chapter 4

The first weekend at school arrived and Lockhart was tempted to prevent the Slytherins from taking the field from Gryffindor. Then he realized it was a perfect opportunity to deepen the divide between Ron and Harry. So, early Saturday morning he was visiting with Hagrid, nattily dressed and wearing robes of palest mauve, cheerfully explaining how to keep kelpies out of a well, how Hagrid could ask for his advice anytime, and how he had banished a banshee. He wanted to maintain the fiction of Gilderoy being a right prat for a little while.

After hearing Oliver question Colin's presence in the Quidditch stands through his listening charm on Harry, Lockhart hustled right on over, using a Notice-Me-Not charm in case he arrived too soon. His timing was exquisite, he arrived just as Ron started coughing up slugs and missing the insult to Hermione. He allowed his Notice-Me-Not charm slowly to dissipate as he walked up.

"We'd better get him to Hagrid's, it's nearest," said Harry to Hermione, who nodded bravely, and the pair of them pulled Ron up by the arms.

"What's all this then," Lockhart interrupted, beaming his brightest smile at the two teams. "Did I see this idiot actually hex himself?" The Slytherins, trying to appear sombre in front of the Professor, dissolved into laughter again. The Gryffindor team, still angry, were nonetheless gritting their teeth to avoid laughing at Ron's predicament — especially his twin brothers.

"We were just going to take Ron to Hagrid's to see if he could help with . . . this," Hermione explained.

"No need for that, no need at all! I, the great Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award, and Hogwarts' beloved Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor can take care of this without any trouble at all! This is right up my alley!"

As Gilderoy leaned closer and pretended to study the young man, Ron, despite the slugs he was coughing up, got a panicky look in his eyes. Harry looked almost as panicked as Ron did, but Hermione appeared thrilled.

Lockhart looked down at Ron's broken wand, which was still spitting tiny sparks. "Oh, dear," the Professor said. "If that was the wand you used, I think I should take you to Madam Pomfrey. There's no telling what the actual spell was that hit you. Your . . . wand . . . might have malfunctioned and changed the spell substantially. And as any Witch will tell you, a defective wand is a serious issue. You should always keep your wand well-polished and in perfect working order, right ladies?"

The Witches present all blushed as they nodded in agreement. Ron may have blushed as well, but his slugfest had already turned his face red so it was difficult to tell. The Wizards were all laughing, except Harry who looked puzzled.

The Professor straightened. "Naturally, I could fix this myself. But it is Hogwarts' Policy to take a student to the Resident Healer in such a situation. And I wouldn't want to violate policy, now would I?" He glanced at the students waiting for the nods affirming that he shouldn't do that. "What kind of professional would I be if I did that in front of students? Even we Professors must obey the rules, you know." He smiled and raised an eyebrow, as if confiding in friends.

Hermione looked conflicted between following rules, and a Professor's lead, and wanting immediately to help her friend who had tried, and failed, so chivalrously to defend her.

Gilderoy took Ron's arm from Harry, preventing them from leaving before Lockhart was ready.

He looked over at Colin Creevey and smiled, artfully turning Ron so that in any pictures it would appear that he was helping the poor child.

"Now that we have that sorted, why don't you get back to your pickup game?"

"What?" said Oliver. "We had the field booked for practice this morning and now these Slytherins are trying to steal it from us!" The other team members all nodded.

"We have a note from Professor Snape saying we can use the field to train our new Seeker and work with our new brooms!" declared Flint, his team nodding behind him. He waved the note.

Lockhart's smile broadened. "Why, I don't see the problem with that in the slightest." Both teams looked at him as if he were barmy.

"I'm sure that both teams," he turned his beaming smile on them as he placed a hand on his hip and struck a pose while maintaining his grip on Ron's arm with the other, "need practice now that summer hols are over. Even the professional teams spend a few weeks just reviewing their old plays, working the kinks out, and getting back into shape before they try anything new at the beginning of their season," he said, again as if confiding a secret.

"In fact," he said cheerily, "I think you should have a practice game. What better way to work off the summer doldrums than a jolly good friendly match!"

He ignored the evil eyes each team gave the other while the captains stared at him, aghast at the thought of cooperating.

