Chapter 28 The More Things Change

The First Task started an hour late, at three instead of two. Minister Bones refused to let them start until she had what she felt was an adequate force of Aurors in place. And it took time to gather them from off-work and other assignments. Where there had been just a few Aurors for crowd control there were now easily a hundred Aurors and trainees scattered around the viewing stands and Hogwarts grounds.

As Garry remembered, Cedric went first, Fleur second, and Krum third. And they drew the same dragons. It only now occurred to Garry that he should have asked if Yaxley had charmed the bag holding the models. As the paranoid Moody, it would have been in character for Yaxley to demand to check the bag, and thus ensure that Harry drew the worst of the bunch. Oh, well, it was too late now.

The differences, though, thanks to the potions secretly supplied by Sirius, were that Cedric and Fleur escaped with only their robes slightly singed. Krum, however, still used the conjunctivitus curse and lost points for the destruction of the other eggs in the nest.

Harry performed almost exactly as he remembered doing, exhibiting flying skills that drew admiring remarks from Bagman and gasps from the crowd. This time, though, when the dragon's tail slid along his shoulder all it did was tear the boy Wizard's robes and left him unmarked. That didn't prevent Garry from flinching slightly at the remembered pain.

In the end, the rankings were Harry, Fleur, Cedric, and Krum. The first three were differentiated merely by their times, not to mention the biased scoring by the Master Karkaroff.

Afterwards, as the family was congratulating the stunned Harry on his success, Headmistress McGonagall came up to Garry. She studied him, smiling for a moment. She had a gleam in her eye that he didn't like. Before he could burst into his normal, that is, self-aggrandizing spiel to the audience that was quickly forming around them, she said, "Well, Professor Lockhart, because you have managed to deprive Hogwarts of its D.A.D.A. Professor so early in the year, it seems only fitting that you should take his place. Especially given your previous experience in that position. I'll expect to see you tomorrow morning, bright and early." She grinned even wider at his startled expression.

But he needed to figure out what happened — and why the last six months were so fuzzy! And why was Gilderoy so quiet? And he had so many things to do to prepare, to find Voldewhore, and circumvent his plans. And he still needed to finish examining the final proofs on Restraining a Rat! That, naturally, would be taking most of his attention for the next few days.

"Why, thank you, Minerva, that's a generous offer! But I should think that the real Alastor Moody should take that position. While I dislike depriving your students of the wonderful education I could provide . . . ," he paused a beat but decided to skip his I'm the Great Gilderoy spiel. He continued instead with, ". . . it simply would not be fair to the Wizard to do otherwise." For some reason a look of dread crossed the Headmistress' face during his brief pause, followed by relief at his just continuing his sentence. "You did search his rooms and find the real Moody hidden inside his trunk with all the polyjuice supplies, correct?"

She nodded sadly. "Madam Pomfrey says it will take several weeks for him to recover. And even then, he won't be up to the demands of a full-time position as the D.A.D.A. professor. So," she looked at him intently, "I expect to see you here tomorrow for your classes, bright and early." She gave him a broad smile, turned, and headed over to talk with French Minister, presumably regarding coordinating with his Aurors for the next task.

He stared after her, ignoring the congratulations his admirers were giving him. She could have said something anytime that afternoon, but she had waited until now. He frowned. Had the Headmistress just pranked him? He snorted. Well, that had been unexpected. He smiled broadly, and turned his attention to his fangirls. . . er, his admiring public. . . and began to troll – heh, he meant extoll – how exceptional his teaching skills were to the crowd around him. Signing a few autographs was not unexpected and helped improve his disposition.

(⊙_⊙)

Lockhart reread his parchment, studying it as he headed downstairs from the Study.

.

Second task: Open egg underwater to hear message. They put someone important to the Champion in the Mervillage under the lake. Champion has one hour to rescue them. Hostages are safe. I, Gilderoy Lockhart, will be in village to monitor the hostages. Warn Fleur's father that they will take her sister. A fire-creature underwater without precautions? What are they thinking!

