Violet Potter and the Basilisk Plague (Year Two)

Chapter Nine: Worst. Defence. Lesson. Ever.

By the time Herbology class had ended, it was time for lunch as well as a much needed break to wash up, change, and then get ready to go to their afternoon double period of Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Lockhart, joy of all joys, Violet thought sarcastically about that prospect. She and Victoria took their quick turns in the girls' Slytherin baths, which were more like swimming pools and even more grandiose than the Slytherin common room and their dorms put together. The warmer the bathwater, the more it was foamy and delicately perfumed, and the cooler the water was, the more it contained certain properties to refresh someone and help energize them to make them more alert.

On or around holidays, such as Christmas, the bathwater would even run out of the taps in multiple festive colours and fragrances to choose from. It was almost too easy to be tempted to spend an entire day in there at times. But Violet and Victoria, all washed and changed out of their soiled Herbology robes (which were quickly sent to the Hogwarts laundry), and in standard Hogwarts uniforms, made their way in good time back to the Great Hall for lunch. There were the choices of Irish stew with freshly made soda bread, assorted sandwiches with crisps, or grilled salmon paired with a simple green salad.

There were also different miniature eclairs, biscuits, raspberry and blackcurrant jellies and cups of fresh fruit, many of which Crabbe and Goyle were already pigging out on. Violet had honestly never felt more disgusted by anyone's eating habits. But she ignored them and instead tried to begin reading one of Lockhart's so-called textbooks, which actually turned out to be nothing more than a series of adventures in saving both wizard and (occasionally) muggle communities from dangerous magical creatures or other perils. Violet had to grudgingly admit to herself that Lockhart was actually a good storyteller, but would he be any good as a Defence teacher? The books would certainly appear to be be shouting a resounding yes.

But Violet knew well even back then that reality very often did not match a person's expectations. Oh well, she thought. Even if the lesson turned out to be a total dud, at least she would have not only her first letter of the school year from Emily to read later, but it would also be Saturday in a few more days and she could watch Harry get in some practice with the Gryffindor Quidditch team, as well as Tori's Slytherin cheerwitch tryout. And after that, maybe they would all go to visit Hagrid and Fang.

***

Violet Potter's first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson of her second year began after the day's lunch and free study period had ended. Violet and Victoria both walked into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom to notice that this year, unlike when Professor Quirrel had been both teaching the subject and regrettably on the dark side, there were no fumes of any mysterious potions bubbling in a large cauldron. There were no signs of any dangling garlic bulbs, wonky amulets, or completely shuttered windows.

There weren't so many magical defense instructions posted up around the classroom as there were hundreds of moving portraits. Some very small, others so enormous they were able to depict a life-sized imitation of Lockhart, one of which was painting a portrait of himself within the portrait.

All of the portrait Lockharts smiled around at the students as they went to take their seats, and Ron looked as though he might want to retch with disgust, while Seamus Finnigan was heard to grumble to a muggle-born named Dean Thomas, "It's as though I've just walked into a shrine to the most self-absorbed codger in the world. It's just ridiculous. I hope he doesn't waste the class standing up there talking about himself."

"Oh, but he is certainly dreamy to look at." Lavender Brown sighed to Parvati Patil, "I mean, le swoon!" It turned out that Hermione was not entirely immune to the apparent superficial charms of Professor Lockhart, either. Violet had noticed in passing that she had at least twenty or so magically colour-changing heart-shaped stickers stuck onto the front of her little DADA book for quick note-taking. And they nearly all had Lockhart's face on them.