"Yes, that's just the ticket!" he said. He waited a moment. "Well, what are you waiting for?" He made shooing motions with his free hand. "Get to it! Gryffindor can take this goal," he pointed to his left. "And Slytherin that one," he pointed to his right. "Go on. I have no doubt you all will have a fabulous time!"

Neither team was happy with the Professor, but both knew better than to object. Less than a minute later, both teams were on their brooms and in the air.

It would have been hilarious to remain and watch as the two teams tried to beat each other half-to-death without a referee to stop them, but he knew that no real harm would come. The Slytherins would need weeks of practice before they completely adapted to their new brooms, throwing off their timing and aim. They would spend more time today avoiding crashing into the stands and each other than trying to hit the other team. And those same handling problems would keep the Slytherins safe from the Gryffindors — they would never be where the Gryffindors expected them to be. Any accidents would be just that. And most likely self-inflicted.

Hermione began to follow them as Harry/Gilderoy started dragging Ron off to see Madam Pomfrey. He planned to use the longest route possible, of course, while also walking as slow as he could manage without it being obvious.

"Ah, Miss Granger!" he said over his shoulder, giving her a brilliant smile showing his perfect teeth. "You can remain here. Your concern for a fellow student does you credit, even if he is unworthy of it. I assure you that Mr. Weasley is in my very capable hands. I will deliver him to Madam Pomfrey safe and sound, I promise.

"If you don't want to watch your boyfriend, Mr. Potter, why don't you visit with Hagrid?" She blushed red again at his insinuation of her relationship with Harry. "I was just at his hut, telling him an exciting story out of my book Break with a Banshee, he was quite interested. He's such a nice fellow and he told me he's so looking forward to seeing you and Mr. Potter this morning." She stopped uncertainly, and he waved her off towards the Quidditch stands. "Mr. Weasley will re-join you in no time at all, I'm sure!" he said as the two headed for the Castle.

As soon as they were inside, he surreptitiously cast a spell that reinforced the slug spell. That made the boy temporarily impervious to low-powered healing spells, making Madam Pomfrey's job much harder. Knowing the woman as well as he did, Gilderoy knew Ron wouldn't get out of the Infirmary until dinner at the earliest. He might not get out until after supper this evening.

Then he conjured a bucket for the boy, "Don't want to upset Mr. Filch, do we?" And while appearing solicitous of the boy's condition, he actually did his best to delay their arrival at the Hospital Wing. The stairs were amusingly cooperative in that respect — they went past the third floor at least four times.

Along the way, he said, "What a delightful couple Mr. Potter and Miss Granger would make, don't you think?" What a great prank, asking questions while the victim couldn't answer. Hermione's dentist parents would be proud of him.

"She's so smart — a perfect match for him, don't you agree? Plus, she's going to be quite pretty in a few years and unlike yourself, Mr. Potter can easily afford to buy her the things she deserves. She's rather a bookworm, I've been told, and he is quite rich." He paused, and then continued as if just struck by the thought, "Why, he can buy her a whole library if she wants and barely dent his fortune! And her wardrobe! Ha! He can dress her in the finest Acromantula silks out of his daily pocket money."

Ron made a choking sound, but Gilderoy wasn't certain if it was because of his comment or a particularly large slug. Not that he cared.

"And he shows such restraint, keeping his grades only a little better than yours when he could easily out do you, like she does. I can tell such things, you know. Finding monsters all over the world gives you the ability to measure people accurately when you meet them. You must be great friends, right?"

There was that peculiar noise again. Maybe not as great friends as they had been five minutes ago.

"Although I do wonder why he hasn't offered to buy you a new wand, considering how rich he is. He could make it an early Christmas present." The walked a few steps in silence except for Ron's regurgitating slugs. "That's what I would do if I were your best friend," said Gilderoy. "Best friends buy each other presents at Christmas, and as many knuts you get as an allowance, why Harry has ten times — no, a hundred times — that many galleons! Did you realize that? He could buy a wand and not miss the galleons he spent, no more than you would miss spending a knut to buy a candy. But I'm sure you don't care, do you? You're just that kind of friend, never jealous or upset that your friend has so much more money and fame than you ever will have. You're such a good friend to be perfectly happy to stand in his shadow, knowing you'll never have it as easy as he does. Yes, as famous as Mr. Potter is, things will just naturally come his way without him even having to try to get them. People will shower him with attention, gifts, and opportunities simply because he is Harry Potter. Why, with his fame, I'm sure he could get the Seeker position with Chudley Cannons without even having to attend a tryout session, as you would have to do. Imagine just what you would do if you had what he does!"

