"Good morning, students."
"Good morning, Professor Sprout."
It was their first class since arriving back at Hogwarts: Herbology.
"Welcome, second-years, to Greenhouse Three. Gather round, everyone," Professor Sprout instructed. "Today we'll be learning how to repot mandrakes. Can anyone tell me what mandrake root is used for?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air. She gave the perfect answer—mandrakes could be used to make a restorative draught capable of curing petrification, but their adult cries were fatal.
"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor."
Hermione cast Kevin a smug little look, chin tilted up as if to say, See how brilliant I am?
Kevin could only give her a thumbs-up in reply.
The demonstration began. These were young mandrakes, so their cries weren't lethal, but earmuffs were still required. Poor Neville fainted anyway.
Kevin's technique, however, was flawless—quick, precise, and exactly as shown.
"Five points to Gryffindor," Sprout praised.
This time, it was Kevin's turn to lift his chin toward Hermione in mock pride. She rolled her eyes, though there was a smile in them.
Harry and Ron, watching nearby, exchanged looks. "Hopeless," their expressions seemed to say.
After Herbology, the group headed toward the Great Hall for lunch.
Draco Malfoy suddenly appeared, striding past as though he weren't speaking to them.
"Kevin," he murmured without looking, "you'd better watch yourself. My father won't let you off easily. And you lot—this term might not be safe. Be careful."
Then he lengthened his stride and was gone.
Kevin knew Draco wouldn't dare be seen with them too much now, but the warning was genuine.
"See? Told you he wasn't all bad," Ron muttered.
They'd actually grown less hostile toward Draco since last year's dragon incident—Norbert, still living in Hagrid's hut thanks to Dumbledore shrinking and taming him.
"Kevin, do you think they'll send someone to Hogwarts for revenge?" Hermione asked, worry creeping into her voice.
"Not unless it's a professor-level threat. And even then, this is Dumbledore's school," Kevin said calmly. "Now, let's eat—we've got Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon."
Ron agreed enthusiastically, racing Kevin back to the Hall. Harry and Hermione followed at a slower pace, still doubtful about their lack of concern.
That afternoon, they entered the Defense classroom. A small second-floor balcony overlooked the room. From there descended Gilderoy Lockhart, his teeth flashing in a dazzling smile.
"Dear students," he began, "allow me to introduce your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor… me—Gilderoy Lockhart."
He launched into a monologue about his many supposed achievements, basking in the admiration of several starstruck witches. The boys, however, exchanged pained looks.
Hermione listened at first, but when she caught Kevin's faintly sulky expression, she smothered a laugh. Without comment, she reached over to pat his head—her silent way of soothing him.
"Beautiful Miss Granger, no distractions in class, please," Lockhart said with a wink.
Now the whole class was staring at them. Hermione drew back, cheeks warm. Kevin, however, puffed his chest as if announcing to everyone, She touched me.
"Right then—quiz time!" Lockhart said, handing out test papers filled with questions about his favourite colour, ideal gift, greatest achievement, and so on.
Hermione, who had read all of his books, flew through it. Kevin leaned over and shamelessly copied her answers—though with one small twist.
If Hermione wrote "lavender," Kevin wrote "deep purple." If she put "banishing dark creatures," Kevin changed it to "banishing angels." It was rebellion disguised as accuracy.
By the time Lockhart marked them, Hermione's was nearly perfect. Kevin's, however, was a spectacular zero.
Lockhart's smile froze for a moment before returning. "Well! Let's move on. Today, we'll be tackling one of the foulest creatures in the wizarding world."
He whipped the cloth off a large cage—to reveal a dozen Cornish pixies.
The class laughed.
Lockhart ignored them, opening the cage. "Let's see how you handle them!"
The pixies shot into the air like blue darts.
The classroom erupted in chaos—books flying, hair yanked, Neville dangling from the chandelier.
Lockhart raised his wand, but a pixie snatched it from his hand.
He retreated hastily up to his office, calling, "I'll leave you to round them up!" and slammed the door.
Hermione stared in disbelief. Kevin, meanwhile, hadn't moved, and no pixie dared approach him.
When one did swoop toward Hermione, Kevin caught it midair, spun, and sent it hurtling into two others like a living bludger.
Then, with a flick of his wand, he cast a modified Incendio Fulminis—a chain-lightning charm.
Yellow bolts leapt from pixie to pixie, dropping them in seconds, singed but alive.
Gasps filled the room.
Kevin levitated the unconscious pixies neatly back into their cage, locking it with a snap.
Neville floated gently to the floor, and with another wave, the wrecked classroom repaired itself, desks and papers sliding back into place.
"Kevin, what spell was that?" Harry asked in awe.
"Oh, just a little variation on a spark charm," Kevin replied casually.
Harry could only stare.