Harry spent as much time as possible running away from Lockhart and anything else that involved the man, while at the same time preventing Ron and Hermione from discussing the man. He couldn't understand how a witch as intelligent as Mione could admire someone who was such an asshole that even Harry could tell.
But it's a strange world and Harry just wanted peace of mind. Quidditch practice began after the third week of September. Wood, the captain, and goalkeeper of the Gryffindor team, was more determined to win this year, to the point of spending ten whole minutes repeating words of encouragement and then flaying each of the players to the point where no one had any breath left at the end of practice.
On a Saturday in early October, Harry was happily in bed, enjoying a late night's sleep, when someone started banging on his bedroom door. Neville was the one who woke up and dragged himself out of bed to find out who was at the door.
"Wood?" the dark-haired boy asked, rubbing his eyes, "what?"
"Where's Potter?" Wood asked in a very excited voice for that time of day.
"Harry?" Neville, still confused, turned to enter the room "He's asleep."
"May I come in?"
Longbottom stepped aside to let the older boy pass. Outside the dormitory, he saw the twins crawling around as if they were still half asleep. They were both mumbling something that the brunette didn't understand.
"Potter," Oliver called from beside the little boy's bed.
Harry grumbled, opening his eyes briefly. Not that without glasses he could recognize who it was.
"Training time," Oliver said, "we've got the pitch for two hours."
"It's too early" Ron grumbled as he sat half awake in his bed.
"Wood, leave the kids alone," Percy called from the still-open door.
"It's not bedtime, it's training time," Wood replied to the older redhead.
"No, at most it's time for breakfast," Percy replied, "let them at least wake up."
Wood snorted and looked at Harry again as if the power of his gaze and thoughts could make the boy awake and ready in seconds.
"Seriously, Oliver," Percy's voice was more exasperated as he entered the room and tugged on the brunette's arm, dragging him out of the room.
As soon as he got his roommate through the door, he turned to Neville and spoke more quietly.
"Wake up Harry please, I won't be able to hold Wood off for long" With that the redhead left with the other boy, aware that he could only move the athlete by his own will and not by his strength.
"Wood's a maniac," Ron muttered when Harry finally started to get up.
"Tell me about it."
[...]
When he was awake, which took at least another five minutes after Oliver left his room, Harry got ready and went downstairs to have a hearty breakfast. At least that's what Percy Weasley convinced Wood to let him do, because sometimes the brunette even forgets to eat to concentrate on Quidditch
Once, at some point in their first year, the twins told Harry that the main reason Oliver Wood isn't always late for his classes or forgetting his homework or even fainting because he forgets to eat while concentrating on Quidditch is because Percy is constantly making him do all the other things that don't have to do with sport.
"I don't doubt that Oliver will become a great Quidditch player," Percy had once said, "he'll win the World Cup for sure, but he'll have to survive until then," the redhead had finished, shaking his head when Oliver had been distracted from his dinner to discuss tactics and moves, again.
Harry went down to the lounge where, to his sadness and dismay, he found Colin. As friendly and positive as the boy was and a fan, he made Harry feel uncomfortable with the whole fame thing, which is why Potter ran away from the boy as much as he ran away from Lockhart.
As usual, the boy was very excited, even more so for such an early Saturday morning. And just like every other time, the younger boy made small talk with Harry, who, as much as he wanted to be at peace and ignore the boy, couldn't bring himself to be so rude.
He spent his breakfast answering Colin's questions about Quidditch and its rules. This followed him to the pitch, the boy never losing his tone and the expression of admiration that was beginning to irritate Harry as much as Malfoy's face at any time.
Over breakfast, what little he could hear of Wood as Colin talked to him, was how much the older brunette had spent all summer thinking about strategies, and moves and creating a training program to make them this year's champions.
Not that he didn't see how important it all was, except for Oliver's new mania for turning up at unhealthy hours to get him out of bed and off his precious sleep to train. Apart from that, Harry knew how important it was to train, and even really enjoyed doing it sometimes... 45% of the time?
