2 September 1992, Hogwarts
People started chuckling to which the man snorted, "You think this is funny then? Do you think that something looking as significant cannot hurt you? The magical world is full of hidden dangers. Now, let me show you how unprepared you are."
With a flick of his wand, the cage opened, and pandemonium followed.
The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. When they were caged, Harry noticed that they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.
Yeah, Harry didn't know what the man expected when he just released them, but it was complete chaos. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Seamus Finnigan by the ears 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 more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, up-ended the waste basket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks and Finnigan was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling.
The Potter scion would have been worried if it wasn't for the Contego shield that he cast the moment the creatures approached. The shield was somewhat competent when it came to physical protection, and the pixies weren't heavy or fast enough to get past the limited protection it provided.
Still, Harry only shielded himself and the table his friends were hiding under and didn't attack the pixies. He wanted to see where the man was going with his lesson. Lockhart seemed unconcerned with the destruction of his classrooms, and the pixies didn't attack him.
The blonde professor started speaking out, "Cornish Pixies are tough little buggers, they like to leave mischief and mayhem in their wake, but whatever mess they make is easy to clean up. No, what you need to worry about is their bites, which are venomous."
Lavender Brown started screaming as he did this, using one of Lockhart's books to hit the two pixies attacking her, "they're poisonous?"
"The wild ones, yes," the professor answered, unconcerned with the girl's distress, "However, you'll probably be alright after a few bites as the poison is not that potent. You would need to be bit at least a dozen times for you to be in any substantial amount of danger, and the poison is also easily treatable. However, lucky for you, I have defanged these little creatures, so you're not at any risk. Now, considering the way you've been reacting to the little creatures you laughed at just moments ago, are you still amused? Defence Against the Dark Arts is not a joke. It could easily save your life one day, and you need to take it seriously. Outside of Mr Potter, you all didn't even try to use your wands. Hell, you didn't even try to attack the pixies."
Suddenly everyone stared at Harry who was looking unconcerned with the Cornish Pixies battering his shield. The professor then continued, "Using a shield charm, any shield charm really, would have been an easy solution. Shielding spells always have a resistance to magical attacks as well as physical attacks. If this was a rampaging Graphorn or Acromantula, Mr Potter's shield wouldn't have held, and it would have been better to use a specialized shield that is primarily focused on stopping physical attacks, but right now, the pixies are small and not strong enough to make a dent."
The man had a good point and it grated Harry to acknowledge it so. There was still something off about him. The way he speaks, the way he walks, it just wasn't the way of a warrior that he described himself as. He had no scars, no cursed injuries, and that was just impossible. He was too clean, too civilian. It was also his magic, it felt pampered, like a fancy tune of nobility, not one marred with conflict and suffering. Harry remembered what Lucius Malfoy's magic felt like. It was smooth, filled with a sadistic streak, but it was obvious that it had experienced conflict. Lockhart's just wasn't and so, this unexpected competence was just wrong. Of course, he was teaching second year students, where the spell required could be cast by any wizard with a reasonable competence in magic.
But since it was different from the stories, it could be a clue. The Diary had disappeared near Lockhart, so could it be possible that the ponce was actually learning from the diary to be competent. It would explain the change from the stories, but it wouldn't really say anything about the hidden text in the books he sold, the one with the true story. This was too unknown, too unpredictable, but the Potter scion couldn't discount the possibility.
Everyone had frozen at the man's speech, even the pixies for a few moments. Of course, they returned causing chaos on the unsuspecting students seconds later. Pansy Parkinson, who was trying to shoo the attacking creatures for some reason, "What do we do, Professor?"
"Well, you still haven't attacked them. They aren't really that resistant to magic, any spell would attack them," the man responded with a mocking drawl.
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