Harry Potter: From Baldur's Gate to Hogwarts

Recently, something had happened in Defense Against the Dark Arts class that left Lockhart both delighted and troubled.

Normally, his audience was predominantly female, but for some reason, the boys in class had also started taking an interest in his lectures and the content he taught. Take Monday's lesson for the second years, for example, where he demonstrated how to play the role of a vampire.

While most of the girls were captivated by his thrilling tales, a few boys unexpectedly raised their hands to ask how exactly he had managed to use magic to identify a vampire hidden among ordinary people—all because he had offhandedly mentioned, "I used a brilliantly crafted original spell to pick that monster out from the crowd."

What a joke. If he had actually created such a spell, he would have patented it long ago, instead of standing here wasting his energy trying to fool these annoying little brats.

With no way out, and under the expectant gazes of both the boys and girls, he had no choice but to make up a powerful-sounding incantation on the spot to get through the moment.

However, Lockhart's quick thinking did not make his troubles disappear.

Just over ten minutes after he had come up with that spell, when his story was reaching its climax, a red-haired boy raised his hand.

"Professor Lockhart, when you eliminated the third vampire hiding among the crowd just now, shouldn't you have used your most prized spell—the one that distinguishes humans from vampires?"

"You there, stop trying to corner your teacher," Lockhart glared at Ron and said. "What matters is the lesson behind the story, not the minor details—"

"Professor, just five minutes ago, you said there's an old saying in the East: 'Details determine success or failure,'" Harry raised his hand and pointed out.

With no way to refuse, Lockhart had to repeat the incantation he had just made up. Unsurprisingly, he got it wrong.

As Harry and his friends continued to find new ways to expose Lockhart's incompetence day after day, an undercurrent of discontent was steadily growing within the castle—one that was entirely because of him.

At first, it was just a few students working together out of convenience—fifth years who, worried about failing their O.W.L.s due to Lockhart's irresponsible teaching, started joining forces with seventh years who were just as anxious about their N.E.W.T.s. Then, academically driven students from the other years gradually formed their own alliances. Soon, under the influence of the "Third Law of Dormitory Dynamics"—which states that if your roommate plays while you sleep, you'll be fine, but if your roommate studies, you'll lie awake in terror—these small study groups merged into something bigger. Eventually, after a series of tactical negotiations and alliances, a not-a-club club was born within Hogwarts.

On the night of February 15th, the representatives of all seven years gathered in an empty classroom to discuss the worsening state of Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. After dismissing the biased opinions of a particularly outspoken second-year representative, the rest unanimously agreed to form a school-wide study group for the subject. In the spirit of democracy, they decided that the name of the group would be determined by a vote among all its members.

And that was how everyone became part of the Society Opposing the Lockhart for a Superior Tomorrow—or, for short, the S.O.S. Brigade.

Once the name was settled, the group's mission statement quickly followed:

--

When the young wizards of Hogwarts put their minds to something, they can accomplish anything.

We are capable wizards.

If we fail, it's not our fault.

If we struggle, it's the world's fault.

When knowledge won't stick in your brain, let your body memorize it instead.

Giving up on thinking isn't losing—there's a saying: "Answering correctly is victory."

If you hesitate too long, no matter what you choose, you'll regret it.

Since you'll regret it anyway, pick the option that makes exams easier.

Don't fear tests. Even Dumbledore doesn't know if your future self will score an "O" or an "F." So, while the future remains uncertain, study hard.

And finally—Lockhart is a fraud, through and through!

--

The S.O.S. Brigade's first official act? Expelling Lockhart from their daily schedules so he would stop wasting their valuable study time!

Or, as one particularly stressed-out fifth year put it in his desperate plea for help:

"If we don't do something, I'm going to fail my O.W.L.s and have a complete breakdown!"

When the entire fifth year, the entire seventh year, half the second years, and portions of the first, third, fourth, and sixth years were all united in opposition against a single professor, his career at Hogwarts was as good as over—unless he could find a way to prove himself.

Fortunately, Lockhart had the guts to try and do just that. In a bid to restore his crumbling reputation among the students, he requested permission from Dumbledore to establish a Dueling Club.

Unfortunately, he did not have the skills to back it up.

--

On Tuesday night, after dinner, Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned to the Gryffindor common room to find a small crowd gathered around the notice board. Pinned to it was a freshly posted piece of parchment.

Nearby, Seamus and a few others, who had just finished reading it, pushed their way out of the crowd with excited expressions. When they spotted Harry and the others, they eagerly waved them over.

"They're starting a Dueling Club this Wednesday!" Seamus exclaimed. "Tomorrow night's the first meeting! I mean, I'm all for learning some dueling techniques—after all, we're wizards, right? Who knows when we might need them, like, say, during a fight with the Slytherins—"

"I doubt those trolls from Slytherin would ever agree to a fair one-on-one duel," Ron scoffed. That morning, after besting Dean and Neville, he had finally claimed the title of second-in-command in their dormitory. "Or are you hoping that learning to duel will stop me from wiping the floor with you?"

"I—!" Seamus turned red. "I only lost to you last time because I wasn't paying attention! Don't get cocky! Tomorrow morning, I'll beat you for sure! The number two spot belongs to me!"

"Harry, what do you think? Are we going?" Hermione asked after reading the notice.

Harry nodded. "Of course. Any professor who's confident enough to request permission from Dumbledore to start a Dueling Club can't be that weak."

And so, at eight o'clock the next evening, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the students eagerly flooded into the transformed Great Hall.

The four long tables representing the Hogwarts houses had disappeared, replaced by a grand stage set against the wall. Under the glow of hundreds of floating candles, the Great Hall was brightly illuminated—except for the ceiling, which remained as dark as the night sky outside.

