Chapter Text
Harry and Hermione supported Ron’s belching and retching body to Hagrid’s hut as fast as possible. The Gryffindor Quidditch team had just been about to practice on the Quidditch pitch fields when the Slytherin Quidditch team came and claimed it was their turn first. The situation quickly turned into a fight when Draco Malfoy, the newly appointed Slytherin Seeker, had insulted Hermione by calling her the horrible slur, “Mudblood”.
Ron rushed to Hermione's defense and had tried to hex Draco with a slug regurgitating spell, but his broken wand backfired and shot the spell from the wrong end of the stick, hitting Ron instead. Now, Harry and Hermione were trying to carry Ron to the gamekeeper's cabin so Ron could rest up and stop vomiting slugs.
“We're nearly there, Ron,” Hermione reassured him, as Hagrid's house by the edge of the Forbidden Forest came into view. “You’ll be fine in a moment … just hold on …”
They were within a dozen feet of Hagrid's hut when the front door whipped open, but it wasn’t Hagrid who opened the door. Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing robes of silver trimmed bright mauve today, came striding out.
“It shouldn’t be too hard once you know what you’re doing!” Lockhart was saying to Hagrid as he left the hut. “My book, “Marauding Monsters”, has more information if you want to read more on it. If you need any more help, you can find me in the DADA classroom in the castle. I’ll be there-”. Lockhart cut himself off as he spotted Harry, Ron, and Hermione approaching just a few feet away.
“Oh? Harry, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger was it? What brings you here?” Lockhart asked. Hermione blushed red when she realized Lockhart remembered her from class. Ron miserably grumbled as he spat another slug out of his mouth. Harry was about to ask for help bringing Ron inside the cabin when Lockhart went on. “Holy Hera, what happened to you, Mr. Weasley? Come on inside, I’m sure Hagrid and I can help you.”
Lockhart swiftly lifted Ron over his shoulder and reopened the door he’d just left with Harry and Hermione close behind. The cabin was just one room, which had a huge bed in the back corner and a warm fire crackling merrily in the fireplace by the other corner. “Hagrid! Sorry to be back so soon, but it seems we have a bit of a problem on our hands concerning Mr. Weasley here,” Lockhart announced to Hagrid, gently lowering Ron onto a chair.
“It’s fine, Professor,” Hagrid replied in a wary tone. Then he saw who it was Lockhart had brought in with him and his expression brightened. “I’ve bin wonderin’ when you three would come ter see me. How’ve you been, ‘arry, Ron, ‘Mione?”
Neither Lockhart nor Hagrid seemed too perturbed when Harry explained what happened to Ron at the Quidditch pitch and his backfiring spell forcing him to vomit slugs.
“Be’er they come out than stay in,” Hagrid said cheerfully, plonking a large metal bucket in front of Ron. “Get ’em all outta there, Ron.”
“I don’t think there’s anything else we can do except wait for the slugs to stop,” Hermione said anxiously, watching Ron bend over the bucket and wretch his lungs out. “That’s a tough curse to work with even at the best of times, but since it backfired with a broken wand …”.
“No worries,” Lockhart reassured her. “I’ve got a medical degree that I’m sure I can put to use to fix up something to help Mr. Weasley. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be right back,” Lockhart said as he quickly left the hut. Hermione’s eyes shined as she excitedly waited for him to return. Ron grumbled about doubting he actually had a medical degree in between hurling slugs. He thought it was suspicious how Lockhart seemed to have everything the moment it's needed. Harry honestly didn't care and just wanted Lockhart to hurry up. Perhaps he was heading to Madam Promfrey's to retrieve a potion for Ron.
The moment Lockhart was gone, Hagrid was already bustling around the room, making his guests some homemade tea. His boarhound, Fang, was slobbering all over Harry’s robes.
“What was Lockhart doing here with you, Hagrid?” Harry curiously asked, scratching behind Fang’s ears.
