His plot to break up the "Golden Trio" was progressing nicely. His comments to the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall about Ron's "predilections" had born fruit, of a sort. The Headmaster had promptly, and subtly, violated the boy's mind, later declaring that he 'knew' the boy wasn't into humiliation and pain as Lockhart had insinuated. And Lockhart had promptly turned them in another direction. While it was true that the magical world was more accepting of same sex couples, they still were scandal-worthy in Wizarding England. Especially regarding Wizards expected to provide Heirs to a House. And almost impossible to disprove no matter how much one protested.
Lockhart had questioned the Headmaster at the staff meeting two weeks into the term. "Has Mr. Weasley confessed his . . . peculiarities to his friends, yet, Headmaster?" At the Headmaster's sharp look, Gilderoy had continued, "You remember, I told you in the first week that he seemed to . . . enjoy . . . things most Wizards find . . . unpalatable." With the exception of Madam Pomfrey, the others had looked puzzled. Madam Pomfrey was giving him a narrow-eyed look as she remembered his comment for Ron's slugfest incident. He had caught Professor Snape especially flat-footed. "Not that I have an objection to such pursuits, mind you. For those that like that sort of thing, well, I suppose it's just the sort of thing they like!" he concluded happily, beaming.
Eyes twinkling, the Headmaster had said, "Nothing to worry about, Professor Lockhart, you simply misunderstood what you saw and heard."
"But he seems to get himself into such humiliating situations, don't you know? I can't tell you how many times I've heard him and Mr. Malfoy having words. And Mr. Malfoy always seems to get the better of him. It's as if Mr. Weasley enjoys it when Mr. Malfoy publicly humiliates him." Gilderoy tried to project an aura of confusion. "If he didn't want such situations why would he set them up? After all, he could simply ignore any comments made by Mr. Malfoy as beneath him as a Pure-blood. Instead, he responds in a way guaranteed to escalate things, as if he enjoyed the encounter regardless of his apparent anger."
Professor Snape was listening with eyebrows raised, and the hint of a smirk. He clearly understood what Gilderoy was implying and was amused that Lockhart was apparently so simple as to believe such things.
"No, no, Professor Lockhart. The boy merely has a temper, and Mr. Malfoy enjoys provoking him. It's all in good fun, the Houses' rivalry in verbal action," the Headmaster assured him.
"Oh." Gilderoy said as if he finally understood he had made a mistake as to the boy's intentions. Then he exclaimed, as if he had just thought of it, "Is this a case of opposites attract? Mr. Malfoy is a fine looking lad, after all. Unlike most lads his age he takes his appearance seriously and except for his conflicts with Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, and Miss Granger he has impeccable manners. And both are Pure-bloods." He paused contemplatively, "Usually you see such opposite pairing between Wizards and Witches in the upper years. But with this age group, the Wizards usually resort to insults and verbal attacks as a way to show their interest in Witches, except we're talking about two Wizards in this case. The youngsters haven't yet learned that you gather more ants with sugar than vinegar."
Professor Snape coughed. Professor Flitwick fell out of his chair. The others all indicated some sort of shock at that insinuation.
The Headmaster paused and cleared his throat. He had not considered that, it appeared. "No, definitely not that, Professor Lockhart. I assure you, none of your concerns has any basis in fact. May we continue?"
The rest of the conference passed quickly, and Harry/Gilderoy did his best to seem as a flighty airhead. His last comment as they were leaving the conference room was to Professor Snape, while Professor McGonagall hovered in the background, "Well, still, the saying, 'where there's smoke, there's fire,' still seems appropriate for Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy. They fight like some of the old married couples I've seen. And it does appear as if Mr. Malfoy seeks out Mr. Weasley just for the pleasure of his company, even if it is under the guise of an argument." The Transfiguration Professor seemed a bit concerned about her trio of lions, after that. Professor Snape seemed more than a little taken aback at the thought.
(⊙_⊙)
"Now I want everyone to divide your books into two piles to represent two sessions of the class," Lockhart said. The two-week review had turned into a three-week remedial course. Heavy on practical work in the class, and just as heavy on theory in the homework. He had even given the Second Year classes detention the second and third Saturdays of the month for four hours and worked them hard on the practical side of casting spells. And then given them all, except Ron, five points each for their improvement each day. Ron's broken wand was really holding him back.
Finally, though, the Second Year students were where they should have been on September 1st. Today was the start of the Second Year coursework.
He paused and surveyed the class, hands on hips, teeth flashing in the sunlight coming in the windows, his hair perfectly coiffed, and his periwinkle robes just as perfectly tailored.
"In the first part, we will go with the regular curriculum as prescribed by the ministry studying the Dark Creatures one is likely to meet, and in the second part we discuss various spells, curses, jinxes, and what not — practical Defence Against Dark Arts." They were going to learn the counters to all the Dark spells he had encountered in fighting Death Eaters. "Learning this is easy! Once you recognize the patterns, everything will fall into place. Certain things you need to memorize, others require hours of practice. But when you are done, you'll look back and say, 'Wow, that was hard work, but it was easy!'
"My books, which you all bought, were designed to act as a guide as I expected brighter prospects from you all, but, alas, now they are not as useful as I had anticipated. So I am giving all of you a copy of The Ins and Outs of Defence Against Dark Arts, an excellent book in that subject by Mr. Shaun MacPhie, who is brilliant in this field. Even I have learned a thing or two from him. As you see, it is on your desks and it is available to you with your promise that you will pass it on to next year's students, after the end of this year, in a good, usable condition. Just leave your copy in the library on the last day of school. Am I clear?"
Shaun MacPhie was one of the brilliant heroes Lockhart had oblivated and claimed his victory as own. The two souls agreed only on giving the valiant hero a bit of recognition though one fought for revealing the entire truth and the other tried to suppress that as much as possible.
All his students complained about the workload, especially the Fifth and Seventh Year students, but they were beginning to see that his method of teaching was superior to their previous teachers. They were actually learning the spells and to cast them quickly. More and more Wizards were beginning to agree with the Witches that Lockhart was a great Professor. And several Witches had even not so subtly propositioned him!
Gilderoy was all for it, with a quick obliviate to prevent any scandalous stories from emerging later, but Harry put his foot down. The Witches were turned away, frustrated. Gilderoy was outraged, repeatedly telling Harry that the age of consent under Wizarding Common Law was eleven (established when the International Statute of Secrecy in 1692 separated the Wizarding World from the Muggle World — English Common Law became Wizarding Common Law. And Wizards could care less what laws, and the reasons for them, that the English Muggles had passed since then, he had explained).
Harry's response was that it was not an age issue, but one of power. In a professor/student relationship, someone could argue that the student felt she had no choice, it would affect her grade to say no, or that she had expected to earn a better grade by doing it. Thus, all such relationships were tainted from the beginning. It was best to avoid them entirely.
Slyly, Gilderoy pointed out that meant that any Sixth or Seventh Year Witches not in his D.A.D.A. class were fair game. Harry stalled him. Girls still made him nervous. The only girl he felt comfortable around was Hermione. And because she was now a thirteen-year-old, to pursue that any farther was wildly inappropriate, he felt. She belonged to Harry-now, not Harry-future.
