"Magic is all about intent! If you hold up your wand and say lumos," he demonstrated, holding up his wand, the tip of his wand barely glowing, "your wand lights up." He pointed at his upheld wand with his other hand. Then he frowned at the barely glowing tip. "Not very bright is it? Well, perhaps if I thought about needing a bright light I might get a better result." He held up his wand and said, loudly and firmly, "LUMOS!" A blinding bright light filled the classroom; the students yelped and held their hands in front their faces.
"Perhaps that was a bit too much, eh? Nox!" The light disappeared.
"Whether Dark or Light, it is your intent that drives your magic! I could point to any one of you," he pointed at Hermione with his wand, "And say Avada Kadavra," a pale green light burst from his wand and hit Hermione in the chest. The class screamed in horror. He shielded himself from several spells cast his way — two were from Harry.
Hermione stared at Gilderoy, down at herself, then back at her professor.
"Stand, please, Miss Granger!" he said dodging another set of spells.
Hermione, almost in shock, rose to her feet. The clamour in the classroom slowly died down as they realized Hermione wasn't dead.
Into the silence, Harry/Gilderoy said. "I could cast that spell all day at Miss Granger and she would walk away unharmed. Why? Because I DO NOT WANT TO HURT HER!" He would sooner cut his own throat than deliberately harm her. He directed his next comment to her, "Miss Granger, what did that feel like?"
She stared at him for a moment, and then hesitantly said, "It tingled a bit, kind of like pins and needles, you know like when your arm falls asleep because you leaned on it for too long at an awkward angle."
He put his hands on his hips and beamed at the class. "INTENT! The most powerful healing spell will fizzle if you don't want it to work! The most deadly Dark spell will fail if you don't mean it!"
"The difference between Light and Dark spells is all about intent, as well." He started pacing, his robes swirling dramatically.
"Dark spells are usually designed to hurt people. They can be used to help people — such as reducto being used in demolition work or diffindo being used in forestry to cut down trees — but their primary purpose is to harm people." He looked out at the students. "You will hear people claim that the Unforgivables were originally designed to help people. The AK, for example, as a painless way to ease a patient in agony from a cureless disease or fatal wound — but if your intent is to help a patient, why does the AK require a Healer to hate the patient? And it takes a great deal of power to execute it, as well.
"Light spells are designed to help people. They can also harm them. Such as Wingardium Leviosa — Harmless, right? What if I use it to lift you a thousand feet in the air, and then drop you? That will kill you as surely as a reducto. Aguamenti is harmless, right? If I shove my wand in your mouth and cast it, you'll drown in seconds as your lungs fill with water. You're just as dead as if I hit you with an Avada Kadavra."
The students were looking properly horrified.
"I am a great Wizard for the Light, as you can see merely by reading my books. I've travelled the world and seen things you cannot imagine and fought monsters you can't dream of, some human, all to protect the innocent." He stopped pacing and looked at the students. "And yet . . . and yet . . . I know a hundred or more Dark spells."
"Why do I know those spells? Why, so I can recognize them and counter or dodge them, as I need! You can't fight evil Wizards and monsters unless you know their spells, their strengths, and their weaknesses."
"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." He swept the room with a glance, meeting everyone's eyes.
"First, everyone stand." He waved his hands up. As soon as they stood, he swept his wand and all the desks slid to the back of the room, along with everyone's books and bags. "And I'll stick them together so they are safe." That was another wave. "Now, form wizard-witch teams. For example, Mr. Potter and Miss Granger." It took a moment for the teams to settle. Ron ended up with Lavender Brown.
"Next, we practice the shield charm, which I used in all my books to great effect. A very versatile spell, that one. You simple rotate your wand like so," he demonstrated, "and say protego. Say it with me, pro-TEY-go." They repeated this ten times. "Now practice the wand movement — exaggerate it, like so," and he again demonstrated it. Then he made them repeat it until they all could do it. "Now do the movement really small, like so," and he did, barely moving the tip of his wand. And made them practice it twenty times, while he chanted, "Smaller, smaller!"
"Perfect! Wonderful!" He smiled broadly and struck a pose, hands on hips. "On three, cast! One, two, three!" The results varied from Hermione and Harry's quite solid performance, to almost nothing from Ron except a bit of sparkle. "Again!" Ten times later, he said, "Good, everyone got it?" Most of the class appeared quite happy with their results. Ron scowled at the sparks popping from his wand.
"Next, we go to the Freeze Charm, which I used to quite good effect in Breaking with a Banshee, don't you know." They practiced that spell and wand movement twenty times as well.
"Excellent," he gave them another sample of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile. "Now, know that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm!"
He lifted a cage hidden behind his desk. Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Neville was cowering in his front row seat.
"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice, waving one hand theatrically. "It might . . . provoke them," he half whispered, giving them a stern look.
As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.
"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies." How he managed to say that with a straight face was a mystery — he sounded like a barker at the fish market!
Seamus Finnigan couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't pretend was a scream of terror. The Slytherins looked amused.
"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 at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"