The notice appeared on the Hufflepuff common room board on a crisp October morning, the parchment's gaudy border instantly identifying its author before Chris had even read a word. Gilt letters proclaimed the formation of a Duelling Club, with Professor Lockhart's signature taking up nearly as much space as the announcement itself. Chris paused before it, his fingers tracing the edge of the parchment as an unexpected concern worked its way through his thoughts, in the timeline he remembered, the Duelling Club had formed in response to the Chamber of Secrets opening, to the petrifications that had left students terrified. But there had been no attacks, no whispers of the Chamber. So why was history reasserting itself in this particular way?
"Are you thinking of going?" Susan's voice pulled him from his contemplation. She stood beside him, eyes scanning the notice with sceptical interest. "Could be useful, even if Lockhart is running it."
"Might be worth attending just to see who he ropes in to demonstrate," Hannah added, joining them with her Herbology textbook clutched to her chest. "Ten galleons says he tries to pair up with a seventh-year girl who won't hex him into next week."
Chris nodded slowly, his mind still calculating possibilities. "I think we should go. After the pixie incident, we know Lockhart's useless, but there might be legitimate defensive magic demonstrated by whoever he convinces to assist him."
"Eight o'clock tonight in the Great Hall," Susan read from the notice. "At least if it's terrible, we can leave early and finish that Transfiguration essay."
"If it's Lockhart, it will definitely be terrible," Hannah predicted with a sigh.
When they arrived that evening, the Great Hall had transformed. The long house tables had vanished, replaced by a golden stage that stretched along one wall, illuminated by thousands of candles floating overhead. Students from all houses crowded around the stage, their excited chatter filling the vast space with nervous energy.
"Is that Snape?" Hannah whispered, pointing toward the stage where the Potions Master stood with his arms folded, scowling at the ceiling as though personally offended by the enchanted stars.
Before Chris could respond, the crowd parted like a reluctant sea as Gilderoy Lockhart strode through their midst, resplendent in robes of deep plum that swirled dramatically with each step. He bounded onto the stage with theatrical agility, his golden curls bouncing as he spun to face the assembled students.
"Gather round, gather round!" he called, arms spread wide as though embracing the entire hall. "Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"
Susan rolled her eyes, the gesture so exaggerated that Chris had to stifle a laugh. Lockhart continued, either oblivious to or deliberately ignoring the mix of adoration and contempt that greeted his appearance.
"In light of the dark forces that always lurk in our world, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little duelling club, to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions, for full details, see my published works!"
He flashed his trademark smile, which dimmed noticeably as he gestured to the black-clad figure at the edge of the stage. "Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape. He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about duelling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin."
Snape's expression suggested he would rather be drinking undiluted bubotuber pus than participating in Lockhart's spectacle. His black eyes glittered with what Chris recognised as dangerous anticipation rather than sportiness of any kind.
"Now, don't worry, you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him!" Lockhart announced with a wink that drew titters from several girls near the front.
The two professors turned to face each other and bowed, Lockhart with many flourishes of his hands, Snape with a jerky nod that barely inclined his head. They raised their wands in combat positions.
"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart explained to the attentive crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."
"I wouldn't bet on that," Chris murmured to Susan, noting the curl of Snape's lip.
"One, two, three!"
Before Lockhart had fully straightened from his elaborate starting pose, Snape's wand slashed through the air. "Expelliarmus!" The scarlet light struck Lockhart squarely in the chest, lifting him off his feet and sending him flying backward off the stage. His wand arced high into the air, landing somewhere among the gasping crowd as Lockhart himself crashed into the wall and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.
The Slytherins cheered wildly. Chris found himself grinning way too openly. Even Susan and Hannah were laughing, Hannah's hand pressed to her mouth in a failed attempt to hide her mirth.
Lockhart rose unsteadily to his feet, his previously perfect hair now standing on end, his plum robes askew. "Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the stage. "That was a Disarming Charm, as you see, I've lost my wand, ah, thank you, Miss Brown. Yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, though if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you, it would have been only too easy."
Snape looked murderous. Lockhart seemed to notice, because he quickly turned back to the students.
"Enough demonstrating! Let's have a volunteer pair. Emrys!" His eyes landed on Chris with what seemed like relief at finding a familiar face. "How about you? And we'll need an opponent, Weasley, you'll do!"
