The moment Glenn and Hermione entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, they saw Harry already caught by Gilderoy Lockhart. From a distance, Ron sat at his desk, looking at Harry with a mixture of sympathy and helplessness as the boy was dragged onto the stage.
It seemed like these two troublemakers lost house points in class every day for some reason or another. And in every Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, Harry was forced to participate in Lockhart's theatrical demonstrations.
In essence, these demonstrations were stage plays based on the content of Lockhart's own books, with Lockhart himself as the star of the show.
As for Harry? Well, he was usually the one getting beaten up—or the one being heroically rescued by Lockhart.
Harry had played almost a third of the supporting roles from Lockhart's autobiography by now. As for the rest… those were probably reserved for future lessons.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts is a complete disaster now," Hermione muttered as she and Glenn chose seats in the very back row, far away from Lockhart, to avoid any potential mishaps.
And it wasn't an exaggeration. There had been an incident in class once when Draco Malfoy, eager to get a front-row view of Harry's humiliation at Lockhart's hands, chose a seat closest to the "stage."
Who could have predicted that during the ensuing scuffle, Lockhart, standing on the edge of the platform, would suddenly slip and tumble forward, dragging Harry along with him?
I stumbled toward you.jpg.
The sight had startled Draco so much that he shot out of his seat like a spring, flipping backward onto the desks behind him and scrambling several meters away.
But his two lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle, weren't so lucky. They were nearly squashed into pancakes by the desks Lockhart and Harry crashed into.
The four of them ended up in a chaotic heap. The students suffered only minor bruises and scrapes, but Lockhart, landing awkwardly with Harry on top of him, had his face intimately acquainted with a desk. He passed out from the pain, his face swelling red, and his ankle—well, it was probably broken, as it was bent at an unnatural angle.
Lockhart then took a month off for medical leave, during which Professor Snape gleefully took over Defense Against the Dark Arts classes.
Thinking about how Lockhart had taught for less than three months but taken two months of sick leave, Hermione felt both amused and puzzled.
She didn't dare laugh, fearing it might cost her some karmic merit. But the mystery surrounding Lockhart's second injury still lingered in her mind.
His first injury—well, that was a story for another time. But the second one was just too… theatrical. After class, Hermione had gone up to the platform to investigate the spot where Lockhart had slipped. She discovered traces of magical residue there, and the area was unnaturally smooth—so smooth that even a fly would slip and fall.
And that wasn't all. Upon closer inspection, Hermione found that several other spots along the edge of the platform had also been tampered with in a similar way.
"This was definitely done on purpose." Hermione stood up, dusting her hands off, and remarked, "Lockhart really knows how to attract hatred. Which daring little wizard decided to set him up like this?"
"Should we fix these areas?" Glenn, uncharacteristically silent, finally spoke after a moment of contemplation.
"Hmm… we probably should. After all, the substitute professor might end up slipping too, and I don't want to see Professor Snape in the same predicament as Lockhart." After much internal debate between good and evil, Hermione ultimately decided to remove the traps to prevent the old bat from taking a nasty fall.
She didn't care what happened to Lockhart, but Professor Snape was a different matter.
The two of them split the task, each taking one side of the platform and using counter-spells to undo the magical effects.
What they saw shocked them. The number of tampered spots was far greater than they had anticipated. Some were even cleverly concealed, making them difficult to detect. While dispelling the magic was easy, finding all the affected areas was a challenge.
Hermione had barely cleared a few spots when Glenn announced he was done with his side.
"You've finished already?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "Heightened Perception?"
Glenn hesitated for a moment before answering with a single word: "Yes."
"Cheater…" Hermione pouted. While she knew Glenn's abilities were part of his strength, she couldn't help feeling a bit frustrated at how far ahead he was in this task.
Hermione's inner monologue: I'm going to sulk now.
"I'll help you. This kind of thing is more in my wheelhouse; it's not your fault," Glenn said, patting her head.
Hermione nodded, deciding not to dwell on it. She moved aside and crouched down to watch Glenn work.
Glenn moved swiftly, as if he already knew where all the traps were hidden. In no time, he had finished the task.
"Well, that's done. Another good deed for the day." Hermione stood up and stretched. "Next time Professor Snape scolds me, I'll bring this up and make him feel guilty for a whole day!" The thought of guilt-tripping Snape made her eyes light up with excitement.
"I think Snape would probably just sneer and tell you to mind your own business," Glenn said flatly, earning an exaggerated eye-roll from Hermione.
"I was just kidding! Ugh, you're always so serious. I wonder who you picked that up from. Let's go to the library!"
Glenn's gaze lingered on the little girl tugging him along.
Seriousness? Hermione, don't you have a clue where I got that from?
Of course, that was something Glenn only thought to himself. Saying it out loud would earn him a scolding.
As Glenn snapped out of his thoughts, he looked toward the platform. There, Lockhart had Harry pinned to the ground, his wand pressed against the boy's throat. Harry struggled and groaned in protest, while Lockhart, straddling him like a triumphant general, laughed heartily.
Glenn began to ponder.
"What method should I use this time? If I keep setting traps in the classroom, Hermione might start to suspect something…"
"Hmm… dropping a dragon bone statue on him might be too conspicuous. I'll have to think of something else."
"Poisoning might be the best option…"
On stage, Lockhart suddenly felt a chill run down his spine, as if icy needles were stabbing into his brain. He froze, his expression stiff as he glanced around the room, but he saw nothing unusual.
"Just my imagination?"
Seeing the adoring gazes of his young fans, Lockhart quickly dismissed the thought and resumed tormenting Harry.
"Come on, scream louder!" he exclaimed gleefully.
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