A few days after the now-legendary Popcorn Duel, Hogwarts returned to its usual routine, which meant classes, homework, exaggerated rumors, and an increasing number of students casting spells at walls to get rid of snakes "just in case."
But while the professors tried to restore a bit of stability, Gilderoy Lockhart had other plans.
"A class outdoors! A pedagogical stroll through nature! An opportunity for students to experience what it truly means to be a real adventurer!" he shouted while decorating the notice board with scented parchments signed in golden ink.
"A class where?" asked Professor McGonagall, frowning.
"In the Forbidden Forest, of course. Nothing says 'learning Defense Against the Dark Arts' like getting up close under my supervision."
"And the safety measures?" McGonagall pressed.
"My smile is safety enough!" Lockhart declared, sweeping out with his cape as if exiting an opera.
…
The class was scheduled for a Friday afternoon and included students from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.
Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville, a few Ravenclaws, and unfortunately Kronk (who was somehow selected as Lockhart's assistant despite not being from either house) ended up marching into the forest with Lockhart.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Hermione murmured cautiously, eyeing the shadows among the trees. "I mean, we have Lockhart, so there's not much danger, but..."
"I only came because I thought we were learning to gather magic mushrooms," said Kronk glumly, looking at his empty basket.
"And you think it's logical to go into a dangerous forest for mushrooms?" Ron asked.
"Never underestimate the power of a good mushroom sauce!" Kronk replied, completely serious.
Lockhart marched ahead with a triumphant smile, pointing at every branch, stone, or shadow as if they were part of some grand personal adventure.
"This is where I stopped a werewolf armed only with a silver spoon. Over there, I scared off a herd of centaurs with my rose-scented cologne. And this tree... well, this tree once gave me a nasty look. I forgave it!"
The hike continued until they unknowingly entered a darker, damper part of the forest. A foggy clearing, surrounded by twisted trees and glowing mushrooms.
"I don't like this place," said Neville.
His knowledge of plants told him that for mushrooms like these to grow, the area must be rich in decaying bodies… Yet there wasn't a single bone in sight.
Lockhart raised his wand.
"Do not fear! I have faced a thousand dangers. And if there's anything here, I shall defeat it! Although… if it's friendly, I'll ask it to sign an exclusivity contract for my next book!"
That's when a low buzzing filled the air.
A swarm of tiny floating creatures with shimmering wings and disproportionately large eyes emerged from the bushes. They looked like a cross between fireflies and caffeine-fueled pixies.
"Are those… fairies?" asked Hermione.
"Oblivion Pixies!" Lockhart shouted. "I know this species in great detail. They're harmless… unless provoked."
Ron coughed. "Then why is one dancing on your head?"
Lockhart raised his hand in alarm… and with that sudden movement, everything happened very fast.
One of the creatures poked his forehead with a tiny wand made of bone, another threw glittering dust in his eyes, and a third hugged him so hard he fell backwards—right onto a twisted root that sprang up like a magical springboard.
"Oh, dear! My hai—ahem—my... my…! Where am I?" Lockhart stammered, wobbling.
"Professor!" Harry shouted, running to help him.
Lockhart looked around at everyone with a dazed smile.
"Hi. Am I new here? Is this a camp? Who's the big guy with the mushrooms?" he asked, pointing at the only one with a basket of edible fungi.
"I'm Kronk," said Kronk, who had already picked a few glowing mushrooms and was sniffing them with interest. "Hey, Neville, are these better for roasting or stew?"
"Roasted and sautéed with garlic and butter," Neville replied automatically. "Can't use them for stew—overcooking makes them bitter."
Wait—was now the time for cooking questions?
"And is this a costume party?" Lockhart asked as he touched his shiny robes. "I love it!" he nodded enthusiastically. "Do I have a name?"
"We've lost him!" Hermione cried, clutching her hair so hard she nearly tore it out. "The pixies erased his memory!" she deduced. "This is a tragedy for the entire wizarding world—losing such talent!"
"Is that… technically a good thing?" asked Ron.
"In what sense?" Hermione glared at him murderously.
"He can't teach anymore."
Everyone who wasn't a Lockhart fan thought about it for a moment.
They slowly nodded.
…
An hour later, they returned to Hogwarts with Lockhart happily skipping and singing an improvised song about bananas.
"What a fun group!" he exclaimed with childish delight. "Are we treasure hunting?"
Dumbledore greeted them with his usual calm… though one eyebrow did rise upon seeing Lockhart wearing a crown made of moss.
"Oblivion Pixies, you say?" he asked upon hearing the account.
"Yes, sir," said Hermione. "And we believe the memory charm… might be permanent!" she concluded with a heartbroken expression.
But far from looking concerned…
"Permanent… or destined by the universe?" Dumbledore whispered softly, as if pondering a greater mystery.
Lockhart was taken to the infirmary, where Madam Pomfrey diagnosed him with irreversible amnesia. That night, the rumor spread through the entire castle: Lockhart had lost his memory.
Some gullible students mourned him, while the sensible ones celebrated.
And although the incident was never officially mentioned again, the students of Hogwarts would forever remember the day a professor ventured into the Forbidden Forest… and lost the battle against fairies because of a cheap wig.