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Chapter 88- Doo Do Doo Do Doo Inspector Harry!
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Fear. The all-consuming and terrifying feeling that erodes at your core and whittles you down to nothing in a matter of seconds. It destroys all of your instincts and intuition, and you are frozen in time, left with nothing but fear and hesitation until you are completely and utterly nothing. And that was fear in the face of immediate doom, but what about in the case of impending doom. Slowly impending doom.
The fear that slowly creeps up on you, encircling you, cutting off multiple avenues of escape and giving you just enough time to notice them before taking it away. It slowly approaches, and there is nothing you can do but wait and try to fight your undeniable destiny. You can see it take others, but for some reason, it leaves you alone, letting you watch as others succumb, but you have to wait until finally, you are the only one left, at which point you are already so done and have become nothingness as it finally takes you.
Harry had really been getting very introspective lately, becoming philosophical and pondering on many things as his fear came for him. Hermione said he was becoming something called an emo, talking about some man named Edgar Allen Poe for some reason, but Harry didn't care. Harry wasn't becoming emo or anything because you can't be emo when things are really out to get you, and there is a darkness lurking around that is waiting for the right moment to strike.
Again and again, his friends told him that he was imagining it and that the situation was making him stressed, but Harry knew. He could sense it. Feel it watching. Its gaze slithering all over his body, licking at every bit of him and testing how delicious he would be when it finally came for the scrumptious morsel of flesh. Of course, he didn't tell his friends about that; they were already looking at him weirdly for hearing the raspy voice in the walls that had been strangely silent lately. They didn't need to know about the new things he had been sensing lately; they would definitely call him crazy and tell a teacher, and Harry was not crazy. He was the furthest thing from it.
Sitting in the Great Hall, biting at his toast, Harry kept his eyes up, watching the inhabitants of the hall, his pupils constantly flickering around and observing every single person in the hall. He even observed his own housemates and friends because, as crazy as it might seem, Harry was sure there were times when they weren't themselves. Usually late at night, when he was shivering in bed, knowing something could come for him at any moment, he would feel it. He would peek out into the common room, and sometimes, he would see students moving about, leaving the dormitory and going out into Hogwarts.
Harry would have definitely told someone, but these same people would show up to breakfast the next day looking none the worse for wear except maybe a little confused; some of them even wake up in the common rooms. Harry knew that they were fine at that time as he no longer felt such a... disgusting thing on them. Still, nobody else seemed to notice, and Harry already had enough trouble being a Parseltongue, and he didn't need another thing to make people look at him like he was about to cut their tongue out; some still suspected him to be the Heir of Slytherin.
Harry then peered up at the teacher's table, where there was someone else who was giving him such dark feelings, and yet it was different from everybody else. Why did it always have to be a teacher that was a problem? Admittedly, that was only last year with Professor Quirell, and Harry wasn't quite sure about this new teacher, but he didn't like the trend that seemed to be presenting itself. The Defence Against The Dark Arts Professor would probably always be a point of contention in his life; Harry just had a feeling about it.
Just like the feeling he had about Gilderoy Lockhart, who was sat up at the teacher's table, looking perfect like always with his immaculate smile and his graceful movements as he ate his breakfast. He was the picture of perfection, but Harry had been watching his Professor ever since he got a whiff of that stench on him, and Harry had been very observant. One thing that Harry has learnt above all about Gilderoy Lockhart is that he is, above all, a performer. It took Harry a while to realise it, but he finally did, noticing the inconsequential acts and movements the man made that nobody else would notice.
The slight tremble of his eyes as he blinked, the pause in the movement of his fork as he took a break between bites, forcing himself to eat, the times he covered his mouth and made it look like he was leaning on the table, but Harry could see the light crinkle around his eyes that signified he was yawning. Gilderoy Lockhart had been coming to breakfast very tired for the last few weeks, and he always had that feeling stuck to him, the one that drew Harry in, enticing him yet at the same time made him want to stick his fingers in his mouth and puke out all the horrid feelings.
Harry was sure there was something wrong with Lockhart, especially as he was doing something late at night that kept him up and let him get hardly any sleep, but even so, he kept up the act and pretended everything was fine, even covering up his little yawns. Even so, Harry made sure not to jump to any conclusions without proper evidence. He made that mistake last year when Harry and his friends came to the conclusion that it was Professor Snape who was after the Philosopher Stone when, in actuality, it was Professor Quirell. That very nearly got Harry killed if it wasn't for luck and whatever special love magic Dumbledore was talking about.