Solution has two parts:

First, breathing underwater — gillyweed, bubble charm, transfiguration to underwater creature, or muggle scuba gear?

Second, finding and getting to hostage and back to land in under an hour — conjure (or transfigure from dock?) a boat and use Point-me Spell to above village, and then dive straight down with a heavy rock and back with conjured muggle facemask and flippers. Instead of boat, accio broom? Can brooms "fly" underwater? . . .

.

And it went on for a bit more. Yes, that would do. He walked into the dining room and dropped the parchment at his normal place setting on the table. He would reread it after supper. It was fun trying to think how he would solve the problem, knowing what he now knew — what would be easiest, what would be fastest, what would cause the most consternation among the watching crowd.

He stared at the parchment. He really should take it with him because Sirius might come in and see it. Remus wouldn't share the information if he saw it, but Sirius? In a second. But Sirius was in the game-room upstairs, and he just needed a few minutes to make a floo-call to Headmistress McGonagall. He wouldn't take too long as supper should be soon.

He left it flat on the table as he went into the Sitting Room to make his floo-call.

"Headmistress McGonagall," he called. They had returned home after the task, leaving Harry and Hermione to attend the raucous party the twins were sure to throw. It was after supper at Hogwarts and he expected her to be at her desk with paperwork, especially after the day's events. She was.

"Could you get me a copy of my class schedules? Or is it the same as when I taught?"

It took her only a few minutes to provide him an updated schedule. It was mostly the same as his first year as a Professor, with only a few minor changes to accommodate the foreign students. The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students had classrooms in the West Wing for the Professors who had come with them to teach their schools' specific subjects that were not taught at Hogwarts, but he did have an extra few classes just for them.

"The French Minister has told me," she said, "that we can expect to see the foreign Aurors arriving tomorrow." She shook her head sadly. "To think this is necessary."

"My dear," Garry/Gilderoy said, "Never fear, I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, six-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award, Hogwarts' beloved Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Slayer of Basilisks, and detector of Dark Wizards am here! Nothing shall escape me! The Aurors are merely to assure outsiders that all is well. I will be the real protection for the students!"

He could see her restraining herself from rolling her eyes. He twinkled his eyes at her — he was so glad he had finally found that spell — "We know that if anything happens I shall easily forestall any harm to any students, as I always have!" He smiled brilliantly. "Just read my books for the details and proof."

She looked down at her desk and cleared her throat, "Yes, well, hopefully that shan't be necessary."

"In any case, I have another request."

She looked at him questioningly.

"Do you mind if I install a swimming pool in the dungeons?"

"A . . . swimming . . . pool?" She looked at him in consternation.

"Yes. It occurs to me that not all Dark creatures and monsters are above water and while I am an accomplished adventurer, it is rather difficult to get across to the children just how different a matter it is when one is below the surface. Never mind the immediate problem of breathing, but how does one accomplish spells? The reducto is a mere annoyance under water unless one puts a ridiculous amount of power into it — the water rapidly degrades the spell's performance. And without appropriate precautions beforehand spells underwater can be as deadly to oneself as to one's opponent! For example, a powerful bombardo is a quick route to suicide!

"It would be a good experience for the children in D.A.D.A. to see how water affects their spells. Not to mention being able to encounter the underwater creatures in their native environment. It is one thing to see a grindylow in a fish tank and quite another to have a horde of them chasing you!

"Plus, it would be an excellent opportunity for them to meet the merpeople on an equal footing, as it were. Being in the dungeons, it shouldn't be that difficult to arrange a tunnel to the lake to facilitate such meetings."

She blinked a few times, thinking. "A wonderful idea, Gil, but we haven't a budget to install such a thing. And it would take months, if not years, to push through the funding from the Ministry."

He waved his wand dismissively, "Not an issue. I'll simply call in a few favours from my fans and it'll all be taken care of."

"Okay," she said hesitantly. "If you think you can do it, by all means go right ahead."

