Chapter 11: A Signed Photo?

To be honest, after an entire Herbology class, Hermione still felt quite exhausted. Since she hadn't activated the temperature adjustment charm on her amulet, she ended up sweating like the other young wizards. Her clothes were also smeared with dirt from helping others during the class.

Glenn was in a similar state, though he fared slightly better than Hermione.

The little girl decisively chose to head to the Room of Requirement for a good soak in the bath, to relax and freshen up.

"Taking a bath together is more efficient; otherwise, we'll be late for Transfiguration," Glenn shamelessly (from Hermione's perspective) remarked as he walked in, wrapped in a towel, while Hermione was already comfortably soaking in the bath. He sat right in the large tub without giving her any chance to refuse.

Hey! There's a girl in the bathroom! How can you just walk in like it's no big deal?

Fine, fine, let it slide. Glenn is just a naive kid; no need to get angry. Anger isn't good for your health. Besides, everyone's still wrapped in towels.

The little girl's cheeks turned red, though it was unclear whether it was from anger or the hot bath.

But honestly, the bath was indeed very effective in relieving fatigue. After soaking for a while, Hermione felt her whole body relax, almost melting into the water.

Glenn claimed it was because he had brought along a potion he had developed, turning the bathwater into a medicinal soak that could effectively alleviate physical exhaustion.

"Close your eyes," the little girl instructed after a while. Glenn, who had come in without his usual black silk blindfold, didn't ask any questions and obediently shut his eyes.

"Turn off your heightened perception," Hermione said with a blank expression. Glenn replied, "It's not on. Don't worry."

The little girl was momentarily speechless.

Fine, fine, just focus on the bath. Sometimes talking to Glenn can raise your blood pressure.

While keeping his eyes closed to avoid looking at Hermione, Glenn didn't idle. He began washing himself, his efficiency so astounding that Hermione couldn't help but marvel.

No, I wasn't peeking.

Really.

You believe me, right?

"I'm heading out first. We've got half an hour left, but don't soak for too long or you'll get dizzy," Glenn said as he got up, stepped out of the tub, cast a cleaning charm to dry off, summoned his change of clothes with a Summoning Charm, and dressed in seconds before leaving the bathroom. His eyes remained closed the entire time.

Hermione's eyes, on the other hand, didn't close even once (crossed out).

No, I wasn't peeking.

Really.

You believe me, right?

After a while, the little girl finished her bath and stepped out too. Now fresh and clean, the two kids headed to the Transfiguration classroom.

Today's Transfiguration lesson required them to transform a live beetle into a button. This was no challenge for Hermione. Although she could perform wandless magic, she still conscientiously took out her wand to perform the spell, reinforcing her Transfiguration skills.

Glenn, on the other hand, had to rely on his wand for the spell. Nevertheless, he succeeded steadily, much to Professor McGonagall's delight—though she wasn't particularly surprised. Once again, the duo earned ten points each for their respective houses.

The Transfiguration class went smoothly, except for one unlucky student whose wand was practically falling apart.

Ron had wrapped his wand in layers of tape to barely keep it straight, but it didn't look good, crackling and occasionally sparking.

"Transform!" He aimed his wand at the beetle on his desk, hoping to turn it into a button. But he failed. The beetle remained unchanged, while his wand emitted a plume of foul-smelling smoke that filled the entire classroom.

Glenn and Hermione silently cast Bubble-Head Charms on themselves. The little girl even extended her kindness to her female friends, casting the charm on them as well.

Draco and Neville looked at Hermione with pleading eyes, especially Neville, who was sitting close to Ron and nearly suffocating.

Kind-hearted Hermione cast the charm on them too.

"Scourgify!" Professor McGonagall, covering her nose, cast a spell to clear the smoke, successfully dispersing it. However, a faint rotten egg smell lingered in the air.

"We're doomed. By the end of this class, we'll all be marinated in this stench. Well done, Weasley," Draco quipped, pinching his nose even through the bubble.

"Pop." Great, now his Bubble-Head Charm was burst.

Draco froze, his face suddenly turning grim.

He looked to Hermione for help, but the little girl turned away.

You brought this upon yourself. Don't look at me.

Draco pitifully turned to Glenn, his face already purple from holding his breath.

