Don't Assume

They didn't. Not right after lunch. Not until the evening classes started and Professor McGonagall noticed that Defense was still a warzone.

Lockhart was discovered by Filch, clinging to a swinging chandelier in his office by the waistband of his boxers and no other clothing. 

The pixies had made nests out of his robes.

The story spread like wildfire.

By dinner, students were imitating pixies, dangling socks from chandeliers, and quoting Lockhart's failure in squeaky voices.

By the next morning, Lockhart's creatures were banned from the classroom.

"From now on," Professor McGonagall announced dryly, "Professor Lockhart will focus solely on the theoretical."

Which meant reenactments. Terrible ones.

Every lesson became a dramatization of one of his supposed feats. When asked for volunteers, most of the class looked anywhere but at him.

Except me.

"I'll do it," I said with a wide grin.

Lockhart blinked. "Splendid! You'll be the werewolf. Attack me on my mark."

"Professor," I said gently, "are you absolutely sure?"

"Nonsense! I'm a fully trained wizard. Do your worst!"

"Alright." I walked up slowly. And then kneed him in the groin.

Lockhart wheezed.

I swept his legs. He landed with a thud.

Two rapid kicks to the side. A final one to the jaw.

"Oops," I said, crouching. "Are you alright, Professor? Want me to continue?"

Lockhart waved feebly and passed out.

The room was dead silent.

I turned to the class. "Did I go overboard?" 

*A/N. This scene came from another fanfic. I completely forgot which but i loved it so much I had to use it. If you guys recognize this scene in some way and know the author or the title, Let me know. Seriously, you guys should give that one a read.*

That evening, I was summoned to the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore, hands steepled. Lockhart bandaged. Snape also stood behind us amused.

Hermione, Harry, Ron, and even Daphne and Blaise sat behind me, offering their versions of the event.

Lockhart, covered in bandages and with one arm in a sling, stood to the side of Dumbledore's office looking like he'd swallowed a lemon whole.

"He viciously assaulted me! In front of the entire class!" Lockhart bellowed. "He kneed me—ME—in the groin! Then continued the attack even as I tried to call for a stop!"

"You told him to do his worst," Blaise pointed out dryly.

"I was speaking theatrically! It was a reenactment!"

"You also said, and I quote," Hermione said, pulling out a notebook, "'I am a fully trained wizard. Do your worst.'"

"I assumed there would be props! Stage effects! A certain level of decorum!" Lockhart sniffed, holding his bruised jaw.

Ron leaned forward, grinning. "Mate, you went down faster than a sack of gnomes."

"Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said with gentle firmness, though the corners of his mustache twitched.

"I did warn him," I said calmly. "Multiple times. I even asked if he was sure. He was very sure."

"You attacked a professor!" Lockhart shrieked.

"I participated in your staged exercise," I corrected. "Which you insisted was part of the lesson plan. I merely… committed."

"I want him expelled!" Lockhart snapped, turning to Dumbledore. "You can't let this kind of violence go unpunished! What sort of example—"

Dumbledore held up a hand. "Let us be clear, Professor Lockhart. Mr. Kingston asked for permission. You gave it. Publicly."

"Yes, but I assumed he'd throw a soft hex! Not attempt to dislocate my—"

"I stopped at the dislocation," I interrupted. "Out of courtesy."

Snape coughed. It might have been laughter. Might.

"And besides," I added smoothly, "you know what they say about assuming?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "And what is that, Mr. Kingston?"

"When you assume," I said with a straight face, "it can make an ass out of you and me."

"Language," Hermione hissed reflexively.

"English," I said, feigning innocence. "Wasn't I clear enough?"

Snape let out what sounded like a cross between a laugh and a cough at the same time.

Seriously, Snape has loosened up a lot this year.

Lockhart looked around the room, seeking support and finding none.

"Perhaps it's best," Dumbledore finally said, "if Professor Lockhart refrains from requesting Mr. Kingston's participation in future demonstrations."

"A wise decision," I said with a small bow.

As we turned to leave, Snape murmured, "Next time, aim lower."

"I thought I was on target," I replied.

"For an average man, probably."

I blinked a couple of times before the meaning sunk in.

Hermione choked back a snort. Ron openly wheezed.