Forcing the students to sit in Wizard-Witch pairs and swapping them every class kept Harry and Ron separated while sharing the misery that was Ron with everyone. Oddly enough, no one appeared to notice that Gilderoy teamed Harry with Hermione far more frequently than chance would suggest. The Witches tended to argue over who sat with Neville.
That simpleton, Ron, still hadn't twigged to the fact that all he had to do was ask and Harry gladly would hand him the money for a new wand. His false pride prevented that easy solution and so Ron suffered on with his self-imposed handicap. And got angrier and angrier with his inconsiderate friend for not helping him.
Gilderoy, during Harry's detentions, had subtly suggested that giving Ron the galleons or gifting the wand would be an insult to the boy's pride. It would be better if Harry just pretended not to notice the redhead's difficulties. Compounding the situation, Gilderoy, during the lone detention Ron spent with him instead of Mr. Filch or Professor Snape; had subtly suggested Harry was being a tightwad and didn't want to share his galleons as a proper best-friend would have. He had subtly suggested that maybe Harry really didn't consider Ron to be that close a friend, regardless of what he said, or he would pay far more attention to Ron and far less to that know-it-all bookworm Hermione.
During his detentions, Gilderoy also repeatedly declared to Harry how important it was to have high grades and how Hermione could help Harry achieve his maximum potential. He pointed out how skiving off on study and homework, as Ron did, directly led to poorer grades and performance. Noting that the Dursleys considered him a lazy stupid freak and expected him to fail brought a gleam of determination to Harry's eyes — and drove him to spending more time studying and away from Ron.
And he had broken Hermione of the habit of being the first to raise her hand to answer any question — she had to compose her answers as a limerick. She had taken to whispering the answers to her friends when she couldn't come up with a good one fast enough. He noticed she was sticking parchments into her book with prewritten limericks just in case he asked questions on those topics. Because they were invariably on the most important points on each topic, Harry asked questions on things that depended on knowing those important points, but not mentioning them directly. It was quite amusing to watch her frustration at creating all those limericks and then not being able to use them.
(◎_⊙)
By now, most of the staff were watching Ron and Draco with a bit of worry, and Professor Snape seemed to be keeping an unusually close eye on his snake. Snape. Using his mind rapes, he knew the boys hated each other, but it was the appearance of a relationship that he wanted to avoid. That meant fewer incidents between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors, as he tended to call Draco over whenever he noticed Ron was about. That, in turn, resulted in a quieter Castle for all concerned. The Headmaster seemed a bit flummoxed, as if he had no idea how to handle the situation.
Harry/Gilderoy knew neither boy was a poof, but it was just so much fun to take the micky out of the staff by saying things like, "I think Mr. Weasley is jealous of how much time Mr. Goyle and Mr. Crabbe spend with Mr. Malfoy. Have you seen the way he glares at them, even when they aren't anywhere near Mr. Malfoy?" and "Have you noticed that whenever Mr. Malfoy has words with Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley always jealously butts in, as if he can't stand the thought that Mr. Malfoy might be paying more attention to Mr. Potter than to himself?" Making a few of those comments where older students could hear started a very convenient rumour mill.
Gilderoy continued to press Neville into the developing "Golden Trio" group, making Ron feel the outsider as he struggled with lessons that the others breezed through. Neville's new wand made a huge difference in his self-confidence, and that confidence showed up in his homework and study habits. The three, Harry, Hermione, and Neville were consistently at the top of their classes. Ron was a distant follower, barely passing the tests and homework. And his abysmal wand prevented his spellcasting from coming close to matching his friends' efforts. His anger at Harry bled over to Hermione, so he was reluctant to ask for help. And if he did ask, he blew up when she refused simply to let him copy her work. His grades suffered as a result, reinforcing the gap between him and his friends.
Harry had taken Gilderoy/Harry's advice about Colin, and they got together twice a month for an hour or so. Colin would have Harry pose at various locations doing magical things. Then, in an empty classroom, they would review the pictures and pick the best ones for distribution, and decide which ones needed reshooting. Colin happily spread the word that the photos were available and where the money went — his mostly to camera related expenses and Harry's to the Quidditch Broom Fund. Several times Harry agreed to specific picture requests, charging extra for the students that wanted to pose with him.
Just to annoy Harry, Gilderoy had happily spread the news to all the Firsties that there was a Harry Potter Fan club. The club dues included two discounted autographed pictures of Harry — Gilderoy had made that suggestion to Colin. Colin made no profit on those two, but sold far more of the new photos each month as Harry okayed them to club members than he would have otherwise. He just brought a batch of newly approved copies to each meeting, and viola, he sold them all, increasing his income in one big jump. Gilderoy's quite gift of a feather-light bottomless bag made it easy for the small boy to carry his entire inventory and satisfy any customer on the spot.
Malfoy had had at first taunted Harry about his "glory-seeking." Harry, after some coaching by Gilderoy, had shut him down by merely observing that the other boy was just jealous of his success. And pointing out that someday Draco might be able to garner some fame and respect himself and no longer need to use his slogan, "When my father hears about this . . . ."
When he first heard what Colin and Harry were doing, Ron had exploded in a jealous rage. Even after being told the profits were going to get new brooms for the teams, he still kept his temper at a low boil over the unfairness of his best friend buying expensive brooms for the teams while ignoring his 'best-friend's' malfunctioning wand. The Fan Club kept up the pressure as he was constantly seeing evidence of his best-friend's fame wherever he looked.
That resentment flared up even higher when The Daily Prophet announced Harry's lawsuit versus the publishers, especially as the desire to taunt Harry brought the Malfoy heir to the quartet even more often than before.
.
Boy-Who-Lived is Boy-Who-Sues!
By Rita Skeeter
Today, Fleecem, Cheatem, and Beatem announced that Harry Potter, the famous Boy-Who-Lived, was filing suit against four publishers. Winickus Press, Flourish & Blotts Publishers, L. C. A. Comics, and Little Red Books. All were served legal parchments for portraying as truth stories about Harry Potter that they knew were lies, for defamation of character of an Ancient and Noble House, invasion of privacy of an Ancient and Noble House, theft of royalties from an Ancient and Noble House, and falsely claiming trademark on an Ancient and Noble House.
Gilderoy Lockhart, author of such works as Magical Me (Biography) and Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award explained, "Mr. Potter came to me recently complaining about these books that had been written about him without his knowledge or permission. He asked my help in the matter."
And by "these books" the famous author indicated a pile of books on the table at the legal offices of Fleecem, Cheatem, and Beatem. Books with titles such as "Harry Potter and the Golden Needle," "Harry Potter and the Price of Being Noble," "Harry Potter and the Muggleborn Uprising," all books our children read and enjoyed. All of which purported to tell the true story of Harry Potter's life after October 31st, 1981.
