The Sorting ceremony proceeded in an orderly manner.
"Now, when I call your name, you will put on the hat, sit on the stool, and await your sorting," Professor McGonagall's voice echoed throughout the Great Hall.
The atmosphere was electric with anticipation. First-year students shuffled their feet anxiously, while the older students leaned forward in their seats at the four long house tables, eager to welcome new members
Just like in the original story, Ginny Weasley was called forward. The Sorting Hat was placed upon her head, where it sat for barely a moment before announcing its decision: "GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table erupted in thunderous applause and cheers.
This outcome surprised absolutely no one. The Weasley family had a long history with Gryffindor House. Every single of their Family member had been sorted into Gryffindor.
Besides the youngest Weasley daughter, there was another new student who managed to capture Adrian's attention.
That was none other than Luna Lovegood.
When Professor McGonagall's voice called out "Lovegood, Luna" in crisp, professional tones, the girl in question appeared utterly unconcerned with the momentous occasion.
More remarkably, she had her wand tucked casually behind her left ear and was smiling staring at the candles floating on the ceiling.
Finally, she was successfully sorted into Ravenclaw, which was also the same as in Adrian's memory.
After the final first-year student had been sorted and the four house tables had settled into their respective celebrations, there remained one more significant portion of the evening's events: the formal introduction of new faculty members.
Without any surprise, this year's new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was Gilderoy Lockhart.
Honestly, Adrian had somewhat underestimated Lockhart's popularity among the students particularly the female portion.
When Headmaster Dumbledore rose from his chair at the center of the staff table, and announced, "I am pleased to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Gilderoy Lockhart,"
The reaction was explosive.
The entire Great Hall instantly transformed into a scene of absolute pandemonium.
The sound that erupted was tremendous. It was as if a famous Quidditch player or a band had just walked onto the stage. Many of the female students, from first-years to seventh-years, leaped to their feet with enthusiasm. They applauded, while their voices rose in frenzied screams of delight and admiration.
At this moment of peak adulation, Gilderoy Lockhart who happened to be sitting to Adrian's right at the staff table rose from his chair.
He executed a slight elegant bow toward the cheering students.
Throughout this entire display, Lockhart maintained his signature expression, a dazzling smile that seemed to light up his entire face.
"Ah, thank you all, thank you so very much" Lockhart's voice was unreasonably loud, even louder than Dumbledore's. "As your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, I can personally guarantee—this will be the most spectacular, the most educational, and the most absolutely thrilling year you have ever experienced!
Because who better than I—five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, recipient of the Order of Merlin Third Class, and bestselling author Gilderoy Lockhart—is more perfectly suited and uniquely qualified to teach you brave young witches and wizards how to defend yourselves against the threats that emerge from the darkest corners of our magical world?"
Adrian, listening to this grandiose introduction with barely concealed amusement, couldn't help but think that the Most Charming Smile Award seemed to have absolutely no correlation whatsoever with one's ability to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.
There seemed to be no logic connecting dental aesthetics to magical combat prowess, though he kept this observation to himself.
Another thunderous round of frenzied applause erupted from the student body, even more enthusiastic than the first.
Taking advantage of this perfect opportunity for observation, Adrian swept his eyes across the staff table, studying the reactions of his fellow professors with considerable interest.
He saw Professor McGonagall clapping with what could only be described as dutiful politeness. Her applause was measured, mechanical, and entirely lacking in enthusiasm. Her usually stern expression had become even more rigid than usual, and her lips were pressed into such a thin line that they had practically disappeared.
Snape, on the other hand, made no attempt whatsoever to disguise his feelings. His sallow face bore an expression so gloomy and dark that it could have curdled fresh milk. His eyes glittered with barely contained disdain, and his hands remained on the table before him, refusing to participate even in symbolic applause.
Even Professor Flitwick who had once been Lockhart's own Head of House during his student years, had a complex expression. His usually cheerful facial features were showing what appeared to be a mixture of embarrassment, concern, and resigned disappointment.
As someone who had actually witnessed Lockhart's Class performance firsthand during his Hogwarts years, Professor Flitwick was perhaps uniquely suitable to understand the gap between Lockhart's public persona and his actual magical abilities.
It seemed clear that even among the Professors who would be working alongside him, there was a growing consensus that Gilderoy Lockhart was, at best, somewhat unreliable.
This collective skepticism among the faculty stemmed primarily from past memory—several of the current professors had been teaching during Lockhart's own student years at Hogwarts, and they remembered all too well his actual academic performance, which had been considerably less impressive than his current celebrity status might suggest.
However, Lockhart himself remained oblivious to these subtle signs of professional doubt. His attention was focused entirely and exclusively on the adoring student in front of him, basking in their enthusiastic worship like a flower turning toward the sun.
