Ron-Weasly book 2

"Choke on the slugs, Malfoy!" I exploded, pointing my wand at him. Crabbe stopped giggling and began threateningly rubbing his knuckles the size of chestnuts. Well, yes, well, yes. First, we'll have to knock out his friends as usual. Fortunately, they are dumb as a cork. Especially Creb.

"Easier on the corners, Weasley," Malfoy warned mockingly. "I wouldn't pick a fight if I were you. Did you forget that your mom promised to pick you up from school?" And, mimicking, he squeaked: "If you commit even one offense..."

The fifth-year Slytherin students laughed out loud.

"Weasley wants your autographed picture too, Potter," Malfoy curled his lip contemptuously. "This treasure would be worth more than his entire house."

I waved my taped wand, but Hermione snapped the book shut and whispered to me:

I put the wand away and started flexing my arm muscles. Now someone's going to grab it. Knock out Creb first, then Goyle. And then I'm going to punch that blond bastard in the face.

"Stop it!" She glanced at Gilderoy Lockhart, who was approaching.

"What, what's going on here?" Gilderoy flew like a blue bird, his turquoise robe fluttering behind him like laundry drying in the wind. "Who's handing out autographed photos here?"

Lockhart put his arm around Harry's shoulders and, smiling from the breadth of his white-toothed mouth, sang:

"You don't have to ask! We've crossed paths with you again, Harry! Go ahead, Mr. Creevey. We are ready!" He gave Colin a beaming smile. Colin made a face of displeasure. Apparently, he didn't fall for this peacock's writings and was only a fan of a friend.

"A double portrait, Mr. Creevey. It couldn't be better. And we'll both sign it!" Lockhart ordered.

I went up to him and spoke softly so that Harry and Lockhart wouldn't hear.

"The girls will tear off this photo with their hands. When you've developed the Lockhart film, you can sell it for a couple of galleons."

Colin fiddled with his camera for a bit, took a picture, and just then the bell rang for class. He also shifted the camera so that Harry got a good angle.

"Go to classes! Faster!" commanded Lockhart and rushed to the entrance himself. "He was still holding Harry's shoulders, a Solomonic decision." Lockhart spoke from the height of his greatness, entering the castle with Harry through the side doors. Hermione and I trailed behind them "in that scene with young Creevey, I was your shield. Since he took pictures of the two of us, your enemies won't blame you: look how he puts himself above others...." I'm really going to send my sister to Colin, who will help him develop and sell the photo. She makes excellent potions, as Mom says.

Not listening to Harry's mumbling excuses, Lockhart dragged him further down the corridor under the eyes of students rushing to their lessons.

"Let me tell you frankly: handing out autographed photos at this stage of your career is the height of imprudence. The time will come when you, like me now, will need to have a pack of such photos ready, but," He laughed cheerfully, "I think it's a little early today."

They entered the defense against the Dark Arts room, and Harry finally found his freedom.

Lockhart rushed off to show off at the blackboard. Harry pulled down his robes and settled himself in the last row. After that, he sat down at the table and placed a stack of all seven books by Gilderoy Lockhart in front of him — he seemed to hide behind them from the author.

Immediately, the rest of the students entered the office, talking loudly. Hermione and I finally squeezed through the doorway and hurried over to Harry, sitting next to him — me on the left, Hermione on the right.

Well, it's red.

"I could fry eggs on your face!" I whispered. "Pray to God that Colin and Ginny don't get to know each other, or maybe they'll create a Harry Potter fan club." Oh, by the way. I need to tell Jeanie not to make a fuss, or Harry will lose his temper and I'll have to cover for their club of fans of photoraphies. It's a pity about the kid's camera, but if I break it so badly, they won't fix it. Bill taught me how to break the spell. And damn, he's got a regular Muggle camera. Well, I'll break it too.

"Be quiet!" Harry nudged me with his elbow. "I don't want Lockhart to hear." That yes. I don't want this peacock to ruin all our raspberries. He's a hero, but only housewives and Muggleborns are into him.

When everyone was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly, and the classroom became quiet. He reached out, picked up Neville's copy of The Troll Trail, and held it up, revealing his own winking portrait on the cover.