Naturally, this well-known author was happy to lend his extensive experience in the publishing world to a young Wizard in need of proper guidance. Now a Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Professor Lockhart added, "The young Wizard's guardian's lack of respect in handling the boy's name and public image respect is deplorable." And, lest anyone think this was only about making money, he explained, "Any and all monies earned in the lawsuits will go to The Lily Potter Foundation. The foundation will use that money to assist disadvantaged Wizards and Witches afford the expensive items required when attending Hogwarts — wands, books, potion kits, and so forth." He went on to say, "Mr. Potter is only concerned with regaining control of his public image."
Professor Lockhart said that the monetary damages that he expects the legal firm to collect for the Boy-Who-Lived to be in the thousands of galleons, "After all," he said, "We are talking about over ten years of books being published without a single knut being paid in royalties to Mr. Potter."
Requests for statements from the affected companies were not returned by the time this paper went to press.
What astonishes this reporter is the brazen theft of money from an orphan . . . .
.
It went on in that vein for several more paragraphs, bemoaning the poor state of publishing that they could so abuse the legacy of Harry Potter, to whom the Wizarding World owed so much.
Ron saw all that attention and the money going to his best friend and helping other Wizards and Witches, but not him! It was all too much and the poor boy stormed out of the Great Hall, and assiduously avoided the black-haired Wizard and his friends for most of the next few weeks.
This, naturally, threw Harry, Hermione, and Neville together, and highlighted Ron's envy and ever-present anger when he did re-join them.
(⊙_◎)
"Good Afternoon, boys," Gilderoy said as he leaned against the wall opposite the One-eyed Witch, buffing the nails on his right hand. He was impeccably dressed, of course, in lavender robes. He grinned at them, showing off his perfect smile.
The Weasley twins were staring at him, aghast, both carrying a crate of butterbeer for a planned celebration. They had checked before exiting the secret tunnel that there was no one in the area. How had they missed the Professor? Had the map been in error?
"Good Afternoon . . ."
". . . Professor Lockhart."
"Is there something . . . ,
". . . we can do for you?"
He could see them sweating slightly. Caught, red-handed, they could be expelled for this! They desperately tried to pretend nothing was wrong, that the contraband in their hands wasn't really there.
He put his nail buffer in his pocket. "It's not what you can do for me, but what I can do for you. And your first lesson you have already learned — the map is not infallible."
Their mouths dropped open. How had he learned of their map?
"The Marauders only put on the map what they knew, and there are things in Hogwarts that they never discovered. I used one of them to catch you." The Come-and-Go Room had created a temporary passage from itself to this location. He had simply waited until his alert charm told him the boys were coming out from their passage to come out of his. Except his passage disappeared as soon as he exited it. A mild Notice-Me-Not that he defeated when he spoke finished the prank. "If you ever see something on it you can't explain or understand, let me know.
"Now, then, the two of you are wasting your talents in pranks. You should be developing items that you can sell as pranks — such as invisible glasses that let you see through clothes. I'm sure every boy in Hogwarts would purchase a pair. And then an amulet that makes the glasses useless, that every girl in Hogwarts would buy, as well. In fact, once word of even one pair of glasses gets out, every girl will purchase the amulet! Imagine that, a product with a built-in purchaser base of five hundred students."
The twins stared at him, wide-eyed.
"Actually, you could probably sell the glasses outside Hogwarts," he said thoughtfully. "Perhaps even approach Madam Malkin about licensing to her the preventative charm to include with her robes. That would bring in a steady supply of galleons for expenses."
"Blimey!"
"That's . . . that's brilliant!"
"If you work hard enough on your pranks items, you might even be able to open a shop in competition to Zonko's." He paused to let that sink in. "I might even know someone who would be interested in investing in such an endeavour."
Their expressions ran the gamut from surprised to calculating in only a few moments.
"Let me know what you think." He turned to walk away, but stopped and turned back to them. "I expect to see your grades reflect your true intelligence. After all, you never know when an Owl or NEWT in a subject might grant you access to a supplier or expert who would otherwise ignore you." He walked off whistling cheerfully.
(◎_◎)
"Ah, Miss Lovegood!" the D.A.D.A. Professor said as he came up behind her in the corridor. "How are you this fine evening?" He smiled his trademark smile, posing to show off his best side, his teeth gleaming and his plum-coloured robes perfectly arranged. "It's past curfew, shouldn't you be in your dorm?"
The little Witch turned around and looked up at him with large eyes and a dreamy I'm-not-here expression. "Oh, hello professor." She frowned slightly. "You seem remarkably free of wrackspurts." Her gaze sharpened for a moment, "Isn't it a tight fit for the two of you?"
Yes, this was definitely the Luna Lovegood he remembered. He laughed happily. "Not at all, my dear. Plenty of room. But sometimes we disagree terribly. I hope in a short while to become simply one again." The girl's insights into people frightened him, sometimes. She was so accurate, but seemed unconcerned with the consequences about blurting out things that might be better kept quiet. "Please don't tell anyone, it's a bit of a secret, you know," he added in a conspiratorial whisper.
She nodded and the far-away look returned.
"And your dorm?" he prompted.
"Oh, the Raven has forgotten its riddle. I blame the nargles."
Harry/Gilderoy smiled cheerily at the girl while seething inside. "Nargles indeed," he said under his breath. "Well, let's check it just one more time, shall we?" He surreptitiously cast a warming charm on the girl. A few minutes later, they were standing in front of Ravenclaw's door. The raven ornament eyed them uncertainly.
"Tell me, my good friend," Lockhart said, "What's the riddle today?"
Silence.
He cast a detection charm at the raven.
"I see." He sighed sadly, then perked up and smiled at the girl. "We'll get this sorted right quick, just you watch," he declared, teeth gleaming in the dimly lit corridor. "Miksy!"
With a POP, a house-elf appeared beside them. "Professor Two Sir has called Miksy?"
"Yes, yes I suppose did," said the professor jovially. "Would you mind fetching Professor Flitwick? Please tell him it's a matter of some importance to his House."
"Miksy does that," the elf said, POPing away.
He looked down at the girl, who was staring off down the corridor.
"I think, Miss Lovegood, that it would do you good to sit with Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom, and Miss Granger during meals. Ignore Mr. Weasley, he's an idiot and unworthy of your talents." He leaned closer. "Tell Miss Granger I said there are more things under the Sun than she has ever dreamed — and those things haven't, yet, made it into any books! For example, the Duck-billed Platypus was called impossible and a hoax until one was captured and brought back to England, alive."
The girl looked up at him questioningly.
He smiled back her encouragingly. "Have you seen the thestrals that pull the carriages?"
She nodded.
"Tell Hermione to ask Hagrid to show her the thestral herd. And don't let anyone tell you that you can't sit at the Gryffindor table!" he said sternly. "You are only required to sit at your House table for the official Feasts." He smiled, "You could even invite them to the Ravenclaw table when you feel comfortable with that."
There was a POP and Miksy was back. "Miksy told small professor. He be here soon he say."
"Thank you, Miksy. You may go now. I hope you have a pleasant night." The House-elf stared at him a moment. A huge tear appeared at the corner of her eye. "Youse thanks Miksy?"
He smiled at the House-elf. "Of course I do, you deserve nothing less and considerably more. Now off with you!" and he made a gently shooing motion. The elf POPed away. Luna looked at him speculatively for a time before returning to her usual dreamy state.
