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HRA# CHAPTER 156
🕑 Added 2025-06-12 01:49:30 +0000 UTCIt might have been aimed at Filch, or perhaps not—ever since Filch became a shaman last year, his threat level had skyrocketed.
Once it was just damned Filch and his damned cat. Now there was an additional menace: his damned earth elemental.
That tiny earth elemental scurried through every corner of the castle. Even the soil in flowerpots was no longer safe, ready at any moment to tattle to Filch. Then the castle caretaker would swoop in with his cat, mercilessly hauling rule-breaking students off to detention.
Like a tiger given wings.
But such setbacks couldn’t stop Fred and George. If anything, they only fueled their determination to overcome the challenge, growing bolder with every obstacle—their prank empire would never falter.
“Hey, Harry!” George waved casually in greeting. “Where you headed?”
“Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions,” Ron answered. “Can you spare me one of those fireworks?”
“Not unless you say something nice first,” Fred said with a grin.
“Alright, my dearest, most wonderful brothers, can you spare me a firework?” Ron replied without a moment’s hesitation, his words lightning-fast.
Fred’s eyes widened.
“...Your skin’s gotten thicker faster than I ever imagined, Ron,” George said, his expression a mix of amusement and disbelief. “What changed you? Hogwarts?”
“Snape,” Ron said, holding out his hand. “So, where’s my firework?”
“Alright, alright, consider it a gift for your growth,” Fred said, handing Ron a firework with a shrug. “And for you, Ginny—here.”
He passed Ginny an unassuming black cloth bag. When she gave it a curious shake, a crisp, pleasant clinking of metal echoed from within.
Though they’d rarely heard such a sound, the kids instantly knew what was inside.
“Galleons?!” Ginny gasped, peering into the bag. “So many!”
“A gift for our little sister,” George said with a playful grin. “Go buy yourself a new robe you like.”
“Or two,” Fred added. “Or something else you fancy. This way, you won’t have to ask Mum for money. We wanted to take some of the burden off her, but she wouldn’t hear of it.”
“Oh, wipe that grin off your face, Fred,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “Your mouth’s about to split open.”
“Of course it is!” George laughed heartily. “Dear little Ronnie, you have no idea how happy Mum was.”
“And how much she cried,” Fred added. “Merlin’s beard, if we’d known she’d get that emotional, we’d have done it in front of you.”
“Oh, really? So I could watch you make me jealous?” Ron huffed, crossing his arms. “Where’s my gift?”
“Your what?” the twins asked in unison, genuinely puzzled.
“My gift, obviously!” Ron’s eyes widened. “Ginny got one! Why don’t I? It’s not fair!”
“Oh, Ron,” Fred said, slinging an arm around Ron’s neck from the left.
“No, our dearest little Ronnie,” George corrected, mirroring the gesture from the right.
“Hey! Let me go!” Ron struggled fiercely, but his strength was no match for his older brothers. “Help, Harry! Save me!”
Harry was busy explaining to Luna that the scene unfolding before her was proof of Ron’s close bond with his brothers.
“Quiet down, Ronnie,” Fred said, exasperated, clamping a hand over Ron’s mouth. “Listen to yourself, Ron. You’re a boy!”
“A man!” George corrected. “You should be figuring out how to earn your own money, like a man.”
“Like us,” Fred continued. “Learn something useful, then turn that knowledge into gold—got it?”
He released Ron, who stopped struggling.
“…I must’ve misheard,” Ron muttered, almost to himself. “Fred and George telling me to study? I’m dreaming.”
“You didn’t mishear, brother,” George said with a smirk.
With that, Fred gave Ginny’s cheek an affectionate pinch, and the twins sauntered off—they had plenty more to shop for.
“I hate to admit it, but their grades are actually pretty good,” Ron said, staring after their retreating figures. “And their stuff sells really well.”
“Don’t lose heart, Ron,” Neville said encouragingly. “You can study hard too.”
“Me?” Ron laughed. “Nah, books give me a headache. Come on, let’s get to the robe shop.”