"It's me," he said, and winked back. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Knight of the Order of Merlin, third Class, honorary member of the League of Defense against the Dark Forces and five-time winner of the Magic Weekly prize for the most charming smile. But let's not talk about it now. Believe me, it wasn't with a smile that I got rid of the Irish death-heralding ghost!"

Gilderoy paused, expecting laughter. Several of the students smiled rather sourly. I see you've all bought a complete set of my books.

But we didn't have to buy, did we? That's a freak. And there weren't any in the junk shop, so I had to spend money on Flourishes and Blots. And the books there are expensive. It's a good thing the twins took one set for two.

"How wonderful it is! Let's start the lesson with a test paper. Don't be scared! I just want to check how carefully you've read them and what you've learned from them...."

Gilderoy handed each of them the question sheets and returned to the table.

"I'll give you half an hour," he said. "Go ahead."

On the first page I read:

"1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?

2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?

3. In your opinion, what is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?"

And so on and so forth. The last, fifty-fourth question sounded like this:

54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday and what do you think is the perfect gift for him?"

He's completely out of his mind. I tried to remember at least something from his books, but then I gave up and started writing fantasizing about the first impression of his "exploits". No, of course he's a hero, but 50 percent of his books are self-praises, another 20 are descriptions of the area and it was interesting, and the rest are spells, and he didn't give formulas, but described only the effects. Yes, my crazy squib comics were more interesting. I am generally silent about books about traveling into the depths of the magical world.

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and quickly looked through them.

"Ay-ay-ay!" He shook his head reproachfully. "Almost none of you remember that my favorite color is lilac. I write about this in the book "Yorkshire Yetis". And some people would do well to read "Encounters with Vampires" more carefully. In chapter twelve, I write in black and white that the perfect birthday gift for me is goodwill between all people, magicians and non-magicians. But, of course, I wouldn't mind a bottle of Ogden's good fiery whiskey!

And Lockhart winked impishly once more. I stared at Lockhart with a puzzled look. And this is the teacher? What can he teach you? Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were shaking with barely suppressed laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, was all ears. The only thing that brought her back to reality was her name being spoken to the whole class.

"But Miss Hermione Granger knows my ambition. Yes, I want to rid the world of evil and flood the market with hair preservation products of my own invention." Hmm, but his hair is really awesome. Does he make his own concoctions, like my mom? Awesome. Why the hell didn't he start selling them instead of becoming a teacher? Mom sells her products in Diagon Alley. Lockhart, meanwhile, continued to read her answers. "Good girl!" He flipped through Hermione's work again. "She deserves the highest praise. Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

My girlfriend raised a trembling hand. With her memory, haha. She remembers everything she reads, and without any artifacts. But something needs to be done about her attachment to this peacock. And it's not a love spell, she looked at it like that in the bookstore. And I didn't buy his books. Damn, did she buy them earlier for easy reading, as she puts it?

"Excellent!" Lockhart exuded delight. "Excellent with a plus! Ten points for Gryffindor. And now let's get down to business...."

With that, he bent down at his desk and picked up a large cloth-covered cage from the floor.

"Today I will teach you how to curb the most vile creatures that exist in the world of magicians and wizards. I'm warning you: you're going to see something really terrible in this room. But don't be afraid, as long as I'm around, nothing bad will happen to you. All I ask is that you stay calm."

Harry peered curiously out from behind his barricade. I was staring intently at the cage. There's clearly someone alive there. This is the first time we've seen a living creature. Lockhart put his hand on the cloth covering the cage. Dean and Seamus stopped shaking with laughter. Neville was clearly cowering, sitting at a table in the front row.

"Keep your voice down," Lockhart said, wagging a finger. "They can get overexcited."

The whole class held their breath, Lockhart pulled off the cloth. What?! Damn, even a child can handle them. It is enough to take a book in your hand, or something else with which you can visit them. I remember helping Aunt Muriel on her estate to bring out their colony. They fly slowly and all the danger lies in their poisonous teeth. It's good that we have a low magic background for them at home. These household pests usually settle in old manors. And a thick cloth helps against bites, and the doxy detoxifier is a great thing, but then you need to wear a respirator. So that you don't get too much of it yourself.

"Yes, that's them," he said dramatically. "Newly captured Cornish pixies."