Moments later, the diminutive professor came hurrying down the corridor, still shrugging on his robes. "Professor Lockhart, what seems to be the problem?"
"Ah," Harry/Gilderoy turned to the Half-Goblin, "How good of you to come so quickly," He smiled and tilted his head just so to make his hair sway as if touched by a light breeze.
"I was wandering the halls this evening. You see I was pondering how I should write about my experiences here at Hogwarts this year. I realize that the book wouldn't be as exciting as my others would, but for the nostalgia, it might be fun for my fans. I could explore some of the old stories about the Castle, such as what happened to Ravenclaw's Diadem, Hufflepuff's Cup, Slytherin's Locket, and Gryffindor's Sword. Perhaps even find the missing items themselves! Wouldn't that be smashing? And then there's the Chamber of Secrets! Maybe I could call it 'Hunting in Hogwarts'? Hmmm?" He shook his head, tossing his hair artfully.
"So, I was wandering the halls trying to decide where I could get the best background for my cover picture. Have to be careful of where we shoot," he said confidingly. "I don't want the Castle colours to clash with my robes! It mustn't be too dark, or it shan't bring out the colours in my robes and the highlights in my hair. I can't pose in front of any of the House Doors, of course, because some might view that as a slight on the other Houses. The Great Hall is too busy and the colours definitely would pull attention from my robes. The moving staircases might be fun, but the movements might distract people from me. I'm just not sure." He sighed dramatically, projecting the image someone frustrated at their lack of progress.
The Charms professor's eye's narrowed dangerously, "I hope you didn't call me out here just to tell me that," he said flatly, fingering his wand.
"What?" said the D.A.D.A. Professor, feigning surprise, "Oh, of course not. I needed to call your attention to your little lost Ravenclaw here." He stepped aside to reveal Luna, now peering dreamily at her Head of House.
Flummoxed, the little professor just stared.
"Yes, as I said, I was wandering the halls and found her doing so as well." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Well, it is after curfew, so I decided the thing to do would be to escort the young Witch back to her dorm. Imagine my surprise when your raven refused to ask its riddle, even when asked politely! Now, how is Miss Lovegood, a demure and proper young Witch, supposed to return to her dorm when there is no riddle for her to answer? She can see auras quite well, but she can't walk through closed doors."
Professor gave a sharp look at Gilderoy and then looked searchingly at Luna. Then he turned to the raven and started casting a detection spell.
"It looks suspiciously like someone has cast a confundus spell on the bird," Gilderoy added helpfully.
"Now," he said, "I'm not one to tell another how to run their House, but surely pranks such as this, leaving the poor girl wandering the cold stone corridors all night, are in bad taste." He paused. "Especially when the dear girl has," here his tone dropped flat, "no shoes."
Flitwick took a startled look at the girl's bare feet.
"Yes," Gilderoy continued, "hiding one's shoes is a Firstie prank, but casting a confundus is clearly well above this girl's class's skill level."
His voice was no longer light and airy, "Now it begins to look like upper-year students bullying a lower-year," he said low and sternly. He stared down at the Ravenclaw Head of House. "And aren't Prefects supposed to check that all pre-OWL students are in the dorm and in bed at Lights Out? Especially the Firsties? Someone has obviously failed in their duty." And Flitwick could tell that Gilderoy was clearly thinking that it was one short professor who was at fault and not the Prefects.
Professor Flitwick was looking decidedly upset.
"When I first entered Hogwarts I was told the House was my family, that we looked out and helped one another," Gilderoy continued. "Well, I had my share of 'family' disagreements, but I never maliciously stole things, nor locked anyone out of the Dorm in their bare feet. Nor did anyone do that to me, even when I was at my most obnoxious."
He pulled out his wand. "Let's make a test, shall we? Is it a prank or bullying? I sincerely hope it is merely a lone prank carried a bit too far." He took a deep breath and forcefully said. "Accio Luna Lovegood's things taken without her permission and are outside her House!"
The Charms professor took a step back. He had felt that spell!
The three stood in silence and the time passed. After almost a half-a-minute with nothing happening, Lockhart turned to the other two, smiling, and said, "Well. I must admit I am relieved . . . ."
At that moment, a book sedately came flying down the corridor. His face fell, "Ah, maybe not, then."
After a minute, there was a small pile of homework parchments, books, a blouse, and three pairs of shoes — each shoe of a pair came from a different direction. It was a bit more than a dozen items, total, but it was enough to prove his point. Luna was looking at him with a blank expression. Flitwick was furious.
"Well," Gilderoy said quietly, "I will see you at breakfast then." He turned and started back towards his quarters, muttering, "Stalking With Students? Persuading With Professors? Helping At Hogwarts? Bashing a Basilisk?"
"Restraining a Rat," called the little witch, suddenly.
Gilderoy spun, stunned, and stared at the little Ravenclaw. Flitwick was staring, puzzled at both of them.
The flamboyant Wizard abruptly grinned happily, "An excellent suggestion, Miss Lovegood. I shall keep it in mind." He turned back and walked off, whistling a light tune. He would do everything he could to make sure that Luna had the opportunities she so deserved this time around.
The next morning, students were surprised to see that Ravenclaw House had lost two hundred points, and that the Ravenclaw table seemed especially quiet. Almost no one noticed that Luna Lovegood sat between Hermione and Harry. Hermione looked puzzled and was mouthing the words nargle and platypus. Harry and Neville looked completely befuddled. Ron was upset that someone not a Gryffindor dared sit with his best-friend, Harry. Even if he was mad at Harry at the moment for being a spoiled rich prat.
(◎_⊙)
Gilderoy paced back and forth on the seventh floor, opposite a tapestry of some daft Wizard trying to teach trolls ballet — one of the few tapestries that didn't move. He had had a wild thought the night before and was trying it today. He knew that Come-and-Go Room held Ravenclaw's Diadem and the only thing holding him back was that he needed Basilisk poison to destroy the Horcrux. And his current finances were insufficient to acquire what he needed.
But last night, as he was mushing on that, he had thought, 'why not ask the Come-and-Go Room if there was a safer way, a better way to get rid of the Horcruxes?'
Hence, today, he was pacing in front of that room's hidden entrance, thinking, I need a way to destroy a horcrux without destroying the object containing it. One his third pass a door appeared — a stone door with a metal handle.
With more than a little trepidation, he grabbed the handle and pulled. Nothing happened. He frowned thinking, and then grinned. He pushed the door, and it slowly and smoothly opened. The foot-thick door was bevelled so that the short corridor inside was bigger than the door by several inches, and a step down, much like a bank vault door mounted backwards. The door's slow movement was because of its great weight and not that the hinges needed oiling. Four yards away was another door. The second foot-thick door was just as massive, also opened away, and similarly bevelled to be bigger inside the chamber into which it opened.
The chamber was a large stone room of perhaps four yards on a side. Engraved into the floor was a runic circle. He bent and examined it. The circle was actually a set of tiny runes repeated around the entire circle, twenty rows total. Other runes covered the rest of the floor, and the door, walls, and ceiling, such that a half-a-dozen runes occupied every square inch.