Seeing the students' continued enthusiastic behavior and constant applause, Lockhart finally settled back into his chair with an expression of complete satisfaction.
With the introductions finally concluded, the traditional welcome feast finally began.
Unfortunately for Adrian, his dining experience was significantly impacted by his seating arrangement.
Gilderoy Lockhart was obviously and definitively not a man of few words—quite the opposite, in fact. From the moment he had settled back into his chair, he had launched into what appeared to be an endless monologue covering virtually every aspect of his supposedly adventurous life.
The topics ranged wildly and without apparent logic from his daring adventures in exotic locations around the world, where he had supposedly faced down dangerous magical creatures and dark wizards with nothing but his wand and his considerable charm to his numerous bestselling books, each more thrilling than the last according to his own modest assessment and his carefully maintained physical appearance and the various beauty treatments that kept him looking so youthful and handsome; and, perhaps most surprisingly of all, his personal hair care routine and his special shampoo.
And Adrian, sitting next to him, was the primary target of Lockhart's boasting about his experiences.
Of course, Adrian wasn't interested in the vast majority of Lockhart's boastful tales.
Well... except for one unexpectedly intriguing topic: Lockhart's shampoo.
When the conversation naturally turned to personal grooming and Lockhart began describing his complex hair care routine with the same enthusiasm he brought to describing his supposed defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf,
"Professor Lockhart," Adrian interjected during a brief pause in the monologue, his voice carrying genuine enthusiasm for the first time that evening, "I couldn't help but notice the remarkable condition of your hair. Would you be willing to share the formula for your shampoo?"
Lockhart stopped mid-sentence, his mouth hanging slightly open in surprise. This was clearly the first time in his experience that someone had paid such focused attention to his hair care routine rather than his supposed heroic exploits. For a moment, he seemed genuinely taken aback by this unexpected direction in the conversation.
He couldn't help but feel somewhat moved by Adrian's sincere interest in what he clearly considered one of his most important achievements. After all, maintaining such perfect hair in all weather conditions and stressful situations was no small feat, even if it didn't make for the most exciting chapter in an adventure novel.
"I'm terribly sorry, Professor Westeros," Lockhart said with his trademark smile, though there was a note of genuine regret in his voice, "Although I would absolutely love to share that information with a fellow educator and obvious man of discerning taste, that particular formula happens to be my most closely guarded secret—you understand, I'm sure.
My shampoo works so extraordinarily well that countless people have begged, pleaded, and even offered substantial sums of money for my formula. But I haven't revealed it to anyone, and I'm afraid I won't be telling anyone in the future either. Trade secrets, you know."
"That's perfectly understandable," Adrian replied, showing a disappointed expression. He had expected this response.
Seeing this, Lockhart felt a surge of sympathy for his fellow professor. After all, it wasn't often that someone showed such genuine appreciation for the finer points of his grooming routine. Without thinking twice, he reached over and patted Adrian's shoulder warmly.
"Ah, but—Professor Westeros," Lockhart said, "while I can't share the formula itself, if you would like to experience the benefits of my shampoo firsthand, I would be absolutely delighted to give you two bottles, both featuring my latest and most advanced scents."
"Then I gratefully accept your most generous offer, Professor Lockhart," Adrian responded with a smile that was considerably more genuine than his previous expression of disappointment. He raised his goblet of pumpkin juice in a small toast of appreciation.
Adrian was well aware that Lockhart's custom shampoo wasn't available for purchase at any ordinary shop—he remembered that one bottle typically cost more than fifty Galleons, making it a luxury item.
Getting two bottles for free was actually quite a substantial gift.
"Ha! 'Professor!'" Lockhart repeated with obvious delight, his chest puffing out with pride. "I must say, I do rather like the sound of that title. It has such a distinguished ring to it, don't you think?"
The welcome feast continued and eventually concluded in what could only be described as a pleasant atmosphere, despite the constant background noise of Lockhart's ongoing commentary.
Students filled their stomachs with delicious food, caught up with friends they hadn't seen all summer, and began to settle into the comfortable rhythms of another year at Hogwarts.
The arrival of the new school term also meant that Adrian's schedule would once again become significantly busier.
On the very first day of official classes, Adrian still chose the Thunderbird Ray as the content for the third-year Care of Magical Creatures class.
As he had expected, the students were very interested in the Thunderbird, this legendary magical creature.
Quite a few particularly enthusiastic students had even specifically chosen to take Care of Magical Creatures as an elective subject for the sole purpose of observing and potentially interacting with Ray up close.
However, while Adrian was conducting his classes with his usual smooth efficiency and evident expertise, some of his fellow professors were discovering that their own academic year was getting off to a considerably less fortunate start.
