Professor Lockhart was wearing elegant robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy blonde hair; and he was smiling broadly to show off all his flawless teeth. He looked good and he knew it! He waved cheerfully to his adoring fans as he returned to his seat at the Headmaster's Table. Deep sighs from the females in the room, and their admiring looks, seemed to make his smile shine even brighter. The handsome Wizard took a moment to soak in the attention, not noticing, or not deigning to notice, the dark looks the males in his audience were shooting his way. His easy manner with the Witches filled them with jealousy and suspicion — no one could be as good as that Wizard seemed to be. And watching as their girlfriends fawned over the Wizard merely flamed the fires their resentment and envy.
Dumbledore continued, ". . . I think we should finish the Sorting"
The rest of the Sorting Feast passed quietly, especially at the Gryffindor table. But if glares could speak, the entire Gryffindor table yelled at Ron Weasley the entire time. The other tables were stunned into whispered conversations, worried that the new D.A.D.A. professor might take offense and start docking them points.
Both the Headmaster and Professor Snape spent the time studying Gilderoy while he laughed and flirted with Professors Sprout, McGonagall, and Sinistra. Professor Trelawney looked jealous that her seat was too far from the man to engage him in conversation.
Dumbledore was dumbfounded. This Wizard was not the fraud he had requested teach the students this year. The Headmaster had intended to expose the Wizard this year as the charlatan he was to the world. On the other hand, maybe this was just a fluke.
If it weren't impossible, he would have said that Lockhart knew the two young Wizards were going to crash into that tree and had been prepared all along to rescue them. And how had he known when they had crashed? He couldn't have felt the protective enchantments react to their presence; the Castle's protective enchantments only reported intrusions to the Headmaster. It was a mystery, and the Headmaster disliked mysteries.
.......
Gilderoy, smiling his trademark smile — and yes, it really was trademarked . . . and insured — sat leaning against his desk as the Second Years walked in. Harry was sulking at his desk, trying to hide behind a tower of Lockhart the Fraud's books.
It was much harder being here in the past than he had thought. Lockhart used that smile and smarmy exterior to hide the pain he felt seeing his friends alive again. He wanted to grab them and hug them, to tell them that they weren't going to die this time. To rejoice that they were alive, unscarred, and just so young. Watching Neville walk into the classroom so hesitantly, knowing that he had died saving the lives of a Muggle-born's family while taking half-a-dozen Death Eaters with him, was heartbreaking. He felt tears gathering at the edges of his eyes seeing them all, even the Slytherins. He wasn't sure how he would have handled this as a twelve-year-old again. He coped by retreating and letting Gilderoy control things. Gilderoy didn't know these students. Gilderoy had a happy childhood. Gilderoy did not have repeating nightmares watching his friends die horrific deaths in battles with vicious Dark Wizards.
When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.
"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award — but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"
He waited for them to laugh; a few smiled weakly. The Witches mostly sighed.
"I want everyone's undivided attention in this class as I present you with the preeminent opportunity to learn Defence Against Dark Arts, a field in which I am uniquely qualified." If they only knew just how unique his qualifications truly were!
He beamed at the class cheerfully, "Based on what other classes mentioned about your previous Professors I worry you might be extremely misinformed. Worry not my dear young fellows, because I have accepted the task of teaching you something that you are seriously lacking and believe me, I am usually successful in my ventures. To that end, we're starting the class with a simple test to see just what you know."
The class groaned.
"Nothing that complicated, twenty questions, just a simple assessment of what you know. It will not count against you, I assure you! Don't even put your names down. I want your honest answers, no cheating! Cheating hurts you, not me. Answer as quickly as you can, skip any you are not positive of and return to them after doing the rest. You have five minutes." He waved his wand and parchments appeared on their desks.
Still groaning, most of the class started at once.
After ten minutes, he said, "Times up," and waved his wand. The parchments flew to his desk, some with long ink lines on them as their owners had failed to lift their quills fast enough. "Pull out your copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2."
"Start reading chapter one. If you don't have your copy with you, share with someone else. No talking."
He spent a few minutes flipping through the tests. He sighed deeply, had it really been that bad? No wonder they fell in battle like wheat before a thresher.
"Times up!" he called. "Who finished the chapter?" Naturally, Hermione raised her hand, as did Harry and Ron. Gilderoy knew the girl had read the entire book, twice, before she even arrived at Hogwarts, and had browbeat the two boys into reading the book as well. But they had lied to her, and had barely read halfway through. But they were still far ahead of most of the class.
"Who finished and understood the first page?" Everyone raised their hands. "Second Page?" Several hands fell. He sighed. "Third page?" Most hands fell. "Anyone besides Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley finish the fourth page?" Nobody raised a hand.
His smile faltered. "Right." He sighed. "Homework! Owl home and have your parents send you your copy of last year's The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1. Read the complete book before our next class next Wednesday!" The entire class gasped, and then groaned. Hermione looked ecstatic. "There are only a few copies in the Library, so SHARE! It's called TEAMWORK! Get used to it! If you don't, you will fail. And what you learned last year is the basis for everything you learn from this day forward!"
He gave them a moment for that to sink in, and then he smiled brightly.