The professors sitting opposite Lockhart all had stiff, stony faces.
From where he sat, Sean could see a muscle twitching in Professor McGonagall's cheek. Professor Snape looked as though someone had just forced him to chug a huge goblet of Skele-Gro.
Only Dumbledore seemed to notice nothing at all—he was still smiling benignly.
"How's the plan going?" Justin whispered. He kept his voice so low only Sean and Hermione could hear.
"A few days more," Hermione replied. She looked noticeably worn down—she'd barely rested lately.
"Hermione… I mean, you can take a break sometimes," Justin said, looking at her, then at Sean, as if remembering he'd said the same thing to more than one friend before.
Hermione didn't answer—she just couldn't stop a yawn.
Up on the dais, Lockhart clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention.
"Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!" Lockhart boomed. "So far, thirty-six people have sent me cards, and I'd like to thank them!
Yes—on my own initiative, I've arranged a little surprise for you all—and it doesn't stop there!"
Lockhart looked toward the Great Hall doors. From the entrances leading to the Entrance Hall marched twelve surly-looking dwarfs.
And they weren't ordinary dwarfs, either—Lockhart had equipped them with golden wings and harps.
"My friendly little Cupids, bearing cards!" Lockhart said, beaming. "Today they'll be roaming the school delivering Valentine's messages! And that's not all—far from it! I'm sure my colleagues will be eager to join in! Why not have Professor Snape teach you how to brew a Love Potion?"
A roar of laughter and chatter went up.
The Slytherins watched Lockhart with cold, superior smirks—almost pitying him.
And judging by Snape's expression, anyone who asked him about Love Potions would be force-fed poison.
If Ron and Harry saw Snape looking like that, they'd be running as far away as possible.
But Lockhart didn't stop—he kept prattling on, occasionally flicking his gaze toward Dumbledore.
Sean wasn't interested in Lockhart's ridiculous antics, but he was interested in Lockhart's Memory Charm technique.
That was why he'd agreed to act together with Justin and Hermione.
With Veritaserum, Sean wouldn't have to sort out which of Lockhart's claims were exaggeration and which were true.
"Um… actually," Hermione said now, tired but careful, "when the potion wasn't even properly started last month, I needed some feathers from a Jobberknoll—and the only place those could be found was in Professor Snape's private stores…"
That drew a glance from Sean.
"Then, in the last Potions lesson before Christmas, I happened to glimpse a Jobberknoll feather in the cabinet at the very front of the dungeon… and that's a really valuable ingredient. Sean, you're in the dungeons all the time—was that you helping?"
"It wasn't," Sean said.
But he remembered Snape's pre-Christmas instructions: to use magic to reorganize bird-feather ingredients into the front cabinet.
So… it seemed Snape knew a fair bit about Lockhart, too.
"After that, when we tried to put it back…" Justin picked up the thread.
"…we found the feather had already been replaced," Hermione said, clearly thinking hard.
"Don't worry," Sean said softly. He understood, more or less.
The professors seemed to… despise Lockhart.
As they spoke, Lockhart's voice swept over them like a draft through a corridor:
"If you're interested, Professor Flitwick is more accomplished in charm-work than any wizard I've ever met—such a sly little fellow!"
Flitwick immediately buried his face in his hands.
The Ravenclaws all frowned at once.
And so this "special" Valentine's Day officially began.
All day long, the dwarfs barged into classrooms delivering Valentine's messages, until the teachers were driven completely up the wall.
That afternoon, as Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students climbed the stairs to Charms, one dwarf suddenly rushed up to Sean.
"Oh, Mr. Sean Green! Stop right there!"
A dwarf whose face had shifted from stormy to bright shouted, elbowing through the crowd toward Sean.
Sean tapped his wand once—and vanished.
The dwarf froze, then charged at Harry instead.
Harry still had no idea what he was about to face. He was grinning, scanning the crowd for the now-invisible Sean.
"Hey, you! Yes—you! Harry Potter!"
The dwarf, face dark again, yelled—already right beside Harry.
"This is—" Harry started.
Getting a Valentine in front of a whole troop of first-years would be mortifying.
Harry finally remembered to run.
But he'd barely gone two steps before the dwarf kicked shins, shoved through people, and caught up.
"I have a musical message to deliver personally to Harry Potter," the dwarf declared, striking up his harp with an aggressive flourish.
"Not here," Harry hissed, trying to bolt again.
"Stand still!" the dwarf grumbled, yanking Harry back by his schoolbag.
"Let go!" Harry shouted, wrenching hard.
With a loud rip, the bag tore in half.
Books, wand, parchment, and quills spilled everywhere; the ink bottle shattered on top of it all.
Harry scrambled, trying to scoop everything up before the dwarf started singing, and ended up creating a traffic jam in the corridor.
"Harry doesn't look great," Justin said to the empty air as he passed.
"Mhm. Help him?" the air replied.
"He's forgotten he's a wizard—picking things up by hand won't be fast enough," Hermione said, smacking her forehead.
Harry was panicking, desperate to escape. But the dwarf grabbed both his knees, sending him crashing to the floor.
"Right," the dwarf said, plopping down on Harry's knees, "here's your sung Valentine:
His eyes are as green as freshly pickled toad,
His hair is as black as a chalkboard, sleek and bold,
I wish that he were mine,
He's really quite divine,
He's the hero who conquered the Dark Lord—"
The dwarf's singing was somewhere between wailing and screeching.
Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh. Beside her, Justin was already laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
~~~
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