A spider with its memory wiped and a harmless spider are two entirely different things, especially when it still has a full supply of venom.
No one could guarantee it wouldn't bite someone if it landed on them. After all, attacking is instinctual, it doesn't require memory.
Even the few quick-reacting students who had drawn their wands to strike the spider found their attack spells ineffective. Despite losing its memory, its tough exoskeleton was far from something a young witch or wizard could easily pierce.
Yet, just as the spider was about to land on a little witch's head, Lockhart's spell intervened.
"Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"
The spell immediately took effect, the spider froze mid-air, then obediently floated back to the table.
"Wow!"
"Oh my god, Professor is so cool!"
"Is this the spell from his book that defeated the Banshee of Walren and drove her away?"
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
Once things calmed down a little, murmurs of admiration spread through the crowd, almost all praising Professor Lockhart. The little witch who had nearly been attacked was frozen in place, still shaking with fright.
"All right, nothing to worry about. Fear of creatures like this is normal; after enough experience, you'll become brave. I suppose you might need a cup of hot cocoa to calm your nerves, but I'm afraid I don't have any on hand… though perhaps this will do?" Lockhart conjured a fresh flower with his wand and tucked it behind the little witch's ear, gently coaxing her down.
Another nearby student who had been scared received the same comforting gesture, sparking envy among the other girls.
The classroom atmosphere was cheerful, except for Allen, lying flat on the desk.
I just want to give Lockhart a big salute right now.
The spell that froze the spider and guided it back was not Lockhart's own flawed magic (his pronunciation was notoriously bad). It was Allen's subtle wand-assisted magic, thanks to his previous travels to Africa, he could cast ordinary spells just with a gesture.
Everything else was pure Lockhart improvisation, a truly fantastic performance, deserving of a little golden statuette.
Unless life-threatening danger forced him to wake up, this professor's personality was simple: love showing off but be kind-hearted. After the Chamber of Secrets incident, he patrolled every night. He would go to any lengths to look impressive.
He genuinely cared about fans too, taking time every day to reply to letters, approving Hermione's endless requests without much review, and even personally funding choir performances on holidays like Valentine's Day (though admittedly, they were low quality).
So, besides being incompetent and vain, the professor was a good person.
That didn't stop Allen from wanting to beat him up.
Right before class, he had already planned it, give Lockhart a proper thrashing, break a leg if necessary.
Once the dear professor was hospitalized, there would be no more classes. Simple.
He wasn't being violent for no reason, if he didn't, Lockhart might mess something up today anyway. Helping everyone and teaching the professor a lesson? Win-win!
If Lockhart knew, he'd probably sigh, society really is evil.
But he didn't know, and even if he did, Allen would still act. You've shown off to your heart's content; why complain about the consequences?
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
Inside the Hogwarts camp, in Lockhart's private tent.
Having just finished dinner, Lockhart noticed a letter on his desk.
Nothing unusual, he had received many fan letters these past days.
Instead of sending them by mail, students often delivered letters directly inside the campus. Lockhart always tried to reply when he could.
What was strange today was that there was only one letter. Usually, there were piles. Odd, his class had been a huge success; why weren't there more letters?
The answer soon became clear: a shy voice called from outside the tent. Though soft, it was unmistakable.
"Um… sorry, please bring Professor Lockhart's letters first. The professor is resting. His teaching tasks are very heavy. We'll hand over the other letters later."
It was reassuring, he had indeed made the right choice in becoming a professor.
Although Harry was right: teaching at Hogwarts was exhausting. Seven grades, two houses per class, and always prepared for every session. Lockhart relaxed back in his chair and opened the letter, accepting Harry's kind gesture even though he didn't feel that tired.
Meanwhile, Allen's mind buzzed with scheming.
Harry wasn't planning to intercept the letters himself; Allen had prompted him. Surrounded by expectant eyes, Harry's youthful enthusiasm made him agree in a heartbeat.
Earlier at lunch, when Harry had been sharing stories from his morning classes, a brave little witch had delivered a letter to Lockhart and quickly run off.
This shifted the conversation immediately, and the general consensus was positive. Lockhart's performance was flawless.
Even students who had doubted Lockhart's abilities were impressed, he truly had done well.
Allen, noticing that Lockhart carefully stored the letter in his designated pouch, adjusted his plan.
He leaned toward a group of cautious students and whispered:
"Don't say I didn't tell you, here's a way to quickly get to know the girls over there. Believe it or not."
Everyone perked up.
"Allen, come on, tell us! No girls here, we do believe you."
"Cough cough… it's simple. Harry just needs to make a little sacrifice."
Harry felt a chill run through him, but Allen didn't pause:
"You intercept the letters meant for Professor Lockhart, saying it's to give him enough rest. The next day, Harry delivers the letters as usual."
"But the letters are for the professor, we won't use them!"
Allen gave him a 'are-you-idiot' look:
"Who said you had to read them? While intercepting, you can approach the girls. And since Harry's there, Lockhart won't scold you. Plus, the girls won't blame you either. See? Perfect."
After some thought, the students realized Allen's logic was airtight. Moments later, Harry noticed the knowing glances from a few older Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students: it's all on you now…