"Excellent! This will be so much more exciting than my trip to Albania last Spring . . . ." He spent another five minutes telling her about how boring that adventure had been. Why most of the villagers there had never even heard of Gilderoy Lockhart, nor his fabulous adventures as chronicled in his books. And how he had to work hard to maintain his perfect appearance at all times. He left out his violent encounter with Voldewhore and Yaxley. She didn't ask about his subsequent stay in St. Mungos so perhaps she didn't know of it.

He felt someone tap his shoulder. "Oops, I'm wanted at this end, so I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast, then. Goodbye!" he called out cheerily. He pretended not to notice her relieved expression as he said that. He had far too much political and financial pull for her to risk offending him. Not that Garry really cared. She could be as rude as she wanted and he wouldn't bat an eyelash, but she didn't know that.

He pulled back from the floo and sat a moment, getting his balance back. It was Dobby at his side. "Supper is served."

"Thank you, Dobby!" he said, standing and straightening his robes. He sedately returned to the dining room. Already sitting around the table were the Tonks, Bell, Remus, and Sirius. Folded on his place setting was his parchment of notes. Sirius had the most innocent expression. If you didn't know him, you wouldn't suspect he had been reading something he knew he shouldn't. Garry was relieved to see, from the glare that Remus was giving Sirius, that Remus had managed to keep the parchment safe from prying eyes. He nodded to himself in approval. No one could claim, now that he was a Professor again, that he had deliberately helped Harry.

(◎_⊙)

That night, as Garry was finishing putting his hair curlers in place for the night — he had to look his best for the first day of his new classes — he realized it was awful quiet in the back of his mind. Normally — well, ever since the incident in Flourish and Blotts — there had been the constant murmuring of Harry's thoughts and the swell and ebb of his emotions. He assumed that when Harry was in charge, then he felt the same effects from Gilderoy. But right now, there was dead silence. It was rather unnerving, actually. He hadn't noticed earlier because the pain on awakening and then the hectic activity during the day. But now, as he was relaxing in the rather mindless actions of preparing for bed, he could pay attention to what was in his own head — and it seemed to be rather empty.

Where had Gilderoy disappeared to? It was just soo, quiet. . . .

Everything up to the last six months was distinct in his memory. He could clearly demarcate when he was in control and when Gilderoy was. Gilderoy, it had seemed, was more than willing to let Harry do most of the work, and only insisted on being in control when the subject of his books came up. He had been quite happy to let Harry deal with the physical issues of spell-casting and battle tactics. And Harry was more than willing to let Gilderoy do his writing and rewriting. And rewriting. And then rewriting it again. It was a LOT of work writing a book, Harry had discovered. And something he hadn't considered ever doing himself. Watching Gilderoy agonize over whether that last sentence delivered what he wanted the reader to experience was, well, mind-boggling to Harry. He spent that time in planning and meditating and tried not to think about the book.

On the other hand, watching Harry zip through difficult-to-cast spells almost without thinking was beyond amazing to Gilderoy. Watching as he cast powerful spell after powerful spell without any signs of fatigue was simply astonishing to the previously mediocre Wizard. Spells that would have left Gilderoy staggering and barely able to stay awake after casting them, Harry shot off without any noticeable after-effect. And did them repeatedly.

And yet where was he? Where was Harry?

No, where was Gilderoy?

Wait, who was in control here?

Garry stared at his reflection. And his reflection stared back. Was he looking at Harry? Or Gilderoy?

What had the spell been meant to do to him back last Spring? And what had it done? He couldn't detect Harry in his mind anymore, yet he could remember everything Harry had experienced and done, as well as everything he had felt emotionally. And the same was true for Gilderoy. But there was no longer a wall between them, there was no sense that if he simply relaxed and mentally said the equivalent of "Here!" that Gilderoy would take over and he could concentrate on thinking and planning while Gilderoy did what Harry thought of as drudgework. His memories no longer consisted of Harry looking at Gilderoy's childhood with envy nor Gilderoy looking in horror at Harry's experiences. Instead, they were all his point-of view, they had all happened to him, and not to Gilderoy or Harry.

