Following the sharp trill of Lockhart's whistle, a rhythmic clattering of bone against stone echoed from the corridor.
Twelve skeletal hounds trotted into the classroom in two neat columns. In a deeply absurd attempt at domestication, each hound wore a brightly colored silk ribbon tied neatly around its cervical vertebrae.
Watching them march in, Maurise instantly understood the professor's grand plan. Lockhart intended to use the skeletal hounds to clean up the pixie infestation.
But why go to such dramatic lengths? As far as Maurise was concerned, Cornish Pixies possessed practically zero magical resistance. A simple Freezing Charm or a well-placed Stunning Spell would have subdued them in seconds.
Then again, logic rarely applied to a man like Gilderoy Lockhart. After only a brief observation, Maurise had already mapped out the professor's core personality traits: he was breathtakingly vain, deeply narcissistic, and possessed a desperate hunger for theatrical grandstanding.
While the skeletal hounds were not particularly bright and their raw combat power was relatively low, they were still magical creatures. Handling a swarm of chaotic, low-level pixies was child's play for them.
The hounds leapt high into the air with surprising agility. Every time one landed, a fiercely struggling blue pixie was clamped firmly between its bony jaws. The movements were crisp, efficient, and entirely devoid of mercy.
Within two minutes, the airborne menace that had terrorized the second-years was entirely apprehended.
Having completed their mission, the skeletal hounds obediently retreated to the side of the room and lined up like well-trained soldiers. Lockhart then strutted over, plucking the screeching pixies from the hounds' jaws one by one and shoving them safely back into their iron cage.
The classroom was dead silent, save for the muffled squeaks and frantic rattling coming from the cage.
When the final pixie was locked away, Lockhart turned to face his audience. His smile was so radiantly bright it practically threatened to blind the front row.
"I told you I would handle the situation," he announced, throwing his arms wide in a triumphant pose. "And I did not even need to lift a single finger to do it!"
He is certainly having the time of his life, Maurise thought dryly.
The students were still so utterly shell-shocked by the bizarre display of the hounds that the first solitary clap from the audience sounded painfully loud. Soon, however, more applause joined in. It mixed with the loud ringing of the class bell, creating a chaotic but undeniably festive atmosphere.
"Thank you, thank you all!" Lockhart beamed, flashing his impossibly white teeth. He offered a dramatic bow. "Class dismissed!"
Chattering excitedly, the students began to file out of the room. The primary topic of conversation was, naturally, the skeletal hounds.
Just as Maurise packed his bag and prepared to blend into the exiting crowd, his eyes locked with Lockhart's. The professor gave him a conspiratorial wink and offered a subtle hand gesture, signaling him to stay behind.
Maurise waited until the very last student disappeared into the corridor before approaching the desk.
"Is there something you needed, Professor Lockhart?" Maurise asked politely, keeping his expression perfectly respectful with just a dash of innocent curiosity.
"I will get straight to the point, Black," Lockhart said, his usual dazzling smile dropping into a mask of grave seriousness. "Regarding those skeletal dogs you sold me. I recently uncovered some fascinating records about them in a very obscure, very ancient tome."
He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "I have studied them thoroughly, and it is quite obvious they were forged through the use of incredibly dark, sinister magic."
Lockhart paused for dramatic effect. "Do you realize what that means, my boy? They are highly illegal!"
Absolute rubbish, Maurise thought, internally rolling his eyes.
However, he was not in any rush to expose the man's bluff. He wanted to see exactly what kind of angle the fraud was playing. Maurise instantly widened his eyes, perfectly mimicking the panicked reaction of an ordinary student who had accidentally stumbled into severe legal trouble.
"I... I had no idea, sir..." Maurise stammered, taking a nervous step back.
Seeing the boy's fabricated terror, Lockhart's stern expression immediately melted into one of benevolent mercy. He stepped forward and comfortingly patted Maurise on the shoulder.
"Relax, relax, my dear boy! I am not telling you this to frighten you, nor am I going to report you to the authorities. Gilderoy Lockhart is certainly not the sort of man to ruin a bright student's future over a simple misunderstanding."
