The Tenth Weasley - CH - 51

The first week of classes at Hogwarts began like any other. Timetables were handed out, and students fell into their usual routines—rushing to classes, memorizing spells, and groaning over homework. But Harry had one class he was particularly looking forward to this year: Defense Against the Dark Arts.

This year, their professor was Gilderoy Lockhart, a famous wizarding celebrity known for his adventurous exploits, his best-selling books, and, most of all, his dazzling smile.

Harry had read Lockhart’s books in preparation for the class, eager to learn from someone who had supposedly faced werewolves, defeated banshees, and vanquished vampires. His mother, Molly Weasley, was also a great admirer of Lockhart. She owned all his books and had even gone to his book signing during the summer in Diagon Alley to get a signed copy of Magical Me.

When the day finally arrived, Harry, Blaise, Daphne, and the rest of the Slytherins made their way to the classroom, finding that the Gryffindors had already arrived. The desks were arranged neatly, and the walls were covered in framed portraits of Lockhart, all of them smiling, winking, or giving heroic poses.

Harry glanced at Daphne, who rolled her eyes. “He loves himself a little too much, don’t you think?”

Blaise smirked. “A little? Greengrass, the man decorated the entire room with his own face.”

Before they could continue, the door swung open dramatically, and Professor Gilderoy Lockhart strode inside, his golden hair shimmering, his turquoise robes fluttering behind him.

“Welcome, welcome, dear students! I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and Five-Time Winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award—am here to teach you how to defend yourselves from the dark creatures that lurk in the shadows!”

Some of the students clapped politely, though others—like Daphne and Blaise—just exchanged skeptical glances.

Lockhart flashed his signature dazzling smile. “Now, before we begin, let’s test how well you all know me! I have prepared—” he dramatically lifted a stack of parchment “—a little quiz to see how much you’ve all learned about me from my books!”

A collective groan rose from both Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Harry, who had been expecting an actual Defense lesson, frowned slightly. "A quiz about him? Seriously?"

“No complaints! This is important knowledge!” Lockhart said, handing out the papers. “You wouldn’t want to go into battle unprepared, would you?”

The quiz was absurd.

Questions included:

What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color?

What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s ideal birthday gift?

What is the name of the hair care potion Gilderoy Lockhart uses to keep his hair perfect?

How many times has Gilderoy Lockhart won Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award?


Harry stared at the parchment in disbelief. “This is completely ridiculous,” he muttered.

Daphne snorted. “This man is a joke.”

Blaise tapped his quill against his desk. “You think he actually knows any real Defense spells?”

Harry wasn’t sure anymore.

When the time was up, Lockhart collected the papers, flipping through them excitedly.

“Oh my! Miss Granger, full marks! Excellent work!”

Hermione beamed proudly, while Ron looked like he wanted to vomit.

Lockhart turned to the rest of the class. “Some of you clearly have not been paying attention to my works! Tsk, tsk. I recommend rereading Magical Me twice before next class.”

The entire class groaned in frustration.

After the quiz, Lockhart clapped his hands together.

“Now, my dear students, let’s move on to something more... practical!”

There was a collective sigh of relief. Maybe now they would actually learn something useful.

Lockhart strolled over to a large cage sitting at the front of the class.

"I have brought you something special today—Cornish Pixies!"

He pulled the cover off the cage, revealing dozens of small, blue creatures with mischievous grins. They chattered and screeched, shaking the bars violently.

Daphne stared at the creatures in horror. “Please tell me he’s not about to—”

Before anyone could stop him, Lockhart flung the cage open.

"Let’s see how you handle these little devils! Good luck!"

The pixies shot out like fireworks, zipping around the room in chaotic swirls. They grabbed books, pulled at students’ hair, knocked over ink bottles, and one even yanked Neville Longbottom into the air by his robes.

Harry dove under a desk, watching in shock. "What kind of professor just releases dangerous creatures in class?"

Lockhart pulled out his wand, flashing another overconfident smile.

“Not to worry, I have everything under control!”

He raised his wand dramatically and shouted:

“Peskipiksi Pesternomi!”

Nothing happened.

One of the pixies stole Lockhart’s wand right out of his hand.

The class erupted in laughter and chaos as Lockhart ducked behind his desk, shouting, "Uh—well! That didn’t go as planned! You three—handle it!"

He pointed at Harry, Daphne, and Blaise, before rushing toward the door and locking himself in his office.

Daphne blinked. "Did he—did he just abandon us?"

Blaise dodged a pixie that tried to pull his hair. "Yes. Yes, he did."

Harry sighed. "Great. Just great."

Harry pulled out his wand. "Alright, let’s round them up."

Daphne dodged another pixie, her face furious. "I am never reading his books again."

Blaise swatted a pixie away. "Like you ever read them in the first place."

Harry pointed his wand at a group of pixies that were pulling at a chair leg. "Immobulus!"

A wave of blue light shot out, and several pixies froze in mid-air, falling to the ground motionless.

Daphne and Blaise quickly followed suit, casting spells to stun, freeze, or knock out the troublesome creatures.

It took ten minutes, but eventually, every pixie was rounded up and stuffed back into the cage.

When Lockhart emerged from his office, the room was already back in order, the pixies safely locked away.

Lockhart clapped his hands together, grinning.

“Well done, class! I must say, excellent teamwork! Five points to—oh, let’s say, everyone!”

The students groaned at his obvious attempt to take credit for the cleanup.

As they left the classroom, Daphne muttered, "This is going to be a long year."

Blaise sighed. "A very long year."

Harry just shook his head, already regretting looking forward to this class.

After the disastrous first lesson with Professor Lockhart, Harry, Blaise, and Daphne were heading towards Charms class with Hufflepuff when a familiar voice called out to him.

