Slytherin Raised by Wolfstar: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

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Chapter Seven: Gilderoy Lockhart

Thursday they had double Herbology with Ravenclaw, so after he finished breakfast Harry, Tracey, Allison, and Theodore left the castle together. They crossed the vegetable patch and made for the Greenhouses, where the magical plants were kept. It was a warm September day so they were all in a positive mood as they arrived. Professor Sprout was waiting for them all by the Greenhouse they used the previous year.

'We'll be in Greenhouse Three today loves.' said the professor in an equally positive mood.

Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes, and her fingernails would have made stuck up Aunt Petunia faint.

There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in Greenhouse One before-Greenhouse Three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Harry caught a whiff of damp earth and fertiliser, mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling.

Harry had just entered the Greenhouse when Gilderoy Lockhart stuck his head inside. He wore sweeping robes of turquoise, and his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trimming.

‘Professor Sprout, is Harry Potter in your class? I’ve been meaning to have a word with him. It’ll be but a moment.’

The joyful woman smiled. ‘Yes of course, but have him back soon, this is an important lesson.’

Harry went to the door and Lockhart closed the door behind him. Harry then composed himself and tried to speak.

‘Sir, I am a big fan, I meant to tell you at Flourish-‘

‘Harry,’ Lockhart interrupted, his large white teeth gleaming in the sunlight as he shook his head. ‘Harry, Harry, Harry.’

Not expecting this, Harry was speechless.

‘When I heard-well, I figured out your little rouse, and of course it is all my fault. Could have kicked myself.’

Harry had no idea what he was talking about, but him saying he figured out what him and Theodore did was very worrying. He was about to beg Lockhart not to tell when he continued, ‘Don’t know when I’ve been more shocked. Pulling a prank on the teachers to get attention, I knew at once why you’d done it. Stood out a mile. Harry, Harry, Harry.’

It was remarkable how he could show every one of those brilliant teeth even when he wasn’t talking.

‘Gave you a taste for fame and attention, didn’t I?’ said Lockhart. ‘Gave you the bug. You got onto the front page of the paper with me and you couldn’t wait to feel a similar rush again.’

‘Oh no, Professor, see –’

‘Harry, Harry, Harry,’ said Lockhart, reaching out and grasping his shoulder. ‘I understand. Natural to want a bit more once you’ve had that first taste – and I blame myself for giving you that, because it was bound to go to your head – but see here, young man, you shouldn’t be scaring your teachers to try and get yourself noticed. Just calm down, all right? Plenty of time for all that when you’re older. Now because this was partially my fault I already put my name in to be the one giving you detention. The next time you want to do something daring try to be for the greater good and not some Slytherin trick.’

He gave Harry a hearty wink and strode off. Harry stood stunned for a few seconds, then, remembering he was supposed to be in the greenhouse, he opened the door and slid inside.

Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the centre of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different coloured earmuffs were lying on the bench. When Harry had taken his place between Theodore and Tracey, she said, ‘We’ll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?’

To nobody’s surprise, Theodore’s hand was first into the air.

‘The Mandrake, also known as Mandragora, is known for being a powerful restorative,’ said Theodore, he sounded tired and wasn’t putting much effort in disguising the fact he had just read ahead in the textbook. ‘It’s used to cure people who have been transfigured or cursed.’

‘Good job Nott. Three points to Slytherin,’ said Professor Sprout. ‘The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?’

Tracey timidity put up her hand, she knew a wide variety of things, but Herbology wasn’t her strongest class.

‘Because it’s deadly to hear a Mandrake cry? I think,’ she said almost like a question.

‘Precisely. Take another three points,’ said Professor Sprout. ‘Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young.’

She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in colour, were growing there in rows. Harry had never seen a Mandrake before, but he had heard of their magical power, he was disappointed by how unremarkable they looked.

‘Everyone take a pair of earmuffs,’ said Professor Sprout.

There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that fit or were their favourite colour.

‘When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered,’ said Professor Sprout. ‘When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right, earmuffs on.’

Harry snapped the earmuffs over his ears. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put a pink fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled up hard.

Harry let out a gasp of surprise that no one could hear. Instead of roots, a small, muddy and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs. Harry never knew their existed such a humanoid plant.

Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up and removed her own earmuffs.

‘As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won’t kill yet,’ she said calmly, as though she’d just done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. ‘However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I’m sure none of you want to miss such a fine day, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.

‘Four to a tray–there is a large supply of pots here–compost in the sacks over there–and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it’s teething.’

She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

Already a group of four, Harry, Tracey, Allison, and Theodore just huddled closer together and talked.

‘Lockhart is pretty cool, isn’t he?’ saidTracey to Harry, as they began filling their plant pots with dragon-dung compost. ‘I have read all his books, and I remember you saying you have too Harry. What did he want to tell you?’

