Half an hour later, Lockhart began collecting the quizzes.
He walked up to Harry, waiting for him to hand over his paper.
Smiling, he said, "Mr. Potter, where's your quiz?"
He was already imagining Harry sitting there in silence—ha! So young and impulsive. Let him apologize now, and I'll generously forgive him.
That smug glint in Lockhart's eyes made it clear: he thought he'd caught Harry red-handed.
But Harry didn't hold back: "Garbage belongs in the garbage. Or are you blind? Didn't you see me toss it in the bin?"
The whole class turned their heads in shock. No one expected Harry to speak to a professor like that—wow, that was intense. What would Lockhart do next?
Lockhart was stunned. When a student completely disregards a teacher's authority, the teacher has no upper hand—unless they use force. But all he knew was the Memory Charm.
"Professor," Hermione suddenly said, handing in her paper.
Lockhart gratefully took it and used the opportunity to walk away.
After collecting all the quizzes, he began flipping through them in front of the class.
He shook his head, nodded, smiled, frowned… putting on a whole performance.
"I heard from other professors that there are two exceptionally brilliant students in this year—Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. But—" he shook his head, looking disappointed, like a devoted teacher heartbroken by students who refuse to learn.
"I handed in a blank sheet," Hermione whispered, squirming in her seat, a little embarrassed… but also a bit thrilled.
Wow, I've gone bad, she thought, covering her face.
Harry: …
Lockhart bent down behind the podium and brought out a large cage covered with a cloth. He set it on the desk.
"Now, be careful! My mission is to teach you how to defend against the most evil beings known in the magical world! What you're about to face is truly terrifying. But as long as I'm here, you'll be safe. I only ask that you remain calm." He flashed them a confident, dazzling smile.
Everyone craned their necks, trying to see what was under the cloth.
Lockhart placed a hand on the cover.
"Careful, no screaming," he whispered dramatically. "It'll agitate them!"
The class held its breath.
He yanked off the cover.
"Tah-dah! Freshly caught Cornish pixies!"
The entire class burst into laughter.
Seamus laughed so hard he couldn't breathe: "I don't think these dangerous pixies are going to teach us much in Defense Against the Dark Arts." He heavily emphasized the word "dangerous."
Harry wished Malfoy were here—his sharp tongue would've absolutely roasted Lockhart right now.
Lockhart, annoyed, said, "Don't underestimate them! They're tricky little troublemakers."
The pixies were bluish, around 10 to 12 inches tall, with pointy faces and shrill, screeching voices, like a bunch of parrots arguing.
As soon as the cloth came off, they started chattering and leaping about, shaking the cage bars, making faces at the nearest students.
"Now, let's test your emergency response skills," Lockhart said as he prepared to open the cage.
"I really don't think you should open that," Harry warned.
"Haha, what? Is Harry Potter afraid of showing his worst side? Don't worry, I'm here," Lockhart laughed.
Click!
He opened the cage.
What happened next was pure chaos.
The pixies, shrieking wildly, zoomed out like rockets.
Two immediately grabbed Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air.
Apparently, they knew exactly who was the easiest target.
They might look small, but they were surprisingly strong.
Several others crashed through the back windows, shattering glass everywhere.
The remaining pixies wreaked havoc in the classroom, causing more destruction than a raging rhinoceros.
They grabbed inkwells and splashed ink everywhere, shredded books and papers, ripped posters off the walls, overturned waste bins, and threw bags and textbooks out the broken windows.
A few minutes later, half the class had hidden under their desks. Poor Neville was swinging from the chandelier.
Although Lockhart's actions were dumb, this situation clearly exposed how unprepared second-year students were—panicking, clumsy, utterly helpless.
And these were just pixies with no real combat power. Had the students remained calm, the magic they already knew would've been enough to handle the situation.
But they'd completely lost control.
Lockhart clung to his desk, trying hard to look calm. "Right, time to get them back in the cage!"
He waved his wand and shouted, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"
Nothing happened.
Who knows what kind of nonsense spell that even was.
A pixie zipped by and knocked his wand out of his hand, then yanked at his glossy, perfectly conditioned hair.
Harry watched the ridiculous scene, finding it strangely entertaining—but enough was enough. He moved his lips, but no sound came out.
Instantly, all the pixies paused for a moment. Harry's eyes flashed.
Suddenly, every pixie shot toward Lockhart—even the two on the chandelier dropped Neville and charged.
Lockhart looked on in horror as the tiny blue army swarmed him.
They tore at his clothes, yanked his arms and legs, and one even shoved a finger straight up his nose.
Harry's own nose twitched at the sight.
The pixies lifted Lockhart and hurled him out the window—where he landed somewhere unknown.
Then, as if returning to roost, the pixies all dove back into the cage.
Harry shut the cage door and gently tapped it with his wand—a Sleeping Charm.
The noisy pixies rolled their eyes and passed out.
He draped the cloth back over the cage and looked around the classroom, now resembling a war zone.
"Class dismissed," he said, and walked out.
The students looked at each other, then collapsed in exhaustion.
Neville cried out from the chandelier: "Can someone get me down—?"
The Next Day.
In Gryffindor—or really, all of Hogwarts—everyone was talking about it.
The brand-new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Lockhart, had humiliated himself on the very first day—getting thrown by his own pixies into a mysterious pile of dung outside Hagrid's hut.
Everyone had something to say about it. If you weren't talking about it, you weren't in the loop.
Meanwhile, the cause of it all—Harry—quietly enjoyed his breakfast.
Zhang Qiu brought over a copy of the Daily Prophet.
Harry glanced at it and nearly spat out his food.
The enormous front-page headline had his photo taking up half the space.
It was the one he'd taken with Colin.
In bold black letters, it read:
"Harry Potter: Just an Ordinary Wizard!"
"...According to reports... Harry Potter, who defeated Voldemort... stated publicly... that he's just a brick... to be laid wherever he's needed..."
"The Ministry of Magic... declared... Harry Potter is a role model for young witches and wizards... calling on everyone to follow his example... to be unafraid of hardship... willing to contribute... implementing core values... sustainable development... zero tolerance..."
Harry broke into a cold sweat. Turns out wizard newspapers were just like Muggle ones.
Same propaganda tone.
Lockhart held his hand to his nose and sniffed, looking disgusted.
He'd already taken over a dozen showers and doused himself in expensive cologne, but he still felt like he reeked.
Then he saw Harry's photo in the paper and, seething with jealousy, tore it up.
He'd spent years carefully crafting his image, avoiding any negative press, and finally managed to get a tiny blurb buried somewhere on the Prophet's back pages.
Meanwhile, Harry casually said a few words and landed on the front page.
He was going insane with envy.
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THE REBIRTH OF HARRY POTTER
⚡🦉 THE REBIRTH OF HARRY POTTER 🦉⚡
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📢 MAGIC REBORN! 📢
The Rebirth of Harry Potter has 100+ chapters ahead available on Patreon! ⚡📚
The wizarding world is changing.
Old destinies twist, familiar names return under new shadows, and magic itself may follow a different path this time.
🪄 A second chance.🌙 A different fate.⚡ A wizarding world reborn.
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