And his mental point-of-view kept flipping, making things even more confusing. One moment he was positive he was Gilderoy and the next that he was Harry. Perhaps he was both? Had Voldemort's spell, obviously meant to destroy Harry mentally, instead instigated their complete integration?

Garry decided he would go into an occlumency trance and examine the insides of his skull for a while, and if that didn't provide any substantial clues — go to bed.

(⊙_◎)

"Good Morning, Class!" Lockhart called out cheerily as the Fourth Year Gryffindors and Slytherins finished seating themselves. It was his first class of the day. He stood at the front of the class with his robes artfully held back by his hands on his hips, teeth gleaming brightly in a broad smile, nodding acknowledgements to the female students as they filed in and noticed their idol waiting for them. Today was a plum day, he had decided, and he looked stunning, even if he said so himself. He had redecorated the room, rather tastefully, he thought, using his store of Lockhart portraits. There were only about two dozen on the walls. All of them happily waving and giving the students the thumbs-up sign. Hmm, there was that blank spot over there — how had he missed it? — he would have to add a few more portraits from his trunk.

Harry and his friends regarded him somewhat warily.

"As you probably know," — it had been announced at breakfast — "your former D.A.D.A. professor was a Death Eater pretending to be Alastor Moody, and has been removed, by moi, of course," he said not so modestly.

"I am, of course, Gilderoy Lockhart," he held up the cover of the soon-to-be-released Restraining a Rat with his smiling, happy face, on it, "Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, six-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award, Slayer of Basilisks, detector of Dark Wizards, and, as you all remember, Hogwarts' most beloved Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. And, in view of your former Professor now being in Ministry custody, the Headmistress has wisely chosen me to finish out your education this year!" He grinned broadly at the class, making sure his gleaming teeth were on display.

There were sighs of dismay from many of the boys, and sighs of contentment from all the girls.

He dropped the book back on his desk with a loud bang, the Gilderoy on the cover winching in response. He rubbed his hands together gleefully as he went "Muwa ha ha ha haaa!" in his best Muggle mad scientist impression — he had spent over an hour last night practicing it, he hoped the little buggers appreciated it! "You're MINE, now!"

Harry and company definitely were alarmed, now. Well, except for Hermione, she looked as if she were about to have an orgasm.

"I looked over your course materials and you seem to be right where you are supposed to be. Unfortunately." He broadened his smile as many of the students started to look alarmed. They remembered his packed course material from Second Year when he had worked them relentlessly. They had had excellent grades as a result, but still, it had been quite tiring.

"Put your books and bags away, we're going to see just how good your practicals are!" He spun around with a flourish and wandlessly moved his desk and chair to the wall. Spinning back to face the class, he shot a quick stunner at Harry. As he had expected, the boy already had his wand up and a shield appeared to reflect the spell to the ceiling. "CONSTANT VIGILANCE," Lockhart cried happily. "Five points to Mr. Potter for being prepared!"

For the class it seemed as if the next two hours passed in minutes as he put them through their paces. "Terrible!" he exclaimed just before class let out. "You're right where you should be!" They stared back, appalled. "Have no fear, though! I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, six-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award, Slayer of Basilisks, detector of Dark Wizards, and your beloved Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor will have you ready for your OWLs by then end of the year." The class goggled at him, stunned.

"But, but, OWLs are next year," cried one horrified soul, Ron, he thought.

Lockhart laughed. "And what's wrong with being ahead? Everyone will underestimate you, giving you a definite advantage in any sort of confrontation. Plus, this will give you more time to concentrate on your other subjects next year and your D.A.D.A time will be merely revising! That and getting a head start on your N.E.W.T.s so your final years won't be as exhausting." Several of the students with siblings having gone through N.E.W.T.s nodded their agreement. Three years to learn what they needed for the DADA N.E.W.T.s would be much better than the cramming that took place trying to do it in two.

