(Author's note: I am not a writer, just taking my first step into creating fanfiction. I heavily used ChatGPT, so if there's anything wrong or things I should add, inform me so I can fix it.)
The second-year Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom felt strangely crowded before the lesson had even begun. Stacks of glossy books covered nearly every desk, their bright covers reflecting the candlelight from the high sconces along the stone walls. Each one displayed the same dazzling smile and golden hair, making it seem as though the room had been filled with dozens of identical portraits. Evelyn paused just inside the doorway for a moment, studying the covers with quiet interest before walking further inside. The titles were familiar—she had read them all over the summer out of curiosity more than admiration. The stories themselves were entertaining, full of dramatic encounters and clever solutions to magical dangers, though she had noticed that some of the timelines described in different books overlapped in ways that made them difficult to reconcile. It was not something she had ever mentioned aloud. Authors sometimes adjusted events when telling stories, and she had no reason to embarrass someone over what might simply be narrative flair.
As usual, Evelyn made her way toward the Gryffindor side of the classroom instead of sitting with the Ravenclaws clustered near the back. No one questioned it anymore. She slid into the seat beside Harry, while Ron slumped into the chair on Harry's other side and Hermione carefully arranged an impressive stack of Lockhart's books across her desk. Hermione's eyes shone with excitement, and she kept smoothing the edges of the book covers as though making sure they were perfectly aligned. Ron stared at the same books with the expression of someone who had been forced to carry a particularly heavy trunk up several flights of stairs. He flipped open one of the volumes and grimaced at the glossy photograph of the author on the inside flap.
"I still can't believe we had to buy all of them," Ron muttered under his breath, nudging one of the books with his finger. "Seven books just so he can talk about himself."
Hermione immediately frowned at him. "They're not just about him," she whispered sharply. "They're accounts of real magical encounters. You could learn a lot from them if you actually read them."
Ron gave the book another skeptical glance before letting it drop back onto the desk. Harry leaned slightly closer to Evelyn and lowered his voice. "Did you read them?"
"Yes," Evelyn replied quietly, folding her hands on the desk as she looked over the cover of Magical Me. "They're interesting. Though some of the timelines are… difficult to align."
Ron blinked at her. "What does that mean?"
Evelyn tilted her head slightly as she considered how to explain it. "Certain events described in different books appear to occur at the same time in different places. It could simply be a narrative choice."
Ron stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. "Right. I'll take your word for it."
Before anyone could say anything else, the classroom door suddenly swung open with dramatic force. The conversation in the room died almost instantly as their new professor entered with sweeping confidence. Gilderoy Lockhart strode into the room as though stepping onto a stage, his bright turquoise robes catching the candlelight as he moved. His long blond hair gleamed, and the smile he wore was so wide and polished that it matched the photographs on the books perfectly. He paused just inside the room, allowing the silence to stretch for a moment as he looked around at the assembled students.
"Good morning, class!" Lockhart announced cheerfully, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked toward the front desk. "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—but I don't talk about that."
A few students chuckled politely. Hermione sat up straighter, her attention completely fixed on the professor. Lockhart gestured toward the piles of books on the desks with an approving nod.
"I see you've all obtained my complete works," he continued brightly. "Excellent. These volumes will serve as your guides through the many dangers of the magical world. Every page contains knowledge gathered through years of personal experience facing some of the most fearsome creatures and curses known to wizardkind."
As he spoke, Lockhart slowly walked along the front of the classroom, his eyes scanning the rows of students. His gaze paused suddenly when it reached Harry. The professor's expression lit up even more brightly, as though someone had added an extra candle to the room.
"Well, well, well," he said, clasping his hands together again. "If it isn't Harry Potter himself."
The entire class turned to look at Harry at once. Harry's shoulders sank slightly in his chair.
Lockhart laughed warmly. "Don't be shy, Harry. Fame can be a heavy burden at such a young age, but one must learn to carry it with grace."
Then his gaze shifted slightly.
His eyes landed on Evelyn.
Recognition spread across his face almost instantly, followed by an expression of delighted surprise.
"And if I'm not mistaken," Lockhart continued with theatrical enthusiasm, "we also have the pleasure of hosting young Evelyn Carmichael in this class."
More students turned in their seats.
Lockhart stepped closer, looking thoroughly pleased. "The youngest spell weaver in modern Britain. Quite the remarkable achievement for someone still at Hogwarts."
