novelraw Chapter 31: Lockhart's Admirers
Chapter 31: Lockhart's Admirers
Chapter Thirty-One: Lockhart's Admirers
Hogwarts seemed much the same as last year in the new school term.
The beds in the dormitory were always clean and tidy, the food on the tables was always plentiful, and most of the teachers' seats were familiar faces—if you didn't count Gilderoy Lockhart, that narcissist who loved to show off his teeth and hair.
This newly appointed Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was utterly outrageous.
He actually created 54 test questions to test everyone's understanding of his personal preferences!
Here, Draco would like to maliciously note to those students unaware of Hogwarts testing standards: Normally, such detailed tests were only conducted for extremely dangerous Dark creatures.
Judging by the number of questions, Gilderoy Lockhart might consider himself more dangerous than a dragon, an Acromantula, or a Nundu.
"That smooth-talking fraud!" he said angrily to Blaise, who was equally annoyed.
For a Malfoy, scoring high on such a test would be nothing short of personal humiliation.
Without a doubt, this was the first time Draco had willingly and automatically failed since his rebirth—the highest score was taken by Hermione, the know-it-all.
Her memory was simply unbelievable! She even remembered trivial things like "Lockhart's secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market his own range of hair-care potions," Draco thought irritably.
"I'm going to tell Father to sack Lockhart right now," Draco said menacingly to Crabbe and Goyle the next morning on the way to the greenhouses.
Crabbe and Goyle looked at him listlessly and nodded blankly.
They still bore souvenirs from the previous Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson—scratches from Cornish Pixies—which were also indirect evidence that Lockhart was useless.
Hermione hurried up from behind and happened to hear Draco's words. Her face darkened, and she looked very unhappy. "Draco, what did Professor Lockhart do to you?"
"Don't tell me you didn't realize he's not even as good as you, a second-year. At least you can teach yourself and know how to cast a Freezing Charm on those ugly little creatures, but what about him? All he does is stupidly show off his white teeth and blond hair, then run away." Draco made no attempt to hide his contempt for the incompetent professor.
"You're not self-taught. You used the Freezing Charm last year, the one with the troll..." Hermione's voice trailed off, afraid that Crabbe and Goyle behind her would overhear.
"Oh." Draco's contempt suddenly faded, and he looked at her with unexpected approval.
Merlin, he'd only used it once, and she remembered?
"And I think Professor Lockhart wants to give us a chance to practice." Hermione blushed slowly under Draco's pale gaze. "He definitely has a way of dealing with those Cornish Pixies! He's a very experienced expert. Think of all the amazing things he's done, all those things written in his books—"
"He just said he did them." Draco's expression, which had just softened, sharpened again as she defended Lockhart.
He recalled the arrogant face that had smiled at female students in class yesterday, and the more he thought about it, the more he felt the idiot was up to no good.
The naive girl beside him was blinded by her own ignorance. Not only did she stare at Lockhart with adoration in class, but she also wanted to defend him!
Draco snorted through his nose and pointedly remarked, "He's probably just bragging to boost book sales."
"That's just jealousy!" Hermione said, displeased.
"What do I envy about him? His blond hair? It's not a rare color," Draco said disdainfully, frowning. "What do you like about him? An empty brain that can fill the space in your mind with the wisdom you can't hold?"
Crabbe and Goyle, standing nearby, laughed foolishly.
"Draco, I thought you were a rational boy! How can you be so prejudiced against Professor Lockhart like the other boys?" Hermione glared at Draco angrily, walked past them, and stomped away.
Draco shook his head, brow furrowed, and followed behind her, maintaining a safe distance.
They walked through the vegetable patch one after the other and found that Professor Pomona Sprout, the short, stout Herbology teacher, was already waiting for them with a smile outside Greenhouse Three.
Greenhouse Three cultivated various magical but dangerous plants, including Mandrakes. They'd already repotted some of the grown Mandrakes in the last lesson, and this time they'd continue repotting the remaining ones.
Hermione was still angry.
When it came time to form pairs, she turned her back and ran to stand with a girl wearing a Hufflepuff scarf, silently refusing to partner with Draco, who was "prejudiced against Professor Lockhart."
"Who is that Hufflepuff girl?" Draco asked Harry, who was standing beside him.