The group continued toward Madam Malkin’s, chatting and laughing. As they passed a cluttered secondhand shop filled with battered wands, old scales, and worn cauldrons, they spotted Percy placing a book back on a pile of used texts, his brows furrowed tightly.
“How to Gain Power as a Prefect,” Luna read aloud curiously, picking up the book Percy had just set down.
“Er, just curious,” Percy said, scratching his hair awkwardly under Harry’s gaze. “It’s not what I expected… too much useless stuff.”
“Hogwarts Prefects and Their Careers After Graduation,” Ron read loudly from the book’s back cover. “Sounds pretty interesting.”
“Shut it, Ron,” Percy said, his face reddening as he avoided Harry’s eyes.
“Minister of Magic, got it,” Ron nodded knowingly. “You’ve got it all planned out—go for it!”
Hermione’s gaze sharpened.
Percy’s goal was to become Minister of Magic too?
It wasn’t entirely surprising. Even Hermione had to admit Percy was exceptionally capable—a formidable rival.
At Madam Malkin’s, they bought new robes for Luna and Ginny. Then Harry took Luna to Ollivanders’ Wand Shop. He’d expected wand selection to be a tedious process, given how long it had taken him to find his own wand the previous year.
But today, Luna and Ginny were done in under ten minutes.
While Ollivander rambled on about wands choosing the wizard, Luna’s gaze fixed on a box above her head. She promptly claimed her wand: dogwood with a thestral tail hair core.
Ginny didn’t take much longer. After trying five or six wands, she found hers: yew with a dragon heartstring core, a wand of great power and strong learning potential.
As Harry had suspected, Ginny—the girl who blushed whenever she saw him—was inwardly resilient and determined.
Ollivander’s wandlore was, admittedly, rather fascinating.
Luna was a gentle child, and Harry, who had little experience looking after close younger relatives, struggled a bit. At one point, he nearly bought her a toy, only for Hermione to pull him aside, covering her face in exasperation. She sternly reminded him not to treat a young lady like a child—it was terribly impolite.
Still, Harry thought Luna might have liked the toy. When Hermione dragged him away, Luna and Ginny were giggling happily.
When the group arrived at Flourish and Blotts at the agreed-upon time, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were already waiting. Mr. Weasley looked exasperated, while Mrs. Weasley was practically vibrating with excitement.
Actually, all the witches present were thrilled, most of them around Mrs. Weasley’s age. The wizards, on the other hand, looked half-dead—especially the one at the door, wearily maintaining order with a voice so listless it could lull someone to sleep.
A large banner hung overhead: Gilderoy Lockhart Autograph Signing for His Autobiography, Magical Me.
“We’re going to meet him!” Hermione squealed, trying to push forward. “Adventures that could fill seven books—and that’s not even all of them! I want to know how he encountered so many terrifying things!”
“Maybe he visits graveyards every night to run into ghosts,” Ron muttered. “Or other places no sane person would go.”
“Ron!” Hermione shot him a glare.
“I don’t get it,” Ron said, unable to hold back. “Why do you idolize a guy with teeth bigger than his head? You might as well idolize Harry! At least Harry invented a new spell—that’s way more impressive than banishing garden gnomes!”
“Well said, Ronnie!” Fred and George chimed in, having just arrived. “We think Lockhart’s nowhere near Harry’s level.”
“I—don’t idolize him!” Hermione’s face flushed red. She glanced nervously at Harry, as if worried he’d misunderstand. “I’m just curious! His adventures! All those fascinating details about the magical world! They’re so vivid, aren’t they?”
Her voice was loud enough to draw attention from others in the bookstore—including the man at the center of it all.
Seated at a table, surrounded by enlarged photos of himself winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth, was Gilderoy Lockhart. He wore a striking blue robe and a pointed wizard hat, practically glowing with radiance.
No mistake about it—the man was literally sparkling.
“If I’m not mistaken,” Neville said, swallowing hard, “that’s your Shimmering Potion, Harry.”
“He’s standing up,” Ron muttered. “Now’s not the time to celebrate your potion selling well—bloody hell, he’s coming over!”