Evelyn remained calm beneath the sudden attention, though she could feel the curious stares of several students around the room.
Lockhart rested one hand dramatically against the desk. "Tell me, Evelyn—surely someone with your talent didn't spend the entire summer without inventing something new?"
Evelyn considered the question for a brief moment before answering evenly. "Most of my work over the summer was theoretical rather than practical. Nothing finished yet."
Lockhart leaned forward slightly, clearly intrigued. "But you have created spells before, of course."
"Yes."
"Perhaps you'd like to share one with the class?" he suggested brightly. "For educational purposes."
Evelyn glanced briefly toward Harry and Ron before speaking again. "One of the first spells I published was Shieldum. It creates a defensive barrier capable of blocking strong physical impacts. It can also extend outward slightly to protect nearby allies."
Lockhart's eyebrows rose with interest.
"It operates in a similar category to Protego," Evelyn added thoughtfully, "though its structure focuses more on resisting physical force."
Several students whispered quietly to each other.
Ron leaned toward Harry and murmured, "Still weird hearing someone our age explain spell theory."
Lockhart straightened again with a wide approving smile. "Excellent, Evelyn, excellent! Defensive magic is always an admirable pursuit. Reminds me somewhat of a protection charm I once used while battling a particularly aggressive ghoul in Transylvania."
Evelyn simply nodded politely.
Lockhart clapped his hands once. "Now then! Let's see how well you've all studied your assigned reading!"
With a flourish, he began distributing sheets of parchment across the classroom.
The parchment sheets slid across the desks one after another as Gilderoy Lockhart made his way down the rows with an energetic stride. He distributed them with a flourish that suggested the moment carried great academic importance, though the confident smile on his face hinted that he was enjoying the performance just as much as the lesson itself. When the last sheet had been handed out, he returned to the front of the classroom and turned dramatically toward the students, his hands clasped together in front of him.
"Now then," Lockhart announced brightly, "nothing too taxing for your first Defense lesson of the year. Just a small quiz to ensure that everyone has properly absorbed the material contained within my books."
Evelyn lowered her gaze to the parchment in front of her. The title written across the top was bold and decorative.
POP QUIZ – MAGICAL ME
She scanned the first few questions silently, her expression remaining calm though she could hear Ron's quiet groan from beside Harry.
"What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?" Ron muttered under his breath as he read the parchment. "You've got to be joking."
Harry leaned closer to the page, eyebrows raised. "That can't actually be the question."
Hermione, however, had already begun writing with impressive speed, her quill moving rapidly across the parchment as she filled in answer after answer with absolute confidence. She had clearly memorized the contents of Lockhart's autobiography with the same dedication she applied to every other piece of academic reading.
Evelyn glanced down the rest of the page, noting the pattern almost immediately. Each question focused on the same subject.
Lockhart.
His birthday.
His ambitions.
His favorite foods.
His preferred brand of hair potion.
Ron lowered his quill onto the desk and looked at Harry with disbelief. "We're being tested on his hobbies."
"Maybe it gets harder later," Harry whispered.
Ron scanned the page again and shook his head. "It doesn't."
Evelyn dipped her quill into the ink bottle and began writing. She remembered most of the answers without difficulty. She had read Magical Me during the summer simply out of curiosity, wanting to understand the reputation surrounding the man who had suddenly become Hogwarts' new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The book had been amusing in its own way, filled with exaggerated adventures and dramatic storytelling. While she had quietly noticed certain inconsistencies in the narrative, the information about Lockhart himself had been presented repeatedly throughout the chapters.
It did not take long to complete the parchment.
She set her quill down and folded her hands on the desk.
Harry glanced sideways at her in surprise. "Already?"
"Yes."
Ron looked over as well. "You're kidding."
"I read the book," Evelyn replied simply.
Ron stared at her for a moment before muttering, "Remind me never to compete with Ravenclaws on a test about a book they've actually read."
At the front of the classroom, Lockhart paced slowly between the desks, humming cheerfully as the students continued scribbling their answers. Hermione was still writing furiously, occasionally pausing only long enough to think before continuing again. Several other students looked increasingly frustrated as they tried to recall details that clearly had not seemed important while reading.
After a few minutes had passed, Lockhart clapped his hands together again.
"Time's up!" he announced happily. "Quills down, everyone!"
A mixture of groans and relieved sighs spread through the room as students reluctantly placed their quills aside. Lockhart began collecting the parchments with eager enthusiasm, stacking them neatly on the front desk before quickly flipping through the answers.