Harry thought over everything he currently had on his Professor. Right now, he knew that Gilderoy Lockhart was acting, hiding how he was actually feeling behind a carefully manufactured- ah, mirage? Harry would ask Hermione about the actual word later because he was sure that was wrong. However, there is nothing wrong with putting on a performance; Harry used to do it all the time before he joined the magical world, hiding his true self away so as not to get hurt. Anything he did at school and at home could have been a trigger to get the Dureleys on him, and Dudley had all the boys around his finger at school.
Gilderoy Lockhart was a famous man, and Harry very well knows after the past year or so that fame is fickle as well as troublesome. He felt the highs last year when everybody was happy to see him, not leaving him alone, but even then, at that point, he had his detractors who hated him and wanted nothing more than to burn him on a pike. And now, with a bit of rumour and some doubt, everybody had turned on him this year; even those who were giving him the greatest praises were now looking at him in fear and anger. Harry understood that sometimes you had to put on a performance, so he did not begrudge Gilderoy Lockhart for that.
What he could begrudge him for was the constant sickening feel that was lingering around him, following him around like a bad smell. The feeling that was so different from the other people he was finding that same feeling on, mainly because of the fact that it was constant. On all the other students he had the iffy feeling from it gradually faded away, and others would get it before it faded away from them. But not with Gilderoy Lockhart. No, the stench was constant with him, lingering on him and never fading. That was much more suspicious than anything else and made Harry think he was the source of the stench and was spreading it to others.
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Seeing the man stand up and make his way around the teacher's table and then to the middle of the hall because, of course, he wants to be the centre of attention, before walking to the exit, Harry hurried to finish his breakfast, shoving a whole piece of toast in his mouth and gobbling it down. "Harry, slow down. You're eating like Ron, for Merlin's sake." Hermione says, expertly ignoring Ron's muffled oi in response. "Sorry, Hermione, I forgot my books, so I'm gonna go get them really quick." He says, jumping up and quickly rushing off without waiting for a response; after all, he has a mission today.
Today, he would be skipping some classes and following Gilderoy Lockhart around all day, hoping to find out just what was going on with the man. Harry didn't care if he had to serve some detentions for wagging some classes; he didn't want to be caught off guard like last year; this time, he was going to get ahead of it and find out that his Professor was up to something. Of course, this whole thing would be much easier if he had his Invisibility Cloak, but Harry seemed to have misplaced it somewhere.
He even worried if he packed it, as admittedly, he did use it to sneak around the Dursley home when he needed to. He might have left it in his room, and wasn't that something he never thought he would say. He had a bedroom. Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Of course, just because he can't find the invisibility cloak doesn't mean he is going to give up and not try to investigate. Ignoring Hermione's calls behind him, he rushed out of the hall and looked left and right for a trace of Professor Lockhart. Harry spotted him turning the corner some distance away and quickly chased after.
Harry knew that he was not the sneakiest guy around anymore without his invisibility cloak, so he couldn't stick too close. Harry wished he had learnt the camouflage spell that Hermione was going on about, and he really wished he had something that could help him track Gilderoy easily, but sadly, such nice things did not exist. Getting to the corner, Harry peeked around the corner, his glasses pressing to the brick as he watched Gilderoy walking down the hall. Seeing him turn another corner, Harry rushed forward and repeated the same process. Harry knew he was okay at stealth, given his time trying to avoid detection and attention at the Dursleys and at school, but he wasn't that confident in it, which is why he only advanced once Gilderoy had turned a corner.
After a while of doing this, Harry inevitably followed Gilderoy to the moving staircase and watched from a corner as Gilderoy advanced up the stairs, having to wait several times as the thing had a mind of its own before finally leaving his sight. Harry did not dare to try to use the staircase while Professor Lockhart was using it, knowing he might just end up running into the man face to face with how strange the staircase can be at times. Of course, this risked Harry losing track of his mark, but Harry was willing to try again another day. Plus, he saw where the teacher got off, so he knew where to go.
Rushing up the stairs as quick as he could, he tried to follow the same path before it moved, managing to get all the way up several staircases before finally his luck ran out and the stairs began to shift and he ran along the final one. Even though he said he was willing to try again another day, he would much rather get it done today because another day with a potential threat after him is bad. Still running up the stairs and not caring about it moving, Harry reaches the end and jumps forward, leaping over the abyss that leads all the way down to the Slytherin dungeons. Harry did not think this through and jumped into it without thought, but he still goes forth without hesitation.
His stomach slams into the side of the stairs, and he quickly clutches the stone railing with all his might, taking a second to breathe. But then he quickly scrambles to climb up, noticing another set of stairs getting close to connecting to the ones he is clutching on. Back on his feet, Harry doesn't spare any more time thinking about his reckless actions and quickly runs to the same exit Professor Lockhart took. He skids to a stop before fully entering and peers around the corner to catch the flutter of Lockhart's robes as he moves down another hallway. Again, Harry pursues.