"Susan Bones," Harry said.
"How do you know her?" Draco asked in surprise.
"She idolizes Lockhart. Nine times out of ten, whenever Lockhart catches me in the corridor, I'll see her hiding nearby, and sometimes she even comes over to ask for an autograph..." Harry looked pale.
"Lockhart is a complete fraud," Draco said coldly. "What's so good about him?"
"I also think Lockhart is useless," Ron whispered to him, standing beside him. "But you'd better not let those girls hear you say that."
Since the "Harry rescue incident" during the summer holiday and the conversation in the train compartment at the start of term, Ron's attitude toward him had visibly become more friendly.
Following Ron's gaze, Draco noticed several girls around them looked up warily after hearing "Lockhart."
"This is really troublesome," Draco thought, glancing at Hermione's blank face across the greenhouse.
Harry, standing nearby, noticed the girls' unfriendly expressions and wisely refrained from further comments.
However, he handed Draco a pair of protective earmuffs in a rather amiable manner, subtly indicating his stance.
It was understandable that Harry had a headache with Lockhart. Within days of the start of term, even the Slytherin students knew that Lockhart loved to take photos with Harry Potter in any public setting.
Although Draco thought Harry was evasive and reluctant around Lockhart, many uninformed students would subconsciously feel that "the opportunity to get close to the popular idol Lockhart" was something they'd love to have.
In response, Pansy Parkinson had commented on Harry in the Slytherin common room a few days ago, saying he was a "show-off."
"I bet he just wants to curry favour with Lockhart and will stop at nothing to become famous!" she'd said sourly.
Draco couldn't help but retort, "On the contrary, Harry Potter doesn't need to be famous—he's already a household name in the Wizarding world. Who's riding on whose coattails?"
Blaise Zabini, standing nearby, snorted in agreement.
Even Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch Captain who'd always hated Harry Potter, thought Draco's words were "spot on."
"Lockhart isn't even as good as that silly Potter. At least Potter can ride a racing broom! Lockhart is just a show-off clown. I doubt he can even mount a broom..." he said maliciously.
"How could you say that?" "Flint, you're such an arrogant git!" "Lockhart could take down ten of you..." The Slytherin girls immediately erupted in anger, launching verbal attacks against Flint.
"Are you all mad?" "He's just trying to attract attention. Have you ever seen him cast any useful spells?" "Think about what we're learning in class. Are we learning Defence Against the Dark Arts or acting?" The Slytherin boys couldn't stand it anymore and started to retort.
Ultimately, this sparked a heated debate that lasted four hours inside the Slytherin common room.
The argument eventually left the Slytherin boys exhausted.
In terms of arguing skills, they'd have a hard time winning against girls who were more eloquent. Moreover, they had no direct evidence to prove Lockhart was useless.
At that time, Draco hadn't shown any particular emotional fluctuations, nor had he dwelt on the issue too much.
He'd long since come to terms with reality and knew the argument was pointless. Taking advantage of everyone's inattention, he'd slipped back to his dormitory early and devoured an entire thick book on Dark magic in one go, finally finding some peace.
Similar battles didn't only occur in the Slytherin common room—disputes also occasionally took place within other Houses.
Sometimes, students would start arguing right there at the Great Hall tables. One day, Draco saw Hufflepuff boys and girls sitting on opposite sides of the table, each sticking to their opinion, neither willing to back down.
This may be the first time Hogwarts had abandoned House rivalry and redefined its factions. Regarding Professor Lockhart, there were only two camps—loyal fans who idolized Lockhart and opponents who despised him.
Draco dismissed the students' debate about Lockhart from his mind, thanked Harry, took the earmuffs and put them on, and focused on dealing with a Mandrake wriggling in its pot—the chubby, ugly little thing was very unhappy about its impending repotting and was impatiently yelling at him with its mouth wide open.
As he picked up a Mandrake leaf and examined the sulking plant, he suddenly caught a glimpse of Hermione across from him—her proud yet playful expression, darting toward him—like a sneaky chipmunk hiding something. Quite cute.
Directly confronting Lockhart with the girls would be irrational and pointless, only meant to provoke them—Draco had always thought so.
