Because You Love Me

47. Enemies of the Heir

"I wonder where she's going to send us," he said out loud.

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows? But Fred and George get detentions all the time. They said she's never sent them anywhere bad."

"That's good."

Suddenly the door to her office opened and she burst inside. She was merrily humming to herself until she saw Harry and Ron standing there. Immediately she stopped. She had almost forgotten what they were doing there. She walked up to her desk and took a seat behind it. She adjusted her glasses and peered sternly at them.

"I am terribly disappointed in the two of you right now," McGonagall told them. "Gryffindors should have much better self control."

"Sorry, Professor," Harry apologized, "but he called my mother a Mudblood. I could have cursed him." He side-glanced toward Ron and smiled. "But I didn't."

"That's not an excuse, Potter." She cleared her throat. "In any case, I'm definitely not putting the two of you together. Mr. Weasley, you will be at the trophy case dusting them and cleaning them if necessary. I'll get the necessary supplies for you. And Mr. Potter, you will be spending the evening with Gilderoy Lockhart."

Harry silently groaned, but he didn't complain.

"Now go ahead and go to your detentions. Don't dawdle."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry and Ron said in unison.

"At least you don't have to spend the evening with Lockhart," Harry grumbled as he and Ron were walking out into the hallway.

"No, I have to clean all night. But it doesn't matter. I'd much rather have my detention than yours."

Harry and Ron walked to the end of the hall before they went their separate ways. It didn't take Harry long to find the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Lockhart's office was right inside of it. He knocked on the door and waited for the invitation before going in. Lockhart was sitting in his desk chair with a pile of mail surrounding him. Harry frowned.

"Ah, Harry!" Gilderoy exclaimed. "Come and sit."

There was a chair there beside of his desk that Harry hadn't noticed. He silently walked over and sat down. Lockhart pushed a stack of what looked like papers toward him.

"I would like for you to help me answer my fanmail, Harry. I've gotten so much I can hardly manage it all."

"Yes, sir."

"Just sign my name and then 'yours truly'."

Harry nodded. He picked up a quill and got started. It wasn't so bad for the first hour or so. It was when his hand started to cramp that he realized that nearly four hours had gone by. He looked up at Lockhart. His professor was still busily signing mail. He cleared his throat.

"Professor Lockhart?"

Gilderoy looked up at him. "Yes, Harry?"

"My hand is cramping. May I stop for a moment?"

He smiled. "Of course, my boy!" He glanced at the clock. "Great scott! We've been in here for nearly four hours! You can go in just a few minutes if you want."

"Thank you," Harry said gratefully. He yawned and stretched as far as he could without hurting himself. He was glad he was finally allowed to leave. Suddenly he heard a faint whispering. He frowned. "What?"

Lockhart looked up at him funny. "Pardon me?"

"Did you say something?" Harry asked.

"No."