After lunch, it was already time for our first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. I was a little nervous, considering my first year—taken under Voldemort's wing and becoming his private student. However, since many people knew Lockhart, I felt much better about him perhaps being controlled by the Dark Lord again.
The room was much different from last year. Paintings of Lockhart throughout his many years of defeating and killing creatures were strewn all around. His smiling face triumphantly stood over the corpse of a werewolf he had just slain.
I sighed, taking a seat at the back of the class, not wanting to speak with this teacher. He was everything I hated about history—wizards killing creatures and becoming famous for it, rather than learning about them and trying to appease or help them in some way. I frowned while looking at the stack of books made in his image and clutched my chest, wondering how many of the creatures he had killed could have been saved instead.
Everyone else flooded into the class. Many of the girls were particularly excited, except Pansy, who sat beside me.
"All of these books of his are long and drawn-out stories rather than teachings of spells. At least we still have this," she muttered, placing her spellbook between our desks.
I glanced down to see a few spells I already knew but also a handful of new ones.
"This one seems useful at least," I said, pointing at the Expelliarmus spell.
As we both continued reading the spellbook, the others took their seats, and the bell in the clocktower rang, indicating that class would begin. It wasn't long until the door at the top of the stairs leading to the teacher's office slammed open. Pansy and I both jerked up to see Professor Lockhart standing with a large smile on his face, leaning against the banister.
"Let me introduce you to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!... Me."
He smirked while slowly descending the stairs, continuing to announce himself. However, if I was being honest, most of what he said went in one ear and out the other. I already didn't like him, and listening to his long list of accomplishments just bored me.
However, his gaze suddenly became serious, and I tuned back in.
"It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizard-kind…"
I internally sighed again, knowing I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up for such a bloodthirsty teacher.
But when he removed the velvet cloth covering the quivering birdcage underneath, my interest spiked again.
"Cornish Pixies!?" one of the Gryffindor students yelled with amusement, and I was almost prone to agree. Pixies, while documented as annoying, were altogether fairly easy to deal with. I stared at the tiny blue creatures flying and crawling around their cage, each desperately trying to escape. Their high-pitched, buzzing voices were almost akin to Mandrakes, and my head was already starting to ache at the back of the class.
While I was massaging my temples, Professor Lockhart suddenly yelled, "Let's see what you make of them! Hah!"
With that, the small swarm of Pixies flew from their imprisonment and quickly took over the classroom.
"Woah!"
"Oh my—!"
"Get it off!!"
Everyone quickly got up from their seats—some rushing for the door, while others took to their books, haphazardly swatting at the small creatures to keep them away. Chaos enveloped the class. The screaming and yelling, combined with the Pixies' already aggravating voices, worsened my headache.
I noticed Pansy. Instead of running away or grabbing a book, she grabbed onto me, staying close while everyone else rushed around in fright. (Including Draco, who also left the class, dragged by some of his other Slytherin friends as they screamed and waved their arms in the air.) With each person leaving the room, the Pixies began zipping closer and closer to us.
They had stayed distant earlier, most likely from Val's low ringing—a faint hum he sometimes emitted, akin to my wand, but softer. However, with fewer people to terrorize, the Pixies were growing bolder.
"Avis!" I announced, conjuring a flock of ravens from the tip of my wand.
The ravens quickly went to work, flying around me and swallowing any Pixie that got too close. Not to kill, of course—they were too large for the ravens to eat, even conjured ones. No, swallowing meant biting the Pixies and rushing to the cage to deposit them before dispersing inside.
The Pixies soon realized my intent. I kept an eye on Professor Lockhart, waiting for him to finally step in. But to my surprise, nothing happened.
"Well! I'll just ask the five of you to nip the rest back into their cage!" he quickly announced with a large smile before ducking into his office on the second floor.
By now, the Pixies' irritating voices were grating against my already aching head, pushing my anger further than usual. My build-up of magical power was peaking. I had taken my medicine to help with the migraines, but the Pixies were making it unbearable. Still not wanting to harm them, I kept at it.
I continued depositing Pixies back into their cage, but every time one of my crows disappeared with a Pixie inside, the creature immediately flew back out. I was caught in an endless loop of collection.
Then, one Pixie, craftier than the rest, closed the door and locked it with a wand they had stolen. My irritation peaked. Their incessant buzzing voices and the piercing headache were pushing me over the edge.
Finally, when one grabbed at Pansy's hair and buzzed right beside my ear, I snapped.
"Enough!" I roared, a guttural growl behind my voice.
The entire swarm froze, staring at me in silence as I massaged my temples and cleared my throat. Their shrill voices were finally gone. I could barely hear anything from them—even with my wand trying to translate. They were just troublemakers, reveling in causing chaos with not much else on their minds.
The Pixies must have instinctively felt my fleeting desire for their death. They cowered in fear.
I sighed, pointing at their cage with my wand.
"Alohomora," I muttered, unlocking it.
I stared at them, one by one, until my gaze landed on the Pixie that had grabbed Pansy's hair and buzzed in my ear. I motioned for it to come close. It shivered in response, avoiding eye contact, but still obeyed and hovered near.
Just as it did, I flicked its head, sending it spiraling through the air and landing on Pansy's desk.
The others, terrified, scurried back inside the cage, seeking protection. I exhaled, the pain in my head ebbing away.
I glanced at the shivering Pixie still on Pansy's desk, eyeing me in fear.
'I didn't know they were so attuned to the thoughts of others… useful for the future, I suppose,' I thought.
Scoffing, I waved the Pixie away.
"Go on, you've learned your lesson."
As the last Pixie hurriedly entered the cage, Hermione, Ron, and Harry finally felt as if they could breathe. The sight of Lucas' eyes had made them stiff with fear. The usual green hue was back in his gaze now, but just moments ago, they had shone a bright yellow—paralyzing anything he looked at.
"Bloody hell…" Ron muttered. "First Pixies going crazy, now Lucas? Maybe something bad is happening this year, Harry."
He glanced at Harry's uneasy expression.
"It was Malfoy's house-elf, but maybe…" Harry trailed off, silently wondering if the grave danger Dobby warned him about was Lucas.
Hermione frowned, torn between what she thought and what she hoped. She hoped Lucas was a good Slytherin—one of the only good ones. However, her intellectual side screamed that he might be worse than the others. Only strange things happened around him.
They all watched as Lucas, accompanied by Pansy, left the room, casually discussing class as if nothing strange had occurred.
"Can someone get me down now?"
They all looked up to see Neville hanging from the ceiling, obviously pulled up when the Pixies were let loose.
"Why is it always me?" he sighed.