“Givin’ me advice on carin’ fer hellhounds,” grumbled Hagrid, retrieving his teapot from the top cabinet and setting it down on the stove. “I’ll admit, he did seem ter know a lot about ‘em. Even knew ‘bout how music makes ‘em fall ‘sleep. But then he went bangin’ on about how he ‘pparently found n’ raised a baby centaur. I don’t really believe it. Centaurs don’t like mixin’ with wizards at all. It just makes no sense how Lockhart could o’ managed that n’ not gotten himself chased down by an angry clan o’ centaurs. If this ta’ tale is somehow true, I'll eat my kettle.”
Harry looked at Hagrid in surprise. It was very unusual for Hagrid to criticise a Hogwarts teacher, he even defended Snape last year. Hermione, however, said in a voice slightly higher than usual, “I think you’re being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore hired him so he must've thought Professor Lockhart was the best man for the job.”
“Ye’, but the options weren’t so great ter begin with,” countered Hagrid, offering them a full plate of fresh treacle toffee, while Ron coughed and heaved into his basin. “Gettin’ very rare ter find anyone good fer the Dark Arts job now’days. People aren’t too keen ter apply fer it since no one’s lasted o’er a year for a while now. They’re startin’ ter think it’s cursed.”
Before anymore could be said, the door slammed open as Lockhart hastily scrambled into the room clutching a glass tube with a strange, glowing golden liquid swirling inside. He proudly held it up for everyone in the room to see.
“I did it! Made a new potion on the spot! It should help cure Mr. Weasley of his slug problem,” Lockhart proclaimed, breathing heavily from his run. Harry was sceptical. Madam Pomfrey’s hospital wing was all the way across the Hogwarts campus deep in the South Wing tower. How in the world did Lockhart manage to get himself all the way there and back without apparating within just a few minutes?
Lockhart must’ve actually made that potion himself. It was obvious too, as Harry had never seen a glowing gold potion in Madam Pmfrey’s hospital wing before. Lockhart rushed to Ron’s side by the bucket and held up the potion for him to see.
“Here, Mr. Weasley. Drink this and it should cure you of any more slugs,” Lockhart said, offering the golden liquid to Ron. Ron eyed the strange potion warily, but eventually relented and snatched the tube. He popped it open and gulped it all down in one swallow. Instantly, a gasp escaped Ron’s mouth as he began spewing out his biggest vomit of gold covered slugs yet. A tense minute and half a bucket full of golden sludge and slugs later, Ron had completely stopped coughing. Ron took in a surprised inhale before standing up and prodding his stomach for any more aches.
“Yes! Finally! That was horrible! I thought the slugs would never end!” Ron cheered as he jumped and reveled in his freedom to breathe without retching again. Hagrid, Hermione, and Harry all got up to check on Ron themselves. Ron truly did look cured, no trace of the slugs except for this filth covered robes and half full bucket telling of his temporary sickness.
“Thank you, Professor!” Hermione beamed, turning around to Lockhart.
“Yeah, Professor. Thank you for helping Ron,” Harry thanked him too. Lockhart may be strange, but he did seem to at least be helpful.
“I’ll say, I didn’t know ya could actually do potions n’ had a medical degree,” Hagrid acknowledged in surprise.
“Yeah, thanks,” Ron murmured, embarrassed he’d just gotten cured by the guy he’d been glaring at since day one.
Strangely, Lockhart didn’t react to the praise right away like he would’ve and instead had this unnerving, slightly glazed look in his eyes. He looked worn down and out of breath, sweating buckets and glowing a very faint golden aura that Harry swore wasn’t there before. But once Lockhart was addressed he straightened up, puffed out his chest, and just like that all the strangeness was gone like nothing was ever wrong.
“You're welcome! Just know to call on my brilliant self if you ever need any help! However, I must get going now. Well, goodbye!” Lockhart rapidly said, before nearly outright sprinting out, flinging the door out of the way as he fled toward the castle and turned a corner, disappearing out of their sight.
Harry blinked. What was that about? Harry wondered. He’d never seen Lockhart in so much of a rush before. Harry just shrugged. Whatever, I don’t really care right now. Harry had a lot more important things to deal with, such as it being nearly lunchtime and starving for food all morning.