However, he suddenly realized he'd just done something irrational and had successfully angered Hermione.
Angering a girl meant you had to appease her.
Regardless of who was right or wrong at the beginning, it would eventually come down to this—the boy's attitude was the problem, Draco sighed.
Draco couldn't help but glance at Hermione again. She sensed Draco's gaze and quickly looked away before their eyes met.
What a peculiar little girl! He pretended not to notice her and, with great interest, put his gloved fingers into the Mandrake's mouth to tease it. The chubby baby fiercely bit his glove.
He feigned great alarm, struggling to pull his fingers out for a long time before narrowly escaping disaster. He quickly shoved the Mandrake into the pot like an upside-down onion, then disgustedly shook his dragonhide gloves, which were covered in Mandrake saliva—even though it was meant to amuse the little girl, it was still utterly repulsive.
Hermione, who was secretly watching him from across the way, couldn't help but laugh.
It was quite rare to see this young Slytherin master, known for his elegance and composure, so flustered and humiliated, Hermione thought smugly.
She prepared to open her eyes wide and look more closely, trying to remember this scene firmly.
Then she saw the boy raise his head, a slight smile seemingly flickering in his pale gray eyes.
His platinum blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the greenhouse windows. He suddenly adopted a nonchalant expression and mouthed to her, "I've noticed."
Now, Hermione could no longer keep a stern face toward him.
She'd been watching him the whole time. He looked rather endearing with his serious expression while wearing the earmuffs, which was why she couldn't help but keep looking at him.
Being deliberately amused by him made her suddenly realize that this boy, who was usually indifferent to people, seemed to have been paying attention to her all along and seemed to care about her.
This realization struck her as both unbelievable and delightful.
She quickly lowered her head, focusing on the Mandrake in her hand, and placed it in the pot Susan handed her, a slight smile playing on her lips. Through the gaps in the robust Mandrake leaves, she looked at him again and found him still watching her, even raising an eyebrow.
Unable to hold back her laughter any longer, she raised an eyebrow at the smug-looking boy opposite her.
This could be considered a tacit "reconciliation."
For the next while, Professor Sprout walked back and forth in the greenhouse, further instructing students and observing their results. They were completely focused on battling the Mandrakes and had no time to exchange glances anymore.
When the students emerged from the greenhouse, their backs aching and covered in compost, they had to quickly clean themselves up before rushing off to Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson.
Hermione calmed down and was willing to be Draco's study partner again.
"What, not sitting with your 'good partner' Susan anymore?" Draco asked slowly.
"Don't hold a grudge! Why do all the boys dislike Professor Lockhart? Even Hagrid—" Hermione said helplessly.
"What did he say?" This piqued Draco's curiosity.
Hermione blushed.
"He said Professor Lockhart was the only candidate to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, which is why Dumbledore chose him. He also said he didn't believe Professor Lockhart could banish the Bandon Banshee... But think of that book, *Break with a Banshee*—he dealt with that horrible ghost perfectly," Hermione said in a slightly higher, cheerful tone than usual.
"I'm sorry, Hermione, though I hate to admit it, I'm always on Hagrid's side on this. Perhaps the method of banishing the Banshee was correct, but I just don't think he's capable of casting such brilliant magic. When this professor can't even handle second-year Cornish Pixies, I find it hard to believe he has any real talent." Draco mercilessly exposed the suspicious nature of this fraud.
Draco had no idea why Lockhart left Hogwarts in his past life, or why he'd ended up living at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He simply didn't want to pay any more attention to such a person.
All he remembered was that by the end of second year, Lockhart's popularity at Hogwarts had declined significantly—almost the entire student body thought he was useless.
"Draco, if you keep talking like that, I'm going to change partners," Hermione said, pouting.
When did this little girl learn to threaten people? Draco looked at her in surprise.
"All right, I won't say anything more. How about we make a bet and see if you're right or I win?" he said mischievously.
He glanced at Hermione's timetable on the table—Lockhart's lessons were all circled with hearts.
Heart-shaped!
Merlin, those overly infatuated female students! He'd never expected she was one of them.
"Of course." Hermione said defiantly, glared at Draco, and continued to work diligently, using the Transfiguration spell to deal with the beetles before her.
