My Account of the Lockhart Incident, by Ginny Weasley (Subtitled, 'Why I think Snape Is the Only Sane Person Aside from Myself in This Entire Bloody School!)
by Apocalpse

It all started with a banana.

Most things do, when you really think about it. I mean, you may think I'm crazy for saying so, but I just bet Napoleon's plan for taking over France began to weave itself into beings while he was eating a banana. Yes, I've taken Muggle Studies. It's really quite interesting, actually. Muggles are fascinating creatures-the way they survive without magic is just amazing, really.

Oh, sorry. I'm losing the point, aren't I? Anyway, back to bananas. Yes, you may not know it, but Merlin once ate a banana at the Round Table. No, I don't know where he got it. It doesn't say in the History books! Well, actually, it doesn't say he ate a banana in the History books either, but I just bet he did. It's the kind of think Merlin would do, the old coot.

At this point you are probably rather hungry and extremely miffed because you really didn't want to know about Napoleon and Merlin eating bananas, but this truly has a point. I'm just building up to it slowly so that it will cushion your shock.

For, you see, it all started with a banana. Several bananas, actually.

Gilderoy Lockhart, who was my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor during my first year, liked bananas. This is a little-known-fact, but my Mum fancied him, and she told me everything about him, including his craving for all things banana-related. Well, actually, half of his admirers probably were fully aware of this and shipped him cartons of bananas every month, but Rita Skeeter hailed it as a 'little-known-fact', so that is what I'm calling it.

All right, back to the story-I'm easily distracted, you see. Lockhart was eating a banana when his memory returned. He was, in fact, eating this banana while listening to the hit song of Ceres' Zoo, a popular (and extremely good, in my humble opinion) Wizardring band.

He was, in fact singing.

Stumbled into her flat
Way too late
Bottle of Odgen's in my hand,
Lipstick all over my face.

She said,
"I hate you and
Your unfaithful ways and
I'm gonna kick you out right now
You ungrateful pig!"

And I took a swig of that
Firewhiskey and told her,
"Don't care,
Never cared
For you!
Yeah, sure,
Hate me,
Don't care!
Never cared!
Bugger off!"

And she screamed and she cried
And she
Hurled a ceramic dragon at my head and
I had to run because she was reaching,
Reaching,
For her wand...

And she said,
"Don't care?
Never cared
For me?
Yeah sure,
I'll hate you,
I don't care,
I never cared,
Bugger off!"

And then she
Aimed her wand and
The door was far too far
Away.
I screamed and
She shot a curse and
Now I'm a pig!

I live in
Her back yard and
She feeds me slop every day,
So now I'll never
Come back home with
Odgen's in my hand or
Lipstick on my face...

'Cause she
Don't care,
Never cared
For me!
Yeah, sure,
She hates me,
Don't care!
Never cared!
Bugger off!

He was singing along with this song, clutching his banana in his hands as he spun around the room, howling into the fruit like a microphone.

At least, that's what my informants tell me.

Anyway, he was singing and dancing and eating-singing into-a banana when it happened. He tripped over his chair, landed on his bum, and hit his head rather hard on the coffee table. This evidently brought his memory back because he instantly apparated to Hogwarts.

Or at least, he tried to. All he managed was to drop his wand on his foot and fall over again.

In the end, he used Floo Powder and blew into the Great Hall's fireplace, still (and this is the funny part) clutching his banana.

Harry Potter, who was sitting between my brother and my brother's girlfriend, shrieked and tried to duck under the table. Ron took one glance at the accursed man, who was very carefully dusting the ashes off of his robes, and followed suit. Hermione, who had been sitting across from me, stared after Lockhart with rather starry eyes before Ron grabbed her waist and yanked her under the table.

Alas, it was too late for all of them, for Lockhart had heard Harry's shriek (which, I must confess, was rather girlish) and strode over to the Gryffindor table, beaming at us. Every one of his teeth gleamed. It hurt my eyes.

"Harry, my boy!" He cried, overjoyed, and waved his banana wildly, "I haven't seen you since your little redheaded friend knocked me unconscious with my own spell! Still trying to be famous, my lad? Well, you have quite a way to go, but keep trying Harry, keep trying!" He beamed at them and took another bite out of his banana.

