Dawn Rivera

The Rogue Bludger

Since the disastrous episode of the pixies, Professor Lockhart has not brought live creatures to class. Instead, he reads passages from his books to us, and sometimes re-enacts some of the more dramatic bits. He usually picks Harry to help him with these reconstructions; so far, Harry has been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a head-cold, and a vampire who was unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart dealt with him.

Harry is hauled to the front of the class during our very next Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting a werewolf. If he didn't have a very good reason for keeping Lockhart in a good mood, I have no doubt that he would have refused to do it.

"Nice loud howl, Harry - exactly - and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced - like this - slammed him to the floor - thus - with one hand, I managed to hold him down - with my other, I put my wand to his throat - I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm - he let out a piteous moan - go on, Harry - higher than that - good - the fur vanished - the fangs shrank - and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective - and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks."

The bell rings and Lockhart gets to his feet.

"Homework: compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!"

The class begins to leave. Harry returns to the back of the room, where Ron, Hermione and me are waiting.

"Ready?" Harry mutters.

"Wait till everyone's gone," I say nervously. "All right..."

Me and Hermione approach Lockhart's desk, a piece of paper clutched tightly in our hands, Harry and Ron right behind us.

"Er - Professor Lockhart?" Hermione stammers. "I wanted to - to get this book out of the library. Just for the background reading." We hold out the piece of paper, our hands shaking slightly. "But the thing is, it's in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it - I'm sure it would help me understand what you say in Gadding with Ghouls about slow-acting venoms..."

"Ah, Gadding with Ghouls!" says Lockhart, taking the note from Hermione and me and smiling widely at us. "Possibly my very favourite book. You enjoyed it?"

"Oh, yes," I say eagerly. "So clever, the way you trapped that last one with the tea-strainer..."

"Well, I'm sure no one will mind me giving the best students in the year a little extra help," says Lockhart warmly, and he pulls out an enormous peacock quill. "Yes, nice, isn't it?" he says, misreading the revolted look on Ron's face. "I usually save it for booksignings."

He scrawls an enormous loopy signature on the note and hands it back to me and Hermione.

"So, Harry," says Lockhart, while Hermione and me fold the note with fumbling fingers and slip into our bags, "tomorrow's the first Quidditch match the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you're a useful player. I was Seeker, too. I was asked to play for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players..."

"He's more than good, Professor," I gloat, looking proudly at Harry. "Best player the school's ever seen, no doubt."

Ron looks a bit upset at my praising to Harry. Harry makes an indistinct noise in his throat and then hurries off after Ron, Hermione and me.