It started with a parchment. No announcement, no fanfare—just a lone notice pinned crookedly above the Gryffindor common room fireplace:
DUELING CLUB — Tonight, 8pm, Great Hall. All years welcome. Bring your wand. Spectators allowed.
Naturally, chaos followed.
"I heard it's Professor Trelawney," I offered casually, sipping tea as a fifth-year frantically whispered this to a group of second-years like it was gospel. "She's predicted at least three concussions."
"Really?" the girl gasped.
"No," Hermione said flatly, shooting me a glare. "Don't encourage him."
"I'm merely a public servant of misinformation," I replied smoothly. "Besides, could be Binns. Nothing says 'deadly hexes' like a ghost with tenure."
Theories spun out of control. Filch, Hagrid, even Peeves made the list of candidates. No one knew who had organized it. No one, that is, except me. And I wasn't telling.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "It's Lockhart, isn't it?"
I gave her an innocent smile and sipped again. "Wouldn't dream of ruining the surprise."
Despite his losing cannon memories, he still retained a lot of the minor details.
Just to make sure to keep track of everything he can, he had started to keep journal entries of everything he can.
So far, he is able to remember many details from all 7 books, but the knowledge seems a lot more scattered.
One of the crucial things he did was at least notate every single Horcrux he could remember.
Diary- Destroyed.
Diadem- ROR, still have yet to find it.
Locket- Find Kreacher. Who is Kreacher.
Hufflepuffs Cup- Unknown.
Nagini- Its a snake, may or may not already be a horcrux.
Peverall Ring- Someplace where voldemorts mom used to live.
Harry's Scar- Well, its Harry so I will figure that one out later.
That evening, the Great Hall was unrecognizable. The house tables had vanished. A raised wooden platform stood at the center, torches lining the walls, casting flickering shadows that made everything feel slightly theatrical. Students crowded in, wands tucked into sleeves or clenched in excited hands.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I found a spot near the front.
"This better not be Lockhart," Ron muttered.
"Oh, Ron," I said, gesturing grandly as Lockhart pranced onto the platform. "Never doubt fate's ability to disappoint."
"Gather round! Gather round!" Lockhart called, grinning ear to ear.
I didn't move. If anything, I planted my feet more firmly.
"Can everybody see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent."
"He's projecting like a peacock on fire," I whispered.
Hermione winced. "Please stop talking."
"Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little Dueling Club," Lockhart announced, "to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves, as I myself have done on countless occasions!"
"Did he just plug his autobiography?" I asked.
"He wouldn't, that's too shameless," Hermione responded.
"What's a plug?" Ron asked.
"For full details, see my published works!" Lockhart beamed.
There it is.
"Urghh," Hermione groaned.
With a flourish, he yanked off his cape and tossed it high into the crowd. My hand shot up, snatching it from the air before it even had a chance to drift. Hermione, Ron, and Harry turned to stare at me, equal parts impressed and bewildered.
"What?" I said innocently, holding up the soft satin. "This is probably worth a lot of money to the right crowd."
A beat passed, and then the look of realization hit them like a charm to the face.
"Ahhh," they said in unison, nodding in reluctant understanding.
Before the girls even stopped squealing, Lockhart gestured broadly. "Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape!"
Snape glided onto the stage like a shadow in motion. The air temperature dropped by several degrees.
"Snape does have a way of saying everything without saying a word," I murmured.
Hermione didn't even argue.
"He has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration," Lockhart continued. "Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry, you'll still have your Potions Master when I'm through with him. Never fear."
Ron leaned in. "Why do I feel like I should be worried for Lockhart?"
"Because your instincts are finally maturing," I whispered.
The two professors bowed stiffly, then took their positions.
"One, two, three—"
"Expelliarmus!"
Snape's spell hit like a lightning bolt. Lockhart flew across the platform, limbs flailing, landing flat on his back with a dramatic "WHOOOOOOOA!"
Students erupted in laughter.
"Do you think he's all right?" Hermione asked, more inquisitive than worried at this point.
The three of us—Ron, Harry, and I—answered in perfect unison. "Who cares."
Lockhart staggered to his feet, smile faltering for a moment before he forced it back into place.
"An excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape! But if you don't mind me saying, it was pretty obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you, it would have been only too easy."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps it would be prudent to first teach the students to block unfriendly spells, Professor."
"Let's have a volunteer pair!" Lockhart clapped. "Potter, Weasley?"
Snape interjected smoothly. "Weasley's inability to cast even the simplest of spells causes devastation. We'll be sending Potter to the Hospital Wing in a matchbox."
Ron looked scandalized. I raised my hand.
"I'll go."
Lockhart blinked. "Ah… well, I suppose that's acceptable."
Snape's eyes gleamed. "An excellent idea. I've always wondered how well you'd fare, Mr. Kingston."
Before I could reply, Lockhart stepped forward with an eager smile, already imagining himself the star once more. "Actually, it might be best if I myself take on young Kingston. A more... instructive pairing, I think."
His voice was bright, too bright, and the gleam in his eye wasn't just anticipation—it was payback.
Payback for what? Who knows.
I smiled like someone about to set off fireworks indoors. "Let's find out."