"Oi! Harry! Wait up!"

Harry turned around to find Charlie, Ron, and Neville Longbottom—the self-proclaimed Mini-Marauders—waving at him from across the corridor.

Blaise, who had no love for the trio, groaned and muttered under his breath, "What do they want now?" He then narrowed his eyes and added, "Especially you, Potter."

Daphne smirked. "Still holding a grudge, Blaise?"

Blaise scowled. "They put itching powder in my robes last year. Of course, I’m still holding a grudge."

Charlie reached them, slightly out of breath.

"Harry, I need to talk to you. It’s important."

Harry crossed his arms. "If this is about me joining your Mini-Marauders, the answer is still no."

Charlie shook his head. "No, it's about something else—something weird. And I thought you’d want to know."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Weird, how?"

Charlie glanced around the corridor as if checking for eavesdroppers. "It’s about a house-elf named Dobby"

Blaise snorted. "What, did he refuse to iron your socks properly?"

Charlie ignored the sarcasm and leaned in. "Look, this… Dobby, he came to me in my dorm a few nights ago. Woke me up and started going on about how I shouldn’t have come back to Hogwarts. He kept saying that something terrible is going to happen this year and that Hogwarts is dangerous."

Harry’s frown deepened. "Dangerous how?"

"I don’t know!" Charlie threw up his hands. "The elf kept hitting himself every time I asked for details. He just said, 'Dobby must not say, sir!' over and over again."

Blaise looked unimpressed. "So, let me get this straight—you were woken up by a house-elf, who told you something vague and cryptic, and you actually believed it?"

Charlie gritted his teeth. "Look, I know how it sounds, but Dobby seemed genuinely terrified."

Ron and Neville nodded seriously.

"Yeah," Ron added. "Dobby kept saying, ‘Terrible things will happen at Hogwarts this year if the school remains open.!’"

Harry exchanged a look with Daphne and Blaise.

Just as the conversation became more intense, Daphne suddenly remembered something.

Her eyes widened before she burst into laughter.

"Wait, did you just say Dobby?" she asked, barely containing her amusement.

Charlie nodded seriously. "Yeah. Dobby."

Daphne was struggling to keep a straight face. "Was he wearing a pillowcase?"

Charlie frowned but nodded again. "Yeah, why?"

Daphne let out a full-blown laugh, one that turned a few heads in the hallway. Blaise smirked, intrigued.

"Okay, now I really need to hear this," Blaise said.

Daphne wiped a tear from her eye and grinned. "Oh, Potter, you poor thing. You got pranked by Draco Malfoy."

Charlie stiffened. "What?!"

Ron looked outraged. "What do you mean?!"

Daphne smirked. "That’s Malfoy’s house-elf. I’ve seen him plenty of times at Malfoy Manor."

"Wait, what?" Charlie’s face twisted in confusion.

"Yeah, Dobby is one of the Malfoy family’s house-elves." Daphne explained. "I’ve been to Malfoy Manor for various events—dances, pureblood gatherings, that sort of thing. I’ve seen him before. Small, bright green eyes, squeaky voice, and yes—he always wears that raggedy pillowcase."

Ron’s face turned red. "So, you’re saying Malfoy sent his elf to scare us?!"

Daphne shrugged. "I wouldn’t put it past him. It sounds exactly like something Draco would do—send his house-elf to mess with you just for a laugh."

Neville groaned. "I can’t believe we actually fell for that!"

Charlie, however, wasn’t convinced. He shook his head firmly. "No. You didn’t see how scared he was. That wasn’t a prank, Daphne. Dobby genuinely believed something bad was going to happen this year."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Or maybe Malfoy just told him to act that way. You know house-elves can’t disobey orders from their masters, right?"

Harry stayed quiet, thinking. He knew Draco could be petty and cruel, but something about this still felt off.

Was Dobby’s warning truly just a prank? Or was there some truth hidden in his fear?

The next morning at breakfast, they casually approached Draco at the Slytherin table. Harry took the lead.

"So, Malfoy," Harry said smoothly, buttering his toast, "you keeping your house-elves busy with little side projects these days?"

Draco, who had been pouring himself some pumpkin juice, paused mid-pour and gave Harry a confused look.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about, Weasley?"

Daphne smirked, "Oh, nothing. Just that Dobby’s been quite... talkative lately."

Draco blinked. "Dobby? You mean the house-elf?"

Blaise leaned in, smirking. "Come on, you don’t have to pretend with us, Malfoy. We know."

Draco, instead of looking smug, looked even more confused.

"Know what? Dobby is just a dumb house-elf. What could he possibly be talking about?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "So you’re saying you didn’t send him to mess with Potter?"

Draco let out an incredulous laugh.

"Mess with Potter? I don’t even let that creature near me, let alone give him orders to pull pranks! Why would I waste my time on something so stupid?"

The three of them exchanged glances.

Draco was telling the truth.

Daphne folded her arms. "That’s... interesting."

Draco scowled. "What’s interesting? What’s that stupid elf done now?"

Harry gave a nonchalant shrug. "Oh, nothing. Just spouting off nonsense about Hogwarts being unsafe this year. You know, usual cryptic, doomsday stuff."

Draco scoffed. "Hogwarts unsafe? As if. It’s the safest place in Britain."

Blaise smirked. "Right? That’s what we thought too."

Draco just rolled his eyes and returned to his breakfast.

As Harry, Daphne, and Blaise walked away, they exchanged worried glances.

"Well, that rules out Malfoy," Blaise muttered.

"Which means," Daphne added, "Dobby was acting on his own."

Harry frowned. If Dobby wasn’t following Draco’s orders, then why had he come to warn Charlie?

Something didn’t add up.

And that worried Harry more than he was willing to admit.