Again, I have no access to my copy of CoS, so anything that Lockhart says will not match what he did in the same situation in canon.
I own Lizzie, Whizzie and Michael. Everyone else belongs to Rowling.
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Chapter 4 - Snake Charmer
While the four Marauders looked at the message on the wall in shock, the caretaker Argus Filch conveniently arrived with a mop and bucket.
"No good ruffians, always sullying the castle, why I oughta…" he grumbled, but he trailed off at the sight of his beloved cat hanging he pointed at the Marauders, eyes bulging. "YOU! You murdered by cat!" When Harry opened his mouth to argue, the rest of the faculty showed up. How the hell do they show up like that? Harry thought darkly as Dumbledore examined the wall and cat.
"It's such a shame," Lockhart lamented, looking at Mrs. Norris. "It looks like a shimishanga curse. If only I had arrived earlier, I could have saved her."
"She is not dead, Argus," Dumbledore finally said, "she is merely petrified."
"I knew that," Lockhart said quickly, prompting almost everyone in the room to roll their eyes.
"Someone petrified my cat," Filch growled, almost in tears, "I want to see some punishment!"
"Pomona currently has a crop of mandrakes growing, Argus, so she will be cured soon enough. In the meantime, we must figure out how she came into this state in the first place," Dumbledore assured, stroking his beard in thought.
"Why don't you ask them?!" Filch spat, pointing a bony finger at the Marauders.
"They're the ones who did this to her!" Michael opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by Snape, to everyone's surprise.
"Now, now, Argus, we all know that a feat such as this is beyond the grasp of seconds years, even those with…backgrounds as these four," he drawled, glaring at Harry and Michael. "However, it does beg the question as to why they were here in the first place."
"We were having lunch with Hagrid, and we saw the flood water, and came to investigate. That's it," Harry said, avoiding looking directly at Dumbledore or Snape.
"LIAR!" Filch shouted, spraying spittle onto Harry's face.
"Innocent until proven guilty, Argus," Dumbledore placated. With a scowl, Filch skulked away, the mess forgotten. After the caretaker's rather emotional display, he turned to the four Marauders. "Now, I believe that you should run off to bed now." Needing no further prompting, the four children fled from the scene, the gears in their minds turning. When they turned the corner, McGonnagal turned to Dumbledore, nervous.
"Do you think this is like what happened fifty years ago, Albus?" she asked uneasily. Dumbledore sighed, rubbing his crooked nose.
"For all our sakes, Minerva…I hope not."
Meanwhile, the Marauders were discussing the message and its meanings.
"What the hell is the Chamber of Secrets?" Blaise thought out loud. Hermione bit her lip nervously.
"I saw it in my copy of Hogwarts: A History, but I forgot it at home," she muttered.
"I have my copy with me," Harry said, "I'll go get it for you, twinkletink," he said to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Nodding in acceptance, she swung open to allow them entry to the mostly empty Common Room, where Harry jogged up the stairs to his dormitory to get his book. A few minutes later, he came down, leafing through the pages. "Here it is," he said, pointing to a passage. "`The Chamber of Secrets is a room within the castle of Hogwarts, said to be constructed right before Salazar Slytherin was expelled from the castle for his conflicting views on blood purity. It is said that Slytherin vowed that one day his heir would return to the castle and release a monster contained within, which would cleanse the castle of those he believed unfit to learn magic. Since then, hundreds of searches have been conducted throughout the castle to find such a chamber, to no result, and has been classified as a myth.' That's all it says," Harry said, snapping his book shut, "nothing to indicate as to what exactly Slytherin's monster is." Sighing, he flopped down into a chair.
"What was the message written in? Blood?" Michael asked, gulping. Hermione shook her head.
"The only things that have been reported dead lately were the roosters, and those had their necks snapped. It was also too bright to be blood, it was probably something like paint," she said. Michael breathed a sigh of relief.
"Okay, who here would want to knock off Filch's cat?" Blaise asked, already suspecting the answer.
"Everybody," the other three answered simultaneously.
"The more important question is, who here has the ability to petrify Mrs. Norris?" Hermione said. "Petrification is really powerful dark magic, and I doubt that anyone would go through that much trouble just to get rid of a cat, however annoying it is." She heard a pitiful meow and looked to see Crookshanks looking at her worriedly. "Oh, you're not annoying, Crookshanks," she assured, picking the half-kneazle up and cuddling him. "You're the cutest, cleverest cat in the world, yes you are," she cooed, rubbing her nose against Crookshank's. The cat merely meowed in response.
