enough to authorise their publication.

12. What did Gilderoy Lockhart defeat in his travels in Egypt?

Tourists and mosquitoes. The Egyptian government is still investigating about the former.

13. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest attribute?

His ego. A weapon so redoubtable it can pulverise almost everyone.

14. How many awards has Gilderoy Lockhart received in foreign countries?

None. They recognised him as the fraud he is.

15. Which magical component forms Gilderoy Lockhart's wand core?

Liar's Teeth reduced in powder.

16. What is the biggest creature Gilderoy Lockhart has ever defeated?

A rabbit. A dwarf rabbit he defeated in a two-long hours battle by boring it to death.

On and on Alexandra wrote until she reached the last page.

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

December, 25th because he wants to take the place of Santa Claus. As for his gift, it would be having brainwashed everyone so he would never be revealed as a fraud.

Ten minutes later, the fraud aka Gilderoy Lockhart collected in the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

"Tut, tut – hardly any of you remembered that my favourite colour is lilac. I say so in Year with a 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 all magic and non-magic peoples – though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey!"

He gave them another ridiculous smile. Alexandra tightened her fists, counting to hundred and doing her best not to think about drawing her wand and cursing Lockhart here and there. Nigel was now staring at Lockhart with the expression one reserved to those in the asylum or under hallucinogens; in the front of the class Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were shaking with silent laughter. Most of the other Gryffindor and Ravenclaw boys were looking at him with plainly disgusted expressions.

On the other hand, many witches looked at their Professor with adoration and Alexandra realised with disgust this number included Hermione. Weird. Had they not done the same test as the boys and realised the stupidity of the wizard in front of them?

"… 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?"

Hermione raised a trembling hand.

"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart flashing his teeth which shone so brightly it was borderline insulting. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so, to business …"

The flashy fraud bent down behind his desk and lifted a large cage, covered by a purple-violet sheet which stopped all the students to know what was inside.

"Now – be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizard-kind! 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 is that you remain calm."

Alexandra had the deep sense something terrible was about to happen. She didn't see the new Professor putting a troll in this small cage, but...

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the violet sheet, unveiling a cage full of little blue-coloured creatures.

"Yes," he said in a dramatic tone which sounded somewhat wrong in her ears. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."

Seamus Finnigan in the first rank couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter which even Lockhart couldn't mistake for anything else.

"Yes?" Lockhart smiled at Seamus.

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

Alexandra was forced to admit Seamus as a point. Cornish pixies were generally calm creatures, classified by the British Ministry as a category X. No deaths or serious casualties recorded in over a century. Anything but a mortal threat.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart with another flashing smile, pointing a finger in an imperious manner at the still smiling Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

From her position, all Alexandra could see was that the pixies were electric blue and about seven or eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of women with shrilled voices speaking at the same time. The moment the sheet had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and pulling insulting faces at the people nearest them. They looked quite agitated and not the least peaceful. In fact, they looked really angry. Having a bad feeling, Alexandra took her wand from her holster and placed in front of her, ready to use it if the situation degenerated.

"Right then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!" And in a move no one had expected, Lockhart opened wide the cage.

It was an indescribable chaos. The pixies shot in every direction faster than the Bludgers on a Quidditch pitch, so fast Alexandra had trouble following them. Several shattered the window, unleashing a rain of broken glass. Two of them seized Seamus Finnigan by the feet and lifted him into the air. Three were tearing apart the Lockhart pictures from the walls. Other took possession of ink bottles and sprayed every desk and student with it. Books were torn apart. The papers were nothing more than ruins. The pixies hitched Seamus Finnigan to the candelabra in the ceiling by the feet.

"Come on now, round them up, round them up, they're only pixies …" Lockhart shouted, in pure loss as the majority of the students had ducked under their desks, leaving the pixies the control of the class.

If they're only pixies, why aren't you doing something, fraud?

The Defence Senior Professor rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand and bellowed, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"

It didn't look like a real spell with no Latin basis and for good reason: it had absolutely no effect whatsoever. One of the pixies seized Lockhart's wand and threw it out of the window, without its owner managing to utter another incantation. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Seamus Finnigan, who fell a second later as the candelabra gave way. Then Lockhart simply ran away towards the door leading to his office.

"I knew he was a fraud." Snarled Alexandra. Judging enough was enough and that Lockhart has proved to be as incompetent as she had feared, she levitated her desk with a quick Wingardium Leviosa and send it slamming against the three pixies which were tearing the photos off the wall. With a Petrificus Totalus, the Ravenclaw witch sent another of the blue fairies stunned on the floor. Feeling she had now the perfect opportunity to unleash all her frustrations of the last day, she poured a good part of her repertory of minor hexes, jinxes, charms and other spells to use. One by one she sent the creatures limping down the crown in a rainbow of magic, although many tried to retaliate, forcing her more than once to duck and avoid some nasty projectiles.

The green-eyed witch was not the only one to use her wand against the Pixies, Nigel behind her casted minor defensive jinxes for defensive purposes. Neville Longbottom and Leo Black were pouring a deluge of serious hexes on the swift pixies. Ron Weasley was trying desperately fighting one of the blue creatures with a wand alternating heavy smoke and lightning.

What in Hell happened to his wand?

Soon there were no more conscious Cornish Pixies in the classroom. Quick Levitation spells put the stunned creatures back in their cage. A deep silence fell, with students coming out from behind their desks to see if the disaster was over.

Looking all around her, Alexandra saw the classroom had been completely and totally demolished. It was like a storm had wrecked everything. And then the bell rang.

"Time to go, Nigel." Alexandra said to the Gryffindor boy who had let himself fall on one of the intact chairs in the back of the class, while the rest of the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor rushed towards the exit. Most, she noticed, looked at her with impressed or fearful looks.

"Is it over?" Asked Nigel, trying to save what he could from the few pieces of his bag left together.

"The class is over. I think." Said Alexandra. Lockhart was nowhere in view at least. Thank the Gods of all Universes for small mercies. "Now if it's okay with you, I'm going to go to Flitwick's office and demand to be dispensed from the class of Defence Against the Dark Arts. At least until Lockhart isn't here anymore."

"He just wanted to give us some hands-on experience!" Protested Hermione, who had not escaped unscathed, as her hair and her robe were strained with black and red ink.

"No, he didn't!" Morag MacDougal vehemently intervened behind Hermione. "Sorry Hermione, but Lockhart didn't know at all what he was doing. These were only Cornish Pixies and he was unable to do a thing against them. He doesn't deserve to be a Professor. It's Alexandra, Nigel, Neville and Leo who did all the work."

"Rubbish," said Hermione. "You've read his books – look at all those amazing things he's done …"

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

"Let's see the good side shall we?" Said Alexandra. "Lockhart will be gone by the end of the year, if the so-called curse in the post exists, it will make sure of it. And if not," her voice turned grim "I will deal with him personally with this fraud."

"But how are we going to learn all the spells for the end of the year? We have exams, and Quirrell wasn't that useless!" Asked Morag in a worried tone.

"Oh, that's simple." Replied Alexandra. "We are going to practise on our own. A lot."

Nigel paled at the sadist smile she made. What a smart boy.