"Didn't you already succeed in the last lesson? Why are you still practicing?" Draco asked, trying to make conversation.
"I want to add some details to the buttons to make them look nicer," Hermione said.
"Oh, Hermione, I can't stand you," Ron said, turning around from the front row, annoyed. "Can you please stop showing off? Give us a break! I haven't even successfully Transfigured yet!"
"This is what we covered in the last lesson! You should think about where you spent your time last lesson. Did you listen attentively? Did you practice properly?" Hermione said bluntly.
"It's not our fault—this beetle keeps running all over the desk! It's so restless!" Harry muttered, somewhat annoyed, as he chased after the beetle with his wand tip.
"Hermione, this lesson is indeed difficult. That's why Professor McGonagall gave us more time to master the material," Draco quickly tried to smooth things over for them.
It wasn't entirely Harry and Ron's fault for not trying hard enough—most students' Transfigurations in this lesson weren't very successful.
In his past life, Draco had also spent a long time practicing this spell. He really didn't know how Hermione did it—she'd mastered it in no time.
"Come on! Everyone has the right to say it's difficult, but you can't. You conjured it up in no time, and the button is much more delicate than mine." Hermione pursed her lips and gestured with her wand for a while, trying to feel the subtle changes caused by different wand movements.
"Draco, can you do it again for me? I want to see how you move your wand." She tilted her head, her eyes wide open, watching him intently.
At this moment, Lockhart was no longer in her mind.
"All right." Draco looked her over, a hint of smugness in his voice. "I'll try to go slowly—watch carefully..."
After a while, Professor McGonagall stepped down from the podium and looked around among the students practicing diligently. She said loudly, "Transfiguration requires absolute precision. You need to be extremely focused, hardworking and diligent."
She glanced at Neville's desk—the button still had a beetle leg on it—and couldn't help but remind him in a stern tone, "Only when it's completely correct can it be considered a success."
Then she paused at Draco's table, looking at the button with its intricately carved Slytherin serpent pattern, and said admiringly, "Very elegant, Mr. Malfoy. Why don't you try something more challenging, like Transfiguring an animal into a goblet? Oh, Miss Granger, your Gryffindor lion-patterned button is also quite nice."
In Draco's memory, Professor McGonagall was a strict professor who was always very protective of the Gryffindor students.
However, one thing was certain: her evaluation of students' classroom performance was quite fair, at least better than Professor Snape's, and she wouldn't penalize outstanding students from other Houses.
Unlike his previous life, Draco's performance in Transfiguration earned her rare praise.
Draco thoroughly enjoyed this praise.
He had to admit he did have the advantage of being given a second chance—after all, he was now mentally a 17-year-old adult wizard and was familiar with many spells and course content.
This familiarity stemmed from his past life's accumulated knowledge. Back then, although he wasn't first in his year, he'd never fallen out of the top ten in academic rankings. Lucius had always placed great importance on his academic performance, and he'd never dared to be careless.
The atmosphere in Slytherin had always been one of worshipping strength. Family background, bloodline, academic achievements, talent, ability, Quidditch, and various social activities were all factors that influenced how students ranked themselves.
Among these, magical talent and intelligence were the most important, sometimes even surpassing Slytherin's emphasis on bloodline.
Look at Professor Severus Snape, a half-blood wizard who still commanded Slytherins' respect, all thanks to his exceptional magical talent and intelligence.
Draco never wanted to fall behind others and wanted to be admired in every aspect. This wasn't easy—the pursuit of excellence could be exhausting, especially since he'd been somewhat spoiled and arrogant.
Yes, he'd achieved some success then, gained considerable prestige within Slytherin, and even become a prefect—recognition of his abilities by the school—and was quite pleased with himself.
However, looking back now, Draco had some regrets: in his previous life, he could have done better.
He'd spent a lot of time on petty competitions, showing off, and playing tricks. Rather than improving himself, he'd been more obsessed with flaunting his family background or his superficial understanding of magic.
Because of his ridiculous, ignorant complacency, he'd never carefully studied the knowledge he should have mastered, and he was always just short, never able to achieve perfection.
As a result, despite having ample learning resources, he could never outperform Hermione Granger, who was Muggle-born, and was thus mercilessly criticized by Father.
