Hearing Lockhart's words, the students' heads drooped, all interest gone.
This Lockhart had been teaching for two or three months, living within the school. Even if he were Zhuge Liang reincarnated, this long, his cover would have been blown.
The students had seen it clearly. This scoundrel was a useless buffoon, his magic sparse, his methods common. He relied only on his silver tongue to bluff. When had he ever shown real skill?
Taking a medal from such a fraud... it would just make one's face burn with shame.
Harry turned away, whispering to Ron and Hermione about their physical training schedule.
Draco also turned, whispering to Goyle and Crabbe about getting them "Muscle-Enhancing Potions" tonight.
Seeing the lack of interest, Lockhart's eyes darted. "Ah, one more thing."
"To prevent everyone from holding back because their opponent is a friend from their own house, I have decided: Gryffindor will face Slytherin! And Ravenclaw will face Hufflepuff!"
"Next week, we'll start with the little wizards from Gryffindor and Slytherin. What do you think?"
This Lockhart knew how to stir the pot. With just a few words, he ignited the students' competitive spirit, and the classroom erupted.
Seeing the sparks, Lockhart was secretly pleased. To fan the flames higher, he added: "And I have also invited Professor Snape to be my assistant, to help guide you little wizards."
This was like pouring oil on the fire.
Seamus leaped up. "What about Professor McGonagall? Is our advisor for Gryffindor also Snape?"
"No, no, my dear," Lockhart smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Gryffindor's advisor... will be me!"
(Readers, this Lockhart was a windbag, but not a brainless one. He took this mentoring "scam" with ulterior motives. His true intentions lay elsewhere, in Harry's heart.
He started this Dueling Club only to earn a nickname. But as a professor, he couldn't duel students. If he won, he'd be called a "bully"; if he lost, he'd be a laughingstock.
Thus, he'd be the "mentor," standing on stage to "watch the snipe and clam fight" (reap the benefits).
He had heard from Colin of Harry's skills and knew Flitwick and Snape were secretly tutoring him. He assumed Harry was unbeatable among the second-years.
Once Harry won, he himself could reap the "fisherman's profit" (take credit) and, when writing his new book, add the line: "The Man Behind the Savior.")
Lockhart was pleased with his scheme, but the Gryffindors were groaning, as if doused with cold water.
Seamus wished he could use an Exploding Charm right now to blast Lockhart into the hospital wing and get his own Head of House.
What could Lockhart teach? In class, he just made them re-enact scenes from his books.
Though Seamus didn't like Snape, he had to admit: Lockhart wasn't worth a drop of Snape's hair grease.
As Seamus was grumbling, he overheard Harry, Ron, and Hermione talking about "building muscle" and "training."
A light bulb went off. He leaned forward. "Harry, can I... can I join you guys?"
Ron and Hermione were startled. They had been training every morning, but besides the Quidditch team, they hadn't seen anyone else.
Seamus explained, "It's about the duel next week. I don't want to lose face in front of those Slytherins."
Ron flexed his biceps. "Are you sure you can handle it? Our training is pretty intense."
"I once sat in front of a computer for eight hours straight, without moving," Seamus said seriously. "Don't underestimate my willpower."
Though Ron didn't know what a "computer" was, hearing Seamus sat still for four shichen (8 hours) impressed him.
Harry nodded. "Brother Seamus has the heart. Why not? Just don't quit halfway."
Seamus slapped his chest. "Don't worry, Harry. I'll stick with it!"
From then on, Seamus trained with them. But his muscles were not ready. After one day, his legs felt like they were filled with vinegar, and he was walking on cotton.
He wanted to quit, but he was too proud. He gritted his teeth and endured. The other Gryffindors saw this and were alarmed.
They knew that lower-years couldn't use powerful spells. Fights were about stamina.
Draco's group was downing Muscle-Enhancing Potions every day. If the Gryffindors just joked around, wouldn't they be lambs to the slaughter?
Realizing this, the morning training group swelled to thirty or fifty people.
When Draco saw the Gryffindors training, he was alarmed. He sent an owl to Malfoy Manor, demanding double the potion.
The Lions trained day and night, sweat rolling like oil, backs streaming.
The Snakes weren't idle, taking the potion like food, running to the latrine five times a day, and keeping a chamber pot by the bed at night.
It was: "The Dao rises one foot, the Devil rises ten." The second-years of the Lion and Snake houses were in a full-blown arms race.
By the time of the DADA class, every last one of them was burly and round, their wizarding robes stretched tight.
"Long time no see, little wizards!" Lockhart beamed. "Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape!"
"Excuse me," Snape said, crossing his arms. "I am here to help. When did I become your assistant?"
"Ah, yes, my helper." Lockhart glossed over it, waved his wand, and read the list. "Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy. Please come to the stage."
"Don't worry, children, I will teach you dueling etiquette..."
He was still talking when Pop! a house-elf appeared, bowed to Harry, and said respectfully, "Mr. Harry Potter, Professor Dumbledore is looking for you."
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