‘It was weird, it was like he was taking the blame for what me and Theo did, but he clearly didn’t even know what it was we did. He is really cool though, but I just get the feeling he doesn’t know much about teaching.’

‘Well if he’s half as good as he is in his books I’m sure he’ll be fine. We’ll find out for sure tomorrow.’ Said Theodore confidently.

After that they didn’t have much chance to talk. Their earmuffs were back on and they needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes. Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn’t. The Mandrakes didn’t like coming out of the earth, but didn’t seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists and gnashed their teeth; Harry spent ten whole minutes trying to squash a particularly fat one into a pot.

By the end of the class, Harry, like everyone else, was sweaty, aching and covered in earth. They made their way back to the castle for a quick wash and then the Slytherins hurried up to the Great Hall for lunch.

As they started eating Allison started up a conversation.

‘I misplaced my time table. What do we have today and tomorrow?’

Theodore responded, ‘Well tonight we have Astrology, and then tomorrow we have History of Magic and Defence Against the Dark Arts.’

‘Well I hope his lessons are more educational than his books,’ said Allison in a frustrated voice.

Tracey got defensive, ‘What do you have against his books?’

‘Nothing really, they seem like ok adventure novels, just not text books. But like I said, I prefer learning from a teacher not a book so I hope his lessons are better than his books.’

They all kept talking and eating, Terence came and sat with them eventually and him, Harry, and Allison discusses Quidditch. When they finished lunch all five of them moved out into the courtyard as Sprout was right that wasting a day like today was a bad idea. Soon though Harry became aware that he was being closely watched. Looking up, he saw the very small, mousey haired boy in Gryffindor robes, staring at Harry as though transfixed. He was clutching what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera, and the moment Harry looked at him, he went bright red.

‘All right, Harry? I’m – I’m Colin Creevey,’ he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. ‘I’m in Gryffindor. D’you think–would it be all right if–can I have a picture?’ he said, raising the camera hopefully.

‘A picture?’ Harry repeated blankly.

‘So I can prove I’ve met you,’ said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forwards. ‘I know all about you. Everyone’s told me. About how you survived when You Know Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you’ve still got a lightning scar on your forehead’ (his eyes focused on Harry’s hairline), ‘and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures’ll move.’ Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, ‘It’s brilliant here, isn’t it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad’s a milkman, he couldn’t believe it either. So I’m taking loads of pictures to send home to him and my little brother. And it’d be really good if I had one of you m–’ he looked imploringly at Harry, ‘–maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?’

Despite being embarrassed Harry was about to agree when a voice came from across the courtyard.

‘Signed photos? You’re giving out signed photos, Potter?’

Loud and scathing, Draco Malfoy’s voice echoed around the courtyard. He had stopped right behind

Colin, his large and thuggish cronies, Crabbe and Goyle were by his side.

‘Everyone queue up!’ Malfoy roared to the crowd. ‘Harry Potter’s giving out signed photos!’

‘No, I’m not,’ said Harry angrily, his fists clenching. ‘Shut up, Malfoy. The kid just wants one photo.’

‘You’re just jealous,’ piped up Colin, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe’s neck.

‘Jealous?’ said Malfoy, who didn’t need to shout any more; half the courtyard was listening in. ‘Of what? I don’t want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don’t think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself.’

Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly.

Allison pipped up, ‘You seemed to think it did when you introduced yourself at the castle last year.’ She then started doing a Malfoy impression, ‘Ooo, Harry Potter, shake my hand, please be my best friend forever and ever. What? You have standards, well fine I didn’t think you were cool anyway.’

The kids watching laughed at her mockery of him, even Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering. Draco normally had very light and pale skin but he was now on the verge of becoming a tomato as he was that red from anger.

‘You be careful Runcorn,’ sneered Malfoy, ‘I’d hate for an accident to happen to you on the field.’

‘What’s all this?’ Gilderoy Lockhart was striding towards them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. ‘Why are all you kids crowded around?’

Harry started to speak but he was cut short as Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulders and thundered jovially, ‘Shouldn’t have asked! We meet again, Harry!’

Pinned to Lockhart’s side and burning with humiliation, Harry saw Malfoy slide smirking back into the crowd. Lockhart noticed Colin with his camera and practically beamed.

‘Come on then, Mr Creevey,’ said Lockhart, beaming at Colin. ‘A double portrait, can’t say fairer than that, and we’ll both sign it for you.’

Colin fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind them, signalling the start of afternoon classes.

‘Off you go, move along there,’ Lockhart called to the crowd, and he set off back to the castle with Harry, who was wishing he knew a good vanishing spell, still clasped to his side. Harry just wanted to go study, write to his sister, or take a nap to be ready for midnight Astrology, but Lockhart was dragging him along.