Harry, who was half-hidden under the table (but not from Lockhart's supernatural sight, of course) squeaked and grabbed the nearest thing to him for protection. This, strangely enough, happened to be a bunt cake. He snatched it and hurled it at Lockhart. I applauded, having suffered terrible humiliation at the former-Professor's hand. (Don't even make me go into the Valentine incident. All right, so it was mostly my fault for doing it, but still...)

Lockhart yowled in pain as it struck his leg and hopped back a few paces. He glared (rather unconvincingly, I might add) at Harry for a few seconds before replacing his foot on the ground and testing it gingerly. As if he could have been hurt by a bunt cake-hah!

He had barely taken a step toward the Gryffindor table when Snape strode over (he had, in fact, been striding over all the while, but the Teacher's table is an awfully long way from the Gryffindor table. The Great Hall is huge, you know.) and slapped Lockhart with his Dragonhide glove.

"Ani rotzah ha'oznayim shelo!" The Potions Master bellowed. A red mark bloomed on Lockhart's cheek.

Wow! I didn't know Snape spoke Hebrew! All right, another mark in his favor. So far, he's got the most marks out of any other teacher here. Really! He may be a complete git, but he's a good teacher and he knows just how to slap someone with a Dragonhide glove, too.

"What?" Said Lockhart, who was tragically ignorant and did not speak Hebrew. Evil man-he deserves whatever tortures Snape may have concocted for him, I say.

"Fool! It means, "I want your ears. And I shall have them, too! A duel, tomorrow." Snape demanded. I didn't know it meant that-I thought it meant, 'I really hate you because you're a complete prick.' but I'm not exactly an expert on Hebrew, either.

Lockhart, who had just barely recovered from Amnesia and Ceres' Zoo, was quite baffled. He had just been hit by a cake and a glove in rapid succession by people he had always believed himself to be on relatively good terms with. Nevertheless, even cowards get offended.

"I shall be there," he proclaimed, puffing up his chest and awarding Snape one of his million-galleon smiles, "and I shall triumph before the entire school, Professor!" He bowed low, twirling his wand between his fingers, and accidentally set the object hurling into the air.

Snape smirked.

I smirked.

Everyone else smirked, too, but I won't mention them because they don't really matter and I don't feel like being particularly gracious today, especially since the girl who was sitting next to me just dumped her soup in my lap.

***


It was today. Well, actually, it was yesterday's tomorrow, but so is everyday so I don't see the point in mentioning that.

In any event, today was Thursday, whereas the day that Snape had gloved Lockhart had been Wednesday, and they were about to duel.

It was over very, very quickly. Lockhart twirled his wand. Snape flicked his. Lockhart dropped his wand. Snape cast a nasty-looking curse at him, and we all winced as Lockhart screamed.

I heard clapping in the distance. I think it was Dumbledore.

"Oh!" Cried Lockhart, "Oh! Oh! Oh!"

I rolled my eyes. Yes, we got the point. 'Oh!' indeed.

"Oh!" He said once more, as if it had not been obvious the first time. "I'm wounded! I'll die! Bandages, quickly! He's killed me! He's killed me!"

I swear, the man dreams in exclamation points.

Hermione ran up, wielding a box of Saran Wrap. I do not know where she got it, and, frankly, I don't wish to.

"I'll save you!" She screamed, and began to wrap the clear plastic around and around his (mildly) bleeding arm.

"Hermione! No! Don't!" Ron screamed from across the room.

She hesitated for a moment. "Why not?"

"He might die, Hermione. Let him bleed." He explained.

"How dare you, Ron! If you act like this in the future, I will have no choice but to break up with you. How dare you act so... so... so insensitive toward an ex-Professor!" Hermione the Prefect scolded, and brandished the box of Saran Wrap at him.

"S'rry, Hermione. I was just joking, really." Ron muttered, cowed. I smirked. Go Hermione!

"Please continue, young woman-I feel I may pass out from this immense pain." Lockhart moaned, clutching his scratched arm.

"Ooooooh," Hermione cooed, and added another layer of Saran Wrap to his stricken appendage.

"What is this miraculous stuff that you have used to save my valuable life, Miss Granger?" Lockhart inquired.

"Saran Wrap." Came the reply. Hermione finished her makeshift bandaging and stepped back to admire her work.

"Gods bless this 'Sara's Wrath', then."

"Yes," echoed the entire student-teacher body, minus myself and Professor Snape, "Praise Sara's Wrath!"

I sighed and resolved that I would murder Lockhart and tie him up with his precious 'Saran Wrap' in the morning.

Stupid little twit...

E-mail the Author