Hermione was nodding eagerly while the rest of the class divided into two groups: one of resigned acceptance and the other of horror at the work involved.

"By the way," he added, "I am installing an Olympic-sized pool in the dungeon's west wing so that we may get up close and personal with the denizens of the watery realm!" There was a stunned silence. "And to teach those who don't know how, how to swim. The pool will be open for recreational use by students all school year from six in the morning until curfew, except when in use by D.A.D.A and Care of Magical Creatures classes, which times will be posted in your Common Rooms and in the pool room." He didn't mention the alarm on the room that went to the DADA Professor's room in the event anyone tried to enter it after curfew. The house-elves also monitored the room at all times so there wouldn't be any drowning tragedies. A spell of his own devising prevented anyone from entering the pool if there were no professors or house-elves to provide over-sight.

The class broke up into furious whispering as those students familiar with public pools explained to the others what was going on.

"Class dismissed! Mr. Potter, a brief moment of your time, please."

Hermione, Neville, Susan, Hannah, and Ron waited just outside the door as Harry approached Lockhart's desk. Ron was more to the edge of the group instead of being right up with Hermione. Perhaps he was finally getting a handle on his jealousy.

"Harry, my boy, I haven't had a chance to get together with you and it looks as if things are rather busy for you and me right now. So, I wanted to tell you," he said quietly, "I haven't been myself since returning from Albania, but yesterday I . . . I guess you could say I . . . woke up." He sighed. "If I had been truly awake, I would have been able to prevent this whole fiasco with the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and I apologize for not doing that." He shook his head sadly, looking down at the floor for a moment, inwardly cursing himself for his over confidence in dealing with Voldewhore in Albania.

He should have expected there to be a dedicated follower nearby. He should have planned for the Death Eater to have competent backup. The Future Harry Potter for sure would have expected a trap before setting out and made accommodations accordingly. His successes of the previous two years had given him a false sense of security and assuredness — a feeling that he could make no mistakes. Well, he had paid for that mistake, and so had Harry, to a lesser degree, by ending up in the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Harry smiled at him, warmly. "It's okay, you've more than made up for anything wrong you might have done with getting my godfather free and taking in Bella. Sometimes you might be a right prat, but I know you mean well."

The older Wizard raised his eyebrows in surprise. Apparently, important things had happened between them over the last half a year. "Thank you, Harry," Garry said gratefully. He frowned. "I'm sorry to say that I don't remember much of the last six months, so if I say or do something unusual, please forgive me."

It was Harry's turn to frown.

"Nothing to worry about, my boy." Lockhart said. "Now, you need to contact Sirius about the next task. He has information for you. Not being a Professor or otherwise involved in the Tournament, he can provide you with assistance." Harry nodded; Sirius' help with the first task had been indispensable.

He smiled at the shorter Wizard. "Now, run along."

Harry left quickly, and Lockhart was pleased see that he grabbed Hermione's hand as they set off down the corridor while Luna, who had arrived in the meantime, took his other hand. Astonishingly, Draco — Draco! — was also outside in the corridor and walked beside Ron as the group headed for their dinner before afternoon classes. Gone was his typical sneer and he and Ron appeared to be quite amicable. Had Garry hit the nail on the head two years ago? He shook his head ruefully.

The rest of the week passed quickly as Garry quickly assessed the different classes. They were all where he expected. He previously brought them all to the point where they exceeded the school's requirements the last time he was here, and Remus hadn't let them fall behind last year. The exceptions, of course were the First and Second Years students who hadn't been in attendance back then. It would take only a little work to bring them up to snuff, and then move them ahead.

The underwater portions he had planned would add a small bit to the course material, but not anything that would drastically affect the schedule. He foresaw the pool becoming a rich recreational resource during the cold winter months, which would decrease some of the tension of a thousand students trapped inside a snowbound edifice. Not to mention getting Harry the help he needed with the Second Task while hiding it as course material for the entire school. And the pranking opportunities were limitless!