‘A word to the wise, Harry,’ said Lockhart paternally as they entered the building through a side door. ‘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 ...’

Deaf to Harry’s stammers, Lockhart swept him down a corridor lined with staring students and up a staircase.

‘Harry, Harry, Harry. You got to stop picking fights. I know you want to be famous, but their are many other ways to do that which don’t involve other people’s misery. People are going to think you’re trying to be the next Dark Lord. Perhaps try and follow in my footsteps, try saving the day instead of being the one the day needs saving from–’ he gave a little chortle, ‘I surprise myself with how poetic I can be sometimes.’

They had reached Lockhart’s classroom and he let Harry go at last. Harry yanked his robes straight and headed back towards the dungeons so he could get some peace and quite. Lockhart was really starting to get on his nerves, which was sad because he used to be one of his favourite authors.

The next day for the morning Harry had the ghost teacher Professor Binns for History of Magic. Mr Binns was very knowledgeable, but incredibly boring. Harry sometimes has to sneak sweets into the class to use the sugar to keep him awake.

Afterwards he had Defence Against the Dark Art with Lockhart. He tried to set aside the previous day but just in case he tried to find a seat at the very back of the class, where he busied himself with piling all seven of Lockhart’s books in front of him, so that he could avoid eye contact with the real thing.

He shared the class with Gryffindor, so besides his regular friend group he also had Ron and Neville by his side. When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell.

Lockhart 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 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!’

He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.

‘I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books, well done. 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 ...’

When he had 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 favourite colour?

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 paper, right down to:

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

Harry knew a lot of the answers, but he was beginning to agree with Allison, this had very little to do with Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Half an hour later, 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 Firewhisky!’

He gave them another roguish wink. Poor Tracey was staring at Lockhart with an expression of shock and disappointment on her face; Gryffindor students Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter. The girl from Flourish and Blotts, Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with 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!’

Ron, Pansy Parkinson, and a couple other Gryffindors snickered at Hermione’s know-it-allness. Harry usually didn’t participate but he admitted it was funny how desperately she always tried to impress the teachers.

Lockhart with a grim started looking through his twenty students sitting in front of him. ‘Where is Miss Hermione Granger?’

The bushy haired girl raised a trembling hand.

‘Excellent!’ beamed Lockhart. ‘Quite excellent! Take ten points for 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 is that you remain calm.’

In spite of himself, Harry leaned around his pile of books for a better look at the cage. Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Dean and Seamus had stopped laughing now. Theodore just looked very bored.

‘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 cover.

‘Yes,’ he said dramatically. ‘Freshly caught Cornish pixies.’

Seamus Finnigan couldn’t control himself. He let out a snort of laughter which even Lockhart couldn’t mistake for a scream of terror.

‘Yes?’ he smiled at Seamus.

‘Well, they’re not – they’re not very – dangerous, are they?’ Seamus choked in a thick Irish accent.

‘Don’t be so sure!’ said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. ‘Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!’

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, and their voices were much higher, almost like nails on a chock board. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and pulling bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

‘Right then,’ Lockhart said loudly. ‘Let’s see what you make of them!’ And he opened the cage.

It was pure chaos. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and shirt collar and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom in a matter of seconds.

They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, upended the waste bin, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks, Hermione had dashed out of the room in terror, and Neville was swinging from the candelabra in the ceiling.

‘Come on now, round them up, round them up, they’re only pixies ...’ Lockhart shouted.

He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand and bellowed, ‘Peskipiksi Pesternomi!’

The spell seemed to have absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized Lockhart’s wand and threw it out of the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who fell a second later as the candelabra gave way.

The bell rang and there was a mad rush towards the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Harry, Theodore, Allison, and Tracey, who were almost at the door, and said, ‘Well, I’ll ask you for to just nip the rest of them back into their cage.’ He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.

‘This is a nightmare?’ complained Allison, as some of the remaining pixies started ripping the curtains.

‘I can’t believe how incompetent in teaching he is,’ said Tracey sadly, immobilising several pixies at once

with one of her many clever random spells, a Freezing Charm. As she froze them the rest helped stuff them back into their cage.

After what seemed like forever they finally managed to lock all the pixies back into a cage. It had been a very eventful first week and he decided to end it with writing about it to his parents, sister, and Nymphadora. He also included in Canini’s letter words of encouragement as she had written saying she was enjoying classes but every student knew her condition, he told her to use it to her advantage and that she could do this.

As Harry went to sleep that night he couldn’t help think about how disappointing Lockhart was. Growing up he had read every single one of his books, he had written him fan mail. On particularly hard summer nights at the Dursley’s he often had thought “What would Lockhart do,” and now he felt like he had to question his faith in his hero.