A scroll was lying on the floor just outside the circle. He picked it up and read, Wait one hour. Place the horcrux in the circle. Place your wand tip to the circle and say, Exorcizamus immundus spiritus. Immediately exit and close the inner door. Wait five minutes before re-opening the inner door.
"I dub thee, the Horcrux Room!" said Gilderoy gleefully after reading the parchment. He dropped it into his pocket and carefully closed both doors as he exited. The door vanished once he was back out in the corridor.
Now all he had to do was grab the diadem.
He grinned broadly. Gilderoy was beside himself with glee. It was going to be great fun to announce that he had discovered the long lost Diadem of Ravenclaw — in Hogwarts! He could almost picture Professor Flitwick's face as he presented the Ravenclaw's lost Diadem to him, saying it was in the Castle for the last fifty years. His books were going to see a huge jump in sales when that news hit the public. He would have to time it very carefully.
Yes, wait until after Ginny opens The Chamber of Secrets, then he can claim he found the diadem while searching for the chamber. Oh, this was shaping up to be the best book of them all! And the best part, it was ALL HIS DOING!
He wondered what Dumbledore would say when he told him the diadem had been cursed with extremely evil magic that he, Gilderoy, had managed to vanquish using his in-depth knowledge of runes and a protection circle. And then tell the Headmaster that he is very concerned because he can feel the same taint of evil magic emanating from Mr. Potter's scar, as well as another somewhere in the castle.
The days seemed to crawl as Gilderoy waited for the Deathday Party. It was quite an apt name for the day, actually, for Harry. While his friends looked forward to an exciting day of costumes, candy, and parties, the lad mourned the loss of his family.
Neither did Neville look forward to Halloween. The day itself wasn't an issue. Shortly thereafter, though, an attack on his parents had rendered them as good as dead, but without the closure that death brings. Instead, they were in the permanently disabled Spell Damaged ward at St. Mungos. He could see them, but they did not know him or his grandmother. It was a torment of a different sort than Harry knew, but it was a torment.
Halloween finally arrived, and for the first time he could remember, Harry/Gilderoy actually enjoyed himself! The food was good, he wasn't worried about his friends, he knew what was going to happen next. Everything was going according to plan. And having to share his soul with Gilderoy halved the pain centred on his lack of family. And while seeing future Harry's dead friends alive was still a shock, sometimes, Gilderoy remembered his family and his childhood, and how much fun he had had on Halloween. And by allowing Gilderoy a bit more control, Harry discovered that Halloween could be fun. And so was flirting.
And everything did happen, just as it had last time. He had even managed to take the micky out of Snape by insisting that Professor Snape didn't need to waste his valuable time and that he could whip up the Mandrake Restorative Draught instead. Snape had been ready to hex him by the time he relented and allowed as how Professor Snape probably could make the restorative as well as he could. Watching the git, robes billowing dramatically, as he stormed down the corridor later was quite gratifying. The only thing that could have added to his fun would be if he could dock the git House points.
His constant nattering in the background didn't endear him to the Headmaster or Mr. Filch, either. The Wizard Professors still considered him dodgy while the Witches still adored him and hung on his every word. Except Madams Pomfrey and Sprout — they still hadn't forgiven him for trying to tell them how to do their jobs.
(⊙_◎)
"Ten Points from Slytherin for such a derogatory comment, Mr. Malfoy." Lockhart appeared out of nowhere and stepped between the blond braggart and the redheaded idiot, smiling broadly. Ron was pointing his broken wand at the Slytherin. Malfoy, being Malfoy, just couldn't seem to avoid calling Hermione a mud-blood every time they met. This time, though, a Professor who didn't believe in bullying in any form had caught him. Neither did that Professor believe in respecting those who had better connections and more political power than he did. Gilderoy was working to change his circumstances, though.
"You cannot remove points from me like that," said Malfoy, shocked at the sudden appearance of the Professor and point loss.
Lockhart arched an eyebrow artfully, a disbelieving expression on his face, "Twenty for questioning a teacher's authority." He put his left hand on his hip, stylishly sweeping his robes back.
"But I didn't do anything!" Malfoy protested.
"Thirty more for suggesting a professor can't see properly, and a detention." Good god, this was fun! And explained why Snape seemed to enjoy it so much. His normally expansive smile grew slightly larger at seeing Malfoy's face turn red.
Seeing the hated Weasley suppressing his laughter enraged Malfoy. He couldn't afford to lose face in front of his Slytherin classmates — his bookends Crabbe and Goyle were beside him, with Nott, Zabini, and Parkinson behind him watching. He continued to argue, "But Professor, that blood-traitor pulled his wand on me!"
"Forty points, Mr. Malfoy, for using yet another offensive term. And make it a week's detention instead of a day." Harry/Gilderoy shook his head sadly, as if reluctant to penalize a student so much.
"What!?" The child-Wizard was turning an interesting colour of red, somewhat reminiscent of a certain Muggle relative of Harry's.
The Dursleys! How could he have forgotten the Dursleys!
"Sixty points, Mr. Malfoy." If his smile were any broader it would touch his ears, just as the Cheshire cat's did.
The small group of Slytherins and Gryffindors in the corridor were staring, stunned. Ron had transitioned for trying to suppress his laughter to standing with his mouth open in amazement.
"You can't do this! When my father hears about this . . . !" Draco was almost yelling.
"Don't raise your voice to me, Mr. Malfoy! Eighty points, Mr. Malfoy. And two weeks detention. Do you want a month's?" Gilderoy said harshly, now frowning prettily — it had taken him weeks to get that particular expression correct, Witches tended to swoon when they saw it.
The Slytherins stopped further debate by Nott's expedient action of slapping his hand across the boy's mouth from behind. He whispered furiously at Crabbe and Goyle until they grabbed Draco's arms and the three started dragging him away. Pansy trailed in their wake casting confused glances between a struggling Draco and Professor Lockhart.
Blaise Zabini turned to the blond-haired professor, "I'm sorry, sir, I don't know what's wrong with Mr. Malfoy, but we'll get him straight to Madam Pomfrey." He was sweating.
The Professor, now with both hands on his hips, his hair swaying slightly as if in a breeze, and looking like a hero staring off into the sunset, stared as the other five disappeared into an alcove. "Yes, perhaps you should. And ten points each from you other five for failing to stop a fellow Slytherin from losing his mind like that.
"It is really quite unseemly," he continued smiling as if he were discussing his latest book, "that the supposedly cunning Slytherins are accosting other students like common Muggle street thugs." His lazy smile disappeared and suddenly he looked much scarier as he scowled. "Lord Slytherin would be so disappointed at the current crop of Slytherins being unable to build alliances outside their House, and antagonizing potential allies in such a crude fashion.
"If Pure-bloods truly are superior to Muggle-borns, then why is Miss Granger here at the top of her entire Second Year?" He waved his right hand elegantly at the stunned girl. "And by a rather wide margin, as well. And, of course, that doesn't explain why Misters Crabbe, Goyle, and Weasley, all Pure-bloods, are nearly at the bottom of the same Year's ranking. Based on that evidence, it would seem that it is the Pure-bloods that are inferior, wouldn't you say?" The remaining Slytherin was red-faced in embarrassment. "Please remind Mr. Malfoy of those pertinent facts when you next see him, as well as his total point loss. I think he might not have been paying attention." He pointed down the corridor with his chin while staring at the boy, obviously dismissing him.