The crowd parted to reveal Ron Weasley, whose freckled face had gone pale beneath his shock of red hair. Chris stepped forward with measured confidence, making his way to the stage as Ron reluctantly did the same from the opposite side.
Chris took note of the wand clutched in Ron's hand, broken nearly in half and held together with Spellotape. He recalled how in the original timeline, that wand had backfired catastrophically, turning Ron's slug-vomiting curse back on himself. The memory almost made him smile, but he kept his expression neutral as they faced each other on the golden stage.
"Wands at the ready!" Lockhart shouted.
Chris raised his wand in the formal duelling position, a textbook stance he knew would please the watching professors. Ron held his Spellotaped wand awkwardly, his stance more suited to a street brawl than a formal duel.
"When I count to three, cast your spells to disarm only, we don't want any accidents! One... two... three!"
Chris acted with precise, calculated speed. Without uttering a word, he flicked his wand in the exact motion for an Expelliarmus. The red light shot across the stage, striking Ron's hand before the redhead had even opened his mouth to cast. Ron's broken wand flew from his grasp, tumbling through the air before Chris caught it neatly with his left hand.
The Great Hall fell silent for a heartbeat before erupting in applause. Chris handed Ron's wand back to him with a polite nod, neither gloating nor apologetic.
"Excellent! Excellent!" Lockhart cried, bounding between them. "Perfect demonstration of a Disarming Charm." His smile looked strained as he added, "And without an incantation, no less! Very advanced, Mr. Emrys, very advanced indeed!"
As Chris stepped down from the stage, returning to where Susan and Hannah waited, he felt the weight of many eyes upon him. Some students looked impressed, others speculative, and a few, particularly among the Slytherins, narrowed with calculating assessment.
"You didn't have to show off quite so much," Susan whispered, though her expression was more amused than critical.
"I didn't," Chris replied quietly. "That was actually me holding back."
The roast beef sandwiches at Hogwarts always tasted better on Thursdays, a curious phenomenon that Chris had noted but never investigated. He sat at the Hufflepuff table three days after the Duelling Club fiasco, listening to Hannah describe her latest Herbology breakthrough while Susan debated the merits of different Quidditch teams with a fourth-year across the table. It was, by all measures, an ordinary lunch hour, until the massive oak doors at the entrance slammed open with such force that every head in the hall whipped around in startled unison.
The sound of determined footsteps echoed through the suddenly silent space. Three figures strode purposefully between the house tables, their path unwavering and their expressions carved from stone. At the center walked a woman whose very posture seemed to command the air around her. Amelia Bones wore formal charcoal robes with the silver insignia of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement gleaming at her collar. Her monocle caught the light as she surveyed the hall with calm, unflinching authority. Flanking her were two Aurors in their distinctive burgundy robes, wands not drawn but clearly ready at their sides.
Susan's sandwich fell forgotten to her plate. "That's, that's my aunt," she whispered, her voice a laced with confusion.
Chris set down his goblet with deliberate care, his expression betraying nothing as he watched the procession. Internally, a quiet satisfaction unfurled in his chest like a warming charm. The seeds he had planted during their conversation at the Leaky Cauldron had evidently taken root and flourished.
The hall remained frozen in collective shock as Madam Bones and her Aurors approached the head table where the professors sat in various states of surprise. Dumbledore rose to his feet, his expression a careful blend of welcome and inquiry.
"Madam Bones," he greeted, his voice carrying easily in the silent hall. "To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?"
Amelia Bones did not slow her stride nor acknowledge the Headmaster's question. Instead, she continued directly to where Gilderoy Lockhart sat, his fork suspended halfway to his mouth, his perfect smile faltering at the edges.
"Gilderoy Lockhart," she announced, her crisp voice reverberating through the hall without the need for magical amplification. "I am here in my capacity as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
Lockhart's face transformed from confusion to his camera-ready smile in an instant. "Madam Bones! What a delightful surprise. If you're here about my upcoming guest lecture series at the Ministry, I was just about to owl you the…"
"You are under arrest," she continued as though he hadn't spoken, "on multiple counts of fraud, magical intellectual theft, and unauthorized use of memory charms against fellow wizards."
The Great Hall seemed to collectively gasp. At the Ravenclaw table, a girl who had been wearing a hand-decorated "I love Lockhart" badge abruptly pulled it from her robes and shoved it into her pocket.