A Malfoy wouldn't fall into the same trap twice.
Merlin knows how much effort he had to put into polishing his essays and perfecting his magical knowledge every day to surpass the little girl beside him—the clever and hardworking Hermione Granger.
Even when she was ahead of others, she never let up. Right now, she was still practicing the Transfiguration Charm gestures with meticulous care, trying to feel the difference in transformation results brought about by subtle changes in movements.
Draco glanced at her discreetly, but he had to admit she was diligent and intelligent.
He gradually came to understand one thing: why she'd been able to defeat him every time in his previous life, even without those magical resources.
She was always much more attentive and focused than him. She had the ability to learn by analogy. She was constantly trying to improve herself.
However, what a pity!
She was isolated in the Magical world, with no support from her parents.
If she could have those magical resources like him, and receive more guidance from elders, instead of having to try every detour in magical understanding to obtain the truth, but instead directly taking shortcuts, Draco thought, with her talent and temperament, she'd definitely achieve even greater things.
Hermione Granger had no idea what Draco was thinking.
She was busy noticing something: there were always some magical books on his desk that weren't textbooks.
For example, at this moment, he suddenly picked up a book called *A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi*, opened it, glanced at it, and casually put it down.
He seemed to casually place the book between their desks. Then, busy waving his wand, seemingly trying to practice his extra assignment of "Transfiguring animals into goblets," he didn't look at the book again.
Hermione stared intently at the book, secretly swallowing.
She was curious to see what the book was about.
It might offer some tips on Transfiguration, enriching her understanding of the art.
But would he be willing to lend it to her?
As she hesitated, Draco turned and glanced at her, saying calmly, "Why aren't you practicing? Is something wrong?"
She looked up at him and said guiltily, "No."
Draco nodded, saying nothing more, and seemingly unaware of what she was concerned about, continuing to focus on his Transfiguration practice.
However, by sheer coincidence, during practice, his elbow seemed to accidentally, little by little, push the book toward her.
Hermione couldn't hold back any longer.
"Um, Draco, if it's all right, could I take a look at this book?" she hurriedly added, looking at the boy's inscrutable profile, "If you've finished reading it."
As the school bell rang suddenly, Draco turned around and stared at her intently.
"I haven't finished reading it. I'm going to read it again today," he said slowly.
Hermione's expectant face immediately fell.
"Oh," she said dejectedly, hurriedly stuffing her quill and textbook from the desk into her bag, her eyes still lingering on the book.
After a couple of seconds, she heard the boy beside her say casually, "I'll be going to the library later. You can read it there if you want."
Hermione's eyes lit up immediately.
"Then, shall we go to the library together in a bit?" she asked him cheerfully.
"Mm," he said briefly, lowering his head to tidy the things on his desk, a secret smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
So Hermione Granger, who'd sworn that morning to distance herself from Draco Malfoy, was back in their private study corner, engrossed in the book she'd been longing for.
"Oh, I see." A moment later, she put down her book and cast a Transfiguration spell on the beetle on the table, finally obtaining a button that satisfied her.
"Look, how about this button?" She proudly placed it before him. "How does it compare to the button I Transfigured before?"
Draco, who appeared to be writing an essay, paused, glanced at the button, and smiled slightly.
"It's even better than before," he said. "It's brilliant."
So she nodded in agreement, gloated for a second or two, and then immediately picked up the book again to continue studying the trick of the "animal to goblet" Transfiguration spell.
Yes, Hermione Granger was never satisfied with her current achievements, Draco thought.
That was an impressive quality, especially for a 13-year-old girl.
Not everyone could shake off complacency and constantly reflect on themselves to pursue excellence.
How could Draco, who'd been given a second chance at life, easily give up?
Especially when there was such a girl beside him who was obsessed with excellence, eyeing everything and wanting to surpass everyone else and take the top spot in their year.
Draco could only work twice as hard.
He still needed to put in continuous effort. He needed to fill in the knowledge gaps he'd previously overlooked.
He needed to constantly strive for excellence, because of a certain competitiveness awakened by her, because of the pride and ambition in his bones, and because of the insecurity and urgency that always hung over his head.
He couldn't afford to lose.
There was a saying that went something like this: you have to work really hard to look effortless.