Theodore nodded his head in respect at the Professor, smartly turned on his heel, and then followed his compatriots.
"Two hundred and ninety points," Hermione half whispered, her voice revealing her awed surprise. Harry, Ron, and Neville glanced at her, astonished, and then turned to their Professor.
The Gryffindor Wizards were staring at Lockhart as if they were about to fall to their knees and worship him — as they well should, Gilderoy's voice echoed in the back of Lockhart's mind. Gilderoy preened slightly at the looks of admiration they all had.
"'Cor," said Ron softly, "I never thought I'd see the day when Draco lost that many points. Fred or George have never managed to lose that many points all at once." He hadn't noticed Lockhart lumping him with the two Slytherins as the worst in their Year, too dumbfounded at seeing Draco so chastened.
The professor smiled at them genially, "Well, now that that's sorted, perhaps you should be on with what you were doing before Mr. Malfoy accosted you?"
He watched the four Gryffindors hurry on to tea, knowing that Draco's point loss would spread like a wild fire at supper tonight. The loss of prestige in his House would sting something fierce.
Gilderoy was quite content that the afternoon's project had worked so well. None had noticed the small hex he had cast on the Slytherin braggart when Gilderoy had first appeared and amplifying the boy's anger. Nor that he had cancelled it when Nott had acted. Madam Pomfrey, nor anyone else, would find no evidence of his meddling. And the infuriated boy would predictably send off an owl missive to his parents after tea tonight. He expected to see Mr. Malfoy senior tomorrow afternoon. If things went to plan, he would be much richer by the weekend.
(⊙_⊙)
That Thursday, the next morning, Harry/Gilderoy decided to teach the Second Year students critical thinking.
"Oh, come now, children. Haven't you figured this out yet? It's been five whole days! I figured out what the monster was that night. It's simple!" He beamed at the class. They were looking more than a bit uncertain.
"Let's look at the facts, shall we? First, it's supposed to be Slytherin's Monster, so we ask ourselves, 'what would Lord Slytherin have as a monster?'"
For the first time in a long time, almost the entire class raised their hands.
"Mr. Zabini."
"A snake," he said with a smirk.
"Correct, Mr. Zabini. It should be from the snake family! Next, what snakes, if any, petrify?"
Nobody raised a hand.
"Okay, rephrase the question. What snakes kill without biting?"
Hermione leaned over and whispered to Neville, who raised his hand. At Gilderoy's nod, he said, "Constrictor's like the Boa or Python."
"Correct, but Mrs. Norris wasn't squeezed to death. Anyone else? No? Okay, what creatures do we know petrify?"
Hermione leaned over to Harry and whispered. He raised his hand. "The cockatrice."
"A good example, I've run across one or two in my travels. But not a snake. Anyone else? No?"
"Excellent! Class homework assignment, Slytherin vs Gryffindor, find me a snake that petrifies!"
The class groaned.
"Open your books to page . . . ."
(◎_⊙)
The Second Year D.A.D.A. was almost over, less than ten minutes left, when a phoenix patronus flew into the room. The moment Gilderoy saw the silvery-blue creature he cast a muffling spell around himself and the phoenix. No one else heard it say, "Excuse me, Professor Lockhart, but Mr. Malfoy would like to speak with you. Please come to my office."
Earlier that morning, before breakfast, Gilderoy had taken a 'morning constitutional,' and walked to the front gates and left an alert charm on the gates. If Mr. Malfoy came through the gates, he would know it. Similarly, he had placed one on the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office.
Unfortunately, they hadn't worked. Just his luck, instead of sending a student or Mr. Malfoy to his class, after allowing the Wizard to enter the school through his floo connection, the Headmaster had sent his bloody patronus instead.
He cast his own patronus, a hyena, and said, "Please tell Mr. Malfoy I would be delighted to meet him in my office as soon as my class is out in ten minutes," and sent it with that message. Then dismissed the muffling spell.
"All right," he said with his brilliant smile, "that should be enough for today. Next class we'll work on falling! Class dismissed!
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, and Miss Granger, one moment please!" He really didn't want to include Ron in what was coming next, but felt it might be an opportunity to take points and add a detention or two, and farther separate him from Harry and Hermione.
"Follow me, please." He took them to his office. "Sit," he said, pointing at a couch against one wall.
"Tell me," he said, sitting behind his desk, "What do you think of the class so far? You four cover the entire range of the class, from top to bottom."
The four students looked at each other, they clearly didn't understand why he would ask them that question.
It took him a minute to get them to understand he really did want to know what they thought of his class compared to their previous Professor, and the other professors in the castle. They spent a few minutes telling him how much better he was than Quirrell. Truthfully, he didn't really care. He was just killing time. So, for the next five minutes they talked about what they thought were the strengths and weaknesses of his class. Ron, naturally, complained about the copious amounts of homework.
When Malfoy appeared, announced by Lockhart's warning chime — and the children clearly saw him walking up to the door in the mirror — Gilderoy acted with precision. With a simple swish and flick of his wand, Lockhart silenced, bound, and disillusioned the children. A second flick and a glamour made the couch appear to be a bookcase. And gave the four a front-row seat for the action.
They were about to get a lesson in manipulation: How to use an opponent's belief in their own superiority and firm belief that they were far smarter to ruin an enemy just as easily as combat.
"Welcome, Mr. Malfoy! What a surprise that you have come to see my humble self," he said as he opened the door and waved the pompous Pure-blood inside with a sweeping gesture.
"I am here on behalf of my son, Professor. It is extremely unreasonable to remove so many house points, two hundred and ninety, for a simple mistake. I, as Head of the Board of Governors for this school, cannot allow this," Lucius Malfoy said in an authoritative voice as he entered.
As the blond-haired suspected-ponce had expected, Draco had duly owled his senior about the insult the Half-blooded professor gave to the Malfoy House. And the subsequent loss of prestige for Draco. That Draco knew his father considered the peacock-dressing Wizard to be rather dim-witted only added farther insult to the matter.
"That was never my intention, Mr Malfoy," Lockhart said in unctuously. "Kindly take a seat here. Please forgive my lack of furnishings to properly honour such an important Pure-blooded and Head of an Ancient and Noble house as yourself," he continued, playing the part of someone desperately trying to placate a powerful superior. "Would you like some tea?" he said, a silver tea set appearing on his desk. "Fresh from India this morning," he added subserviently.
"Thank you," Mr. Malfoy said graciously, sitting and accepting the offered cup.
"Young Draco was lacking quite more than a little finesse in his words and I was forced to do what I did," Gilderoy said, projecting regret at what he had done. "For being a child of such an important House as Malfoy, I was surprised at his failure to employ the cunning and tact that the House of Slytherin is renowned to possess. Not to mention the insult to manners in using such a vile term in front of Miss Parkinson, a young Lady from an important House looking to affiliate itself with yours." Gilderoy had to let the Wizard know his son had transgressed Wizardly etiquette. "One simply doesn't say such things in front of Ladies."
