The danger of magic is that it is ever-changing, unpredictable, and influenced by the emotions of the caster.
Professor Flitwick repeatedly emphasized how essential it was to maintain focus and control over one's will while casting spells.
Any lapse in concentration could cause unexpected results.
He also introduced various techniques for refining magical control, something that could be improved with practice, though some students, like Hermione, seemed to have a natural affinity for it.
Seamus's earlier explosion had set the mood for chaos, and now the rest of the class was eager to test their luck.
The room was filled with the constant sound of spells being cast, balloons popping, and occasional small-scale disasters.
Professor Flitwick had come well-prepared, providing a large sack of enchanted balloons as spell targets.
Even Hermione, usually so precise, struggled at first. Her first attempt resulted in a minor explosion that left her hair looking like she'd been struck by lightning.
Ted had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.
But Hermione, ever the determined student, quickly learned from her mistakes.
After a dozen tries, she successfully cast the spell, inflating a balloon to the perfect size with barely any flaws.
Other students were not as fortunate.
Harley, as expected, put too much power into her spell, sending balloons zipping around the room like rogue Bludgers.
Neville and Jerry couldn't manage to inflate theirs at all, no matter how many times they tried.
And then there was Ron.
Ron, being Ron, cast, "Engorgio!" with a flourish—and his wand, already malfunctioning, shot out a plume of green smoke.
A moment later, Flitwick let out a surprised yelp as a massive lump the size of a Quaffle swelled up on his forehead.
The entire class fell silent.
Professor Flitwick blinked in stunned silence, touching his now-enlarged forehead.
"Well," he said after a moment, voice dry, "that was… unexpected."
Ron looked absolutely horrified.
His wand had already shown signs of being unreliable, but this?
This was a whole new level of betrayal.
By the time lunch rolled around, the morning's disasters had become the highlight of hallway gossip.
Unfortunately for Ron, his wand wasn't finished with its antics yet.
In Transfiguration, the class was supposed to turn beetles into buttons.
Harley's beetle simply wouldn't stay still, forcing her to chase it around the table.
Neville's beetle just… played dead.
It wouldn't move, twitch, or react at all.
Jerry's beetle mysteriously vanished after he cast his spell.
No one ever found it...
And Ron?
Ron's wand let out a puff of black smoke and incinerated his beetle on the spot.
McGonagall, to her credit, barely reacted. She simply sighed and said, "Mr. Weasley, I do hope you'll acquire a functional wand before you turn me into a pile of ash."
That afternoon, Ted and the others had Herbology, where they learned to repot Mandrakes.
The little creatures were, in short, hideous and mean-spirited.
Pulling them from their pots was a nightmare.
They thrashed, kicked, and wailed in protest.
And when it was time to put them into their new pots?
They refused to go back in.
Ted, however, had a different approach.
When one particularly feisty Mandrake refused to cooperate, Ted simply punched it in its tiny, screeching face, stuffed it into the pot, and patted the soil down with a satisfied nod.
"May you thrive, you ugly little menace," he muttered.
Later that evening, the fallout from the flying car incident finally caught up to them.
Since Harley, Ron, and Neville had crashed school property, they were all assigned detention.
Neville was handed over to Lockhart, who promptly forced him to respond to fan mail.
The sheer number of letters was overwhelming, and the contents, according to Neville, were downright nauseating.
"I swear, I'd rather be in Snape's basement gutting slugs than listen to Lockhart talk about himself," he groaned after two hours of writing.
Harley, on the other hand, had been assigned to Snape, who had her organizing potion ingredients.
Compared to the others, this was practically a vacation.
Ron, however, had the worst luck of all.
Filch set him to cleaning—scrubbing toilets, polishing trophies, and mopping floors without magic.
Even with Ted's enchanted cleaning rag, it was a nightmare.
The next morning, Ted woke early for his usual morning run.
As he stretched, Neville mentioned he was heading to help Professor Sprout tend to the Whomping Willow, which had taken a serious beating from their crash.
Curious, Ted decided to tag along.
To his surprise, another student was already there—Hufflepuff's resident powerhouse, Gov Oasis.
