Tuesday morning's The Daily Prophet made Harry/Gilderoy smile while bringing exclamations of dismay from a certain Slytherin student. Before breakfast was over, the entire school knew that Draco Malfoy's house-elf had cursed the bludger into chasing and trying to kill Harry in order to win the game. And that the great adventurer Gilderoy had captured the errant elf, who had confessed to the crime. There was even a side article asking if perhaps Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley were soon to be an item.
Neither Ron nor Draco were pleased to see that speculation in print. Professor Snape seemed a bit put out about the story, as well. Dumbledore just twinkled his eyes.
The evening edition continued the bludger story as it had played out in the Ministry, with both junior and senior Malfoy proclaiming their innocence yet being unable to explain how their house-elf managed to do so many things without their orders. The article called into question the veracity of their Oaths — and explored how they might have been able to order the house-elf without explicitly giving an order. The house-elf might have responded to the Malfoys' vaguely expressed desires and intent without actually getting a direct order, the paper concluded.
That Mr. Malfoy had failed to quash the stories was a testament to how severely Harry/Gilderoy had hurt the Wizard financially.
Gilderoy found out just how badly he had damaged House Malfoy when an owl from Gringotts arrived that evening with a list of properties he now owned, all producing a good income. It seemed that House Malfoy had a much lower on-hand galleon reserve than he had assumed — it must be all those bribes Malfoy paid for his pro-Pure-blood agenda. This made him smile even more. With all the available gold now in Gilderoy's vaults, if Malfoy wanted Galleons for something, — say, making a bribe or three — he had to wait for his income producing properties to make their monthly deposits. But that presupposed that his current income exceeded his current bills. Considering the lifestyle the Malfoys' enjoyed, that was not a guarantee. And the properties Gilderoy now owned decreased that income capability, making it that much more difficult for Malfoy.
Malfoy could demand immediate repayment of loans he had made to others as a businessman, but that would reveal his financial situation, weaken him politically, and turn "friends" into enemies. It would also cascade through the Death Eaters as his debtors called in debts from others. Honest people and businesses who had made the mistake of borrowing from Malfoy would suffer. But the Goblins, for a price, had promised to tell Gilderoy of those with such difficulties and give him the opportunity to help if he could. That would mitigate the crisis a bit, as well as increasing Lockhart's political pull.
Borrowing from anyone but the Goblins would also reveal Malfoy's vulnerable position.
Gringotts would loan you money, but the rates were exorbitant even if you had property to put up for collateral. Naturally, the Goblins kept any income from those properties until you repaid the debt, which made it that much more difficult to do so. If you didn't have collateral, the rates ran to almost fifty percent of the loan amount. Unpopular distasteful clients, the ones who made no secret of their dislike for Goblins, would find the rates for either type of loan to be considerably higher.
In all cases, Malfoy was no longer a major player in the Ministry. He had been number three in the top ten richest Wizarding families. With this one stroke, Lockhart had knocked House Malfoy out of the top one-hundred, while moving himself into the tenth position.
Gilderoy gleefully sent an owl to Rita hinting that Malfoy might be having financial difficulties, and wouldn't that make a juicy story about how far the mighty have fallen. Plus, hinting that if Malfoy had mismanaged the ultra-rich House of Malfoy that badly, perhaps those rumours of his mental instability had a basis in fact.
Wednesday's headlines were all about how the Hogwarts' Board of Governors had reluctantly removed Mr. Malfoy because of his "unstable" mood swings. It included copious quotes from the other Board members about how appalled they were of late at his questionable actions and obvious bias. No mention was made of any one thing in particular but the impression was that the bludger event was just the latest difficulty in which Mr. Malfoy had found himself. Ah, yes, the wolves were circling wounded prey.
Thursday morning, the story on how one gets a Dark Mark broke. Several people in the Ministry did point out that this information came from convicted Death Eaters and that you couldn't really rely on them to tell the truth. Of course, others pointed out that only the most powerful of Wizards or Witches could lie under veritaserum — and none of the prisoners came close to having that power, especially after a ten-year stay in Azkaban with Dementors as their hosts!