He examined the first several sheets with exaggerated concentration before his expression suddenly brightened.
"Well now," he said pleasantly, "it seems we have two students who achieved perfect scores."
Hermione sat a little straighter in her chair.
Lockhart held up one of the parchments. "Miss Hermione Granger—excellent attention to detail. Full marks."
Hermione looked positively radiant.
Lockhart then lifted another parchment and glanced toward the Gryffindor table.
"And Miss Evelyn Carmichael—also full marks. Very impressive."
Several students turned in their seats again, whispering quietly among themselves.
Ron leaned toward Harry and murmured, "Of course she did."
Lockhart smiled broadly at the two of them. "Clearly we have a pair of exceptionally attentive readers in the room. Knowledge is the first line of defense against dark forces, after all."
Evelyn inclined her head politely.
Hermione looked thoroughly pleased.
Lockhart tapped the stack of quizzes against the desk to straighten them before setting them aside.
"Now then," he said, his voice lifting with excitement. "Enough written work. Defense Against the Dark Arts is a practical subject. To truly understand danger, one must face it."
He walked toward the large wooden cabinet positioned at the front corner of the room.
The cabinet rattled faintly.
Several students leaned forward with curiosity.
Lockhart placed a hand dramatically on the cabinet door.
"Let's see what you make of these."
With a swift motion, he flung the door open.
Inside, something small and blue moved rapidly behind the bars of a cage.
The cabinet door swung open with theatrical energy, revealing a small iron cage inside. At first glance the creatures within were difficult to see clearly. A blur of bright blue motion flickered behind the bars as something tiny darted from one side of the cage to the other with astonishing speed. High-pitched chattering noises immediately filled the air, sharp and excitable, like a group of mischievous voices arguing all at once. Several students leaned forward in curiosity, while others instinctively leaned back.
"Observe carefully," Gilderoy Lockhart announced proudly, gesturing toward the cage with one sweeping arm. "These delightful little fellows are Cornish Pixies."
The name alone was enough to make several students exchange uneasy looks. Inside the cage the tiny creatures hurled themselves against the bars, their electric blue skin flashing in the candlelight as they bounced from one side to the other. Each pixie was barely a foot tall, with pointed faces, sharp teeth, and delicate wings that vibrated so quickly they produced a faint buzzing sound. One of them grabbed the bars and hung upside down, sticking its tongue out at the class while the others shrieked and laughed.
Lockhart seemed entirely delighted by the chaos within the cage.
"Now, pixies might look small," he continued cheerfully, "but they are remarkably mischievous creatures. Known throughout Cornwall for causing all sorts of delightful trouble—stealing laundry, tangling hair, overturning furniture, and the occasional bit of harmless property destruction."
Ron leaned closer to Harry and whispered, "That doesn't sound harmless."
Evelyn watched the cage quietly, her attention focused not on Lockhart's explanation but on the creatures themselves. Their movements were incredibly quick, darting in unpredictable patterns that made them difficult to track with the eye. One of them tugged violently at the cage latch before another shoved it aside, both chattering in sharp bursts of sound that carried an almost gleeful tone. She had read about pixies before, but observing them in person revealed details books rarely described. Their wings beat in irregular bursts rather than steady motion, allowing them to pivot suddenly in midair. Their claws were small but surprisingly sharp.
Hermione raised her hand enthusiastically. "Professor Lockhart, pixies are classified as pests in several magical regions because of their destructive tendencies. Most professional handlers recommend containment charms before approaching them."
Lockhart nodded with an approving smile, though he did not seem particularly concerned by the warning. "Quite right, Miss Granger, quite right! Pixies can indeed become unruly if not handled properly. Which is why today's lesson will be about exactly that—proper pixie management."
Inside the cage, one of the creatures had managed to wedge its fingers partially through the latch mechanism again. Another pixie grabbed its wings and pulled it away with an irritated shriek before taking its place, clearly eager to attempt the same escape.
Harry leaned toward Evelyn slightly. "They don't look very manageable."
"They're extremely fast," Evelyn replied quietly. "And unpredictable."
Lockhart stepped forward and tapped the cage with his wand as though introducing an exhibit at a museum. The pixies immediately responded by screeching loudly and rushing toward the front of the cage, several of them baring their tiny teeth.