Seamus Finnigan couldn't help but giggle so visibly that even Lockhart didn't mistake his chuckle for a scream of horror.

"What is it?" He broke into a smile.

"But... but they're not dangerous at all", Seamus said through laughter. I guess I used to drive them around with a book when I was a kid, too.

"Don't tell me." Lockhart shook his head. "Their fun can be very unpleasant."

The pixies were bright blue, about twenty centimeters tall, with pointed muzzles. When they came out into the light after dark, they screamed shrilly, as if a regiment of trumpeters had burst into the classroom, rushed around the cage, began to drum on poles and make faces, half teasing the audience, half amused.

"Now let's see," Gilderoy Lockhart raised his voice, "how you deal with them!" And he opened the cage. Fuck! I quickly threw my things into a bag and shoved it under the table.

"Harry, Hermione, hide your things!"

They won't get under the table. I really don't want to collect scraps of my belongings all over the classroom after the mayhem they caused.

What started here! The end of the world! Pixies jumped out of the cage like little rockets and flew in all directions. Two pranksters grabbed Neville by the ears and flew up to the ceiling with him. Well, wizards are generally tougher than ordinary people, so Neville's ears barely suffered. Five or six of them, having smashed the window and showered the last row with glass fragments, flew out of the classroom. The others began to smash everything that fell into their nimble hands, with the fury of an enraged rhinoceros. They broke ink bubbles and flooded the entire classroom, scattered the trash can, tore books and notebooks to shreds, tore paintings from the walls, and threw bags and textbooks through the broken window. In less than five minutes, the whole class was sitting under the tables. Only poor Neville was hanging from the ceiling, holding on to the chandelier.

"What are you afraid of? Go ahead! Chase them back to the cage! It's just a pixie," shouted Lockhart. He rolled up his sleeves, waved his wand, and spoke quickly:

"Pixie olc faigh an fuck as seo!" (Nasty pixie get the fuck out of here!)

I stared at him in amazement. Did he decide to banish pixies with an Irish obscenity?

His words, however, did not tame the raging evil spirits. One even grabbed Lockhart's wand and threw it out the window. Lockhart gasped and ducked under his own desk. It was just in time — the chandelier couldn't stand it and Neville fell right onto the spot where the professor had been standing a second ago.

Just then the bell rang, and the whole class rushed to the door. It became quieter in the office, Lockhart got out from under the table, saw us ready to rush out the door, and ordered:

"Please, friends, put the remaining pixies back in the cage. Fifteen Gryffindor balls in advance."

The professor briskly rushed past us and slammed the door in our faces.

"And you'll believe him after that!" I exclaimed angrily, getting a good slap in the face from one of the raging pixies.

"He just wanted to put us in a real life setting", Said Hermione. Without hesitation, she cast a Freezing spell on the two pixies and effortlessly sent them into the cage.

"In your opinion, is this a real life situation?" Harry said, struggling with the pixy who was dancing in front of him, sticking his tongue out. "Lockhart just didn't know what to do with them!"

"Nonsense," said Hermione calmly. "You've read his books. Remember all the amazing feats that he has accomplished."

"He's just writing about what he's done," I clarified.

"I checked that these feats were indeed accomplished."

We spent half an hour freezing the blue scoundrels. Moreover, Harry and Hermione were immobilizing them with spells, so I just took a textbook in my hand and hit these blue creatures with it. Interestingly, they stopped bothering me almost immediately. After collecting their carcasses from the floor into a cage and covering it with a blanket again, we caught our breath and went to the history of magic. Harry and I wanted to skip this useless lesson, but Hermione balked. Damn, that's what she's writing down there, he's reading from a textbook, and in such a way that it's impossible to listen.

Chapter 5 Ron pukes up slugs.

Harry began to hide from Professor Lockhart, which he was good at. But to his great regret, it turned out to be much more difficult to hide from Creevey.

My magic wand has been working really badly so far. Electrical tape definitely didn't help. But I have to take exams with her. I'll have to write home in the winter. That's if Percy hasn't snitched on his parents by now. On Friday morning, in a spell lesson, she outdid herself: she broke out of my hands and hit the frail old Professor Flitwick in the forehead, where a huge green boil popped up. The professor scolded me for half an hour about witchcraft with a broken conductor. He promised to solve this problem by the end of the year.