He squeezed Maurise's shoulder significantly. "Listen to me, Black. You must never, under any circumstances, mention to anyone that those skeletal dogs originally belonged to you. Do you understand? If the Ministry found out, you could be shipped off to Azkaban."
"For your own safety," Lockhart continued, puffing his chest out slightly, "I will simply tell everyone that I valiantly rescued these poor creatures from the clutches of an evil Dark Wizard. It is the perfect solution. It protects you, and it... well, it works out best for both of us."
Maurise instantly decoded the man's true intentions.
Lockhart was not trying to blackmail him at all. He just wanted a cooler backstory for his new pets. "Rescued from an evil Dark Wizard" sounded infinitely more heroic and glamorous than "purchased from a second-year student in a shady alleyway."
Maurise sighed inwardly. His new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was a very special kind of delusional.
Still, if Lockhart wanted to stroke his own ego, Maurise was more than happy to play along. It did not affect his bottom line in the slightest. For a terrifying, fleeting second, he had actually worried the man was going to demand a refund. Thank Merlin that was not the case.
"I understand, Professor," Maurise nodded meekly, looking profoundly relieved. "Thank you so much for protecting me."
"Excellent!" Lockhart beamed, clearly delighted by Maurise's sensible compliance. "Off you go, then. And remember our little secret!"
---
Over the next few weeks, Maurise quickly realized exactly what kind of person Gilderoy Lockhart truly was.
Initially, Maurise had assumed that despite the man's vanity and narcissism, he must possess at least a shred of magical competence. But as the lessons dragged on, the uncomfortable truth became glaringly obvious.
Lockhart's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes taught absolutely nothing.
His curriculum consisted of exactly two activities. The first involved bringing in relatively harmless magical pests, like the Cornish Pixies, and orchestrating a staged theatrical performance where his skeletal hounds "saved the day."
The second activity involved forcing students to take turns reading passages from his own published books, followed by utterly pointless, dramatic role-playing exercises of his supposed adventures.
Actual spellcasting instruction? Nonexistent. Analysis of Dark creature habits and weaknesses? Absent. Practical combat training? Not a chance.
Maurise had even tried approaching Lockhart after class with a few genuine questions regarding advanced charm theory. Every single time, Lockhart had either answered with vague, nonsensical riddles or hastily changed the subject to one of his hair-care routines.
The conclusion was undeniable. Lockhart was entirely clueless.
That older Ravenclaw student Maurise had overheard at the start of the term had been absolutely right. Gilderoy Lockhart was a complete and utter fraud.
Maurise did not care too much about the academic loss. Once he confirmed the professor's uselessness, he simply stopped paying attention in class. He had entirely self-studied his way through Defense Against the Dark Arts last year anyway, so he was already used to the routine.
The only thing that genuinely puzzled him was the Headmaster. Why on earth would Albus Dumbledore hire a man so aggressively incompetent? Maurise highly doubted a wizard of Dumbledore's caliber was blind to Lockhart's true nature.
---
With his Defense classes providing plenty of free time to read ahead, Maurise dedicated his weekend nights to far more productive endeavors: venturing deep into the Forbidden Forest.
His objective remained the same. The buried dragon bones.
The skeletal remains were buried incredibly deep and scattered over a wide area. To avoid accidentally fracturing the brittle marrow, Maurise had to excavate them with painstaking, agonizing slowness, which made the entire process horribly inefficient.
By the end of his first year, he had managed to collect enough fragments to fully assemble one hind leg and a left foot. Unearthing the entire dragon was clearly going to take a very long time.
Simultaneously, he had established a secret laboratory inside the Room of Requirement. He had set up a massive brass cauldron, taller than he was, and continuously brewed complex restorative potions to gradually reinfuse the ancient bones with magical vitality.
Early one Saturday morning, after spending the entire night digging in the damp forest soil, Maurise began the long trek back to the castle. The sky was just beginning to lighten with the pale gray of dawn.
As he walked past the towering stands of the Quidditch pitch, a massive, thunderous sound shattered the quiet morning.
BOOM!
...
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