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"And where are the muggle paintings I bought?" Apolline added, looking around the walls. She had chosen to decorate this room with muggle scenic paintings to ensure privacy in the bedroom whenever she and Julian played their 'games'.
Julian peered through the gloom and stepped closer to the painting of his deceased mother. He knew he had a smaller painting of her in the private library in Paris and not of this size.
"Mother?" Julian asked."Where did you come from?"
"Jules!" Francesca Delacour greeted her son, though she wore a small grin in her face. "I'm from our ancestor's collection, Perenelle Flamel. Harry asked me if I wanted to see a nice view of the beach and of course I agreed..."
"That Thief..." Julian gritted his teeth with frustration. He looked around and wondered what else was missing or misplaced in their beach house. He looked at his wife who was still trying to hide her modesty from his forefathers' lecherous gazes and sighed in defeat. He hated playing Harry's game.
"Welcome to Defense against the Dark Arts class..." The flamboyant man descended the stairs from his office, his golden cape draped across one shoulder.
The girls all sighed as one as Gilderoy Lockhart gave them a winning smile worthy of some award in a local witch magazine, with his shiny white teeth gleaming in the early morning sun. The Defense Professor gave the second years the basic speech he had used so far for the fourth and seventh years, proudly showing of his titles and awards that he won. The girls sat on the edge of their seats, soaking up the stories their professor told them while most of the students immediately grew bored, since for some reason the man irritated them.
"First... we shall first have a surprise quiz..." Gilderoy Lockhart passed sheets of parchment to the front of the class and the front row students took one and passed them to their classmates behind them.
"Professor... what is this supposed to be?" Michael Corner asked as he read the questions while he absently passed the last parchment to his roommate behind them.
"This quiz will determine if your have really read my autobiography... Magical Me." Gilderoy smiled at the young second year student. "Time... starts now. You have thirty minutes."
The students immediately drew their ink bottles and quills and soon the sound of quills scratching the parchment was heard around the defense room.
Hermione eagerly answered the questions and even before it reached the ten minute mark, she was sitting proudly on her seat smiling at the Defense professor who paced the front of the room, practicing the cape swirl that he had seen Professor Snape perform yesterday.
ZZZZZZZzzzzzZZZ...
The students stopped writing as they looked around the room, looking for the source of the loud snore and Gilderoy paused in mid step, surprised at the sound.
ZZZZZZzzzz... SNORK!
The boys sniggered and Michael sighed as he heard the sound behind him. Harry was sleeping again, but it seems that The-Boy-Who-Lived forgot that he was not in the history classroom and their teacher was not a ghost.
"Who is that?" Gilderoy Lockhart demanded as he looked at the sleeping boy while Michael Corner tried to wake up his roommate. The sleeping boy was drooling on the test paper and it irritated the Defense Professor.
"Harry! Harry! Wake up!" Michael whispered and the young thief slowly opened his eyes, irritated that someone disturbed his nap.
"What?" Harry yawned and he stretched his arms.
"You were sleeping in class!" Michael whispered as he looked back at the Defense Professor who was glaring at them.
"Oh... thanks." Harry whispered back. The man's speech was utterly boring, and he had a late night with Tonks who had insisted Kit stay with her while she watched a horror movie.
"You have drool in your face." Michael whispered and Harry searched his robes for his hanky. Finding none, he spotted the damp paper on his desk and crumpled it and used it as a tissue. He smelled Pansy Parkinson's pungent perfume and he sneezed into the paper, blowing off his nose on it.
The male students burst into laughter, even Draco Malfoy who had to admire the audacity of the aloof boy and studious boy.
"Who are you young man?" Gilderoy demanded. "I'm afraid that you have scored zero for today's quiz... and twenty points from your house."
"Professor, that's Harry Potter." Hermione Granger said as she gave her best friend a disapproving look.
"Harry Potter!" Gilderoy immediately smiled at his fellow celebrity. "Come forward Mister Potter... maybe you could help me with today's lesson and regain those points back."
"What do I have to do?" The second year students asked as he stepped in front of the class.
"You will... help me reenact my battle with the werewolf" Gilderoy patted the boy's shoulder. This would be a good opportunity to rub shoulders with a fellow celebrity. "Pass your papers to the front, time is up."
Hermione volunteered to collect the papers and the rest of the second year class eagerly looked on to what their Defense Professor was up to.
"Stand there Harry... and you're going to be the fearsome Werewolf." Gilderoy positioned the boy to face him. "While I... Gilderoy Lockhart will attempt to subdue you and cure you of your Lycanthropy."
"In my battle with the fearsome werewolf..." Gilderoy faced the class who was looking on eagerly at the strange lesson. "I had wrestled with him since he had knocked out my wand... I was defenseless. I was about to be eaten alive, or turned into a werewolf myself."
Hermione gasped as she covered her mouth, though she was not alone.
"But Gilderoy Lockhart is not that easy to defeat." The Defense Professor said boldly, looking at his students in the eye. "And so I wrestled with the mindless, savage creature."
"Now Harry, can you do a howl of a werewolf?" Gilderoy asked.
"No." Harry said immediately while he looked at the man wondering what he was up to. He had not forgotten that incident at Diagon Alley where the flamboyant man had eaten his sandwich without permission.
"It's simple..." Gilderoy smiled. "Can you do... Awwwooooo?"
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If you want to read ahead by 10 chapters from her you can visit my Patre-on.
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