I woke before the alarm went off.
For a few seconds, I stared up at the dark canopy, trying to work out what was missing. Only the muffled sound of water beyond the wall and the greenish light coming through the windows reminded me where I was.
Hogwarts.
I rolled onto my side and adjusted the pillow. The bed was comfortable, far more comfortable than the one at the orphanage. Even so, for a moment I wished I could open my eyes in my own room, with the garden outside the window.
I hadn't expected to be thinking about home on the very first morning.
I checked the time. Too early to get up, but not early enough to make going back to sleep worthwhile.
I drew the curtains aside.
Draco was asleep with his face half-buried in his pillow. His blanket hung down one side of the bed, while neatly laid-out robes waited on a chair.
Blaise was already sitting up with a book on his lap.
"Morning."
"Morning."
He glanced at the clock.
"Can't sleep?"
"I think I need to get used to it again."
"The dormitory?"
"Someone breathing through a pillow."
An indistinct grumble came from Draco's bed.
"I can hear you."
"Good. I was getting worried."
He lifted his head and gave me an unfriendly look.
"Do you two really have to talk at this hour?"
Blaise turned a page.
"Oliver only just got up. I was being quiet."
"Traitor," I muttered.
Draco pulled the blanket over his shoulder.
"You can both be quiet."
I left them and went to the bathroom.
By the time I returned, Draco was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting his collar. I dressed and checked my bag.
Parchment, quill, ink. A few books I'd brought for the journey. The folder of documents was still in its separate compartment.
I took it out and put it in my trunk.
I was unlikely to need it in class.
"What did you actually agree on last night?" Blaise asked.
"The Ministry's calling off the search. The move is still an open question."
Draco turned from the mirror.
"So they're not taking you out of school?"
"No. They have until Christmas to think about it."
"And you?"
"So do I."
Blaise nodded and closed his book.
"In that case, we can deal with a more urgent problem."
"What?"
"Breakfast."
The common room was already busy. Older pupils were discussing their upcoming exams, while a few first-years stood near the exit, trying to work out the way to the Great Hall.
Draco pointed down the corridor.
"Up the stairs, then follow everyone else. You can't miss it."
One of the boys thanked him hurriedly.
Blaise waited until we'd walked away.
"Surprisingly polite."
"I don't want to hear that Slytherin can't get its own pupils to breakfast."
"A touching concern for the house's reputation."
"Someone has to look after it."
Draco glanced at me.
"We can't all make the front page of the Prophet straight away."
"How long are you going to keep mentioning that?"
"I haven't decided."
"Let me know when you do."
He looked pleased with himself.
The corridors were filling quickly. Pupils greeted friends, exchanged stories about the holidays, and stopped wherever they could cause the most inconvenience.
After the last few weeks at the estate, I had to get used to the crowds again.
It wasn't unpleasant.
It was good to be back.
Candles floated above the tables in the Great Hall, and the enchanted ceiling showed an overcast morning sky. The smell of warm bread and frying bacon was enough to stop me looking around.
We took our seats at the Slytherin table.
I helped myself to scrambled eggs. Anunu would probably have considered the portion inadequate, but no one here was going to correct it.
"Potter and Weasley got detention," Draco announced, reaching for the toast.
"Already?"
"They arrived in a car. What did you expect?"
"Praise for their ingenuity?"
"They nearly crashed into the castle."
"From what I heard, a tree stopped them."
Draco snorted.
"They should be expelled."
"I'm not sure the rules say anything about parking in trees."
"If they don't, I expect they soon will," Blaise observed.
I glanced at the Gryffindor table. Harry was sitting with Ron and Hermione. She was talking; both boys were listening with expressions suggesting they were already familiar with her views.
Harry noticed me and returned my brief greeting.
At least they'd arrived in one piece.
Soon afterwards, the heads of house began handing out timetables. Snape walked along our table and placed the parchments in front of us.
Draco unfolded his.
"Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts…"
He stopped.
"Lockhart."
"On the first day?" Blaise asked.
I checked my own timetable.
Apparently, we weren't being given a reprieve from the new professor.
I looked towards the staff table. Lockhart, dressed in bright blue robes, was talking to Professor Sprout. One expansive gesture nearly knocked over his goblet. She moved it before he could tip it off the table.
He didn't even notice.
"At least the textbooks were expensive," Draco said. "He ought to be able to teach us something."
It would have been a reasonable argument if a book's price had anything to do with its author's abilities.