First, there were the reactions the conservative Wizards would have to their first sight of the bikinis that Garry was sure the Muggle-born Witches would rapidly introduce to the pool. Those would provide much amusement. The Pure-bloods only thought the current Wizarding World one-piece swimsuits were revealing! And he could hardly wait to see the Witches' response to a Wizard in a speedo! And then there were the spells he had built into the pool-room that occasionally would turn the Seventh year classes' suits transparent while underwater or wet. Not too much, nor for too long. Just enough to rile both genders.

Oh, this year was going to be soo much fun!

(◎_◎)

"Mademoiselle Delacour, if you would come down here please," Lockhart called out after his introduction to the Seventh Year D.A.D.A. Class. This class was a mix of Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts students. The foreign students were all giving him looks of disbelief and disdain, obviously considering him little more than a dandy — especially after seeing the room's decorations. He so loved it when people underestimated him, it made it so much more satisfying when he trounced them later on.

The Hogwarts students, though, from previous experience two years ago, regarded him with well-deserved respect. They remembered him as the eccentric magical powerhouse with impressive teaching skills that he truly was.

The beautiful Half-Witch reluctantly, but elegantly, stood and started to the front of the room. The Beauxbaton student's robes marvellously showed off her hypnotising figure as she walked down to join Lockhart at the front of the class. She was the epitome of grace in motion.

"Now, then, most of you know that Miss Delacour, here, is a Half-Veela." He gave her a broad smile. "Who can tell me what that means?"

Several students raised their hands

"Gospodin Poliakoff."

The Durmstrang student stood beside his desk. "They are race of semi-human, semi-magical creatures," he sneered. "Their looks and dance are magically seductive to males. When angry, they transform into bird-like creatures and can launch balls of fire from their hands. They are easily angered." He added distastefully, "They can breed with Wizards." He managed to sound outraged at that thought.

"An excellent summary!" Garry shook his head slightly to flounce his hair. He figured the Durmstrang student must be a closet gay as who wouldn't want to breed with the stunningly beautiful creature now standing beside him at the front of the classroom? Based on Bill Weasley's appearance in the morning the few times Garry had visited them at Shell Cottage, it was an experience well worth the effort!

"Mademoiselle Durand, can you add anything to that?"

"It is unknown if Half-Veela or Part-Veela can be male with the same abilities as female Part-Veelas. They experience a great deal of hostility from Wizards and Witches. It is unknown at what generation Part-Veela lose their ability to transform."

"Excellent! Now then, Mademoiselle Delacour, can you selectively target your allure?"

She frowned prettily, but reluctantly nodded, "Oui. A bit."

"Volunteers, please!" He paused only long enough to take a breath, "You, you, you, and . . . you!"

The indicated students, two Wizards and two Witches, shaking their heads at their poor luck in being selected, came to the front of the class and stood to his left while the Half-Veela was to his right. In short order, Lockhart had Fleur demonstrate the effects of her allure. The Witches were upset and annoyed at the Wizards while the Wizards wore dazed expressions and couldn't take their eyes off the young Part-Veela. Several seated students closest to her also showed the effects. That included one girl Lockhart was interested to notice.

Lockhart then attempted several different protective shields, placing them between the Half-Veela and himself and his test subjects.

"Well, isn't that interesting! There does not appear to be any magical barrier capable of protecting oneself from the allure!" He grinned at the class. "You are either resistant or you are not!" He put his left hand on his hip, showing off. "Naturally, a great Wizard such as myself is easily capable of resisting even a Full-Veela's allure." Fleur gave him a sidelong glance.

"But what about physical barriers, hmm?"

They quickly determined that a wall of any kind, wood, stone, metal, cloth, anything that completely blocked sight of the Half-Witch would stop the allure. Glass did not, nor did cloth thin enough to allow some sight of the Half-Witch through, even if it was only a shadow.

