Chapter 5: The Welcome Feast and Need for Speed
Professor Sprout would never know how Lockhart managed to deal with the screaming mandrakes.
She seemed quite impressed by him, glancing meaningfully at Professor Snape. "Professor Lockhart clearly has extraordinary insight."
Honestly, as a Potions Master, Snape had plenty of experience with magical herbs too, but even he had no idea how Lockhart got hundreds of mandrakes to stop screaming so effortlessly.
Somehow—whether due to Lockhart's infectious enthusiasm, or simply out of respect for his old Herbology professor—Snape found himself dragged along to help with the mandrake handling.
The three of them worked quickly, and just before sunset, they were finally done.
Covered in dirt, each of them returned to their quarters to wash up and prepare for the start-of-term feast.
Lockhart cheerfully shoved a bottle of shampoo into Snape's hands. "Hey, this stuff works way better than anything the Potters use."
He grinned and added, "Made from the eggshells of the Occamy—you know how expensive that is? Trust me, once you try it, you'll never want anything else."
He gave his silky, glowing curls a shake and raised an eyebrow. "Everyone who's tried it swears by it!"
A professor who could afford luxury shampoo and had notoriously greasy, tangled hair—Snape was clearly a prime potential customer.
"You've got to treat yourself, you know~" Lockhart added with a wink, leaving Snape behind with a strange expression.
What he didn't notice was that Snape silently watched him leave, then glanced down at the bottle in his hand. Maybe… this was the only gift he'd received in the past ten years.
Boom!
Fireworks exploded overhead.
Another new batch of young witches and wizards had arrived at Hogwarts.
Of course, this year didn't have the iconic Hat Stall moment of "Iron Hat Queen" Hannah Abbott's sorting—after all, Harry Potter was now in his second year.
Still…
Lockhart glanced around, searching, but didn't spot Harry anywhere. Then again, maybe the real-world Harry looked different from the one in the films.
He himself looked nothing like the actor who played him, after all.
"Professor Snape," Lockhart turned to the man seated beside him, "where's our savior?"
Snape's brow furrowed deeply as he scanned the room and then looked toward Dumbledore at the head of the table.
After Voldemort had made a confirmed appearance at Hogwarts the previous year, Harry Potter going missing was definitely a cause for concern.
Yes—Harry Potter was missing.
He had vanished during the brief window between leaving the magical protection of his Muggle relatives' home and arriving at the safety of Hogwarts.
There was nothing more alarming.
Lockhart could clearly see the tension in Snape's supposedly impassive face—the veins in his neck were visibly twitching. Professor McGonagall, seated not far away, looked deeply unsettled.
Tsk. What a child, always in the spotlight.
Soon, a prefect ran onto the stage and whispered something to Professor McGonagall: Harry Potter and Ron Weasley hadn't arrived at the school as expected.
McGonagall nodded and waved the student away to maintain order among the first-years, then sat back down with tightly pressed lips.
Dumbledore remained calm, giving Snape a slight nod before stepping up to the owl-engraved podium to begin his speech.
Ah.
Lockhart remembered now.
His memories were a jumbled mess, tangled with scenes from fanfictions he'd read in his past life—but it finally came back to him.
After all, Ron was missing too.
During the summer before their second year, Harry had stayed at the Weasleys' home, the Burrow.
And on the day they were supposed to return to school, the Malfoy family's loyal house-elf, Dobby, sealed off Platform 9¾ with magic in an effort to keep Harry safe—preventing both boys from boarding the train.
So, the two brave idiots took off in Mr. Weasley's flying car and launched into their own little adventure.
Lockhart could just imagine the chaos on the other side of the barrier, with the Weasley parents returning from their failed attempt to cross and finding their sons gone—pure panic.
Which meant Dumbledore was likely waiting for news from the Weasleys or other members of the Order of the Phoenix working behind the scenes.
And Dumbledore did get news soon—though not from the Order.
Instead—
"Merlin's plaits! Look!" a young wizard shouted, pointing out the window of the Great Hall.
Something completely out of place in the magical world appeared in the sky—a Muggle car.
A flying Muggle car.
Billowing smoke and occasionally sparking flames, it barely avoided crashing into the castle walls, flew over the greenhouses and vegetable gardens, skimmed the school lawn, and finally veered toward the Forbidden Forest.
Inside the car, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley screamed at the top of their lungs.
Lockhart clearly saw the relief in Snape's expression, though the man immediately twisted his mouth into a smirk of mockery, as if scoffing at Harry's dramatic entrance.
Professor McGonagall visibly relaxed, a smile returning to her face as she continued overseeing the Sorting Ceremony.
Dumbledore's expression, however, remained unreadable as he quietly observed the scene.
Soon, the professors could spot two guilty-looking boys sneaking up to the windows of the Great Hall, crouching low with their luggage, peeking in like a pair of burglars.
Snape let out a cold snort, pushed back his chair, and strode outside.
Lockhart, munching on a chicken leg, watched the whole thing with great amusement. He felt like saying, Oh dear, my good senior—those two boys belong to Gryffindor, and you're the head of Slytherin. Shouldn't that be Professor McGonagall's job?
Heh heh heh…
They say suffering comes from caring. Most troubles in life arise from attachment.
Lockhart had troubles of his own. To cover up the fact that he couldn't cast spells, he clung to his reputation and the image it brought—which also meant dealing with the inevitable…
…fangirls and fanboys.
"Aaaaaahhh!"
A chorus of excited screams erupted.
The shrill voices of young students, some piercing like banshees, were no more pleasant than the cries of mandrakes.
No amount of fertilizer could fix this situation.
Crowds swelled.
Among them, Hermione Granger was by far the most excited.
She squeezed through the throng, clutching a copy of Magical Me plastered with heart-shaped stickers, desperate for an autograph.
Honestly? It wasn't a bad feeling.
If only those screams didn't stir up all the messy, buried memories in his head.
Forcing a perfect, charming smile, Lockhart signed autographs one by one, offering free words of encouragement.
Looking up, he saw even more young witches and wizards flocking toward him.
Soon, a student with a magical camera came running over. Lockhart struck poses like he was at a celebrity event, snapping photo after photo with his adoring fans.
Honestly? Even a few professors who hadn't yet left after the feast looked a little envious of all the attention.
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