Yes, they were an odd bunch, the oddest grouping out of all of those in Hufflepuff, but they had not only prestige on their side, they also had numbers: seven was the biggest number of kids in a circle within one House, the group usually being three or four if it was confined to one House. In a few more years, they would be a force to be reckoned with. After the Start-of-Term Feast, Heri sought out her Head of House. She had sent her dorm-mates up to bed ahead of her after Professor Sprout finished her address to the first-years about being in Hufflepuff. Heri caught the older lady as she was about to return to her office. "Professor?" said Heri. "Has the Headmaster said anything to you about the letter I sent him this summer?" Professor Sprout looked curious. "A letter? No, he's said nothing to me about a letter. If you wanted to tell me something, dearie, you'd be better off sending a note to me directly." "Oh, well, the letter really was for Professor Dumbledore, but I thought he might have said something to you about it since I doubt keeping it a secret would do any good." "Goodness! What's all this about then?" "Well, this summer, someone came to warn me about a plot they overheard," Heri explained. "He was really quite frantic about it; something about planting a dangerous object and powers no decent person would involve themselves in. He told me that he believed that I was in danger of getting killed, and he advised me to not come back to school. Naturally, I sent off a letter to the Headmaster at once because if I would be in danger, everyone else would be in danger as well. I thought all the professors would have been told about it." Professor Sprout looked alarmed. "If it isn't one thing, it's another," said the professor, rubbing her eyes. She looked at Heri sharply. "You were very smart to let the school know about this, dear. Merlin only knows what kind of mess would be on our hands if we were all sitting in the dark!" "Yes, ma'am. I wasn't going to just not say anything, of course!" The professor patted Heri on the shoulder. "You can go on off to bed now; I'm going to see the Headmaster about this right away." Lockhart proved himself to be as useful as fur on a banana. Heri had thought there was some quick-wittedness under all that idiocy — what with how he showed publicity-awareness when she met him — but any credit she might have given him was wiped off the board by his blatant incompetence. "He's so dreamy!" Megan had sighed as they had reviewed their textbooks the night before. "Like a prince out of a fairytale!" Sally-Anne had made a vague sound of agreement. "He certainly looks the part; his hair is magnificent. I wonder what shampoo he uses." It soon evident that his looks were all Lockhart had to work with, not that his fangirls would admit to that. Earlier that day, when Hufflepuff was having Herbology with Gryffindor, he had been getting in Professor Sprout's way while she had been tending to some of her more dangerous plants. "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow!" Lockhart had said, looking as fresh as a spring daisy while the Herbology professor was as grimy as one was supposed to look after playing in the dirt. "But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels . . ." Professor Sprout, who had looked distinctly disgruntled, had sent them off to the designated greenhouse gruffly, not at all her usual cheerful self. Dealing with idiots did that. The smiling menace made himself a bigger bother when he pulled Heri aside before she could enter the greenhouse and began edifying himself under the thinnest veneer of offering her 'fame advice.' "Heri, Heri, Heri," Lockhart had said, reaching out and grasping her shoulder. "I understand. Natural to want a bit more once you've had that first taste — and I blame myself for giving you that, because it was bound to go to your head — but see here, young lady, you can't go shouting about attacks on the school to try and get yourself noticed. Just calm down, all right? Plenty of time for all that when you're older." Excuse him? Had he been told about the letter she sent Dumbledore and took it as her trying to get attention? Was he a complete moron? Heri resented being called a show-off almost as much as she hated being called a liar. She couldn't completely conceal her disdain for him. Lockhart saw her expression but misunderstood it entirely. "Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking! 'It's all right for him, he's an internationally famous wizard already!' But when I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now." — Heri's jaw clenched. A tingle ran down her throwing arm. — "In fact, I'd say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven't they? All that business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" He glanced at the lightning scar on her forehead. "I know, I know — it's not quite as good as winning Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award five times in a row, as I have — but it's a start, Heri, it's a start." He gave Heri a hearty wink and strode off. Heri stood stunned at the utter gall of the man for a few seconds before she remembered that the great braggart had made her late for class. She prayed heatedly to Eris for the worst of luck to befall him before she stiffly realigned herself into character and went to join her class. She was so outraged that she only paid half of her attention to the lesson on mandrakes. If all that wasn't enough, the preening peacock had made a spectacle of himself later that day during DADA.
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