Title inspired by... well, you'll see what I mean if you don't already know.

Reposted: July 9, 2021

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Last edited: July 10, 2021

Between Lockhart, Ginny, and Colin, Lockhart had to be the worst. On the first DADA lesson of the term, Harry had the honor of seeing just how qualified Lockhart really was at teaching when the man handed out the most useless pop quiz ever— no, Harry did not give a damn what Lockhart's favorite color was, thank you very much— and released Cornish pixies, electric blue creatures that were about eight inches in height.

"Come on now— round them up, round them up, they're only pixies!" Lockhart shouted. He brandished his wand. "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"

The spell had no effect; one pixie threw his wand out the window. When the bell rang, everyone made a mad dash to the door. Poor Crabbe and Goyle were left to round up the remaining pixies.

Over the next few days, Harry did his best to avoid Lockhart whenever he saw him. He was relieved when Colin didn't stalk, though he didn't mind his cheerful "All right, Harry?" when they passed in the hall too much.

Professor Snape seemed to be everywhere, too, though his presence was not quite as unwelcoming.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Miss Weasley, for loitering in the halls!" he snapped to Ginny when she was trying to follow Harry. Ginny blushed when Harry looked at her, not seeming to realize that he had known she was there even before Snape had said anything, and took off in the opposite direction.

It happened again not long after with Snape swooping out like a bat and taking more points from Ginny, who finally had the sense to stop her obsessive stalking. Harry wasn't a fool; he knew Snape was keeping an eye out on him, but for what reason remained a mystery.

He was distracted when Draco announced that he had made the Slytherin Quidditch team, becoming the new Seeker. His father had bought new Nimbus Two Thousand and One broomsticks for them, and Harry watched with amusement as the team rubbed it in Oliver Wood's face. The burly sixth-year Gryffindor was known for his obsession with the sport and after the previous year's defeat, he was determined more than ever to beat Slytherin.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

Draco scowled at her. "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mud—"

Harry clapped his hand over Draco's mouth, glaring at him. "Don't finish that," he growled.

Ron pulled out his wand, having also figured out what Draco had been about to say. "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" he said.

Harry conjured up a shield as a jet of green light shot from his wand. It bounced off and struck Ron in the stomach. He tried to speak but burped out a slug.

Harry cringed but didn't move to help him as the Slytherin team laughed. "Draco," he said, making his friend freeze. "What did I tell you about using that term?"

"That it should never be used," Draco said guiltily.

"And yet, you almost said it. I would've let Weasley hit you, but I didn't want to risk it if it was dangerous." Harry's expression told the team that he most definitely would have done as he said, even at the risk of Slytherin losing a day of Quidditch practice.

"Sorry." Draco felt like a little boy again, being chastised by his mother. It was even worse with an audience.

"Just don't do it again. All right, I'm going. Better get practicing."

Harry started for the castle, then paused. Ron had quite the temper, but he didn't need to be burping up slugs all day. He turned and headed for Hagrid's house.

When Hagrid answered the door, he blinked in surprise. "Oh, hello, Harry. Come in."

"Thanks."

Hagrid's large boarhound eagerly jumped on him, licking his face.

Ron was spewing slugs into a large copper basin. "What are you doing here?" he snapped.

"Wanted to check in after my friend was being an idiot, thanks for asking," said Harry dryly, gently pushing Fang away. He looked at Hermione. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Ron was just telling me what that word meant."

"You didn't know?" Harry hadn't expected that.

Hermione shook her head. "I knew it was awful, of course, but no."

Harry nodded in agreement. "It's a horrible word. I've been trying to get him to stop being so against Muggle-borns. Evidently," he added, displeased, "I suck at it."

"I wouldn't say that," said Hagrid. "The Slytherins have been less mean in the halls."

"But they're still annoying," added Ron. Another slug slipped out of his mouth.

Taking pity, Harry drew his wand. "Here, let me help."

Ron stayed completely still while Harry muttered an incantation. A red light struck Ron, who waited for a few seconds. When no more slugs came out, he nodded curtly. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. And, for the record," Harry added, starting for the door, "it was probably a good thing the spell backfired. Draco's father would have heard about it."

That night, Harry was dozing off in bed when he heard something that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

'Come... come to me... let me rip you... let me tear you... let me kill you...'

'Azure, did you hear that?'

'Yes.' Azure sounded like she couldn't decide if she feared the unknown voice or was in awe.

Harry listened, but there were no further ominous messages. He slipped into an uneasy sleep.

Harry continued to listen for the voice and watch for anything unusual, but the only thing he noticed was that Snape was still watching him and Ginny was looking paler than normal. Her brother, Percy, urged her to go to the hospital wing, where many people, students and staff alike, were visiting due to colds. Madam Pomfrey's Pepperup potion effectively kept them up, but an unfortunate side effect was that their ears smoked for hours.

It rained heavily for days, causing the lake to rises and the ground to become muddy. On Halloween, Harry found himself in the Great Hall picking at the food absentmindedly. For pretty much everyone else, Halloween was a holiday, with all the pumpkins and decorations.

Harry, of course, had never really enjoyed it. He could remember watching enviously as Aunt Petunia took Dudley out trick-or-treating. When they came back, Dudley often had a heaping amount of candy, and he ate every single piece within the next week. Now, Harry wasn't the biggest fan of sweets, but it would've been nice to try even one piece, just for the sake of indulging himself. No, Dudley made sure to eat them all within Harry's field of vision. It didn't really help that, during Harry's first year, Professor Quirrell had run in telling about a troll. A troll, honestly!

This year, there were no interruptions, but as they were making their way out of the Great Hall after watching a troupe of skeletons dance— now that was pretty fun to watch, he admitted— Harry heard the voice again.

'...rip... tear... kill...'

He strained to hear.

'...soo hungry... for so long...'

Was it getting fainter?

'...kill... time to kill...'

Fainter still...

'... I smell blood... I SMELL BLOOD!'

Coming on to the second floor, everyone stopped, the content chattering coming to an abrupt halt. Pushing through, Harry's eyes first landed on the puddle on the floor. Then up at Mrs. Norris hanging by her tail from the torch bracket, eyes wide and staring. Then at the words above her.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

"What's going on here? What's going on?" Filch shouldered his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror. "My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked.

When I first typed in "Enemies of the heir" I put "hair" by accident. That sounds so wrong... "Enemies of the hair..." What would that even be, scissors?

Edit: How dare you all be funnier than me on my own fic? /lighthearted