Harry/Gilderoy didn't need legilimency to know what the Pure-blood was thinking. Just watching his expression and listening to his projected emotions gave Lockhart all he needed to know to guide the Wizard down the primrose path to wrack and ruin.
'This fraud wants nothing more than attention and whatever money he can get with it. To have me in this position must puff up his self-importance,' Malfoy thought. "I must accept that my son's behaviour was not up to your expectations, Professor," he said, condescendingly, "but losing so many house points is simply outrageous for such a minor offense."
"I can see that," Lockhart answered consolingly. "He must be very dejected at making such an unlettered fool of himself before his fellow House members." He paused as it thinking. "I suppose I could consider this as an isolated incident of childhood tendencies and reverse the punishment. As you perhaps may have heard, Mr Malfoy, things are quite negotiable with me."
'And there it is,' Lucius thought and smiled inwardly. 'He applies the touch for a bribe almost like a Pure-blood.' "What is your proposition, Mr. Lockhart? I warn you, though, I am quite good at negotiating."
"Your reputation as a negotiator precedes you, Lucius." Gilderoy said. "You don't mind if I call you Lucius, do you Mr. Malfoy?"
The Pure-blood, secure in his knowledge that he was going to soon own the idiot, nodded easily. He planned to put the berk in his place, later, after his usefulness was complete — after his son had achieved high scores and finished the class. Once the dandy was out of Hogwarts, Malfoy intended to show the twit just how dangerous it was to try to use his son in an amateurish attempt to seek favour.
"Oh, thank you." Lockhart paused again, giving the image of one who is thinking deeply. "I say you donate a knut for the first ten points taken, double that to two knuts for the second ten points on to the two hundred points, with the final sum donated to my 'Dark Arts Defence Fund.' I will happily restore the points taken and give only a single detention to your son on proper wizarding conduct. Is that agreeable to you, Lucius?"
"Knuts! I can pay you in Galleons for what you have offered, Gilderoy," Lucius said with a smile.
"Oh, that's all right. In all good conscience, I cannot charge more for such a simple mistake from a child of such a preeminent parent as yourself, Lucius. Besides, I value your friendship much more than galleons," Lockhart said with a smile and charming wink.
"Consider it done." Lucius said with a victorious smile and thinking, 'As if I would ever consider such an obvious suck-up a friend. He probably engineered that whole scene yesterday just for this chance to meet with me and pretend to do me a favour!'
"Excellent! Let's shake hands on the deal, Lucius." Gilderoy waved his wand and a parchment appeared on his desk. He quickly jotted down the terms of their agreement.
.
"In exchange for reversing ten points, one knut shall be removed from the House of Malfoy Vault to Gilderoy Lockhart's Vault for The Dark Arts Defence Fund, with the second ten points doubling that to two knuts, and so forth, on up to two hundred ninety points being reversed."
.
He signed it and spun the parchment around for Malfoy's signature. Both allowed three blood drops to hit their respective signatures. Lockhart offered his hand to the pompous arse, knowing that when they shook hands, the spell on the parchment would be completed and a copy appear on a certain Goblin's desk at Gringotts. The Goblins would immediately begin transferring 544,493 Galleons fourteen sickles, and two knuts out of the Malfoy Vaults. If Lockhart had calculated properly, that should be almost sixty percent of the entire Malfoy family's net worth.
Like most rich people, his money was in real estate, so this would easily wipe out his cash reserves. Plus, if there weren't sufficient funds in the Malfoy vault to pay the debt in galleons, and in absence of previous orders to the contrary, the Goblins would begin selling Malfoy properties until the sum was paid in full. Gilderoy expected to get several valuable moneymaking properties. And that would cripple the Malfoys' ability to make a quick recovery.
They promptly shook hands and drank the finest Champagne Lockhart had to offer. Gilderoy made a show of handing the parchment to Malfoy without bothering to make a copy for himself. "I trust you implicitly," said Lockhart, "I don't need a copy for myself." He didn't explain that a day after the transfer completed both parchments would disintegrate into dust to remove any possibility of a parchment trail for an investigator to find.
The best part was that Malfoy could not complain about the transfer, the gold simply disappeared from his vault. There would be no evidence to explain what happened. As far as anyone ever would be able to determine later, money disappeared from Mr. Malfoy's vault, for due cause according to the Goblins and approved by Mr. Malfoy — that was all the Goblins would say on the matter. That a large amount of gold appeared in Lockhart's vault at the same time was a coincidence. That several former Malfoy properties became Lockhart's was interesting, but Lockhart had clear bills of sale to show that Lockhart purchased those properties with funds from his vault. That those funds had been moved to his Vault as part of a previous transaction executed only moments before was not disclosed.
The same laws that allowed Malfoy to get away with bribing Wizengamot officials would hide and protect Gilderoy's transactions.
Both were immensely pleased with themselves.
Mr. Malfoy mistakenly believed he had the right measure of the popinjay and had managed to change his son's sticky situation with his classmates for a ridiculously small bribe. He had never purchased such influence for so little, and he had assured his son of excellent scores for the rest of the year.
Gilderoy was doing a little happy dance in his head, and suppressing the urge to do it in real life. He had just increased his vault's contents by a factor of at least a fifty. In one fell swoop, he had propelled himself into the rarefied atmosphere of the top one-tenth of a percent wealthiest Wizards in Britain — numbering less than ten Houses total. Lord Black was at the top with a net worth of two million galleons, and, until today, the Malfoys had been in the top three of that pack at about 800,000 galleons.
Oh, how he had decreased House Malfoy's wealth!
He had even reduced the Malfoy's ability to make money. Normally, when someone transfers an amount that exceeds the galleons in their vault, the Goblins begin selling off properties stating with the lowest-valued ones first. He had arranged with the Goblins that anytime anyone transferred him gold and their vault had insufficient gold to complete the transfer, the Goblins would start selling the smallest income-producing properties first and selling them to him. In essence, he was using his victim's gold to buy their properties, and then they gave him his gold back! All he did was pay a special purchase price fee of twenty-percent to the Goblins, again using the victim's gold. It was just as if the victim were giving the property to Gilderoy at no charge. And Gilderoy would get all the future income from that property, more than making up for the current loss of additional galleons in his vault.
After finishing their toasts to each other's health, Mr. Malfoy said, "I must be off, there is business I need to attend to this afternoon."
After Malfoy left, Lockhart removed the silencing, binding, and glamour charms from Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Neville.
"You utter bastard! You sold yourself for bloody peanuts," Ron cursed. "You are so cheap, selling yourself for bloody knuts," Ron raged. Harry Potter was looking at Gilderoy with daggers in his eyes. Neville and Hermione looked disappointed and confused.
"Remember the Legend of the Chessboard, Miss Granger?"
She frowned for a moment, then her eyes popped wide open and her mouth formed an "o" of astonished recognition. Poor Neville still looked puzzled. Harry frowned, having heard of the legend in primary math classes, but not remembering the details. As far as Harry/Gilderoy could remember, that particular cautionary math tale wasn't taught to Wizard children.