Metal hoops lay on Professor Flitwick's desk. Sets of light wooden frames floated above the tables, each positioned at a different angle.
It didn't look as though we would be starting the year by copying out theory.
Good.
"Good morning, everyone!" the professor greeted us. "I hope you've all had a restful summer."
He waited for us to take our seats.
"This year, we'll be studying spells that require greater precision. Before we move on to anything new, however, I'd like to see what you remember from last year."
He waved his wand.
One of the hoops rose from his desk and passed through an upright frame. It tilted before entering the next, then slipped through the last one, which was almost horizontal.
Finally, it settled on the desktop.
"The Levitation Charm. You all know it. Today, though, simply lifting an object will not be enough. Your task is to guide the hoop through every frame without touching the edges."
I studied the obstacles. There was enough space between the wood and metal, but I couldn't simply push the hoop straight ahead.
"If anyone finishes early, I have a more difficult version ready," Flitwick added.
Draco took out his wand.
"This should be easy."
"You said that out loud," Blaise remarked.
"And?"
"Now you can't pretend you expected trouble."
Before Draco could reply, I raised my own wand.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The hoop lifted above the desk.
I guided it through the first frame without difficulty. At the second, I slowed down and carefully adjusted its angle.
Frederick would probably have made me repeat the whole movement if I used too much force just to correct an earlier mistake.
Instead of jerking it back onto course, I stopped the hoop, lined it up, and only then moved it forwards.
The last frame required a sharper turn.
The metal slipped through the opening and settled on the desk.
I smiled.
There was a quiet knock beside me.
"Damn."
Draco's hoop bounced off the second obstacle. When he saw mine lying on the desk, he frowned.
"Already?"
"Yes."
"First try?"
I nodded.
"What exactly did you study all summer?"
"Magic."
"I don't know why I ask."
Flitwick approached our desk.
"Mr Peverell! Finished?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Excellent. Let's try something a little harder, then."
The frames shifted to new angles. One began to rotate slowly.
I sat a little straighter.
"Remember, this is not about speed," the professor said. "Control is what matters."
On my first attempt, I turned the hoop too late. It brushed the final frame.
I brought it back.
The second time, I rushed the middle obstacle. Metal struck wood with a considerably less discreet clunk.
Draco glanced over.
He said nothing, which showed an unexpected degree of restraint.
On the third attempt, I waited for the rotating frame to reach the right position. The hoop passed through, paused briefly, then eased past the last obstacle.
Flitwick, who had been watching from the next desk, nodded in approval.
"A marked improvement, Mr Peverell. Have you been practising over the summer?"
"A little."
Draco made a quiet noise.
The professor smiled.
"It shows. Now try following the same route in reverse."
That took longer.
Blaise finished the first set, and after a few more attempts, Draco was given the harder version too. When he finally completed it, he looked round at us, apparently ready to point out that he'd said it would be easy all along.
"You did it," I said before he could open his mouth.
He looked at the hoop and smiled.
"Yes."
I understood his satisfaction.
For a little longer, I kept turning my own hoop in the air, testing whether I could change its direction more smoothly than before.
Flitwick ended the lesson with a few pointers and a short homework assignment. I left the classroom in a good mood.
The summer's practice really had made a difference.
Even when Frederick wasn't standing over me, telling me what I was doing wrong.
On the way to Defence, we passed a girl telling her friend about meeting Lockhart in Diagon Alley.
Draco waited until they were behind us.
"I don't understand what people see in him."
"Teeth," Blaise replied.
We both looked at him.
"He has very nice teeth. Difficult to miss."
I snorted.
"Perhaps he'll teach us to dazzle our opponents with a smile."
"Save that comment until the end of the lesson," Blaise said, opening the door. "It might turn out to be on the syllabus."
Lockhart wasn't in the classroom.
There was no shortage of his likenesses, though.
On one poster, he stood with his wand raised above his head. On another, he leaned against a rock, gazing into the distance. Above the blackboard, his smile was so broad that I was beginning to appreciate Blaise's point.
We took seats roughly halfway down the room.
"This has to be a joke," Draco muttered.
"I'd be delighted."
The door opened before we could add anything else.
The professor entered looking as though he expected an ovation. His blue robes were immaculate, as was his hair.
He placed a stack of parchments on the desk.
"Good morning, everyone! Welcome to your first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. I'm certain we have a truly fascinating year ahead of us."
I had no doubt about that.
"Many of you will already know me, of course. But allow me to introduce myself to those who haven't yet had the pleasure."
