I Swung a Sword at Hogwarts

Period One was History of Magic, but before that, John took some time to check on the Whomping Willow—now injured thanks to his own father.

The Whomping Willow was a huge tree outside Hogwarts with an extremely violent temperament. Anything that touched it would be furiously attacked by its branches.

By the time John arrived, two people were already there.

"I once came across a Whomping Willow during my travels. All you have to do is this…"

"Stop! That'll only make it angrier!"

"Relax. I am Gilderoy Lockhart, holder of the Order of Merlin, Third Class, and recipient of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award."

WHACK!

"How odd! Why didn't that work?"

"Shut up!"

John watched as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—who claimed to know everything—drew his wand and started casting spells, only to provoke the Whomping Willow into a frenzy.

Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher who happened to be nearby, was caught in the chaos and sent flying by a thrashing branch.

In that moment, Professor Sprout seriously contemplated murder. This former Ravenclaw student was nothing but a loudmouthed know-it-all.

With a dark expression, Sprout couldn't understand why Dumbledore would ever allow the disgrace of Ravenclaw to return as a teacher.

"No worries, Professor Sprout! I once journeyed with trolls. This kind of injury is nothing to me."

"Stay away from me!"

Despite her short and stout build, Professor Sprout summoned amazing strength as she scrambled out of the Willow's range—rolling and crawling.

She was truly terrified. If this man kept messing around, either the Whomping Willow would die—or she would.

Making the excuse that class was about to start, she told the annoying man to leave at once.

"That clown is the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

John had just witnessed Lockhart sabotage a seasoned Herbology professor and couldn't help but sink into thought.

"Even if the DADA position is cursed and changes every year… surely they could've found someone better than this."

Thinking back to Lockhart's published books, John began to doubt if the man in front of him was even the real author.

"Does the wizarding world have ghostwriters too?"

With suspicion now planted, John waited until both professors left, then approached the Whomping Willow.

He had seen on the Marauder's Map that there was a secret passage beneath the tree. The real problem was figuring out how to get close to it.

The Whomping Willow was savage. Its branches, previously upright, now sagged on one side—clearly a result of his father's "contribution."

As John neared the tree, a thick branch lashed out at him. He dodged back, watching the Willow flail its limbs violently.

"This kind of sensitivity and energy… maybe its wood could be useful in crafting protective charms," he muttered.

Stroking his chin, he stared at the damaged part of the tree, already calculating how he might collect a sample.

As for healing the Whomping Willow? Well, wasn't a few injuries normal?

With his left hand, John drew his wand—and then a sword.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

The thrashing branch froze. Seizing the opportunity, John activated his flying boots, soared into the air, and sliced off a piece of the broken limb.

With his sample secured, he took off again. The Whomping Willow came back to life moments later, flailing its branches like a whirlwind of fury.

"Relax, relax. I'm just doing a little research to help treat you!"

John was unapologetic—if anything, he thought the tree was being stingy.

It's such a huge tree—what's the harm in giving him a little piece?

Waving cheerfully, he stuffed the branch into his enchanted bag and turned to leave without a second thought.

As for how to treat the Whomping Willow… well, perhaps he'd leave that to someone with actual expertise.

Like Professor Sprout, for example. She seemed like a good choice.

Class was about to start, but John, already familiar with every secret passage in Hogwarts, wasn't worried at all.

He walked into the classroom at the very last second before History of Magic began.

Professor Binns, the ghost who forgot to bring his body with him after a nap, was as dull and lifeless as ever.

His lectures were painfully dry—just like his wrinkled, expressionless face. Even John had a hard time staying awake.

He appeared to be paying attention, but in reality, he was secretly studying his Alchemy notes beneath the desk.

Finally surviving the boredom of History of Magic, it was time for the afternoon class—Defense Against the Dark Arts.

During lunch, Ron was angrily complaining about his broken wand.

"My mum always said Lockhart was a brave wizard," he grumbled.

Daphne, on the other hand, seemed full of anticipation. But John, remembering what he saw that morning, had zero expectations.

He carefully peeled a baked potato and popped it into his mouth.

Draco Malfoy wasn't sitting near them—he was off mocking Harry instead.

That morning, Harry had been cornered by Lockhart again for more self-promotion. Malfoy was very jealous of the attention.

Daphne had forgotten to bring her signed copy of Lockhart's latest book Magical Me, so she went to retrieve it.

Hermione, holding a stack of Lockhart's books, approached with a blush on her cheeks.

"I can't wait to see what kind of exciting lesson Professor Lockhart has planned," she said dreamily. "Hopefully something as adventurous as in his books!"

"Uh… that might be a bit of a stretch," John muttered, reluctant to break her heart.

Judging from her lovestruck expression, the truth might be devastating.

Normally, Hermione would have picked up on John's sarcasm—but right now, she was completely lost in admiration.

John found it amusing. If someone took a photo of this moment, it would be prime blackmail material when Hermione became Minister of Magic someday.

Meanwhile, Harry was having a hard time. It wasn't just Malfoy mocking him—Lockhart had embarrassed him further.

Colin Creevey, a first-year Gryffindor and Harry's number-one fan, had been snapping photos of him non-stop.

Lockhart had even asked Colin to take a photo of him and Harry together.

It was mortifying.

When the afternoon bell rang, Lockhart appeared and proudly pulled Harry into the classroom with him, arm-in-arm.

Ron and Hermione were left behind. Clearly, the new DADA professor loved being the center of attention.

John finished his last potato and joined Ron—whose face was flushed with anger after enduring Malfoy's taunts.

"Don't let it get to you, Ron. By the way, I heard your wand broke?"

Ron sighed and showed him the snapped wand.

John examined it. Fortunately, the wand core was still intact—a good sign.

After all, it was his own dad's fault this happened. As the son, he figured he should at least try to fix it.

"I've been learning how to make wands. Maybe I can help you repair it," John offered.

"Really? That would be amazing—thank you, John!"

Ron was overjoyed. If his mom found out he'd broken his wand, she'd probably send another Howler.

John was like a savior to him right now.

"Class is starting. I'll fix it once I've gathered the right materials," John said. The DADA class was combined with another house.

He returned the wand to Ron, and they all headed to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

The moment they walked in, they were greeted by walls filled with photos—all of which featured Gilderoy Lockhart.

...

Not long after they entered, Lockhart himself strutted in.

Unlike any other professor, he wore a flamboyant, shiny aqua-green robe, and his golden curls sparkled beneath a matching hat trimmed with gold.

His over-the-top look made even Draco sneer. The boy was still bitter about the photo with Harry.

The girls, on the other hand, were starstruck—faces glowing and eyes sparkling like superfans.

Most of their mothers were Lockhart fans… or they themselves were fans.

As a fraud, Lockhart's one true skill was the Memory Charm—but his looks were also undeniably charming.

His flamboyant entrance was matched only by his introduction:

"I am Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class. Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League.

Five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award… though I never talk about that. I didn't defeat the Wagga Wagga Werewolf with a smile, after all."

He even ended with a lame joke—but sadly, no one understood it.

John was speechless. After all that, the only remotely impressive title was being an honorary member of the Defense League.

He was clearly all show.

And John's suspicions were soon confirmed—Lockhart's first lesson was a pop quiz.

The questions completely stunned John.

1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?

2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?

3. What does Gilderoy Lockhart consider his greatest achievement to date?

What the heck is this? Are we in a class—or at a fan meet-and-greet?!