"Is the punishment sufficient, Miss Granger?" He beamed at them happily, confident in his solution. "It is not enough, don't you agree, that the younger generation learns some manners, but also the old. That should teach both Malfoys a very valuable lesson, is that not right, Miss Granger?" Lockhart smiled, showing his dazzling smile to the shocked and blushing brunette.
"And, ten points and another detention for cursing at a Professor, Mr. Weasley."
"I, I don't understand," Harry Potter said in wonder.
"Harry, can't you see, it?" Hermione said excitedly, "Mr Malfoy mistakenly believes he paid a small bribe when he actually spent a huge amount of his money!" She turned back to the adult Wizard, "Professor Lockhart that was truly sneaky."
"Huge amount of knuts? So what! Bloody hell, Hermione, you are mad." Ron admonished.
"Two detentions, now, Mr. Weasley. For your detention, Mr Weasley, calculate the exact amount of knuts Mr. Malfoy lost today and convert that to galleons. Then I want two-feet on why you should never accept a contract on finances unless you understand completely what you are signing and the particulars are described in excruciating detail."
To the others, he said, "I am sorry I had to put you under body bind, but I didn't want you to interrupt our little business deal."
"Two hundred ninety points, so he was punished twenty-nine times." Harry Potter replied.
"So Malfoy loses twice of twenty-nine, fifty-eight knuts for his behaviour, that's just two sickles! Peanuts! If that is so, he will bung it again and again, using his money to avoid punishments. This is duff!" Ron cried.
"Ron, shut up. It's not fifty-eight knuts, but . . . ," Hermione started to lecture her friends.
"Allow them to do their work, Miss Granger." Lockhart interrupted. "They should learn the value of keeping cool and working with a calm mind rather than letting their emotions dictate their actions." He stopped and sighed.
"Word spreads quickly in the Pure-blood circles and now they will remember to hold their tongues." Lockhart said. "One last thing, do not tell anyone what transpired in here today." He stared at them, blank-faced. Neville and Harry gulped at the obvious threat. "If too many people hear of this too fast, you could undo what I have done and strengthen Draco Malfoy's position in Hogwarts. It is to your benefit that we allow others to do our work for us. Miss Granger will be able to explain it to you, if you're smart enough to listen, that is." He turned his gaze on Ron for a moment before smiling broadly and tossing his hair with a slight movement. "If I hear anyone talking about this, I'll know where to find the culprits responsible for the tale, and you three will spend the rest of the year in detentions." Hermione nodded frantically at Gilderoy and gave a harsh look at Ron.
"Now that that's sorted, I thank you for your kind comments about my class and I will do my best to bestow upon all of you as much of my vast experience as I can cram into the school year.
"If I see enough improvement in the next month, I might even start a Duelling Club where you can hone your practical skills! Wouldn't that just be delicious?" He chuckled happily, rubbing his hands together. "Duelling, where you can legitimately hex your worst enemy with your Professors' approval!"
Hermione and Harry stared at him a moment, wide-eyed. Then Harry smiled. Neville looked worried. And Ron? Well, Ron merely looked constipated.
The kids left his office quietly, but no sooner did they leave than Harry/Gilderoy heard Hermione start to explain just how badly Gilderoy had shafted Malfoy.
(⊙_◎)
Gilderoy was wearing a lilac Wizarding outfit as if to a formal occasion. He stood out from the surroundings as only a true peacock can do. He knew that the neighbours were watching as he strolled down the street. Every time he saw a curtain waver he nodded, smiled broadly, and waved at the person peeping out, causing them to quickly drop the curtain and step back a moment before spying once more on the strangely dressed man.
Naturally, the Dursleys were too busy watching their favourite telly program to notice his approach until he knocked vigorously on the door.
"Little" Dudley opened the door. For an odd moment, Harry felt sad. His Dursleys had perished, along with most of the citizens of Little Whinging when a nuke had landed not more than a kilometre away from this very spot. And now, here was the little turd, all fat and obnoxious. He almost wished he could drop another nuke here.
"Mom," the gormless bully called, "There's some weirdo here." There was an inarticulate squawk from inside and the sound of hurrying feet.
The horse-faced woman that appeared next surprised Harry. He didn't remember her being this different from his mother. It was difficult to square the horse-like face and beanpole shape of this woman with the pictures of his smiling kind-faced and very curvy mother. Did they even have the same father? Or the same mother? Could one or the other be adopted? He shook his head slightly. If he found out one or the other was adopted he would draw and quarter the Headmaster, slowly — very slowly. Blood protection, indeed!
Meanwhile, his aunt was staring at him in abject horror.
He gave her his best smile. "Good evening, Mrs. Dursley, may I come in?" He pushed on the door and stepped forward, preventing any other action from her.
She was about to try to slam it in his face anyway when he added, pleasantly, "We wouldn't want to cause a scene out here for all the neighbours to see, now would we?"
Her eyes flickered to the lighted windows of the houses across the street, where she could see nosey neighbours watching closely. She stepped back, hissing, "Well, hurry then."
He walked into the sitting room.
Mr. Dursley was already struggling to his feet, "Get out, you fre. . . ."
Gilderoy's wand was at the man's throat, "Finish that word and you'll spend the last moments of your life as a pig in a slaughter house that makes bangers."
The walrus sized man collapsed back into his favourite chair. Dudley was watching with wide eyes.
Aunt 'Tunia said, "Dudley, upstairs now!"
The little turd was fast, Harry had to give him that. He was partway up the stairs by the time Harry yelled, "No, everybody in here! Right now! Sit!" Years of shouting orders in combat gave him the voice of command that garnered instant obedience. Petunia and Dudley were on the couch almost before they realized they had moved.
"I'll make this short and sweet," said the Wizard. "Did it not occur to you that those 'freaks' you are afraid of might take offense at your treatment of one of their own? That, maybe, one of them might decide to return to you exactly what you did to the boy?"
"See here, now," blustered Vernon. Petunia, on the other hand, turned white as a sheet. Dudley, of course, looked confused.
"Shut it, walrus," said Harry. He twitched his wand and the man's mouth disappeared. Such a small and targeted spell would trip no alarms looking for splashy accidental magic or the messy efforts of a child's wand.
"So, this is what you're going to do. Starting immediately, you will treat the boy as your long lost love-child or Dudley here gets to reprise every single blow he gave to Harry. And you get to explain to Child Protective Services why your 'duddykins' looks like you beat him half to death with a golf club." He added snidely, "I'm sure that saying 'it's the freak's fault' will convince a judge you're innocent." He glared at them.
"And shan't your neighbours just love the scandal." Petunia turned even paler.
"You can start with Christmas presents. Drop them off with Mrs. Figg, she'll make sure they get delivered. She's not one of us, but she has a relative who is."
He smiled, much like a shark smiles at his next meal. Petunia shrank back.
"Well, now that that's sorted, I'll say goodbye." The smile disappeared. "And you had better hope you never have reason to see me again." He walked to the door. "I'll see myself out, thank you." He flicked his wand and Vernon's mouth came back.