"Alright, alright, come down already," Lockhart called out, waving his hand.
With a flick of his wrist, Hodge Blackthorn landed lightly on the ground.
"So—er—" Lockhart asked, sounding less than enthusiastic, "what's this thing?"
"A flying broom," Hodge said. "I took apart an old one, and this is one of the core components." He held up a long wooden strip, and as he explained, Lockhart suddenly noticed a certain sleekness in the warped lines of the wood. He stared at it for a while, trying to match it to some shape in his memory, but came up empty.
So, Lockhart offered a dry compliment: "Very good, Blackthorn. I've always known you've got a knack for hands-on work…"
"All thanks to you, Professor," Hodge replied.
"Me?" Lockhart raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, yes! When you dealt with that banshee using your homemade alchemical gadget, it inspired me. I found a book in the library that sparked the idea—"
"What book?" Lockhart interrupted.
"Change Your Life with Simple Alchemy," Hodge continued. "I thought, if I could create some practical tools, maybe I could close the massive gap between me and you, Professor."
Lockhart gave a self-satisfied smile, a glint of interest flickering in his eyes.
"Not an easy feat," he said. "My achievements didn't come from just alchemy, you know. So, what's your plan?"
"Here's what I'm thinking," Hodge said, his voice brimming with excitement. "If we could transfer the magic from a flying broom to a smaller object—like a Remembrall or a perfume bottle—something portable. That way, when trouble comes, you just pull it out of your pocket, and boom—you're out of danger. You could leap to a rooftop or a tree and counterattack with ease."
"Hmm…" Lockhart's face took on a thoughtful expression.
"It could even work on robes, shoes, or hats—"
"Clothing, too?" Lockhart cut in. He hadn't quite grasped the mechanics yet, but his instincts told him there was something worth exploring here.
"Absolutely," Hodge said, his enthusiasm growing. "I got the idea on the Quidditch pitch. Picture this…" His tone slowed, softening, almost like last year when he guided Harry and the others during a Whimsy Club activity.
"The stands are roaring, packed with students and teachers cheering for their teams. Everyone's there, shouting, waving their arms like fools, messing up their hair, looking utterly undignified…"
Lockhart instinctively tossed his flowing golden locks.
"You're not wrong," he agreed.
The portraits on the walls nodded in approval.
"…And when everyone stands up, you can't even see the game," Hodge went on, glancing at Lockhart before pressing forward. "But if you're wearing a charmed robe, or shoes, or something else, you're above it all. While others are jumping around, red-faced, desperate to catch every moment on the pitch, you're calmly floating above the stands—or even level with the players. I'd bet anything every eye in the crowd would be on you. After all, how many wizards can fly without a broom?"
Lockhart began to pivot, bowing slightly as if basking in the crowd's adoring gaze. The portraits on the walls were less restrained—they were practically beaming, flashing their pearly whites, waving wildly, and a few even whistling.
Their excitement rubbed off on Lockhart, who grinned and said, "Brilliant idea. I can't wait to be the first to try it. How far along are you?"
"Just getting started," Hodge said with a hint of regret. "I was planning to research and outline the steps, but I hit a snag right away. That's why I came to you for help, Professor."
Lockhart hesitated.
"Well, as a professor, I'm happy to assist—it's my duty, after all—but… I've been rather busy lately," he said, stumbling over his words.
Busy with what? Plotting his next stage play?
Ever since the house-elf riot incident, Lockhart had wised up and stopped bringing live creatures into class. As a result, his lessons had become mind-numbingly dull—worse even than Quirrell's, who, despite his stammer, at least stuck to the textbook. Lockhart, on the other hand, was a complete slacker. He'd read long passages from his own books in class, and lately, he'd become obsessed with staging dramatic reenactments of what he deemed "valuable" scenes.
Naturally, students were roped into performing.
Lockhart had a thing for famous students. Hodge had once been forced to play a fire sprite, but after he got a bit too excited and blasted the lectern to smithereens, Lockhart stopped calling on him. Harry became the biggest victim, having played a villager cursed to spit bubbles, a Himalayan yeti with typhoid, and a timid banshee—wait, no, that was Hermione's iconic role.
From what Hodge had heard, other year groups weren't spared either. In the common room, he'd overheard Ginny ranting about wanting to hex that "fraud of a professor" with a Bat-Bogey Curse. "I don't know why, but I'm really good at that spell," she'd said. Luna, sitting nearby, had quirked her pale eyebrows and said earnestly, "Don't you think a brandy-drinking zombie would be fascinating?"
"Oh, Luna…" Ginny had groaned.
Hodge had to fight the urge to write to his uncle Elaine at the travel agency about that one. A zombie Butterbeer festival paired with a ghost band? Tempting, but he shook it off.
Back in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Hodge looked at Lockhart, pretending not to notice the excuse in his words. With a dramatic sigh, he said, "Madam Pince wouldn't let me check it out. She said I need a permission slip signed by you personally…"
"Just a permission slip?" Lockhart asked eagerly.
"The book's a bit sensitive—Rowena Ravenclaw's notes," Hodge added. Seeing Lockhart's brow furrow, he continued, "I've already got some insights into broom magic—like Balancing Charms, Flying Magic, Levitation Spells, Sensing Charms… some models even prevent the rider from falling off. The problem is figuring out how to combine them without interference."
"Ravenclaw's notes would help with that?" Lockhart asked, skeptical. "I seem to recall she was known for obscure spells and memory magic. Back when I was in school—" He cut himself off abruptly.
Hodge pretended not to hear the last part.
"Of course," he said. "Rowena Ravenclaw was also a master of alchemy. She crafted a diadem that enhanced the wearer's wisdom, though it's been lost since…" His thoughts drifted. The diadem—Ravenclaw's diadem! It was hidden somewhere in the school. How had he not thought of this before?
"I could ask Professor Flitwick," Hodge continued. "He's a charms genius and might know how to stabilize the spells. But since the idea came from you, Professor, I thought I'd get your opinion first. If it works, maybe we could even publish a paper…"
Lockhart absently stroked his oversized peacock quill, blinking.
Two minutes later, Hodge walked away with a permission slip clearly marked for "Rowena Ravenclaw's notes."
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