"Well, there's nothing more to be gained by staying up all night pondering it," Harry sighed as he stood up. "The only thing we can do is wait and see what happens tomorrow." As much as she hated to admit it, Harry was right. With what little they knew, they couldn't come up with a plausible theory. After bidding their goodnights, they all headed to their respective dormitories to sleep.
None of them noticed Emma scribbling away in a black diary, listening in on their conversation.
The next day, it seemed that news of Mrs. Norris being petrified had reached the entire school, as Harry distinctly heard the words "hallway", "Filch's cat", and "message" as he walked to his spot on the Gryffindor table. While he was eating a piece of ham, he heard a young, chipper voice call his name.
"Hey, Harry!" it said cheerfully. Harry instinctively looked up and was blinded by a bright flash. When the smoke cleared, he saw a blond first-year with pupils that took up almost his entire eyes, and holding an old wizard-style camera. "I'm Colin Creevey, I'm your biggest fan!" Harry just stared at the hyper boy blankly.
"Umm…how nice?" he said hesitantly.
"I'm Muggleborn by the way, my dad's a milkman!" Colin continued, bouncing on his feet as if he were meeting Merlin himself. "I heard that if you develop photos in the right potion, the pictures will move, so I've been taking lots of pictures for him! He'll be excited when I show him a picture of Harry Potter!" Snapping another photo, he ran off, being followed by the gaze of the confused Marauders.
"What…the hell…was that?" Blaise asked slowly. Harry sighed dejectedly.
"Fans," he grumbled, digging into his breakfast with renewed vigor. After glancing at his schedule again, Harry groaned when he saw that they had class with Daft McStupid (as Michael had christened Lockhart after their first lesson) after breakfast. Rolling his eyes, he resignedly stood up and started walking towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, the other three following.
When class started, Lockhart drew his wand and carefully stepped around a covered object.
"It is my task to teach you to defend yourselves against the darkest, vilest creatures in this world," he whispered dramatically. "Now, when I reveal to you today's lesson, I must ask you not to scream," he continued, grabbing the top of the cloth, "it might PROVOKE THEM!" He whipped the cloth off to show a large birdcage filled with small, blue creatures with large black eyes. The entire class began laughing.
"Cornish pixies?" Weasley laughed.
"Freshly caught Cornish pixies," Lockhart confirmed. "You may laugh now, but I warn you, these are feisty little buggers. Now, let's see what you think of them now!" he unlatched the door on the cage, and the pixies swarmed out and began to wreak havoc throughout the classroom. While most of the students were in a state of panic, the Marauders just sat calmly, knocking away any pixies that antagonized them while they waited to see what Lockhart would do.
"Err…" Lockhart droned nervously, and then began waving his wand around randomly. "Peskipiksi pesternomi!" Having no effect, one of the pixies snatched his wand out of his hand and snapped the chain suspending a dragon skeleton onto the ceiling. Rolling their eyes in exasperation, the Marauders drew their wands.
"Immobulis!" they shouted simultaneously, and the pixies froze, floating around in mid-air. Nervously peeking up from a desk that he had dove under during the pandemonium, Lockhart surveyed the damage, his normally perfectly kept hair now tousled.
"Umm, yes, excellent work, ten points to Gryffindor," he stuttered before lowering himself back under the desk. Harry sighed as he sat down and rubbed his temple. What an idiot.
Three weeks passed without much incident. After the incident with the pixies, Lockhart never brought live creatures to his classes, but instead continued to reenact scenes from his various exploits, often using the students as actors.
"That's it, Mister Weasley, a little more anguished, that's it," Lockhart prompted, while Weasley howled pitifully. Harry snorted in disgust at the reenactment of Lockhart's supposed vanquishing of the Walla-Walla werewolf, thinking that Remus would have a field day if he saw this blatant display of stereotypical werewolf behavior, and the prejudices associated with them.
He also found out that a decent night's sleep was quickly becoming little more than a distant memory when Oliver Wood began working them from five in the morning till breakfast started with Quidditch practice in anticipation for the upcoming match against Slytherin. When the day of the match arrived, Harry just prodded at his food nervously.
"Harry, you need to eat something," Hermione said, rubbing his back comfortingly. Harry reluctantly nibbled on a piece of toast before going down to the Gryffindor locker room, his Nimbus 2001 in hand. Later, Harry stood nervously amongst the other players under the stadium.