"Now then," Lockhart said brightly, "nothing teaches confidence like direct experience. Many wizards fear pixies simply because they've never taken the time to understand them."
Ron raised his eyebrows. "I feel like we're about to regret this."
Lockhart placed his hand confidently on the top of the cage. "The key is maintaining control."
Inside the cage the pixies were now flying in tight circles, their wings buzzing loudly as they ricocheted off the bars and each other. One grabbed another's ear and twisted it sharply before darting away, cackling wildly.
Evelyn noticed the latch shift again.
This time it moved slightly further.
The cage door trembled faintly.
Lockhart, apparently unaware, turned back toward the class with a dazzling smile.
"Let's see what you make of them!"
With that, he reached down and swung the cage door open.
For a single brief second the pixies froze in place.
Then they exploded outward like a burst of living blue fireworks.
For a heartbeat after the cage door opened, the classroom held a fragile silence, as if the entire room had taken a collective breath. The Cornish Pixies hovered just beyond the cage, their small blue bodies vibrating with barely contained energy. Their wings buzzed rapidly, producing a high humming sound that filled the space like a swarm of angry insects. Then, with a chorus of shrill laughter, they scattered in every direction at once.
Chaos erupted instantly.
One pixie darted across the room and grabbed Neville Longbottom's ear before launching itself back toward the ceiling. Another seized a stack of books from a nearby desk and hurled them into the air, sending pages fluttering like startled birds. Ink bottles shattered against the stone floor as two more pixies collided midair and tumbled across the room in a blur of blue limbs and cackling voices.
Ron ducked as one shot past his head, barely missing his hair.
"Blimey!" he shouted, dropping beneath the desk just as another pixie grabbed a quill and snapped it cleanly in half.
Harry swatted instinctively at a pixie that had attempted to tug at his sleeve, but the creature zipped away before he could even touch it. It circled back a moment later and began pulling at the parchment on his desk, tearing it into strips with gleeful determination.
Hermione stood abruptly, wand raised, trying to recall something from memory as she watched three pixies overturn a chair and send it skidding across the floor.
"Pixies are resistant to simple stunning spells," she muttered rapidly. "There must be a containment charm—"
A loud crash interrupted her as a group of pixies knocked over a bookshelf near the back wall. The wood slammed against the floor while loose parchment and textbooks scattered everywhere.
At the front of the room, Gilderoy Lockhart attempted to regain control of the situation.
"Now, now!" he called loudly, waving his wand as though conducting an orchestra. "No need to panic! Perfectly manageable creatures if one knows the proper technique."
A pixie zipped past his shoulder and yanked sharply on a lock of his hair before spiraling away with delighted laughter.
Lockhart stiffened slightly but continued smiling.
"Just a moment, class," he said quickly. "Allow me to demonstrate the appropriate spell."
Evelyn, who had remained seated while observing the creatures' erratic movement patterns, looked toward the front of the room as Lockhart raised his wand.
He pointed it toward the swarm of pixies circling the ceiling.
"Peskipiksi Pesternomi!" he declared confidently.
Nothing happened.
The pixies continued flying.
One of them zoomed downward and kicked over the stack of quizzes on Lockhart's desk, scattering the parchments across the floor.
Another grabbed a feather from the professor's quill and began chasing a classmate with it while shrieking gleefully.
Lockhart blinked.
He cleared his throat and attempted the spell again, his wand moving slightly faster this time.
"Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"
Again, nothing happened.
A pixie snatched the professor's wand briefly before dropping it again and racing away with an ear-splitting cackle.
For a brief moment Lockhart stood completely still as the classroom descended further into pandemonium around him.
Students were now ducking beneath desks as pixies swooped overhead, knocking over chairs and pulling books apart page by page. One had begun tying knots in the curtains near the windows while another tugged relentlessly on Ron's sleeve.
Ron swatted at it helplessly.
"Why aren't they stopping?" he shouted.
Evelyn's eyes narrowed slightly as she watched the scene unfold. She remembered the spell Lockhart had attempted earlier. The incantation itself had sounded correct, though the wand movement had been rushed and unfocused. Pixies were extremely agile creatures, and a containment charm required precise directional control to herd them into a confined area.
At the front of the room, Lockhart abruptly stepped backward as two pixies grabbed opposite ends of a curtain rope and began swinging from it like acrobats.
"Well," he said briskly, adjusting his robes as though the situation were entirely routine, "I'll leave the rest of this exercise to you. Nothing teaches defensive reflexes better than hands-on experience!"
