Lockhart's Rescue and "Guidance" (I)

Harry looked down. A slender green snake, no thicker than a chopstick, was coiled around his left hand. He had no idea when it had crawled up there. Its head rested on the web between his thumb and forefinger, its golden slit-pupiled eyes fixed on his.

Harry's hand trembled, but he did not fling it away. He did not scream or panic. He simply used his right hand to pry the snake off his left hand and set it on the ground. The snake did not bite him. It bounced once against the floor and slithered away.

When Draco saw this, his smile finally faded somewhat. Not because he was disappointed, but because he had seen an answer he did not want to see—Harry Potter could have relied on someone else just then, but he had chosen to rely on himself.

Even though he was afraid, even though he was shaking, even though the whole world knew he could resolve the predicament in front of him with a single word, he chose not to speak. Not to prove anything to anyone, but because he did not want to.

Draco put away the now-empty bag, tied it shut, and tucked it back into his robes. He did not cast a spell to collect the snakes, insects, and rodents still scurrying about. He merely said to Crabbe, "All right, we're done here."

Crabbe tucked his wand back into his belt. Just as he was about to clean up the mess, Lockhart came out to "stir things up."

"Quiet! Everyone, remain calm!" Gilderoy Lockhart's clear, commanding voice boomed like thunder. The elegant smile on his face had vanished, replaced by a powerful aura of calm in the face of danger.

He stepped onto the platform, his violet robes billowing without wind as his