Pixie Panic

"Let me introduce you to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher: me," I wanted to gag.

"Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner... of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award." He flashed us with his Nobel Prize winning Lighthouse.

"But I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at him." *He said as he laughs at his own joke, but no one else does.

Almost all the girls in the class all seem starstruck by Lockhart while the boys looked like they wanted to gag.

Hermione looked hopeful. Almost as if she was hoping everything she read was a misunderstanding and that everything will make better sense during class. Cute.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books, well done. Now, I thought we'd start today with..."* He picks up a pile of papers from his desk.* 

"...a little quiz. Nothing to worry about, just to check how well you've read them."

As he passes the papers around I could hear Ron and Harry behind us.

"Look at these questions! They'll all about him!" Ron whispered quietly in disbelief.

"What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?" Harry read out having a hard time believing what he was reading.

After passing out all the papers, Lockhart ran back to the front and faced the class with Gleaming smile. What kind of toothpaste does the man use?

 "You have thirty minutes. Start... now!" *A/N. Not gonna lie, I took a small excerpt and modified it a bit to fit the scenario*

"He's making us take a quiz?" I blinked at the parchment in front of me.

Hermione, already halfway through the questions, barely glanced up. "It's about him. All of it. Favorite color, secret ambition, ideal birthday gift..."

I tapped the quill against the desk and frowned. "I think one of these is literally 'What is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement?' Isn't that his job to answer?"

I took a brief glance to see how Harry and Ron were doing.

Harry was staring at his own paper, looking like he'd been handed ancient runes. Ron, on the other hand, was making dramatic retching sounds into his sleeve.

Lockhart stood at the front of the classroom, beaming like he'd just been crowned king of the narcissists. "Don't worry, my dears—there are no wrong answers! Unless, of course, you get them wrong."

I glanced at Hermione. Her quill hovered midair. She looked deeply betrayed—this was, perhaps, the first time in her entire academic life that she regarded a school assignment with such loathing. She stared at the quiz paper like it had personally betrayed her trust and all her expectations about what education should be.

"Still glad you finished all his books in France?" I whispered.

Her mouth flattened. "He claimed to have defeated a Wendigo in Alberta. Wendigos aren't even native to Canada."

"Didn't he also say he outdueled a banshee in a windmill?"

"That was in Belgium," she said sourly.

"Very breezy place for a screaming ghost."

By the time the quiz ended, the only one who looked pleased was Lockhart himself. I quietly made a copy of my own quiz before handing over the original—something to forward to Griselda Marchbanks later. Lockhart pranced between the desks collecting papers, pausing to toss compliments at random.

"Miss Granger, ten points to Gryffindor for knowing my ideal birthday gift is lilac-scented shampoo!"

I leaned toward Hermione and whispered, "Why would you remember that?"

Hermione looked like she wanted to set her quiz on fire.

"I refuse to fail ANY exam." She shot back with a crazed look in her eyes.

Seriously, her dedication to school work was commendable.

Had this been an exam about how to do the Cha Cha Slide and its origins, I wonder how she would do?

Once the parchments were collected, Lockhart clapped his hands together. "Now! Time for a demonstration." He reached under his desk and suddenly pulled out his wand, tapping the side of a rattling, covered cage.

"Now, be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind," he announced dramatically. "You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. I must ask you not to scream, it might... PROVOKE THEM!"

He whipped the cloth off the cage with a flourish.

"Cornish Pixies?" Seamus asked, confused.

"Freshly caught Cornish Pixies," Lockhart declared. "Laugh if you will, Mr. Finnigan, but pixies can be devilishly tricky little blighters. Let's see what you make of them, now!"

He opened the latch.

The cage practically exploded with blue wings and chaos. Pixies zipped into the air, knocking over ink bottles, flipping desks, tugging on hair. One yanked Neville by the ears and strung him from the chandelier.

"Please, get me down!" Neville wailed.

Lockhart pulled out his wand, twirled it like a baton, and shouted, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"

Nothing happened.

Another pixie stole his wand. Two more had started yanking on Seamus's ears.

"I—er—must have used the wrong—erm—tense!" Lockhart stammered before dashing into his office and slamming the door behind him.

Hermione and I looked at each other. Wordlessly, we began gathering our things. I gently guided Harry and Ron toward the door. 

They were ducked under their desks.

"I'll get the rest out," I told Hermione. "You go on ahead."

With the majority of the students scrambling outside, I quickly raised my wand and cast, "Avis Maxima!"

A whole flock of golden birds burst forth in a swirl of feathers and gleaming light, immediately dive-bombing the pixies. The winged swarm tangled them midair, throwing the classroom into a chaotic glitter storm. The pixies screeched in outrage, locked in feathery combat.

While they were occupied, I darted across the room to where Neville was still hanging by his robes on the chandelier. I levitated him down gently.

"Thanks," Neville mumbled, wobbling a bit as his feet touched the floor.

"No problem," I said, patting his back and nudging him toward the door.

As he exited, I unsummoned my golden birds in a single sharp breath, then spun on my heel and fired a quiet "Bombarda." Lockhart's office door blasted open in a crack of light.

All the pixies that were strewed across the floor were attracted by the attention and looked at the now open door maniacally.

I staggered out a moment later, clothes mussed, face flustered, and slammed the classroom door shut behind me. With a snap of my fingers, I sealed it with a Locking Charm, then let out a frantic gasp.

The few students who remained stared at me like I had just survived a warzone.

"What about Lockhart?" one asked.

"He's safe. He locked himself in his office."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What was that explosion I just heard?"

I smiled. "Not sure, I didn't pay attention as I was trying to get out as quickly as possible."

She sighed, shook her head, and led the group toward the Great Hall. "We'll tell a professor… after lunch."