"I, Professor Black, have given the Slytherin team permission to practice on the Quidditch pitch today, given the need to train their new catcher."
Harry managed to read the note Wood was brandishing as something offensive.
"Do you have a new catcher?" Wood asked with an arched eyebrow.
The people behind Flint moved sideways, making way for a short, blond boy.
Malfoy stared at Wood and the other Gryffindor players with his standard look of disgust and superiority, a slight snobbish smile.
Ron and Hermione approached to try and find out what was going on.
"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's boy?" Fred asked, looking the boy over from head to toe.
"Funny you should mention Mr. Malfoy," Flint said smiling, as he tilted his broom more in everyone's view, "look what a generous gift he's given us."
Harry's eyes widened as he noticed that Draco's father had bought new brooms for the team, all Nimbus 2001.
"Latest model," Flint said.
"Great, now you can't blame your old broom for your defeats," Wood replied, unimpressed.
Flint gritted his teeth.
Harry was distracted from the elders' confrontation by the arrival of Ron and Hermione; they seemed to be arguing, which, although not groundbreaking, was a little worrying considering how early it was.
Ron and Hermione approached, and Harry realized that they weren't paying attention to the commotion between the players.
"Harry, please help me talk some sense into this girl," Ron said exasperatedly as he pointed generally at Hermione.
"We're busy..."
"Yeah, yeah, with the super important training," Ron said ignoring Oliver "Harry?"
"What's Malfoy doing here?" Hermione asked looking over Ron's shoulder.
"I'm the new catcher for Slytherin" Draco replied puffing out his chest and raising his nose "And the others are just admiring our new brooms that my father bought."
Ron looked at the new brooms in awe, almost drooling.
"Incredible, aren't they?"
"The ability for a place on the Slytherin team to be bought so easily?" Hermione replied with her arms crossed, "Of course. However, only those with talent got into Gryffindor."
"No one asked for your opinion, you mud...," Draco snapped.
"Malfoy," two older Slytherin students called out at the same time, with a warning tone.
"Don't forget the rules, Malfoy," Flint also warned.
"For your information, I'm a very good player..." Draco replied more restrainedly after the warning.
"And your father bought brooms for everyone on the team" George pointed out.
"None of this matters," Ron interrupted again, "Harry, help me."
"You're being ridiculous, Ron," Hermione tried again to stop the redhead.
"I've been doing that since I was born," Malfoy commented, mostly ignored.
"Right," Harry finally gave up trying to focus his attention on all the current discussions, and focused on his best friends - "why has Mione lost her mind?"
"She's saying that Lockhart is the best teacher we've ever had."
Harry frowned.
"Mione?"
"Have you even read his books? The great things he's done?" she said exasperatedly.
"He doesn't know how to deal with Cornish Pixies and he let them loose in our living room," Harry replied.
"He was trying to give us an experience," the girl continued in her defense.
"Near-death or mutilation?" Malfoy said, "He didn't even teach us the right spell to stop them."
"Oh, as if you knew, Malfoy."
"Of course I know, Professor Black taught us," Draco replied, his chest puffed out again, his chin raised in his way of showing superiority.
"Why would he do that?" Hermione almost flinched, but stood her ground as she faced the blond.
"Because he's a powerful wizard, and a splendid teacher, unlike Lockhart," Ron defended.
"He's also a former Death Eater." Colin, who Harry had sworn had left, joined the conversation.
"That's in the past," Flint replied, now no longer interested in arguing with Wood, "he deserted in the war and changed sides. He did the right thing in the end. Where was Lockhart?"
"He was adventuring around the world," Hermione replied, "trying to find a cure for dragon pox."
"I'm sure he was still at school," another Slytherin boy said, Harry didn't know him "By his age, he graduated after the war was over."
