"Harry Potter- Ravenclaw"Chapter 197: Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor... Hah!
"Probably not," Harry mused, rubbing his chin. "I still think Snape would win…"
Ron stared at Harry as if he'd never met him before. "You've changed, mate! You're a total stranger!"
"I'm just being logical," Harry protested. "After class, Wyzett always goes to ask professors questions… Think about it—who gets asked the least?"
Ron's eyes lit up. "Oh… it's Lockhart!"
"All right, enough!" Hermione cut in, raising her voice. "We should get to the library! Now that we've got the reading list from Ravenclaw, we ought to do some proper studying."
"See?" Harry exclaimed. "That's more proof—if Wyzett wrote the reading list himself, it means one thing: going to Lockhart's class is worse than just finding a book on your own!"
"So let's go already!" Hermione shot a glance at the open door down the corridor. "If Snape comes out and catches us, we'll lose points for sure!"
"Good point!" Ron and Harry echoed, dashing after Hermione toward the moving staircase.
At that moment, Snape appeared in the doorway, eyeing the empty corridor with a curl of his lip.
Beside him, Lockhart was silently screaming, several curlers tumbling from his hair.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Unable to make a sound, he resorted to slapping the wall with his palms in protest.
Snape raised his wand, pointing it directly at Lockhart's nose. "Now! I ask, you answer!"
"Hey! This is my office! You've got no right—" Lockhart finally found his voice, but at the sight of Snape's wand, he raised both hands in surrender, sweat beading on his brow. "Professor Snape… let's be reasonable. Whatever you want to know, just ask—I'll tell you everything, I swear…"
Snape's voice was low and icy. "Tell me. Did Pansy Parkinson come to see you?"
Under Snape's cold, obsidian stare, Lockhart felt utterly exposed. His voice shook. "When would she have come? I really don't know…"
"No one's come to see you?" Snape pressed.
"I swear, I know nothing!" Lockhart shook his head frantically. "I've spent all day replying to fan mail… You know, being a famous author means lots of letters to answer…"
Snape narrowed his eyes, shoved Lockhart aside, and raised his wand high. "Specialis Revelio!"
"I really don't know anything!" Lockhart squeaked, burying his head, shoulders hunched, trying to shrink out of Snape's line of fire.
A golden vortex appeared, scattering countless golden motes that hung in the air, refusing to settle.
…
When Snape didn't move for a long moment, Lockhart clenched his fists, knuckles white, and summoned the courage to peek toward the door.
Seeing the corridor empty, he swallowed hard and managed a shaky voice. "See? I told you—I wasn't lying…"
Snape ignored him, raising his wand again. The golden motes in the air turned black, a few strands drifting down to the desk.
As Snape picked up a perfume bottle from the tabletop, the black dust faded away.
"T-that's… that's Amortentia…" Lockhart stammered, sweat pouring down his face. "I didn't use much—honestly, just a tiny bit!"
Snape said nothing, lips pressed into a thin line as he gripped the bottle.
"It's… it's expensive stuff!" Lockhart babbled, desperate. "I never give it to ordinary readers! Only to the truly loyal fans—they already love my books…"
Snape's gaze dropped, as if he were looking at something foul. "If you ever use this filth… on a student…"
"I never would! Absolutely not! I swear!" Lockhart squeaked, shrinking in on himself.
"Gilderoy Lockhart, remember this: I can detect this stuff." Snape's tone was glacial. "Don't let me catch you."
"Otherwise, I'll cut you open, bone by bone… heal you… and do it all over again…"
"I swear I won't!" Lockhart curled up even tighter. "I promise!"
Without another word, Snape pulled out the route map, preparing to leave for his next destination.
But just then, as if sensing something, he spun with lightning reflexes, wand flashing as a jet of red light shot out.
Bang!
"O—" Lockhart had just raised his wand and opened his mouth when the spell hit him dead-on.
His eyes rolled up as he collapsed, body flung backward as if struck by a Bludger, arcing through the air before crashing hard into the wall with a tremendous crack.
"Order of Merlin, Third Class… Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League… Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor… Hah!" Snape sneered, then strode away without a backward glance.
"No sign of anything unusual." Snape returned to the headmaster's office, tossing the route map carelessly onto the desk.
"Is that so?" Dumbledore looked up, studying Snape closely. He noticed the faint curl of a sneer at the corner of Snape's mouth. "Did something amusing happen?"
"Heh…" Snape sat across from Dumbledore. "You might want to send Gilderoy Lockhart a blanket—he's probably still lying on the floor."
"He actually dared to cross you…" Dumbledore sounded genuinely surprised. "I thought he'd never have the nerve. What did you do to him?"
"Just a Stunning Spell. Didn't even bother with the incantation, and he still fainted… Order of Merlin, Third Class… hah!" Snape said, the sneer never leaving his lips.
"Fainted… That's a bit awkward," Dumbledore murmured. "I just approved his request for an assembly…"
Snape raised an eyebrow. "What request? Lockhart giving a class on using hair curlers?"
"Dueling Club," Dumbledore replied, his expression strange. "After the recent attacks, he thinks everyone should learn to defend themselves."
"Defend themselves?" Snape's eyebrows shot up. "If it's just about protecting their hairstyles, those curlers might actually come in handy!"
Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Perhaps. I just sent the approval back. Let's hope nothing goes wrong in the meantime."
"Who knows…" Snape said, his voice cold and silky. "Maybe he'll decide to pack up and leave—for good."
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