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Perhaps it was because Rita Skeeter had questioned Lockhart more pointedly this time. Or perhaps it was because the June O.W.L.s and the end-of-term exams looming after them were piling on the pressure—which meant more pressure to drop the books and just gossip about something.
Whatever the reason, people were far more interested in this article than the last one. All morning, Anthony overheard them talking about Rita's piece in different corners of the castle.
"Betty, the one slandering Professor Lockhart in the paper is a Slytherin! They always lie!"
"Yes, they often lie, but sometimes they manage to tell the truth too!" the girl called Betty shot back, loud enough to make passing students glance her way. "I'm not going to his stupid club meetings anymore!"
"Coward! When everyone was praising Professor Lockhart, you said he was this amazing adventurer… Now, just because of a lying journalist, a scheming Slytherin, and some nutjob pretending to be his fan, you don't believe him! I'm ashamed of you!"
They almost started a wizarding duel right there in the corridor. But Anthony strode over, using a certain tone he'd picked up from Professor McGonagall, and asked them what they thought they were doing. After a long, stern stare, he nodded and sent them on their way.
"No problem, Professor Anthony," Betty said, flipping her hair and bag back over her shoulder. She glared at her tearful friend. "You can go find Rose, or Mia, or Sophia—they're not cowards. I don't care. I'm going to the library because O.W.L.s are in a month, and I haven't even started properly revising for Defence Against the Dark Arts!"
She stormed off.
"I feel sorry for anyone taking O.W.L.s this year," a student nearby said bluntly to his friend. "Did you see the paper? About that Granger girl? I knew only someone unhinged would keep worshipping Lockhart after the first class."
"Thinking about it now," his friend mused, "I'm not entirely sure how I passed my Defence O.W.L. last year. Honestly, I don't think Quirrell or Snape were much better than Lockhart. Seems like every year's O.W.L. candidates get the short end of the stick."
…
Anthony wasn't the only professor dealing with such arguments. From Professor Sprout, he learned that at least two or three Hufflepuff couples had rowed over it, especially after members of Lockhart's club tried to do something to show their support. As they were talking, a grim-faced Snape approached, and they learned he'd just sent a student—who was crying so hard they could barely breathe—to Madam Pomfrey. All because Snape had mildly, and quite reasonably (as he pointed out), questioned the class's Defence skills and politely wondered if their professor had covered certain necessary topics.
By lunchtime, Anthony noticed many people glaring daggers at Hermione on the Gryffindor table. Those sitting near her were examining her cautiously, as if she'd suddenly sprouted a spinach beard. Even Harry and Ron beside her looked awkward, though they glared right back at the onlookers until, one by one, everyone dropped their gaze and focused on their food.
A hand clapped Anthony on the shoulder.
"Good afternoon, Henry!" Lockhart boomed, his smile a little too bright. "You don't mind if I join you, do you?"
Before Anthony could answer, Lockhart had already pulled out the chair and sat down. Instantly, Anthony felt eyes darting towards them from all corners of the Great Hall.
"Wellington steak!" Lockhart declared, beaming. "Marvellous! Oh, and roast mushrooms. I might have a few of those, but I certainly won't touch that onion soup, Henry. Never been fond of it. I always say, onions make people cry, and I like to see smiles. Onion soup tastes like boiled tears with onions—oh, but how are you, Henry? Famished, I expect?" He chuckled at his own joke.
He was wearing flowing blue silk robes embroidered with gold thread. When he moved, the gold patterns danced on the fabric like sunlight on water, matching his curly blond hair and bright blue eyes perfectly. As he reached past Anthony for the roast mushrooms, Anthony caught a faint whiff of cologne.
"Quite hungry, yes. But all in all, I'm well," Anthony replied.
"Splendid, Henry, simply splendid. I do miss days like these sometimes… you know, the ordinary ones. No fame, no fuss that comes with it… Just a passionate adventurer, his wand, and endless possibilities." Lockhart offered a beautiful, wistful smile and shook his head. "But let's not dwell on that. As the old saying goes, where there's gold, there are goblins. If a man has talent—real talent—he is destined not to remain obscure. And let me tell you, Henry, fame is a dangerous, fickle creature. You must be very careful to get along with it… a bit like a magical beast, wouldn't you say?"