"Don't worry, Harry, you'll be fine," Oliver said, patting Harry on the shoulder, which didn't placate him at all. When they stepped out, Harry was blinded by the bright sun and deafened by the roar coming from the Gryffindor side of the stadium. They walked up to the Slytherin team, where Oliver and Flint shook hands. Flint looked like he was trying to crush Oliver's hand, but he didn't flinch.
"Mount your brooms!" the referee, Madam Hooch shouted. The players immediately mounted their brooms and kicked off the ground. Hooch glared critically at the two teams. "Now, I want a clean game from you; all of you." Harry had heard from the other players that the Slytherins were notorious for cheating, so Harry had his doubts. After releasing the bludgers and golden snitch, she blew her whistle and threw the quaffle into the air, which was immediately grabbed by one of Slytherin's chasers and began soaring towards the Gryffindor goal posts.
Harry soared up high over the other players and began searching for the small golden ball flitting around the field.
"How you feeling, scarhead?!" Malfoy shouted. Ignoring him, Harry searched frantically for the snitch, and upon seeing a golden glint near the Slytherin goal posts, he zoomed away, Malfoy on his tail. With equal brooms, Malfoy soon caught up with Harry and they were neck and neck to the snitch, but Harry looked to his side to see a bludger flying right towards them. He quickly decelerated, but since Malfoy didn't notice, got a large iron ball to the ribs, knocking him off his broom and likely breaking several bones in the process. Harry cursed to himself because his dodging the bludger had caused him to lose sight of the snitch. He heard the telltale whizzing of a bludger coming towards him, and flew out of the way just in time to avoid having his head smashed in by the ball. Taking off, he raced around the perimeter of the field, dodging the other players and still looking for the snitch. The Weasley twins had come to knock the bludger away several times, but every time it would turn back and give chase to Harry again.
Eventually, Harry saw the snitch, and pushed his broom harder until he was right behind it. But as he reached out to grab the golden ball, the second bludger suddenly changed direction and slammed into Harry's outstretched arm, making a sickening crack. Now with two tampered bludgers out for his blood and a broken arm, Harry jumped off his broom and snatched the snitch with his left arm, and groaned in pain as he skidded to a stop on the sandy ground near the goal posts. After the rest of the team had wrestled the two aberrant bludgers and locked them back into their receptacles, everybody gathered around Harry as he held the golden snitch in one hand and held his broken arm to his chest.
"Out of the way, out of the way!" a stern voice said, and the crowd cleared to make way for Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse. After tutting to herself and muttering about how dangerous Quidditch was, she waved her wand over Harry, and the pain immediately disappeared. As soon as he was healed, Harry was lifted up off the ground by the Gryffindor team and was carried back to the Common Room where they spent the rest of the day celebrating their victory.
The next day, when Harry went down the Common Room, he saw a notice on the bulletin board.
Due to recent events, Defense Against the Dark Arts professor Gilderoy Lockhart will be hosting a dueling club to teach students how to defend themselves on Mondays through Saturdays at 2:00-7:30 PM. All students are invited to attend. Harry couldn't help but feel nervous about this announcement. Had there been another attack? He couldn't help but wonder.
Harry went down to breakfast and waited for his friends to show up before he started eating. Blaise's copy of the Daily Prophet flew in and, after paying the owl, began reading the front page. But when she saw the first article, she nearly chocked on her bacon.
"Look at this!" she shouted, placing the paper on the table and the Marauders crowded around to read it.
DEPARTMENT HEAD FOUND HOUSING DEATH EATER; AUROR DEAD
By Matthew Lowe
Last night, an auror raid was conducted at the residence of Bartemius Crouch, head of the Department of International Cooperation. Upon investigation of his residence, aurors found the unconscious form of Bartemius Crouch Jr., a convicted Death Eater and believed to have died about ten years ago.
When revived, Crouch Jr. immediately grabbed the wand of junior auror Julian Richards and managed to cast a killing curse on said auror before being subdued. Crouch Jr. is currently being held in Azkaban prison awaiting trial for the murder of auror Richards, and sources say that the Minister is going for the Dementor's Kiss this time. He has been previously sentenced to life in Azkaban for being a Death Eater.