He straightened.
"Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award!"
He paused.
A few people began to clap.
Draco leaned towards me.
"An award for smiling."
"Five times."
"True. That changes things."
Lockhart wrote his name on the board and underlined it twice. Then he began telling us about the experience he would be sharing.
Dark creatures. Curses. People saved at the last possible moment.
It all sounded impressive.
A shame most of it had happened to someone else.
"Before we go any further, let's test your knowledge," he announced, lifting the parchments. "A short quiz."
Blaise reached for his quill. Draco sat a little straighter.
I waited.
When Lockhart placed a sheet in front of me, he paused.
"Peverell, isn't it?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Of course! Difficult not to hear that name lately. I trust all that unpleasantness with the Ministry has been cleared up?"
"Not entirely."
"Then I wish you the best of luck. Fame can be a burden, believe me."
I was sure he knew all about fame.
Especially other people's.
"Thank you, Professor."
He moved on, and I read the first question.
What does Gilderoy Lockhart most enjoy doing in his spare time?
The next asked about his preferred robe colour. Further questions concerned his achievements, tastes, and favourite dish.
Last night's joke at dinner had proved disturbingly accurate.
Draco bent over his paper.
"It's a test about him."
"I noticed."
He turned the parchment over, as though the real questions might be on the back.
They weren't.
I read to the end, then raised my hand.
"Yes, Mr Peverell?"
"Professor, have we been given the right test?"
Lockhart blinked.
"Of course. Why do you ask?"
"I couldn't find any questions about Defence Against the Dark Arts."
A stifled giggle came from the back of the room.
The professor's smile widened.
"To learn effective defence, one must first become familiar with the experience of those who have mastered it in practice."
"I see. When will we get to the practical part?"
"Very soon. For now, please concentrate on the test."
"Of course, Professor."
I lowered my hand.
Draco was looking at his parchment in a noticeably better mood than before.
I remembered a few answers from the passages I'd read. I left the rest blank.
My quill hovered a little longer over the question about Lockhart's greatest ambition.
In the end, I left that blank too.
When the professor collected our papers, he glanced at mine.
"Oh, Mr Peverell. I see there is still quite a lot to catch up on."
"Apparently."
"You'll find all the answers in my books."
I didn't doubt it. The problem was that I had entirely different questions.
After the test, Lockhart opened one of his books at a marked page.
"Let me tell you about an encounter with a particularly aggressive werewolf."
For the first few minutes, I listened carefully.
I didn't believe he'd taken part in the story, but I wanted to know whether he could draw anything useful from it. Someone must have dealt with the threat he was describing.
We heard about the night, the forest, the terrified villagers, and Lockhart's courage.
He devoted considerable attention to how little chance he'd stood.
Rather less to what he'd actually done.
At the crucial moment, he raised his wand.
"And then I knew exactly how to end the encounter. One perfectly aimed spell turned the tide!"
He closed the book.
I waited to see whether he would add anything.
He didn't.
I raised my hand.
"What spell did you use?"
"A defensive spell, naturally."
"Which one?"
Lockhart regarded me for a moment.
"I'm afraid it was considerably more advanced than anything suitable for second-years."
"I wasn't going to cast it. I just wanted to know."
"Curiosity is a valuable quality. But you must remember that learning advanced spells without the proper preparation can be dangerous."
I'd heard a similar warning the previous evening.
At least Snape hadn't used it to avoid answering a question about his own lesson.
"I understand, Professor."
Lockhart turned to the board.
Draco slid his parchment a little closer to me. He'd drawn a man with an enormous smile and a tiny wand.
Blaise examined the sketch.
"Not enough hair."
Draco added a few lines.
I made no comment. I was still hoping to hear something worth writing down.
We reached the end of the lesson without hearing the name of a single spell.
Lockhart told another story, praised several pupils for their test results, and assigned some chapters to read. When the bell rang, I closed my book with relief.
In the corridor, Draco immediately took out his test.
"His favourite dish. I actually spent part of a lesson wondering what that man eats for dinner."
"At least you'll know what to serve if he ever visits," Blaise said.
"He won't."
We headed towards the stairs.
"Are you going to keep asking questions like that all year?" Draco asked me.
"If he's going to tell us about defeating monsters, I'd like to hear how he did it occasionally."
"He didn't look pleased."
"Neither was I."
Lockhart knew how to talk to people. He held their attention, built suspense, and gave the impression of a man who knew what he was talking about.
If I hadn't known his story, I might have given him more time.