"Perhaps," Anthony said.
Lockhart's smile widened again. "Exactly, Henry. I suppose my skill in handling such a tricky beast comes from being something of a magical creature master myself. So, no need to worry about me—" He winked conspiratorially and lowered his voice. "A top-notch adventurer is always prepared for any sudden challenge."
From the moment he sat down until the desserts appeared, Lockhart talked. And talked. And talked. Professor Sinistra, sitting on Anthony's other side, stared blankly at her plate, mechanically sawing at a pork chop (the closest dish to her). Anthony tried to engage her, but she just muttered something about stars, sounding as if she'd just had a row with a centaur.
Finally, Anthony wolfed down his apple crumble and stood up.
Lockhart looked up, teeth flashing. "So it's settled, then."
"What?"
"Yes, Henry, you can leave it entirely to me," Lockhart said. "I'd be delighted to teach the students how to mingle amicably with Serbian Muggles… In that regard, I dare say no one in Britain is more of an expert than I. I lived among them in a small town for over two years, helped them deal with a wandering dragon—you've heard that story, of course—"
"Er, brilliant—"
"They didn't trust me at first, but we became friends. The bakery owner actually wept when I left. I heard they put my name in their hall of fame, though I don't consider it something to brag about… One should meet sincere friendship with a sincere heart…"
"Why don't you write that experience down, Professor Lockhart?" Anthony suggested. "If you put it on paper, it would be far more helpful to the students." A parchment or two, he reasoned, was infinitely better than an entire class period of Lockhart's storytelling.
"Good point," Lockhart laughed. "And—" He dabbed his mouth with a napkin and patted Anthony's arm affectionately (Anthony noted, with some alarm, that he'd also finished his lunch). "You're a cunning one, Henry."
Anthony glanced quickly at the Great Hall doors, calculating how to make a graceful escape before the next wave of chatter hit.
"No need to worry. I rarely refuse requests from my enthusiastic readers. Though I must say, even after hearing countless pleas for me to write about specific adventures, your reasoning is among the most sensible."
With that, Lockhart stood, gesturing for them to leave the hall together.
As he rose, all the eyes that had drifted away snapped back. Under the scrutiny, sitting back down would seem far too obvious. Anthony had no choice but to follow, watching as Lockhart bestowed a perfect smile upon a few students who called out, "We believe you, sir!"
As they passed the Gryffindor table, Hermione almost knocked over her pumpkin juice. Lockhart didn't even glance in her direction.
"Oh, that girl," Lockhart said once they were in the corridor, noticing Anthony's look. "That's Miss Granger. A very devoted reader of mine."
"I know," Anthony said.
"Ah, right, you know her," Lockhart continued without missing a beat. "Reporters often do this. When they realize I have no real flaws to criticize, they turn on my lovely readers instead, sometimes even making up sensational stories—Rita is one of them, and certainly not the only one. I dislike pointing out others' faults, but that's rather cruel, isn't it?"
For the first time, Anthony found himself nodding in genuine agreement. "Yes, Professor Lockhart."
"Even if Miss Granger does have some… naive ideas, that's no reason to drag them into an article meant to criticize me!" Lockhart said, wagging an elegant finger. "At her age, a few mistakes are understandable. Don't get me wrong, Henry, I'm not saying I don't appreciate her enthusiasm. It's just… you know, giving house-elves the same rights as wizards goes entirely against wizarding custom. And—what was the other thing she said?"
Anthony judged this was another question not requiring an answer, but Lockhart seemed to genuinely think for a moment.
"Oh, yes. Freeing all enslaved house-elves," Lockhart said lightly, a tolerant smile on his face. "It sounds perfectly noble for her age. Of course. Though one might also phrase it as… abandoning all bonded house-elves. Regardless, I doubt Hogwarts' elves would be pleased to hear such talk. And I, for one, would hate to miss out on such excellent Wellington steak and roast mushrooms."
At that moment, a trembling voice came from behind them. "What did you say, Professor Lockhart?"
Anthony turned. Hermione stood at the end of the corridor, staring at Lockhart, her face a mask of disbelief.
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