The afternoon bell had already rung.
Anthony tapped the desk, not bothering to hide his impatience. "The bell's gone, and there's still only…"
He turned, gesturing at the nearly empty classroom. "Just a handful of us… Neville, where's Harry?"
"I dunno… Haven't seen him since lunch." Neville shrugged. "Probably off with Ron and Hermione. None of them are here."
"Didn't the girls say they were going to get Gilderoy Lockhart's autograph?" Michael yawned. "Maybe they're all ambushing him together, so now they're all late."
Chris pointed around the room. "Actually, there are loads of people—look! The walls are covered in portraits of Gilderoy Lockhart! And every single one moves!"
It was standard for professors to decorate their classrooms with subject-related bits and bobs: potion jars in the dungeons, all those plants in the greenhouses… all little personal touches.
Lockhart clearly wasn't about to miss his chance. He'd hung his own portraits everywhere—on the walls, propped up on the bookshelves—each one beaming with that famous, eight-toothed grin.
Luckily, the dragon skeleton still hung from the ceiling, so Wyzett and the others could be sure this portrait gallery really was the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
Terry leaned over to Wyzett. "Hey, Wyzett! I've just had an idea—why don't you use a Summoning Charm to bring Gilderoy Lockhart straight here? Let's see what he's up to!"
As he spoke, a commotion rose outside the door.
Then came Lockhart's unmistakable voice: "Come now, Mr. Creevey—let's have a photo together! Wonderful! We'll both sign it for you. Harry, give us a smile…"
First, a crowd of girls swept into the classroom, followed by a very red-faced Harry, with Hermione and Ron trailing behind.
And finally, Lockhart himself strutted in, dressed to the nines in turquoise robes trimmed with shimmering silver tassels. With every step toward the podium, the tassels swung and caught the light, dazzling everyone in sight.
"I! Gilderoy Lockhart!" he announced, and every portrait in the room turned to look. "Recipient of the Order of Merlin, Third Class!"
The portraits burst into applause. "Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League! Five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award!"
Lockhart flashed his brightest smile, clearly relishing every accolade.
The girls in the front row clapped enthusiastically.
Wyzett wasn't the least bit surprised. Witch Weekly was a bit like The Quibbler—a light, gossipy magazine, mostly for witches. It had advice columns, recipes, horoscopes, and plenty of celebrity news.
He'd even seen a copy in the Burrow's kitchen once, when Molly was cooking stew with a Witch Weekly recipe.
Winning the Most Charming Smile Award five times meant Lockhart was genuinely adored—hence all those devoted female fans.
Basking in the applause, Lockhart produced a stack of test papers. "I'm absolutely delighted to see you've all bought my complete works!"
"Now, a simple little quiz—if you've read my books and absorbed their wisdom, you'll have no trouble at all!"
Wyzett watched, puzzled. According to Break with a Banshee, Lockhart should be brilliant at the Levitation Charm. Yet here he was, handing out the papers one by one, instead of just floating them around the room.
Anthony skimmed the questions, then muttered under his breath, "What are these? 'What's Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?'"
"'What do you think is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement?' Is this Defense Against the Dark Arts or a fan club quiz?"
Half the class slipped by, and Lockhart collected the tests, muttering as he marked.
"Very good—remember, my birthday is January twenty-sixth…"
"I've graded several already, but no one remembered I like lilac—that's the color of forget-me-nots, so easy to remember! I mentioned it in my book about the yeti…"
While Lockhart graded, Wyzett found his mind wandering, thinking wistfully of Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons.
He wondered how Quirrell was doing, and how much progress he'd made with the Philosopher's Stone…
He wasn't alone. His roommates seemed to feel the same.
"At least Quirrell actually taught us stuff," Michael grumbled. "But this Lockhart… what, does he want me to worship him? Sorry, I don't swing that way!"
"It's Professor Quirrell…" Wyzett corrected softly.
Anthony nodded. "Exactly! Compared to Lockhart, I'd call him Professor Quirrell any day!"
At last, Lockhart finished marking and clapped his hands. "Excellent! Two students got full marks! Let's see…"
"Hermione Granger of Gryffindor and Wyzett Lovegood of Ravenclaw—ten points each for your houses!"
Michael stared at Wyzett in disbelief. "Wyzett! You… got full marks? I can't accept this!"
The rest of the boys looked equally scandalized.
Wyzett replied calmly, "I just can't stand leaving blanks. I always answer every question and do my best to be accurate."
"He's got a point. The quiz was easy—if you'd read his books, all the answers were right there."
"Actually, they're not that bad." He opened Travels with Trolls and pointed to his notes. "There's quite a lot of useful stuff in here."
Chris took the book, flipping through a page. "Are we even reading the same book?"
"You need some extra academic references," Wyzett explained. "Some of the theories are genuinely interesting."
"Most of the methods for dealing with dark creatures can be cross-checked in real academic texts—it's just a bit of a hassle."
"I guess I should give these books a proper look… I was too quick to judge before." Chris pushed the book back. "As a Ravenclaw, I can't just skim and forget!"
Anthony and the others grew curious, too, each asking Wyzett for his academic reading list—planning to tackle the books from a new angle.
Just then, Lockhart wheeled out a huge iron cage, draped with a red cloth. Something inside was chittering and screeching.
"This is Defense Against the Dark Arts!" he declared, his hand poised dramatically on the cloth, voice grave. "You'll be facing all sorts of dark magical challenges!"
"You must defend against curses and hexes—and face terrifying magical creatures! I hope you'll all stay calm as you meet these dreadful monsters!"
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