For example, Professor Pomona Sprout who had been teaching Herbology for many years, was finding her normally peaceful existence significantly disrupted by an unwelcome and persistent presence.
The troublesome fellow who had decided to make her life considerably more complicated was none other than Gilderoy Lockhart.
For reasons that remained completely mysterious to Professor Sprout and everyone else who witnessed his behavior, Lockhart had taken it upon himself to hover around her like an overly enthusiastic bee buzzing around a particularly attractive flower.
Since early morning, he had been appearing at her elbow with tiresome regularity, offering unsolicited advice, sharing irrelevant anecdotes, and generally making a nuisance of himself in ways that seemed specifically designed to interfere with her ability to focus on her work.
Fortunately for Professor Sprout's sanity and blood pressure, when she was actually conducting her classes with students present, Lockhart's disruptions were somewhat limited. During her second-year Herbology session, he had briefly borrowed Harry Potter from the classroom for two minutes of conversation before leaving.
As for Harry himself, the brief encounter with Professor Lockhart had left him feeling somewhat dizzy.
The celebrity professor had given him a rapid-fire monologue covering topics such as "fame," "the importance of maintaining proper restraint in the public eye," and "the exciting possibility of appearing together on a magazine cover in the near future."
None of these concepts held the slightest appeal for Harry, who had absolutely no interest whatsoever in achieving fame or recognition.
Rather than pursuing celebrity status, Harry found himself much more concerned with and interested in Professor Sprout's current lesson plan.
Today's lesson in the greenhouse was focused on a particularly fascinating and dangerous plant species called "Mandrake."
These were extraordinary magical plants whose roots bore an unsettling resemblance to ugly, wrinkled human babies.
The sight was both fascinating and deeply disturbing to most students encountering them for the first time.
Harry, however, naturally recognized the Mandrakes immediately—Adrian's private greenhouse, which Harry had visited on multiple occasions, contained several specimens of this exact type of plant.
"We're going to repot these Mandrakes today," Professor Sprout said to her class. "But before we begin, who can tell me about the properties and characteristics of Mandrakes?"
Hermione's arm shot up into the air immediately, as it did in approximately ninety percent of all classroom situations where a question was asked.
"Miss Granger?" Professor Sprout called on her kindly.
"Mandrake, also known as Mandragora," Hermione recited fluently, "is a crucial ingredient used in the brewing of various healing potions, most notably Calming Draughts. However, the plant is extremely dangerous to handle because hearing a mature Mandrake's cry can be fatal to humans. Even the cries of young Mandrakes can cause unconsciousness and severe disorientation."
"Excellent answer, Miss Granger," Professor Sprout nodded with obvious satisfaction. "Ten points to Gryffindor for that explanation."
"Hearing a Mandrake's cry may kill you..." Harry murmured quietly to himself, processing this information with growing puzzlement.
The thing was, the Mandrakes that Adrian cultivated in his personal greenhouse showed behavior that was completely at odds with this traditional description. Instead of producing potentially lethal screams, these particular specimens seemed to have developed rather unusual and entertaining habits.
How should he put it?
Adrian's Mandrakes didn't cry at all. Instead, they would occasionally pull themselves completely out of their soil, roots and all, and then proceed to perform acrobatic displays including backflips, cartwheels, and other gymnastic maneuvers.
Sometimes they would race around the greenhouse, between other plants and playing what appeared to be games of tag or hide-and-seek.
Now it seemed that normal Mandrakes definitely shouldn't have such playful and athletic behaviors.
Following her introductory explanation, Professor Sprout began distributing the necessary safety equipment to all students. Each received a pair of thick, protective gloves designed to prevent injury from thorns, roots, or other plant-based dangers, as well as specially designed earmuffs that would block out the dangerous sounds that Mandrakes were known to produce during handling and transplantation.
The class was then organized into working groups of four students each to begin repotting the Mandrake seedlings.
Harry's usual trio of friends—Harry, Ron, and Hermione were joined by a Hufflepuff boy named Justin Finch-Fletchley and he was very talkative.
While the group worked on their assignment:
"About Lockhart," Justin said enthusiastically, "he's really a brave man—have you read his books? Wandering with Werewolves. They even sing 'A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love' together on full moon nights."
"Speaking of our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Justin said with enthusiastically, "Lockhart is truly a courageous man—have any of you read his works? His book 'Wandering with Werewolves' is absolutely fascinating. According to his book, he actually lived among a pack of werewolves for several months, and they developed such a close relationship that they would gather together during full moon nights to sing traditional songs, including 'A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love'."
Somehow, after hearing Justin's detailed description of this supposedly heartwarming scene of interspecies musical collaboration, Harry found that his dislike for Gilderoy Lockhart had deepened.
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