The guy was built like a troll, already standing at nearly six feet tall with broad shoulders.
As Ted approached, Gov gave him a nod of acknowledgment before returning to his task.
Neville and Ted were already among the tallest in their year, but Gov—a third-year Hufflepuff—towered over them like a fully grown troll.
At just thirteen, he was built like a castle wall, broad-shouldered and solid as steel.
Ted had only just met this seemingly intimidating but surprisingly shy student through Neville's introduction when Professor Sprout emerged from the castle.
Her usual cheerful demeanor was noticeably absent.
Trailing behind her was none other than Gilderoy Lockhart, his robes embroidered with silver thread and his hair shining as though freshly polished.
He was talking incessantly, practically skipping to keep up with Sprout's brisk pace.
"I have at least twelve tried-and-true methods for treating the Whomping Willow," Lockhart declared, dramatically gesturing with his hands.
"Really, Pomona, no one understands magical flora better than me—"
Professor Sprout's patience, legendary though it was, had finally worn thin.
She stopped abruptly, turning to face him with a forced smile.
"Professor Lockhart, I am the Herbology professor. I know how to treat the Whomping Willow. What I don't need is one of your dozen methods accidentally killing it."
"Oh, well," Lockhart drawled, clearly undeterred.
"If you need anything—and I do mean anything—you know where to find me. Always happy to lend my expertise."
Ted grimaced. "Ugh, it's way too early for this."
Despite its infamous temper, the Whomping Willow behaved itself in front of Professor Sprout.
Ted, Neville, and Goof assisted her by wrapping its damaged limbs with magic-infused bandages, applying buckets of healing potions and herb salves to the split trunk, and burying dragon dung fertilizer at its roots.
Once the work was done, Ted and Neville glanced toward Hagrid's hut.
The groundskeeper's home wasn't far from the Willow, and sure enough, Hagrid was outside, shaking out a massive bearskin rug.
"Oi! Ted, Neville!" Hagrid boomed, beaming at them. "Have a good summer?"
"Morning, Hagrid!"
"Good to see you, Hagrid!"
The half-giant sighed dramatically, shaking his head.
"Not that good! That ruddy Lockhart came 'round first thing this mornin' to tell me how to handle kelpies.
KEPLIES! I live next to the Black Lake! I told him he could go explain his method to the kelpies himself, see how that turns out.
And then he started talkin' about flesh-eatin' slugs—said no one knew how to get rid o' them better than him! If I took his advice, I'd become a flesh-eatin' slug!"
Ted and Neville exchanged knowing looks.
Lockhart had been at Hogwarts for two days and had already managed to irritate most of the staff.
Hagrid, clearly on a roll, leaned in conspiratorially.
"You lot wouldn't believe the nonsense he got up to back when he was a student. Sent himself dozens o' Valentine's Day letters one year
—got caught and spent weeks in detention! He even tried addin' his name to the house point hourglasses. Cheatin' at school pride, can ya believe it?"
Soon enough, it was time for their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson with Lockhart.
Ted, well aware of the curse on this position, started taking bets before class on how long Lockhart would last.
One term? Two weeks? One lesson?
To be fair, Lockhart was famous.
His books were bestsellers, and he was well-known beyond Britain's magical community.
He had even managed to snag a Third-Class Order of Merlin and had won five Witch Weekly Most-Charming-Smile Awards.
So, some students still held onto a shred of hope.
Then Lockhart waltzed in with a massive stack of papers.
All hope died instantly.
As he handed out the "quiz," the groans of students filled the room.
The questions had nothing to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts.
[What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?]
[What gift does Lockhart most desire?]
[What is Lockhart's greatest ambition?]
The expressions on most students' faces were pure disbelief.
'What the bloody hell is this?'
Who am I? Where am I? Is this a Defense class or a Lockhart fan club meeting?
But the real shocker came at the end.
Only one student got a perfect score.
Lockhart scanned the page, then looked up, flashing his signature dazzling smile.
"Ted Epifani? Who's Ted?"
Ted stood up. "That would be me, Professor."
The entire class turned to stare.
Neville mouthed,
'What the hell, Ted?!'
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Word count: 1498
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