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Chapter Fifteen: Lockhart's Unknown Situation
"How was Professor Lupin's class?" Lockhart asked, settling into his chair and taking a sip of water.
"It was good," Harry said honestly. "I learnt a lot of useful things."
Hermione, however, immediately objected. "But he's nothing like you, Professor! When are you coming back to teach?"
"Heh… maybe next term," Lockhart replied, opting for the safest excuse. "I'm only filling in this semester, and I haven't actually prepared any lessons."
"Professor, you've got so much real experience—you could teach just by telling stories," Ron said earnestly.
"Don't be ridiculous!" Hermione snapped. "Professor Lockhart isn't that sort of irresponsible teacher."
Harry nodded politely. "Professor Lupin is very good too. But you should focus on recovering first, sir."
Lockhart blinked. The Chosen One was… considerate? That was new.
"Oh! We should go." Hermione suddenly remembered something and gestured for the boys to follow. "Professor, something happened while you were away. We need to check on Hagrid."
"Oh, of course—go on if you need to," Lockhart said quickly. He certainly wasn't going to stop them.
"We'll see you soon, sir. Please rest," Hermione said firmly before ushering Harry and Ron out of the room.
When the door clicked shut, Lockhart exhaled. He'd briefly considered the idea of a teacher-student romance while at Hogwarts, but quickly dismissed it. First, schoolgirls were far too complicated—and Lockhart avoided complicated things at all costs. Second, the environment at Hogwarts was hardly suitable for such nonsense, especially under Dumbledore's nose. And most importantly—if he actually got himself a girlfriend, his female fanbase would riot.
"Single is still the best!" Lockhart concluded aloud.
After mulling over his situation for a while, he decided he should check on Lupin, who was technically "covering" for him. Leaving his office, he made his way to Lupin's.
As he approached, Lupin stepped out—hurried, distracted, and obviously in no mood to chat. He managed a brief greeting before disappearing down the corridor.
Lockhart was still staring after him when another figure appeared: Professor Snape, carrying a steaming cup.
"Professor Lockhart," Snape drawled, "our triumphant hero. To be perfectly frank, you're the first Defence Against the Dark Arts professor I've seen arrive at the beginning of term alive." He put rather pointed emphasis on the word "Defence." "Tell me—how did the Killing Curse feel? I imagine you'll find some way to turn it into another book. And of course, you're the first professor I've seen nearly die saving a Muggle-born student…"
Lockhart could not for the life of him understand Snape's hostility. Did Snape really want the cursed job that badly? He could have it! Lockhart would gladly take the position of Head of Slytherin instead.
To be honest, Lockhart did somewhat regret nearly dying to save Hermione—but since he had survived, the goodwill he had earned from the trio was definitely worth something.
"I believe a person's nobility is in their character, not their bloodline, Professor Snape," Lockhart replied smoothly. "Should a professor stop to check a student's ancestry before protecting them? 'Oh dear, this one isn't pure-blood, and not a Slytherin—best let them perish,' hahahaha."
Snape's expression soured immediately, but Lockhart was just getting started.
"And frankly, I can't picture a professor who washes his hair once every two months and spends his lessons hissing at students suddenly springing heroically to their defence. The poor children would probably faint from the fumes alone!"
Lockhart found himself highly amused by his own remark.
Snape's eyes flashed. "So, Professor Lockhart, what brings you here? Seeking guidance from Lupin—the werewolf—on how to teach?"
"I merely came to speak with him," Lockhart said calmly, "though I suppose some people have never experienced professional camaraderie." He paused meaningfully. "Or—wait—are you here to ask Professor Lupin to step aside so you can finally claim the Defence Against the Dark Arts position? Ah, but he seems to have gone. What a pity."
Snape's expression shifted instantly. He forgot their argument, shoved open Lupin's door, and stepped inside. A moment later, he rushed back out—face tight with realisation—and hurried after Lupin.
Left bewildered by both men's strange behaviour, Lockhart had no choice but to return to his office. He picked up a thick, advanced spellbook and began to read.
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