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—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 Defense League, and five time winner of Witch Weekly's MostCharming 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 people smiled weakly.
"This git is so obsessed with himself. He isn't even handsome." muttered Alexandria in disgust, Daphne nodding along.
"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books— well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about— just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in— "
When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes— start— now!"
Alexandria looked down at her paper and read:
1.What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?
2.What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?
3.What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?
On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:
54.When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?
Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.
"Tut, tut— hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully— I clearly state in Chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non magic peoples— though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky!"
He gave them another roguish wink. Daphne was now staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on her face; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter.
Pansy, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her name.
"...but Miss Pansy Parkinson knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair care potions— good girl! In fact— " he flipped her paper over "—full marks! Where is Miss Pansy Parkinson?"
Pansy raised a trembling hand.
"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Slytherin!.. but Miss Slytherin hasn't even written anything, why's that, Alexandria?"
"I was waiting for the real quiz to arrive."
Lockhart opened and closed his mouth, then ignored her and said, "And so— to business— "
He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.
"Now— be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."
Alexandria leaned around her pile of books for a better look at the cage.
Lockhart placed a hand on the cover.
Dean and Seamus had stopped laughing now. Longbottom was cowering in his front row seat.
"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."
As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.
"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."
Seamus Finnigan couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.
"Yes?" He smiled at Seamus.
"Well, they're not— they're not very— dangerous, are they?" Seamus choked.
"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"
The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing.
The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.
"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!" And he opened the cage.
It was pandemonium.
The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Longbottom by the ears and lifted him into the air.
Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, up ended the waste basket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling.
"Come on now— round them up, round them up, they're only pixies," Lockhart shouted.
"DO IT YOURSELF, THEN!" snarled Alexandria, cutting a pixie in half with one of her daggers, making all the others scream and fly away from her in terror.
He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"
It had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized his wand and threw it out of the window, too.
Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who fell a second later as the chandelier gave way.
The bell rang and there was a mad rush toward the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Alexandria, Pansy, and Daphne, who were almost at the door, and said, "Well, I'll ask you three to just nip the rest of them back into their cage." He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.
"Can you believe him?" roared Alexandria as one of the remaining pixies almost bit her painfully on the ear.
"He just wants to give us some hands-on experience," said Pansy, immobilizing two pixies at once with a Freezing Charm and stuffing them back into their cage.
"Hands on?" said Daphne, who was trying to grab a pixie dancing out of reach with its tongue out. "Pansy, he didn't have a clue what he was doing— "
"Rubbish," said Pansy. "You've read his books— look at all those amazing things he's done— "