"Well, isn't that interesting. This aspect Veela Allure is an entirely sight-based magic. The only way to stop the allure is physically to block your sight of the Veela! Even just closing your eyes will stop it."

He glanced around the room. Most students appeared surprised.

"Plus, the Veela allure is not infallible! Strong-minded Wizards, such as myself, or those truly in love can resist it, isn't that true, Mademoiselle?" He turned towards her, flashing his blinding bright smile at her.

"Oui." Fleur was completely blank-faced, even though he could feel her irritation and anger flowing out from her.

"The Wizards are captivated by the allure, which makes them angry that they lost control, while the Witches are angry because they are worried that they will lose their Wizard to a Veela, to competition they have no hope of overpowering or beating! And THAT is why many Veela are unfairly subjected to discrimination and dislike."

He looked out across the class. "Mademoiselle Vasseur, have you ever noticed that Wizards spend more time talking to your chest than to you?" The Witch in question was quite well endowed. The Beauxbatons' robes did an excellent job of showcasing a Witches' upper superstructure, even if there wasn't that much structure to showcase. Still, he appreciated the robe-designer's attention to detail.

She rolled her eyes, "Oui." Most of the rest of the girls in the class giggled or nodded in agreement. Those nearly as well built as Mademoiselle Vasseur had exasperated expressions as well. Several of the boys looked embarrassed and snuck quick looks at the better endowed Beauxbatons students.

"The fact that Wizards stare at your chest doesn't mean that you want them to do that, now does it?"

"Non," came the quiet answer.

"Sometimes your chest tends to attract attention from Wizards you really do not want to talk to, or even be seen talking to, isn't that true as well?"

"Oui."

"And isn't it true that in some cases you attract the attention of Wizard's you would really rather totally avoid? Especially those we tend to call lechers or perverts?"

"Oui." She blushed while looking somewhat angry.

"And you have many Witches who envy you your ability to attract Wizards, many who resent you for that same ability, and many who dislike you, even though it's just an accident of birth that you have those buxom attributes. And many of those Witches spread nasty rumours about you being a Witch of loose morals because you can so easily capture the interest of any Wizard just by loosening a button, don't they?"

Still blushing, she answered "Oui," sadly.

"And isn't it also true that most Wizards seem to think that the larger a Witch's chest is, the dumber she must be?"

"Oui," was the exasperated reply, seconded by several other Witches who had larger than average mammary glands.

"So, one might say that you understand exactly how a Veela feels about the attention she gets from Wizards, isn't that so?"

Both Witches exchanged a startled look before staring at Lockhart.

"Mademoiselle Vasseur, if you could attract and marry any Wizard you wanted, would you pick an average, run-of-the-mill Wizard, or the richest most powerful Wizard you could find?"

She laughed, "Ze rich one, of course!" All the girls laughed at that. Lockhart looked out at the class, smiling broadly.

"So, then, ladies, none of you need worry about losing your Wizardfriend to a Veela, unless your Wizardfriend is a rich and a magically powerful Wizard, isn't that right? After all, if a Veela can have any Wizard, why should she settle for a weak pauper when she can have the richest and most powerful?"

The Witches all had stunned looks that slowly changed to calculating as they stared at Fleur, who was staring at Lockhart in shock.

"Finally, Mademoiselle Vasseur," Lockhart said, "who would you find more interesting? A Wizard who simply stared at your chest all the time every time you met or went on a date, or a Wizard who looked you in the eyes and actually listened to what you said? Who could actually hold an intelligent conversation with you on subjects you find interesting?"

She frowned and answered, "Ze Wizard who listened."

"Exactly!" cried Lockhart triumphantly. "So, ladies, the Wizard a Veela will find most interesting falls into one of two categories. Either he's the richest and most powerful Wizard around, or he can resist the allure. A perfect match would be both, of course, such as myself, the famous Gilderoy Lockhart." He paused. He could see the Hogwarts students mentally finishing his spiel about his accomplishments. He grinned broadly, he had trained them well, he had. He continued, "Of the two, I'm sure that Mademoiselle Delacour, here, will tell you she is far more interested in finding a partner who she can talk with intelligently rather than a slobbering imbecile who can barely walk because he's too busy drooling on her shoes. After all, if you could have any Wizard you wanted, which would you choose?"