Aside from the fifth and seventh years, nearly every student in the school had gathered. It seemed that everyone was quite curious about the professor hosting the Dueling Club.

"I wonder who'll be teaching us," Ron muttered, clutching his wand tightly as he glanced around excitedly.

Hermione, too, was flushed with anticipation.

"I heard from an upper-year student that Professor Flitwick was once a dueling champion in his youth! Maybe he'll be the one teaching us?" The young witch's eyes sparkled with excitement.

Harry, on the other hand, had a bad feeling about this.

Ever since he spotted the grand stage in the Great Hall, he had been wearing a rather gloomy expression. His unease only deepened when he saw a figure in flamboyant magenta robes stepping through the entrance. With a groan, he smacked a hand against his face.

"…Of course, it had to be him."

Gilderoy Lockhart, dressed to impress, beamed as he strode confidently onto the stage. Behind him followed Professor Flitwick, who nodded politely at the students, and Professor Snape, who stood expressionless.

Lockhart made an exaggerated wave with his right hand, signaling for everyone to quiet down. Then, he called out in a booming voice, "Gather around, gather around! Can everyone see me? Can everyone hear me? Wonderful! Now then—

I, Gilderoy Lockhart, have recently noticed during my lessons that our dear students seem to lack a certain… practical experience in the noble art of spellcasting!"

A collective eye-roll swept through the male students.

"So, after a little suggestion from yours truly, Professor Dumbledore has graciously permitted me to establish this small yet essential Dueling Club! The purpose? To ensure that when the day comes—should you ever need to defend yourselves with magic—you'll be able to do so brilliantly! Just as I have, countless times, during my many thrilling adventures! Details of which, of course, can be found in my best-selling series—"

Professor Flitwick coughed lightly.

Lockhart quickly skipped over the book promotion he had rehearsed ten times.

"Well then! I shall now hand things over to my esteemed assistants—Professor Flitwick, Professor Snape! The stage is yours~" With that, Lockhart gracefully stepped aside.

Compared to Lockhart's long-winded speech, Flitwick and Snape's instructions were much more concise. To sum it up in Harry's words: Observe your opponent's weaknesses while moving, seize an opening, and take them down with the fastest and most decisive strike.

For the demonstration, Flitwick and Snape engaged in a carefully slowed-down yet still dazzling duel on stage.

They raised their wands like arrows poised at their chests. The moment Lockhart counted to three, Snape made the first move.

With a sharp flick of his wand, Snape cast, "Expelliarmus!"

A jet of red light shot from his wand straight at Flitwick, but the small professor nimbly dodged aside, evading the attack with ease.

"Quick reflexes, Professor Snape. But allow me to demonstrate as well," Flitwick said, his wand twirling with expert precision.

With a flick, a wooden plank on the stage suddenly transformed into a massive rabbit, which leaped in front of Snape just in time to block his next spell. The rabbit let out a high-pitched squeal before shattering into a pile of wood chips.

"A childish trick, Flitwick," Snape sneered, immediately adjusting his stance. "Stupefy!"

A powerful Stunning Spell shot toward Flitwick, who countered with lightning speed.

"Protego!"

A shimmering shield materialized around Flitwick, deflecting the attack.

Their duel continued for several minutes, each professor skillfully casting and countering spells with precise movements. The battle even escalated into a dramatic clash of raw magical force. The students watched, utterly spellbound.

No one even noticed the moment Lockhart got sent flying off the stage by a stray spell.

At last, Flitwick deflected a bolt of blue light with a flourish of his wand, then sidestepped, chuckling.

"I believe that concludes our demonstration, Professor Snape."

Snape let out a sharp breath and lowered his wand.

The Great Hall erupted into thunderous applause.

"A textbook display of wizard dueling!" Lockhart, his hat now askew, climbed back onto the stage. Pressing it down firmly to ensure it wouldn't fall off again, he clapped his hands and announced,

"As my esteemed colleagues have so magnificently demonstrated, wizard dueling is not simply about waving around little sticks! It requires rigorous training and advanced magical expertise! Luckily, my two assistants here are more than willing to teach you everything you need to know—right, Professors Flitwick and Snape?"

Flitwick and Snape, now engaged in quiet conversation, completely ignored him.

To avoid an awkward silence, Lockhart promptly began pairing students into dueling partners.

As he moved through the crowd, calling out names, Flitwick and Snape also stepped in to help organize the pairs.

Lockhart paired Neville with Justin and Finnegan.

Meanwhile, Snape strode directly toward Harry and Ron, a cold smirk curling his lips.

"I think we ought to break up the 'dream team,' don't you?" he sneered. "Weasley, you'll be paired with Finnigan. And as for you, Potter—"

Harry instinctively stepped closer to Hermione.

Snape's smirk deepened. "Miss Granger… you'll be dueling Miss Bulstrode. As for you, Potter, you're with me."

Harry glanced at Hermione, who gave him a reassuring nod.

"Face your partners!" Lockhart called from the stage. "Bow!"

Chaos erupted across the hall.

With the exception of a few skilled duelists, most students struggled to even hit their targets. Spells were either wildly off-mark or striking unintended victims.

Harry glanced around—Ron and Seamus were evenly matched, Justin was barely dodging Neville's flailing fists, and Hermione's opponent was yelping in distress as she was utterly overwhelmed by her rapid-fire spellwork.

With that, Harry finally relaxed.

Well, of course. They had been training with him for nearly a year. If they still couldn't beat their classmates, all that effort would've been for nothing.

"So, Professor Snape," Harry asked, turning back, "what exactly did you call me up here for?"

"For something beneficial, of course," Snape said, watching Harry with a look of thinly veiled amusement. Then, in a low voice, he added,

"And no using that otherworldly magic of yours, Potter."

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