However, what Harry finds waiting for him around the corner is not at all what he expects, especially as he didn't expect to find such an illicit and immoral relationship occurring between student and teacher. "Come on, Professor Lockhart. Let's go to your room really quick and have some fun, I woke up really horny today." Gemma Farley, an older Slytherin student, spoke as she draped her arms around the Professor's neck and kissed up the side of his neck, getting closer to his lips. Harry couldn't remember whether she was a sixth or seventh year, but that didn't matter.
What did matter was the fact that Gemma Farley was the only other person in Hogwarts that Harry found to have the same sickening feeling suffusing them. Except, unlike Lockhart, hers was much lesser in density though no less in consistency. Harry had wondered why this was so, but ultimately, it was on her less than it was Gilderoy Lockhart, so the Professor was suspect number one. Now though, if what he was seeing was anything conclusive, then the reason that Gemma Farley had the stench on her was because she was spending many nights in... close quarters with the blonde Professor.
"Gemma, we spent just last night together. Just like we have been spending nearly every night together. You are wringing me out, girl. And I already told you we aren't going to be doing anything in my room or office. Those spaces are strictly reserved for actual student-teacher relations, and the other is for my own privacy, where a lot of restricted and dangerous materials reside. I can't in good conscience let you enter there." But you can in good conscience get together with a student, Harry thinks to himself sardonically. Still, this proved what Harry was thinking, and this was why Gemma Farley had the smell on her, it was because Lockhart was spending nearly every night with the student.
Harry pondered on whether on not he should be reporting this situation to someone, like Professor McGonagall, but seeing that Gemma is the one that is doing the pushing, he thinks that maybe he shouldn't. Firstly, having Gilderoy face punishment at the hands of the faculty might not even result in anything. Merlin knows Snape had been reported enough times, and the man had never seen any justice, so it stands to reason the Lockhart probably wouldn't either; plus, Gemma was old enough, so there wasn't anything sordid in that regard. And if he were to report it, not only would he have some older Slytherins out for his blood, but if Gilderoy was indeed not punished, then he would be after Harry.
Another reason is that if Gilderoy truly was as dangerous as Harry was making him out to be in his head, then Harry wouldn't feel right to just get the man fired and free in the world. If Gilderoy was truly up to something, then being fired wouldn't really stop him from his goal; in fact, not having to teach any classes freed up more of his time, and Harry knew from the Weasley twins how easy it was to sneak in and out of Hogwarts. A man as famed and skilled as Gilderoy Lockhart would surely have no trouble doing the same as two fourth-year students.
Not only that, but Harry was sure that Gilderoy Lockhart had everybody wrapped around his little finger and falling for his act more than Quirell's stuttering act ever did. Even Harry believed Gilderoy Lockhart to be a well-meaning man who could be quite goofy and self-obsessed but not bad or evil. Even now, he somehow still believed that, though seeing the forbidden happenings in front of him had that little bit of faith withering. Lockhart was never bad to him or gave him special treatment aside from some advice here and there, which everybody else did, which also set him apart from the rest. Whether that pointed to being good or bad, Harry did not know but he was presuming the latter.
"Student-teacher relations, huh? Is that not what this is exactly, but not in so many words. Plus, we have spent many a night in your classroom having fun. Is that also not an area restricted to student-teacher relations? You definitely didn't have a tough time adhering to such strict regulations last night." Gemma laughs before licking up the side of Lockhart's cheek and nibbling on his ears, and Harry can hear himself gulp. The man himself is trying to hold her back, but he is definitely not trying too hard.
"Well, my rules are much less lax in the classroom, as you very well know." Lockhart laughs as he gives up his resistance, and they finally kiss. Harry watches as the both of them retreat to a nearby room, which locks behind them. Harry now knew the reason Lockhart had been so tired was because he was spending his nights with Gemma Farley, which must mean whatever he was up to, he must do during the day time. Harry waits outside until he has to inevitably leave for his class, but Harry was sure he would be back to trailing Gilderoy soon. Harry waddled away while having to readjust his pants some.
Later that day, in the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, Harry could not focus. He kept looking around the room and wondering exactly what had happened between the student and Professor in this room, when, where, how often, and other such details. Harry didn't know what was wrong with him, but he had to readjust his pants once more and pinch himself before trying to focus on the lesson.
One thing was for sure in Harry's mind: Lockhart was suspicious. Without his cloak, Harry would need to work on other means of stealth. Perhaps he could nag Hermione and get her to help him learn the camouflage spell she had mentioned once before.