“Let’s see who we have here!” Lockhart strode over, his voice booming. “Is that Harry Potter?!”
As he spoke, he reached for Harry—only to jerk his hand back as a spark of electricity flashed.
Harry had struck quickly, so fast only those closest saw it.
“Don’t touch me,” Harry said coolly, under Hermione’s stunned gaze. “Do we know each other?”
“Ah, well…” Lockhart recovered as if nothing had happened, turning back toward his table. “Our Boy Who Lived is a bit shy, it seems. Understandable—he’s still young, full of youthful awkwardness.”
Harry was certain he detected a hint of gritted teeth in Lockhart’s tone.
Imperceptible to most.
Unseen by the crowd, the moment Lockhart turned away, his expression darkened.
It wasn’t Harry’s imagination. Lockhart was consumed with—jealousy.
Jealousy was only the start of it, Lockhart knew. It came with resentment, frustration… but now, just seeing Harry made his chest feel like it was packed with exploding fireworks, itching at his very core.
One year! A whole bloody year! Do you know what I’ve been through, Harry Potter?! Lockhart roared silently in his mind, taking a deep breath.
This infuriating boy had burst onto the scene a year ago, unreasonably stealing the public’s attention from him.
It started the day Harry first appeared in the Daily Prophet before the school term. From then on, the Prophet had gone utterly mad, endlessly reporting on either Dumbledore or Harry Potter, switching angles like lunatics.
It only got worse this summer. Harry reclaiming his family’s old manor, playing Quidditch at twelve and winning, playing a pivotal role in the match—were the Ballycastle Bats a bunch of incompetent fools?!
And the last few days? Don’t even get him started. Harry had sued the Ministry of Magic—and won!
Lockhart knew how the wizarding world saw this boy now: as their avatar, their champion. Harry beating the Ministry was as good as them beating the Ministry. He was their hero—their blasted hero!
Merlin’s sodding beard!
Taking another deep breath, Lockhart admitted that seeing the Potter boy in person made it hard to keep his emotions in check.
As a half-blood wizard, Lockhart had some understanding of both worlds, using Muggle tactics to hype himself in the wizarding one. Until last year, it had worked brilliantly—wizarding old-timers couldn’t fathom Muggle marketing tricks.
Then, suddenly, everything changed.
The Daily Prophet’s front page—Lockhart couldn’t even recall the last time he’d graced it. Was it when he became an honorary member of the Anti-Dark Arts League? Or when he received the Order of Merlin?
Too long… far too long.
This morning, seeing his book signing relegated to a corner of the Prophet while pages were dedicated to that boy, Lockhart felt his blood pressure spike.
And the Prophet’s editor!
What did he mean, “no choice”? What was this nonsense about “I’m sorry, Lockhart, but people want Harry’s stories more”?
The editor hadn’t even returned the Galleons Lockhart sent! Just a hollow promise of a future headline—too late!
All of it, too late!
Despite the storm raging within, Lockhart maintained perfect composure. His stride, his tone—flawless. Even Harry didn’t notice anything amiss.
“How marvelous!” Lockhart said, picking up a book from his table. Turning back with his radiant smile restored, he continued, “On the very day of my book signing, I meet our Harry Potter—no unknown name, is he? Though quite green, indeed.”
“I loved his match against the Ballycastle Bats,” Lockhart said earnestly. “I became a fan the moment I saw it. Few know this, but I’m rather skilled at Quidditch myself. I’d be delighted to teach Harry some practical tips to go further on the pitch—and that brings me to my point.”
“How marvelous, isn’t it?” he repeated, waving for the crowd to quiet. “What an extraordinary moment. I’m taking this splendid occasion to announce a small matter I’ve kept under wraps.”
He paused for effect, milking the suspense.
“Young Harry came to Flourish and Blotts today just to buy my autobiography—I’ll gift him this copy on the spot,” Lockhart said, sparking applause. “But little does he know, he’ll soon receive something far more valuable than my humble Magical Me!”
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
