Over the next few days, the students were abuzz with chatter. They had finally learned what the so-called "educational review" entailed: a stout, round-faced woman who appeared in their classrooms, clutching a small notebook on her lap and scribbling notes from time to time.
"That's odd," Michael Corner remarked to Hodge Blackthorn. "I thought Moaning Myrtle had come back to life."
Hodge found it peculiar too. He had already seen Umbridge in class three times, and each time she kept a low profile, sitting unobtrusively in the back row. She only asked a few questions after class ended. But Hodge had a hunch she wouldn't stay quiet for long. It was clear she and Fudge were up to something. Sure enough, on Friday, as students poured into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Hodge noticed Umbridge was a different person entirely. She sat in the front row, clad in the familiar pink cardigan that made his skin crawl. Her wide, toothy grin startled every student who entered the room.
"This is going to be interesting," Terry Boot said, his face alight with anticipation. He held a newspaper, and Hodge glanced at the front page. The large photo was nothing short of a disaster: Gilderoy Lockhart, wand raised, his face pale and awkward as he glanced nervously around. Following the direction of his wand, Draco Malfoy was desperately trying to hide behind Crabbe and Goyle, one arm dangling limply like rubber.
Hodge couldn't help but think of Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, a prominent figure on the Hogwarts Board of Governors.
Lockhart strode into the classroom with his usual jaunty step, seemingly unfazed by the incident of deboning a student's arm. Or perhaps he hadn't seen the day's newspaper yet, because when he spotted Umbridge, he flashed a dazzling smile.
"Ah, Madam Umbridge! Ever since I saw that announcement, I've been eager to meet you. I have plenty of thoughts on education—perhaps you'll find them useful."
Umbridge raised an eyebrow.
Lockhart winked playfully. "I know, my public image is that of a Defense Against the Dark Arts expert… always dashing about, solving problems. Occasionally, my exploits make the papers—but that's not the whole story."
A few seats away, Harry and Ron were struggling to stifle their laughter, clamping their hands over their mouths. Hermione shot them a fierce glare. Terry, meanwhile, looked dumbfounded and whispered to Hodge, "His next book won't be Lockhart, the Education Expert, will it?"
"Or maybe The Wizarding Professor," Hodge whispered back, "a perfect companion to his autobiography." He didn't want to admit that his own comic books sold far worse than Lockhart's. Especially since Hodge knew better than anyone: none of Lockhart's so-called heroic deeds were real. He had stolen those stories from truly brave witches and wizards, then used Memory Charms to make them forget their own accomplishments. In short, Lockhart was a fraud.
After chatting animatedly with Umbridge until the bell rang, Lockhart finally returned to the front of the class to begin the lesson. Of course, ever since the Cornish pixies had turned his first class into a chaotic mess, Lockhart's lessons had been devoid of any practical magic. Instead, he relied on reenacting scenes from his own books, having students perform them like a play. Today was no exception.
"Harry, you'll play the child kidnapped by merpeople… Miss Granger, you're his sister. I'll need a few villagers…" Lockhart began assigning roles. Students ducked their heads, well aware of the difference between watching a ridiculous performance and being forced to participate. So when Hodge volunteered to play a villager, Lockhart looked genuinely surprised.
"Well, then…" Lockhart said, "feeling excited, are you? Today's story is absolutely thrilling." He then roped Neville and Lisa Turpin into playing two cunning merpeople.
"Run, run! That's it!" Lockhart called out. "See, everyone? Merpeople are incredibly agile, with strong claws and tail fins." Neville and Lisa began awkwardly circling the room. Neville's face was scrunched up like a dried-out orange, but Lisa seemed to be enjoying herself, even letting out a couple of enthusiastic roars for effect.
Umbridge's eyebrows had been raised since Lockhart started picking roles, as if they were permanently glued to her forehead.
"I cleverly used a little trick, like so—" Lockhart waved his wand haphazardly. "Marvelous effect! It twisted the merperson's back, and they opened their mouths to bite the child. The boy was utterly terrified… More expression, Harry, open your mouth wider—perfect!" Harry's face contorted into a miserable grimace. "So I quickly cast a Jaw-Dislocating Jinx—"
"Could you explain the Jaw-Dislocating Jinx again?" Harry mumbled, half-convinced his own jaw was about to fall off.
Lockhart pretended not to hear.
"Here's the critical moment! Two villagers rushed forward to save the child, but they accidentally blocked my view. Suddenly, the female merperson darted out, snatching the boy from the male merperson and fleeing toward the sea—"
Lisa, quick on the uptake, charged forward, yanking Harry from Neville's grasp and dragging him by the collar in a dramatic slow-motion escape. She paused near the door, glancing back at Lockhart. "Yes! Exactly like that!" Lockhart shouted, striding toward them in three quick steps. "It was an emergency. I leapt onto a small boat, chasing them closely. If the merpeople dove underwater, it'd be over—but that didn't stop me. There's a trick… their tails twist at a specific angle when they dive." Lockhart described his actions with theatrical flair, claiming that after chasing merpeople on the water's surface, even the thrill of Quidditch seemed dull by comparison.
"…In the end, the boat sank, but I conjured a slab of ice, bringing the boy and the female merperson back to shore," Lockhart concluded. "I even struck a deal with the nearby merpeople to stop harassing the villagers—but that's another story."
The class stared in stunned silence before offering half-hearted applause. Compared to slogging through dull textbooks, this amateur performance was, at least, mildly entertaining. Lockhart glanced at the clock—there was still time before the lesson ended—so he assigned homework early: "How Gilderoy Lockhart Kept His Cool and Saved a Life Amid Chaos."
As Lockhart surveyed the room with satisfaction, Umbridge approached him.
"So," she said, looking up at him, "you're settling into your new role quite well?"
"Of course, as you can see," Lockhart replied, treating her question like an interview—a golden opportunity to show off. "It was a bit of an adjustment at first, you know, being used to working solo, solving problems on my own. Sometimes I'd sit by a campfire in the wilderness, answering fan letters. Their encouragement gave me strength, made me feel less alone…"
Umbridge scribbled a few quick notes.
"Was it Dumbledore who hired you?"
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