He gestured vaguely toward the swarm of creatures still tearing through the classroom.
"I shall return shortly with… additional assistance."
Before anyone could respond, Lockhart moved quickly toward the door.
Within seconds he had slipped into the corridor.
The door closed behind him.
Inside the classroom, the pixies continued their gleeful destruction.
For a moment after the door shut behind Gilderoy Lockhart, the class simply stared at it in stunned disbelief. The sudden absence of their professor made the chaos in the room feel even louder. The shrill laughter of the Cornish Pixies echoed off the stone walls as they continued darting wildly through the air, overturning desks and snatching anything small enough for their clawed hands to carry.
One pixie grabbed Neville Longbottom by the robes and lifted him halfway into the air before losing its grip and dropping him back onto his chair with a startled yelp. Another had discovered the chalkboard eraser and was gleefully pounding it against the wall, sending clouds of white dust drifting through the room like a magical snowstorm.
Ron was still trying to fend off the pixie tugging relentlessly at his sleeve. "He just left!" Ron shouted incredulously. "He actually left!"
Harry ducked as two pixies zoomed past his head, chasing each other in tight spirals. "I noticed!"
Hermione looked torn between panic and determination as she raised her wand again, trying to track the creatures' erratic movements. "Pixies are extremely fast. Stunning them individually would take too long—"
Her sentence cut off when one pixie yanked the parchment from her desk and shredded it into thin strips before scattering the pieces like confetti.
Throughout the chaos, Evelyn remained still for a few seconds longer, carefully watching the pattern of the pixies' flight. They moved unpredictably, but there was still a rhythm beneath the madness. Small clusters formed briefly before scattering again, and several of the creatures kept circling the same areas of the room as if returning to favorite points of mischief.
Her gaze shifted toward the open cage sitting near the front of the classroom.
The spell Lockhart had attempted earlier echoed in her memory.
The incantation itself had not been wrong.
The problem had been execution.
She rose from her chair calmly.
Ron glanced at her with relief. "Please tell me you know how to deal with these things."
"I think so," Evelyn replied.
She stepped forward into the open space between the desks, raising her wand slightly as another pixie streaked past her shoulder. Instead of attempting to track each creature individually, she focused on the center of the swarm. Her wand traced a precise circular motion, slower and more deliberate than Lockhart's hurried attempt had been.
The pixies continued screeching and flying wildly around her.
Then she spoke the incantation.
"Peskipiksi Pesternomi."
The spell flared outward in a ripple of controlled magical force.
For a split second the pixies froze midair.
Then, as if caught by an invisible net, the entire swarm was yanked sharply downward.
Tiny blue bodies tumbled toward the floor in a tangled mass of wings and limbs before the spell's containment field snapped into place around them. The pixies shrieked angrily as they struggled against the invisible barrier, but the charm held firm, compressing their chaotic movement into a small spinning cluster barely a foot above the ground.
The room fell abruptly quiet except for the furious buzzing of trapped wings.
Ron slowly straightened from behind his desk.
"Blimey."
Harry stared at the swirling mass of contained pixies. "That worked."
Hermione lowered her wand and blinked in astonishment. "That's the spell Professor Lockhart tried to use."
Evelyn nodded slightly as she stepped closer to the cage. With a gentle flick of her wand, she guided the trapped creatures across the room. The pixies bounced angrily against the invisible barrier as they were pushed back inside the iron cage one by one. Once the last of them had been forced through the door, she shut it firmly and sealed the latch with a small locking charm.
The buzzing inside the cage continued, though now it was muffled by iron bars.
Several students slowly began emerging from beneath their desks.
Ron looked around the classroom at the overturned chairs, broken quills, scattered parchment, and drifting chalk dust before shaking his head.
"So," he said thoughtfully, "that's Defense Against the Dark Arts this year."
Harry laughed quietly.
Hermione folded her arms, still watching the cage with interest. "It seems the spell was real after all. Professor Lockhart simply didn't perform it correctly."
Evelyn glanced toward the door where Lockhart had disappeared earlier.
"If the structure of a spell is correct," she said calmly, "the outcome usually depends on the caster."
Ron snorted.
"Well," he muttered, "let's hope he's better at teaching than he is at casting."
Across the room, the trapped pixies rattled the cage bars in frustration, their tiny voices still chattering angrily as they plotted their next opportunity for chaos.
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