The Knowledgeable Miss Granger

Harry pulled out the two horns and placed them on the table.

They were twisted into reverse spirals, their right angles gleaming an oily black-purple. An ominous aura seemed to roll off them.

"Where are you planning to brew the potion?" Hermione carefully picked up one.

"I'll prepare the ingredients in the dormitory," Harry replied.

Polyjuice Potion took a long time to brew.

The most troublesome part wasn't the magical ingredients, but the Lacewing Flies, which had to be simmered for twenty-one days. Also known as aphids, these tiny creatures were even smaller than a fingernail.

You couldn't just light a fire, set the cauldron on it, and leave it alone.

At that rate, the flies would dissolve before the day was out.

Their stability had to be maintained with magic at all times.

This step wasn't dangerous, just troublesome, so Harry planned to do it in the dormitory. As long as Seamus didn't point his wand at the cauldron, there wouldn't be a problem.

"Ron, wake up." Holding the horn, Hermione poked the sleeping Mr. Weasley with its thicker end.

Ron woke with a start, lifted his head, and automatically began reciting "Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration."

After rattling off a couple of lines, he belatedly realized he wasn't in Professor McGonagall's class. He lowered his head sheepishly. "Harry, you're back? Did you get the thing—"

A beat later, he noticed what Hermione was holding. "Looks like you did."

"Go back to sleep."

Friday's schedule was packed, too.

They had a Charms lesson in the morning. Professor Flitwick had recovered a little; the dark circles under his eyes had faded somewhat.

That lesson, they were to learn a powerful prank spell: Tarantallegra.

It was a Dancing Feet Spell that made people start dancing against their will.

Flitwick was especially fond of it, particularly when using it on Harry.

The spell worked not only on people but also on inanimate objects.

Once, a wizard had repeatedly cast the Dancing Feet Spell on Mount Vesuvius, eventually causing it to erupt and destroy a city called Pompeii.

The young wizards were very interested in the spell. Even when Professor Flitwick assigned them a five-inch essay at the end, none of them complained.

The first lesson in the afternoon was Herbology.

They left the castle and headed to the greenhouses. Professor Sprout wore a stern expression. The cause of her foul mood stood right beside her: an ostentatious "peacock" dressed in a teal robe with gold trim and a matching tall, lavish wizard's hat.

"Oh, hello, young wizards!" Lockhart waved. "I was discussing with Professor Sprout how to grow herbs more effectively."

He paused meaningfully. "But I certainly wouldn't want you to think I'm better at Herbology than your professor. I've simply happened upon a few fascinating plants during my travels..."

Professor Sprout cut him off. "Third Greenhouse today!"

"Professor—Lockhart!" She drew out the words, making the combined title sound like two separate sentences. "I have a class to teach now. Please hurry back and prepare for your own lessons."

Lockhart waved a hand. "I have something I'd like to discuss with Harry. You know how it is: exceptional wizards always have a few little secrets. Surely you don't mind?"

"No, I really—" Sprout began, decisively rejecting him.

Before she could finish, Lockhart interrupted her. "Thank you, my dear Pomona. I knew you'd understand."

Sprout's hand disappeared into her robe. She looked ready to pull out her wand and fire off a few vicious curses at him on the spot.

"Harry." Lockhart beckoned to him.

"I don't think we're familiar enough for you to call me by my first name." Harry walked over and said as much.

Lockhart blinked.

That sounded... familiar.

Where had he heard it before?

"Professor, I hope you have a proper reason for wanting to talk to me," Harry said, stopping beside him and looking up. "And not something ridiculous."

"Of course it's proper." Lockhart raised a hand, trying to put an arm around Harry's shoulder. Halfway through the gesture, a phantom pain suddenly flared in his lower back. He quickly pulled his hand back. "Mr. Potter, you're already quite famous—a remarkable figure in the wizarding world."

"Though you're still a little way behind me."

"I only heard about you after I arrived at the school. You pulled the Sword of Gryffindor out of the hat on your first day—goodness! I can't imagine what Skeeter is doing. The Daily Prophet didn't print a single word about it."

"Please stop wasting my time." Harry was blunt as he took out his wand.

Lockhart froze, pursed his lips, then held out his hand. "We can work together."

"I'm a world-renowned wizard, and I've won Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award five times in a row. I can make you as famous as I am."

"If you'll just—"

Harry waved his wand, pointing its tip at Lockhart's stomach. "Professor, I'm pretty sure I already told you not to say anything ridiculous."

"Professor Snape would probably like you. Wizards with Troll brains really are a rare breed."

Lockhart panicked and waved his hands. "I can give you Galleons."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

Lockhart brightened. "I knew you were a clever young man, Mr. Potter. We're both exceptional wizards, so we ought to help each other—"

"But I don't need money." Harry shook his head. "Potter—you know what that name is worth, don't you?"