Lockhart's smile remained fixed, though it no longer reached his eyes. "There's clearly been some misunderstanding. Perhaps we could discuss this privately in my office? I have a lovely vintage of…"
"Additionally," Amelia continued, implacable as stone, "you are charged with falsifying credentials to obtain employment at a school for underage wizards, endangering students through magical incompetence, and thirteen counts of violation of the International Confederation's statute on the ethical use of memory modification spells."
The Aurors moved forward in perfect synchronization, one drawing magical restraints from within his robes while the other positioned himself to block any potential escape route.
Lockhart shot to his feet, knocking over his goblet and sending pumpkin juice cascading across the pristine tablecloth. "Now see here! I am Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award!"
"We have obtained testimony and evidence," Amelia replied, unmoved, "including your private journals detailing each theft of magical achievement, the names of your victims, and the memory charms you performed to ensure they could not contradict your published accounts."
The colour drained from Lockhart's face, leaving his tan looking suddenly artificial against his pallor. His eyes darted toward the exit, calculating his chances.
"The magical restraints I am about to place on you," Amelia continued, "will suppress your ability to cast spells. Please extend your wrists."
Instead, Lockhart lunged sideways, attempting to escape around the head table. He made it precisely two steps before the Auror on the right flicked his wand in a casual motion. Lockhart froze mid-stride, his arms pinwheeling comically before he toppled forward like a felled tree. The Auror caught him with a Levitation Charm before he hit the ground.
With efficient movements, the other Auror secured the magical restraints around Lockhart's wrists. They gleamed with a dull blue light, sealing with a click that echoed in the stunned silence of the hall.
"The magical suppression cuffs are necessary," Amelia explained to the watching students and staff, her voice taking on an educational tone, "as our investigation has revealed Mr. Lockhart's singular talent lies in memory charms, which he has used repeatedly to steal the accomplishments of more capable witches and wizards."
The Auror who had stunned Lockhart released the spell, allowing the former professor to regain control of his limbs. Lockhart's carefully cultivated image had crumbled entirely; his hair dishevelled, his robes askew, and his expression a mixture of panic and indignation as the Aurors positioned themselves on either side of him.
"This is outrageous!" he sputtered, struggling ineffectually against his restraints. "My fans will never believe these slanderous accusations! My publisher will hear about this treatment!"
"Your publisher," Amelia noted dryly, "is cooperating fully with our investigation to avoid being charged as an accessory."
With a nod to her Aurors, they began escorting the protesting Lockhart back down the center aisle. Students leaned away as he passed, as though fraudulence might be contagious. Lockhart's desperate gaze swept over them, searching for sympathetic faces and finding none.
As the procession passed the Hufflepuff table, Amelia Bones's eyes briefly met Chris's. The slightest incline of her head, so subtle it might have been imagined, passed between them before she continued toward the exit. Her acknowledgment was nearly imperceptible, but to Chris, it spoke volumes.
The moment the great doors closed behind them, the Great Hall exploded into sound. Hundreds of voices rose simultaneously in shocked exclamations, wild speculations, and breathless recounting of what they'd just witnessed. Students stood on benches to be heard over the noise, while others rushed between tables to share theories with friends in different houses.
At the head table, Professor McGonagall leaned toward Dumbledore with an expression that mingled shock with vindication. Snape, by contrast, wore the closest thing to a smile Chris had ever seen on the Potion Master's face, a slightly less severe scowl than usual.
Dumbledore rose to his feet, raising his wand. A loud bang like a cannon shot echoed through the hall, instantly commanding silence.
"In light of these... unexpected developments," the Headmaster announced, his voice magically amplified to reach every corner, "all Defence Against the Dark Arts classes will be cancelled for the remainder of the day. Heads of Houses will post revised schedules in your common rooms by this evening."
The noise threatened to resume, but Dumbledore wasn't finished. "I assure you that the educational standards of Hogwarts remain our highest priority, and arrangements for a qualified replacement will be made with all possible haste."
As the Headmaster sat down, the hall once again filled with the buzz of excited conversation. Susan and Hannah turned to Chris, their expressions a mixture of awe and dawning comprehension.
"You knew," Susan whispered, not a question but a realisation. "When you were asking Aunt Amelia all those questions about Lockhart's books at the Leaky Cauldron..."
Hannah's eyes widened. "You started this whole investigation!"
Chris took a careful sip of pumpkin juice, allowing himself the smallest of satisfied smiles. "I merely pointed out some inconsistencies to someone in a position to investigate properly. The rest was entirely Madam Bones's work."