His father, Crouch Sr., has been under investigation for corruption and false imprisonment after signing an arrest warrant for Sirius Black without corroborating evidence. After finding that six people had been sentenced to Azkaban without trial, an arrest warrant was issued for Mr. Crouch. With the additional charges of housing a Death Eater and assisting in the escape of a Death Eater from Azkaban, it is likely that both father and son will face the same fate.
With the many heavy charges lodged against Mr. Crouch, how can we be expected to have faith in our government when its own department heads are able to break the law so callously? That is the question going through everybody's minds, but I don't think we'll be getting an answer for a long time.
"Well, Dad'll be thrilled to hear about that," Michael said. Harry only shrugged in agreement.
"I saw the dueling club notice in the Common Room; who was petrified?" Harry asked. Hermione and Blaise looked at each other.
"We don't know for sure, but Pavarti Patil and Lavender Brown said that it was the Ravenclaw prefect, Penelope Clearwater," Hermione said.
"And with those two gossip queens, you can never know for sure whether they're right or not," Blaise muttered darkly. Chuckling, Harry finished his breakfast and stood up to go to their morning classes.
That afternoon, the four of them were amongst the masses that had come to witness Lockhart's dueling club, primarily to watch him make a fool of himself even more. Lockhart strutted onto the platform, flashing his thousand-watt smile to the crowd.
"Welcome, can everybody see me?" he asked to the crowd. "Can everybody hear me?"
"Unfortunately," Michael whispered, and they all laughed.
"Now, I have, with Dumbledore's permission, arranged this little dueling club to teach all you younglings how to defend yourselves. To assist me today is your potions teacher, Professor Snape. Don't worry, he'll still be alive by the time I'm through with him," he said, plastering a fake smile.
"Shame," Michael muttered.
"Now, we are going to show you how to properly disarm an opponent. Professor Snape?" The greasy-haired professor walked up the platform, glaring daggers at the flamboyant Lockhart. "First, we bow," Lockhart said, doing an exaggerated bow while Snape barely nodded his head. "Then, we attack. One, two, three."
"Expelliarmus!" Snape shouted, sending a white blast of light straight towards Lockkhart, knocking him on his behind and sending him sliding across the platform.
After picking himself up and retrieving his wand (which had mysteriously flown halfway into the crowd), he addressed the crowd again. "There, now, as you have seen, Professor Snape has caused my to lose my wand, very good."
"Perhaps now would be a good time to show the students how to block unfriendly spells, Gilderoy," Snape said darkly, his arms crossed. Lockhart's eyes widened slightly and suddenly appeared very nervous.
"An excellent point, Professor Snape. Any volunteers?" When no one offered, he decided to take matters into his own hands. "Potter and…Longbottom, then?" Snape snorted in amusement.
"Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest of spells," he said, "we'll be sending Potter to the hospital wing in a matchbox. How about someone from my house, Malfoy perhaps?"
"Excellent suggestion, Professor Snape!" Lockhart exclaimed jovially, and the two boys walked up to the stage. Snape whispered something into Malfoy's ear, and the two raised their wands.
"Scared, Potter?" Malfoy spat. Harry simply chuckled.
"You wish."
"Okay now, disarming only," Lockhart said. "On three, one, two-"
"Furnuculus!" Malfoy shouted, sending the hex at Harry, who dodged it.
"Rictumsempra!" Harry retaliated, and the hex blasted Malfoy, who skidded along the platform on his behind. After Snape hauled Malfoy back up, he launched his next spell.
"Serpensortia!" he shouted, and a large black cobra shot out of his wand. The crowd held their breath as the serpent slithered its way towards Harry.
"Allow me to get rid of that for you, Mister Potter," Lockhart said, and flicked his wand, only for the snake to jump high into the air and land in front of the Hufflepuff Justin Finch-Fletchey. As the cobra raised its head to strike, Harry stepped forward.
"Stop!" he hissed, and the cobra paused. "Stand down," he continued. Reluctantly, the serpent lowered itself into a mound on the platform. For a moment, no one moved, until Snape vanished the snake, then Finch-Fletchey turned to Harry.
"What the hell's wrong with you?!" he spat. At first, Harry didn't understand, then he realized what he just did.
"Aw, damn," he muttered.
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Whew, that took me forever to write!
As you may have noticed, it took me a while to update this. Truth is, ideas for other fics have been popping up faster than for this one, so this one gets updated slower.
Don't forget to read and review! I thrive on reviews!
Edited on September 6, 2007 for typos, grammatical errors and sealing a plot hole.
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