Yep, definitely, Ron was trying to say something but the slugs were coming too fast. And based on the look in his eyes, he hadn't anything nice to say.

"Unless," and here Gilderoy/Harry stopped. He had had a brainstorm! "Unless you're one of those Wizards who secretly enjoys pain and being humiliated." He stared innocently at the boy. "Do you believe he lets you hang around him just so he can look better because you are so pitiful at casting spells and studying? That would be right humiliating, wouldn't it? For those who appreciate such things, why that would be the perfect relationship!"

Ron looked horrified at that thought, getting out a frantic "No!" even as he coughed up another slug.

The Wizard ignored the boy's frantic denial. "Well, never fear, my young Wizard, your secret is safe with me! I wouldn't dream of spreading gossip like that." They resumed walking.

Ron managed to say, "I'm . . . ," before another batch of slugs burst forth.

"However," Gilderoy/Harry continued, blithely ignoring Ron's struggling protests, "I will have to tell the Headmaster and your Head of House of your predilections so that they can keep an eye on you. We wouldn't want those little humiliation and pain games of yours getting carried away and actually causing you permanent physical harm!"

Ron looked positively desperate, "No! No!" And was again interrupted by more slugs.

"Excellent, I'm so glad you agree."

The Hospital Wing doors finally came into sight. "Ah, here we are," Harry/Gilderoy, guiding the sick boy with his nearly full bucket of slugs through the doors. "Madam Pomfrey," he called loudly and jovially, "We have need of your assistance."

As the Witch hurried over, the Wizard turned to the boy and added, loudly, "You should seriously consider confiding in your only two friends. I'm sure they would understand your unique needs. If you want, I can even broach the subject to them for you so they can properly maintain the best levels of humiliation and not leave you unsatisfied."

Ron looked like he might faint at any moment.

Harry knew Madam Pomfrey passionately hated people telling her how to do her job, which he proceeded to do. She chased the irritatingly and apparently useless Professor out of her ward in under a minute. The hex he dodged from her as he reached the doors was surely just an accident. She was a Healer, after all.

(◎_⊙)

Sunday, the last day of Harry's detention and after a gruelling evening addressing letters and listening to his D.A.D.A. Professor discuss his books, interspaced with advice on how to woo Witches, especially a certain bushy-haired bookworm know-it-all, Harry heard a voice, a voice of breathtaking, ice-cold venom.

§Come . . . come to me. Let me rip you . . . . Let me tear you . . . . Let me kill you . . . .§

"What?" the student said loudly.

"I know!" said Lockhart. "Six solid months at the top of the best-seller list! Broke all records!"

"No," said Harry frantically. "That voice!"

"Sorry?" said Lockhart, pretending to look puzzled. "What voice?"

"That — that voice that said — didn't you hear it?"

Lockhart looked at Harry in high astonishment.

"What are you talking about, Harry? Perhaps you're getting a little drowsy? Great Scott — look at the time! "We've been here nearly four hours! I'd never have believed it — the time's flown, hasn't it?"

Gilderoy sighed as the door closed behind Harry, rubbing the side of his face tiredly. Now the game began in earnest.

(⊙_◎)

Breakfast Monday morning was another win for Lockhart. He hadn't planned to do this particular task until much later, but when opportunity appears . . . . And knowing he was helping Neville so early helped assuage his guilt at seeing the boy die defending a Muggle-born family and giving him time to escape after destroying the Hufflepuff Cup's Horcrux.

"Merlin, Hermione! This year is going to be awful," the human garbage disposal said. "What with all the extra work from that git D.A.D.A. professor, and in addition to all our other classes, I think that before the year ends I'll be in the magically exhausted section of the Infirmary," complained Ron as they entered the Great Hall ahead of several Slytherins.