But I remembered where the books had come from. I also remembered what he did to the people whose achievements he claimed.
I didn't consider him a harmless fool.
For now, though, all I had were memories from a previous life and one dreadful lesson. I couldn't explain the first to Dumbledore. The second proved nothing about stealing other people's accomplishments or destroying their memories.
I wasn't going to start making accusations I couldn't support.
Nor was I going to pretend to admire him.
"Oliver?"
I looked at Draco.
"What?"
"Are you coming to lunch?"
"Yes."
"Then come on. Did you leave something in there?"
"Only the hope of learning anything."
Draco laughed and went ahead.
Over lunch, the conversation returned to Charms.
Draco explained how he'd got past the rotating frame, taking the opportunity to point out that he'd done it without help.
Which was true.
Blaise thought it would have been easier to slow down before the turn rather than correct the angle at the last moment. Draco maintained that this was exactly what he'd intended.
I stayed out of it.
I concentrated on my food, then checked Nathaniel's note.
"I'm going to the library later."
"On the first day?" Draco asked.
"I have a few things to look up."
"Wasn't the family library enough?"
"I was looking up different things there."
He shook his head.
"You need a hobby that doesn't involve reading."
"I play chess."
"With your grandfather."
"It's still chess."
"Have you won yet?"
I returned to my plate.
Draco grinned.
"I see."
"It's a matter of time."
"Of course."
When I had some free time that afternoon, I went to the library.
Near one of the staircases, two first-years were trying to work out why the route that had led to the right floor a moment ago no longer did.
I pointed them towards the neighbouring corridor. They thanked me and went on, casting suspicious looks back at the stairs.
After a year at Hogwarts, I knew which passages could be trusted.
Usually.
Madam Pince looked up as I entered.
"Mr Peverell."
"Good afternoon."
Her gaze shifted to my bag.
"No food."
"I haven't brought any."
She regarded me as though considering a search, then returned to her work.
I headed between the shelves.
Nathaniel had listed several topics concerning the persistence of magic and methods of examining old spells. Not all of them related directly to my eyes. Some were meant to help me understand what I was actually seeing.
I chose two books on wards and one on examining old magical objects.
The last had the most promising title.
After a few pages, I decided the author considered examples a sign of intellectual weakness.
I read the same paragraph for the third time.
Then I put the book down.
"It doesn't look particularly interesting."
Hermione stood on the other side of the table with textbooks in her arms.
"Hello. Have a seat."
She sat down and glanced at the cover.
"Examining Lasting Magical Structures. Sounds interesting."
"That's what I thought. The author is doing his best to change my mind."
She smiled as she laid out her things.
"Have you had Defence yet?"
"Yes. I learned the professor's favourite colour."
Her face brightened.
"You had the test too? How did you do?"
"I left quite a few blanks."
"Haven't you read the books?"
"Some of them. I wasn't paying much attention to his personal tastes."
"But he mentions them quite often."
"Apparently, I should have been taking notes."
Hermione studied me more closely.
"Didn't you enjoy the lesson?"
"I was hoping for a little more Defence Against the Dark Arts."
"It's only the start of the year."
"We've already used our wands in Flitwick's class."
"Professor Lockhart has his own way of teaching."
I looked at her textbook. The smiling author adjusted his hair.
"I noticed."
Hermione opened her mouth, then merely shook her head and took out some parchment.
We returned to our work.
In the book on wards, I found a short discussion of the difference between a spell wearing out and changes in the material it had been anchored to. It didn't cover the subject fully, but at least it included examples.
I wrote down the title and chapter number.
Nathaniel might know it. If not, I had something to mention in my letter.
After a while, Hermione pushed an open textbook towards me.
"I checked the passage you mentioned yesterday."
"About the second version?"
"Yes. The author assumes the object has a uniform structure."
"That's right."
"And you didn't specify that in your example."
I leaned over the page.
"Because I was comparing the number of stages."
"You only get to leave one out because of that assumption."
I read the passage she indicated.
It was an annoyingly reasonable objection.
"It still takes fewer steps."
"Under certain conditions."
"Most spells work under certain conditions."
"Oliver."
"All right. I should have specified it."
She looked satisfied, but the discussion didn't end there. We began comparing examples, then tried to find one where the shorter method really would be insufficient.
Madam Pince looked our way twice.
The second time, we both lowered our voices before she could stand up.
When I closed the last book, there was less time before dinner than I'd thought.
I hadn't checked everything on the list.