The Potter Family Shampoo Potion Formula was all the rage in the wizarding world.

Even Lockhart used it.

"Some spells, then? I know plenty..." Lockhart continued. He knew this routine all too well. It was just haggling.

Harry said nothing.

Lockhart immediately changed tack. "Of course, Hogwarts has many excellent professors, and you're Professor McGonagall's favorite student. You don't need any powerful spells."

That left him at a loss.

The only things he could offer were fame, Galleons, and a little knowledge, but none of them seemed to appeal to Harry.

"You're a professor." Harry put away his wand. "I might have a few requests from time to time, like permission to borrow books from the Restricted Section, or something else you could help with."

Lockhart flashed a brilliant smile. "Of course. That's easy."

"I won't mind if you borrow a little of my name," Harry said coldly. "But I don't want you causing me any trouble."

Lockhart frowned. "No, Potter, that—"

"A professor, beaten by a second-year student," Harry interrupted. "What sort of glory would that bring?"

"The Daily Prophet's front page?"

"Witch Weekly's Most Humiliated Award?"

Lockhart's body stiffened along with his smile.

"Good. Then it's settled." Harry nodded and turned toward the greenhouse.

Professor Flitwick had been right.

No one could possibly want to borrow a little boy's fame.

Lockhart was the exception.

In Herbology today, they were studying a somewhat dangerous plant: Mandrakes. They were alive, and their cries could knock people unconscious.

Hermione and Ron wanted to ask Harry what he and Lockhart had discussed, but they didn't get the chance during class.

They had to wear earmuffs, or they'd miss their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson of the year.

When Herbology was over,

they took off their earmuffs and left the greenhouse.

"What did Lockhart say to you?" Ron asked at once.

"I bet he wanted to borrow some of Harry's fame again," Hermione guessed.

Harry nodded. "That's right. So we made a deal. He can borrow a little of my reputation, and in return, he'll use his authority as a professor to make things easier for me."

"For example, getting into the Restricted Section."

The other professors wouldn't indulge Harry. Take the Book of Spells, for instance. Harry had heard Professor Flitwick mention it more than once; it recorded nearly every spell.

Harry still hadn't managed to get permission to borrow it.

There were also some advanced books on Potions. Snape wouldn't sign a permission slip for those, either.

Ron was envious.

Hermione looked thoughtful.

After Herbology came Defense Against the Dark Arts. The young wizards were looking forward to Lockhart's class. They thought they'd finally found a competent professor.

Lockhart was even more flamboyant than Harry had expected.

Though they'd only had one lesson, he'd changed robes again, trading teal for a brilliant red with sparkling silver trim. He'd restyled his hair and doused himself in heavy perfume.

It was a complex scent made from belladonna petals, honey, and calamus root.

Those three ingredients were used in almost every Love Potion as supplementary ingredients.

After a long-winded introduction, Lockhart waved a hand. "I see you've all bought my complete works. Excellent..."

Ron couldn't help muttering, "They were required on the book list. He makes it sound like we did it of our own accord."

Hermione agreed.

"Then let's start with a little quiz. Don't be nervous. I just want to see how well you've read, and how much you've learned," Lockhart said gently.

That surprised Harry.

Beneath his flamboyant exterior, he actually had a practical streak. He didn't look remotely serious about teaching, but had he prepared properly in private?

Lockhart handed out the papers, one at a time. It felt strange.

Other professors just waved their wands. He went around passing a sheet to each student by hand.

"You have thirty minutes. Begin!" Lockhart handed out the last paper, clapped his hands, and looked pleased with himself.

Harry expressionlessly crumpled his up.

Very well...

Mr. Lockhart never failed to surprise him.

Harry had thought Lockhart would ask useful questions—perhaps about the little bits of knowledge tucked into the stories on dealing with Trolls, Werewolves, and banshees. Those made up less than a tenth of the books, perhaps less than a twentieth.

Instead...

"What is Lockhart's favorite color?"

"What is Lockhart's secret ambition?"

"When is Lockhart's birthday, and what is the birthday present he wants most?"

Were they really taking Defense Against the Dark Arts, or attending a Lockhart fan club?

Half an hour later,

Lockhart collected the papers. "Mr. Potter didn't hand in a paper, which might leave you wondering why. Actually, I've spoken with him privately, and he's already answered all these questions. I'll let you in on a little secret: he got full marks."

"Twenty points to Gryffindor!"

Harry stared straight at him, expressionless.

Lockhart ducked his head and started flipping through the papers. Before long, he looked surprised. "Which one of you is Miss Hermione Granger? Full marks, too!"

Could someone really answer every question?

Hermione, just like Harry, raised her hand without changing her expression.

"Another Gryffindor?"

"Then that's another twenty points!"

Note: The Dancing Feet Spell causing a volcanic eruption is canon.

I'll do my best to make up for what I owed yesterday today!

I'm feeling great today!