The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom buzzed with low conversation.
Ravenclaw students had claimed their seats early, and more than a few had copies of Lockhart's books open on their desks. This term's reading list was easily the longest and most expensive yet. Whispers circled the room—would this year's Defense class actually teach them something, or was it going to be another disaster?
"I have a feeling this class is going to suck," Theo muttered, flipping open his textbook and already looking more bored than he ever had in History of Magic.
"Neville said the professor pulled off quite the stunt in the Gryffindor lesson," Adam whispered from beside him.
"That was just an accident," Padma said quickly. She didn't like talking about professors behind their backs, and she was still one of Lockhart's more enthusiastic readers.
"Accident or not, Hermione and Neville had to clean up the mess afterward," Michael said, covering his mouth to hide a grin. The moment he'd heard the story, he'd known this year's Defense class was probably doomed.
At least in first year Professor Quirrell had managed to teach something, even if he stammered through every sentence. Snape had filled in the gaps afterward, so they'd actually walked away with a few useful spells. This year already felt different.
Padma opened her mouth, then closed it again. She had no good defense left.
The door clicked open.
Gilderoy Lockhart swept into the room like a golden whirlwind, robes shimmering in every shade of garish. Rock watched him and could only think one thing: Who needs that many sets of robes? Dumbledore owned plenty too, but at least the headmaster's clothes didn't look like they were trying to blind everyone within twenty feet.
Lockhart's entire outfit screamed one word: flashy.
"Good afternoon, class!" His voice boomed with theatrical confidence. "I am Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award—"
He paused for dramatic effect.
"—and, for the time being, your professor."
"Your aunt's got a real head for business," Rock murmured to Theo without moving his lips much.
"Naturally," Theo answered just as quietly. "The man might not have real skill, but he knows how to make witches open their wallets. My aunt runs little promotions for him every so often. Whenever there's a contest or event, he rallies the fans and sales spike."
Rock shook his head. He had to admit—it was a solid strategy.
Lockhart finished his introduction and scanned the room, clearly expecting a wave of adoring stares. Most of the Ravenclaws simply watched him with polite, neutral expressions. Only a handful of obvious fans looked starstruck. The Hufflepuffs were a little warmer—mostly the girls—but even they looked faintly confused.
Lockhart's smile twitched, but he waved it off like it didn't matter.
"Before we begin today's lesson, let's have a little quiz," he announced brightly. "Highest score wins a signed copy of my latest book!"
He dropped the blackboard with a flourish. Every single question was about him. Even "How does Gilderoy Lockhart keep his teeth so brilliantly white?" made the list.
Rock pinched the bridge of his nose, picked up his quill, and started working through the questions. The classroom filled with the scratch of feathers on parchment. Lockhart looked deeply pleased with himself and settled into the chair behind his desk, occasionally flashing that eight-tooth smile whenever anyone glanced up.
Rock had the distinct impression the man was using the quiz as an excuse to show off.
To keep from losing his appetite later, Rock read every question first, then answered them all in one efficient burst. Theo reached over without hesitation, dragged Rock's parchment closer, and began copying word for word.
"I'm not slacking," Theo muttered. "These questions have zero educational value. I'm not wasting brain cells on this nonsense."
Half an hour later Lockhart stood, had a few obvious fans collect the parchments, and began grading them with great ceremony. An entire class period had already vanished.
"Oh! Clearly many of you have been reading my books with great care," he declared, beaming. He read out several names—including Rock's and Theo's—and looked thrilled. "For achieving full marks, I'm awarding Ravenclaw five points! To every student I just named!"
"See?" Theo whispered, rolling his eyes. "I copied it word for word and he barely even noticed."
Rock just smiled.
Lockhart clapped his hands. The door opened again and several house-elves wheeled in a large cage covered with a heavy cloth.
"Now then," Lockhart said with exaggerated drama, "today we're going to face a truly nasty little creature—the Cornish pixie!"
The Ravenclaw students exchanged glances.
Seriously? Even the lesson plan was identical to the one he'd used with Gryffindor?
Word of what had happened in the Gryffindor lesson had already spread. But this professor clearly had no idea—or simply didn't care.
The house-elves set the cage down and retreated. Lockhart strode over to it like he was center stage at a circus. With a theatrical flourish he whipped the cloth away, beaming at the class as if he'd just performed a miracle.
Inside the cage, more than twenty iron-blue, pointy-eared, wrinkly little creatures immediately began making extremely rude gestures at the students.
"Merlin's beard, these things have no manners whatsoever!" one of the Hufflepuff students blurted.
"My dear children," Lockhart said, straightening up as though he'd just uncovered some profound truth. He gestured grandly at the cage. "A swarm of Cornish pixies can drag a grown wizard to the ground and rip his ears off for sport!"
"In my book I describe in vivid detail how I used nothing but a single wand and one clever binding charm to subdue an entire cauldron full of rampaging Cornish pixies. Would you like to hear the details?"
The response made no sense in context.
Rock had a strong suspicion that Lockhart had planned the entire lesson in advance—quiz, pixies, dramatic reveal, and all—just to promote himself and his books. No matter what question a student asked, the man would steer everything straight back to his prepared script.