But I understood one thing better.
That seemed a fair result.
At dinner, Draco asked whether I'd found anything interesting.
"A few things."
"A good day, then?"
"Apart from Defence."
"At least we can agree on that."
The rest of the meal passed in conversation about lessons and pupils who had already managed to get themselves into trouble on the first day.
Nothing remarkable happened.
It did me good.
That evening, back in the common room, I chose a table and took out some parchment.
I'd promised to write home.
I began with a simple sentence.
I arrived at Hogwarts without any trouble.
I looked at it.
The journey itself had been peaceful. Still, I decided the next paragraph ought to explain the rest as quickly as possible.
I described the article Draco had shown me, noting that it concerned both my disappearance and the Ministry's handling of it. Then I moved on to the meeting in Dumbledore's office.
The search was being called off. The official had accepted my explanation and the documents, but the question of my care remained unresolved.
I listed the copies he'd kept before Joseph could ask.
I also added Dumbledore's question about consent to medical treatment. Arthur ought to know that we hadn't addressed it.
I finished that part by explaining that no one intended to send me away from school, and that the next steps should be decided before Christmas.
I read it through.
It sounded more serious than I'd meant it to.
So I added something about Flitwick and the exercise with the hoops. Frederick would probably be interested in the harder version. I was almost certain he would read the description and decide the frames had been rotating too slowly.
Lockhart needed only one sentence.
Professor Lockhart began the year with a test of our knowledge of Professor Lockhart.
No comment required.
I also mentioned the library and the book I wanted to discuss with Nathaniel.
Before signing, I remembered Snape.
I wrote that he had read Frederick's work and advised me not to waste what I'd learned over the summer.
That would probably be enough for Frederick to spend a week reminding everyone that even the Hogwarts staff appreciated his achievements.
Oh well.
At least he would be pleased.
For Evelyn, I added that I was eating regularly, the bed was comfortable, and I had everything I needed.
I folded the parchment and addressed it to the Peverell estate. Hedwig would have no trouble delivering it.
I would send her in the morning.
"To the Ministry?"
I looked up.
Draco stood beside the table with a mug in his hand.
"My family."
"Oh."
He sat opposite me.
"One letter for everyone?"
"That's what we agreed. Anunu will show it to them."
"And they all read the same one?"
"Unless they start arguing over who gets it first."
Draco snorted.
I put down my quill and closed the ink bottle.
"And they…" He began, then stopped, as though searching for the right words. "Do they really act like family? Not just answer when you ask them something?"
I looked at him.
"Try telling Evelyn you're not hungry when she thinks you ought to be."
"Sounds like my mother."
"Or telling Frederick you don't want to practise when he's just had a good idea."
"Do you?"
"Sometimes. Then he explains why I'm wrong."
Draco turned the mug in his hands.
"I thought portraits mostly repeated what they'd been taught."
"Some probably do. Ours can argue perfectly well without me. I've walked into rooms to find them deciding what I should do with the rest of my day."
"What do you do then?"
"Remind them I'd like to know too."
He smiled a little.
"It must be strange. Having that many people at home."
"It can get noisy."
For a while, we sat in silence. The fire crackled, and at a nearby table someone was taking too long over a chess move. His pieces were beginning to lose patience.
Draco took a sip.
"You really like it there?"
"Yes."
He nodded.
"Good, then."
He didn't press any further.
Blaise called us over from near the fireplace. Apparently, one of the players needed someone to confirm that sacrificing his rook had made sense.
Draco stood.
"Coming?"
I checked the time. There was still a while before bed.
"Why not?"
I put the letter in my bag and followed him.
We returned to the dormitory late that evening.
Draco maintained that sacrificing the rook had been a terrible mistake. Blaise insisted that it had opened up an attack the player had then failed to use.
I wasn't going to settle the argument without setting up the position again.
I laid out my books for the next day. The Defence textbook ended up on top.
Lockhart smiled at me from the cover.
I opened the assigned chapter and read the beginning. This time, I paid attention to how much space he devoted to the spells and how much to himself.
The result wasn't particularly surprising.
I closed the book.
Fortunately, I had access to others.
I put out the lamp and slipped beneath the covers.
The first day of lessons had ended without a visit to the hospital wing, a conversation with an official, or the discovery of something that wanted to kill me.
Instead, I'd enjoyed Flitwick's exercise, spent time with friends, found a useful book, and written my first letter home.
It was difficult to complain.
There was still Lockhart.
I could complain about him.
And I probably would.