"Right, I mistook the time, it looks older and riper."
"Like a bad passion fruit?" said the same boy who complained when Malfoy and his dogs had points deducted the other day.
"How can you say something like that about our teacher?" said Colin, startled.
"That's enough, I don't care about this stupid argument," Wood replied, his face a scowl ever since Harry had gotten close to him, "none of this is important, we should be training right now."
"But you won't," Flint replied, a mocking tone returning to his voice, "because the pitch is ours."
Harry didn't know who to pay attention to, frankly, it was too early and he hadn't eaten enough for his brain to be that switched on. So he just stood there, watching all those people split into two heated arguments that had nothing to do with him.
Flint and Wood, along with two other players from each team were arguing about practice time, and how unfair it was that Flint got a pass onto the field. On the other side, most of the players, as well as their best friends, Colin and a few other onlookers who just wanted to know what the commotion was about, were all taking sides on which teacher was better Lockhart or Black.
At some point when Harry quickly turned his attention to the captains, the discussion about the teachers shifted from their abilities and accomplishments to their looks, behavior, and manners. Harry felt lost at that moment and just gave up for good.
The next time he managed to tune into any of the conversations was to listen to Malfoy.
"At least Mr. Black is a good teacher," Malfoy retorted.
"Exactly," Ron shouted.
Everyone fell silent, Ron and Draco took a step back and moved further away while all the other students stared at them in shock.
Ron felt the twins' penetrating gaze on him, his face turning so red that his freckles almost disappeared. He looked in complete despair at Potter who was staring at him as shocked as the redhead himself.
Draco, for his part, looked at everyone, his eyes wide and the color making his face even paler.
"Right, enough wasting time," Marcus said, and Draco let out a discreet sigh of relief, "let's get training."
The captain left, leading the group of players towards the Quidditch pitch. As if the discussion hadn't even started, it was clearly because he thought it was outrageous to compare Professor Black and Professor Lockhart.
Anyone who doubted which of them was better should be committed to the mental ward at St. Mungus.
Even the girls - the few - in the Slytherin who thought anything positive about Lockhart's appearance, knew and openly admitted that Mr. Black was a much better man and teacher.
But Draco wouldn't say he was surprised that the bad blood thought Lockhart was anything other than an affront to every teacher who had ever passed through that school.
He was still unhappy about that stupid surprise test Lockhart passed on the first day of DCAT class.
Only an idiot would care what his favorite color is.
[...]
Harry shouldn't have felt as surprised as he did when he realized that the argument between Ron and Hermione had escalated quickly, usually nothing gets too low when the two of them fight. Nor should it surprise him how quickly news flies around the school, but he was nevertheless somewhat shocked at dinner when he noticed several people, many of whom he had never met, engaged in long, intense conversations and debates about who was the better teacher, and how Black was so much better than Lockhart.
Like a forest fire during the summer, the subject caught fire and affected everyone, even those who chose not to get involved.
The weekend passed quickly, and instead of training on Saturday, he had to miss part of his Sunday like the rest of the Gryffindor team. Deep down he hoped the whole Best Teacher thing would be over soon, just so he wouldn't have to listen to his best friend and even Ron's sister defending and praising Lockhart.
Monday around lunchtime he was hit with a parchment on the subject. He doesn't know who, but someone was exchanging messages over a piece of parchment at the Gryffindor table, and one of the parties missed the throw and hit him on the head.
Harry picked up the parchment, which fell beside his plate, open enough for him to see what was written on it.
The Most Fabulous
Followed by Black's and Lockhart's names is a list of adjectives for each, plus a long discussion below on each topic.
Harry just rolled the parchment back up in time for a Hufflepuff girl to appear to pick it up.
"Excuse me," said the blonde girl Harry remembered seeing with Percy several times over the last few days.
It was there that he decided not to get involved. His opinion had already been given when he told Hermione that Ron was right and that Lockhart was a terrible teacher.