Glenn, expressionless, recast the Bubble-Head Charm for him.

"Phew, phew! I'm alive again. Thanks, Glenn," Draco said, clutching his chest and taking deep breaths, almost suffocating himself.

Ron's troubles didn't end there. Due to the dense smoke obscuring his vision, he accidentally squashed his beetle. He had to go back to Professor McGonagall for another one, which she handed over with a disgruntled expression.

"Mr. Weasley, I think it's time you got a new wand," was her comment. With his wand in such a state, how could he perform magic properly?

The bell rang, and the young wizards eagerly fled the Transfiguration classroom, still reeking of rotten eggs.

"Odor Removal," Glenn cast a spell on himself and Hermione, eliminating the faint egg smell.

"Are you sure the smell is completely gone?" The little girl seemed skeptical. "Maybe you should check again?"

Glenn leaned in close to Hermione, sniffing her. "There's no smell. Not even your usual fragrance."

"F-Fragrance?" Hermione pulled her hair over her face to hide her blushing cheeks.

Neville and Draco, who had been hoping Glenn would remove the smell from them too, immediately made themselves scarce.

Honestly, this is worse than the rotten egg smell. Fine, fine, we'll leave, okay?

After dinner, the two returned to the Room of Requirement to study, as usual, until their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the term in the afternoon.

But if the professor is Lockhart...

"Let's hope Professor Lockhart's class is at least somewhat useful..." Hermione could only hope that the inexplicable Lockhart would prove more valuable than his personality suggested.

They arrived early and sat in the front row of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Hermione took out the seven books they had bought, all written by Lockhart, and began flipping through them while waiting for the others to arrive.

"Ha! A signed photo, a signed photo! Who would've thought Potter could be so vain?" Draco's loud, mocking laughter echoed from the doorway, drawing the attention of all the young wizards, including Glenn and Hermione inside the classroom.

Draco's laughter abruptly stopped when he noticed the two already seated inside.

No more laughing, no more laughing. It wouldn't do to provoke this duo into ganging up on him.

Glenn and Hermione were used to Draco's antics. Seeing him quiet down on his own, neither of them turned around.

Finally, the man of the hour arrived—Lockhart entered the classroom with an arm draped around Harry's shoulders. He released Harry, who looked utterly miserable, and the boy quickly escaped to the back row, his clothes disheveled and glasses askew. He hastily straightened his attire and stacked all seven of Lockhart's books on the desk, using them as a barrier against Lockhart's gaze.

He was genuinely terrified of this man.

Neville sat behind Glenn, while Draco chose a seat closer to the Slytherin students in the front row.

Once all the students were seated, Lockhart loudly cleared his throat, commanding everyone's attention. The room gradually quieted down.

Seeing the obedient young wizards, Lockhart flashed his signature smile. He casually snatched the Weekend with a Werewolf book from Glenn's hands, holding it up to display the cover photo of himself winking.

Glenn didn't mind his actions, but the little girl beside him raised an eyebrow.

Lockhart's image in her mind dropped another notch.

"I," Lockhart began, pointing to the winking photo of himself on the cover, "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—but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

He's here. He's here. Gilderoy Lockhart's classic speech is here.

He paused, seemingly waiting for applause and cheers.

"Snort." Before his fans could react, our master of mockery, Draco Malfoy, let out a derisive snort.

But Lockhart's thick skin was beyond ordinary standards. His expression remained unchanged, as if Draco's mockery had been an illusion.

In that brief moment, an unspoken battle unfolded in the classroom.

Lockhart's fans finally snapped out of it. The young witches enthusiastically clapped, and Lockhart smiled at them, eliciting suppressed squeals.

Draco sneered. This Lockhart had some nerve. He really couldn't stand him.

From the moment Draco first laid eyes on Gilderoy Lockhart, he had disliked him. The reason was simple.

I, Draco Malfoy, cannot tolerate anyone outdoing me in pretentiousness!

And the fact that Lockhart seemed to be riding on Harry's coattails made it even worse.

What's this? You two want to support each other and make headlines together? Did you ask for my permission?

If Harry knew Draco's thoughts, he would undoubtedly cry out in protest.

Who in their right mind would want to support this Lockhart?

He'd run away if he could!