The Witches in class all had thoughtful expressions. The Wizards looked mostly confused, probably an aftereffect of Fleur's allure. Or the fact that they were boys and basically incapable of understanding the problem at all.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, isn't it also true that the allure is difficult to control while you are young?"

"Oui."

"So, while you are still learning to control your allure, just as Wizards and Witches are learning to control their magic, sometimes you won't be able to restrain it and Wizards will succumb to its influence. They will follow you around like little lost puppies, with their tongues hanging out and drooling on the floor. Correct?"

The half-witch stared at him. "Oui," she answered slowly.

Garry turned back to the class. "So, ladies, if you see your Wizardfriend staring at Mademoiselle Delacour with a particularly blank look and you can't seem to break it, you know three things of vital importance.

"First, you Wizardfriend is NOT in love with you, no matter what he professes. That could change, but at that moment, it is not true. Explain that to him in small words — and don't say 'You know why I'm mad!' I guarantee you, he doesn't. If you want to be snarky, give him a mop and bucket and tell him it's for his drool."

"Second, unless your Wizardfriend is very rich and magically powerful, you have nothing to fear from Mademoiselle Delacour, she's looking for someone who can easily resist her allure. In most cases that will be an older mature Wizard. One who is confident in himself and his position.

"Neither do you have to fear her if your Wizardfriend is in love with you and able to resist her — just because he's in love with you doesn't mean he could resist her if he were unattached. Plus, if he's truly in love with you, she knows she hasn't a chance of deflecting that love to herself. If she could deflect that love, then he wouldn't be able to resist her in the first place.

"And third, she's accidentally temporarily lost control of her allure, please forgive her error. Trying to control her allure is a tiring job, and the longer her day is the more difficult it becomes. As a result, you are more likely to see such incidents in the late evening. As she gets older that control will strengthen until it only affects those physically within a foot or so of her. Any male farther than her arms reach is safe, unless he is particularly weak minded. But for now, it is difficult for her.

"And finally, put your hand over his eyes or turn his head to look at you to break the connection. It might take a moment, but it will work. Another effective method is a good sharp kick to the shin." He paused, then added, "If you are particularly annoyed, aim higher." The Wizards all made a reflexive winch at the thought of where that higher aim might be.

"Now, then, regarding her transformed form. When extremely angry or upset, a Veela will transform into a bird-like creature capable to throwing devastating fireballs. The best defence against this is DO NOT PISS OFF A VEELA! Understand?" He glared at the class. "And if you ever do encounter a transformed Veela, RUN! While a shield such as protego will stop a fireball or two, it will collapse fairly quickly under the barrage of fireballs she will fling your way."

Garry turned and gave the young half-witch a beaming smile. "You may return to your seat. Oh, would you mind attending my other classes later this week and repeating this lesson? I find live examples make a longer lasting impression than a simple lecture. Give me your answer later today."

With several uncertain glances back at him, she returned to her seat. What had just happened had not been what she expected when he had first started speaking.

Garry knew he had just changed the young Witch's life at Hogwarts. While some Witches would ignore this lesson, at least a few would now understand and empathize with the Part-Veela, and perhaps be willing to befriend her. At the very least the amount of open hostility would drop.

Later that day she sought him out and agreed to demonstrate her allure in his other classes.

Rita was delighted with her interview with Harry, Hermione, and Luna the week after the First Task. That they were an acknowledged trio, now, made things simpler. Colin loved the photograph credits he got. He was doing quite a good business selling his photos of the famous Boy-Who-Lived. And students were asking for photos of their school Quidditch team favourites. Harry planned to drop the suggestion that he set up a photography studio when he graduated — he knew an investor who might be willing to help if the student was interested.