At the staff table, Snape's face turned as black as the bottom of a cauldron the instant he heard the name "Lockhart."
What had he been expecting, exactly?
Gilderoy Lockhart.
He had been a year above Snape as a student, a notorious show-off in Ravenclaw.
He always wore his gleaming blond hair perfectly styled and maintained the same dazzling smile, boasting everywhere about his supposedly thrilling "adventures," which sounded dubious from the start.
Back then, Snape had only found him noisy and a waste of time.
They had crossed paths only once, during a Duelling Club event for younger students.
Lockhart had been invited as an "outstanding senior" to give a demonstration.
He struck an exaggerated opening pose and cast a flashy spell, but the light from his wand was feeble and powerless.
Snape, wearing an expression of utter impatience, had deflected it with nothing more than a basic Shield Charm.
The rebounding force had made Lockhart stagger, sparks bursting from the tip of his wand.
Lockhart had immediately put on an even broader smile and loudly praised "this Slytherin student's solid fundamentals! This is precisely the effect I wished to demonstrate!" But Snape had clearly seen the flash of astonishment in his eyes, as well as the emptiness at the core of that spell.
From that day onward, Severus Snape had concluded:
Gilderoy Lockhart was all show and no substance.
After all these years, that idiot who had built a reputation on fabricated stories and self-promotion was now returning to Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?
Was there truly nothing left in Dumbledore's head besides Lemon Drops and Cockroach Clusters?
Watching the students below instantly erupt into excited chatter at the mention of Lockhart's name, Snape felt even more miserable.
He silently decided that in the Potions