Rita managed to get Madam Bones to agree that the next time they caught someone who had the Dark Mark breaking the law they would use veritaserum to determine the truth about the Mark. In the meantime, the tide of public opinion viciously turned on Malfoy and several other "rehabilitated" known marked Death Eaters.
Rita, meanwhile, was getting front-page headlines in both morning and evening editions of The Daily Prophet, a unique and highly profitable situation for her. It was all the better in that what she wrote was the truth and none could complain she had exaggerated and used salacious slander to sell her stories.
Later that same day, in D.A.D.A., Gilderoy decided to examine the whole thing about the Heir of Slytherin in the waning minutes of class.
"I've heard some students discussing just who the Heir of Slytherin could be and that only the Heir of Slytherin can control the monster." He paced across the classroom. "Let's get this sorted, shall we?" He faced the class and pointed his finger at the ceiling. "First, Slytherin is a Dark Family. So, whomever it is must be from a Dark family, right?"
Most of the class slowly nodded agreement.
"However, with all the cousin marriages in the Pure-blood world every Pure- and Half-blood in this Castle is related to Slytherin somewhere in their family tree." Several Slytherins nodded agreement at that conclusion. "So, not being in Dark House isn't a decisive condition disqualifying anyone from being the Heir, is it?"
Nodding heads, again. Harry looked puzzled, clearly not seeing where this was going.
"Unfortunately, which family has the best claim on being the Heir is almost impossible to determine. The last person to claim to be the Heir of Slytherin was Voldewhore — and we all know what happened to him." Most of the class gasped or hissed at the name. "His mother was from the Gaunt family and they claimed to be the only surviving direct descendants of Lord Slytherin — on the distaff side. However, all the Gaunts are now dead. So, again, familial connections are indecisive at best.
"On the other hand, Mr. Potter did vanquish Voldewhore, the last person who claimed to be the Heir of Slytherin." Several of the Slytherin students were frowning at his use of Voldewhore instead of Voldemort. "The first time Mr. Potter bested him in battle, it was defending himself when he was a mere toddler at 15 months old. How, no one knows. Maybe it was something his mother or father, or both, did. Doesn't matter, Harry Potter, last Heir of House Potter, defeated the self-proclaimed last Heir of Slytherin in Fair Combat, combat initiated by the other Wizard. Doesn't that mean Mr. Potter is now the Heir to Slytherin, By Right of Conquest?" Most of the class looked startled at that conclusion. "And for those who don't know, By Right of Conquest is a penalty to prevent powerful Wizards and Witches from taking over weaker Family Lines simply by killing the Lords and heirs. You can only inherit a line By Right of Conquest if you are defending yourself from an attack and the attacker you kill is the last Lord or Heir of his or her House.
"Well, Voldewhore did attack him without provocation, but he became a wraith. Is that sufficiently dead to qualify for Right of Conquest? Possibly." Gilderoy stopped, as if in thought. "It is somewhat confusing, isn't it?
"However, last year, Mr. Potter once again vanquished Voldewhore! And this time it was quite clear-cut. The Dark Wanker tried three times last year to kill Mr. Potter, and failed all three times — once during a Quidditch match, once in the Forbidden Forest, and finally under the castle during finals." The class was making noises now, especially from the Slytherin side. "Oh, come on!" "That's not possible!" "You're making that up!" "Give me a break!" A few objected to the names he used to describe Voldemort. "LIAR!" "How dare you!"
"SILENCE," the professor roared.
"Whether you believe me or not isn't at issue. Mr. Potter can prove he's telling the truth with his memories. But we're getting off the subject. At the end of last year, he once more vanquished the Dark Wanker. That means he has vanquished the Wizard in Fair Combat in self-defence, twice!
"By my understanding of the ancient laws, no other possible cousin Heirs can beat that claim. And even if you dispute my claim that he fought him again last year, you can't deny he vanquished him eleven years ago."
The class looked stunned at the train of thought. Gilderoy preened as they stared at him. "Didn't anyone think of that? I thought of it the moment I heard Mr. Potter had arrived at Hogwarts' last year. I thought to myself, 'Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award, there he is, the boy who defeated the Heir of Slytherin. Shouldn't that make him the Heir of Slytherin?'"
"If it's true that he defeated the Heir of Slytherin in Fair Combat, then Mr. Potter is, decisively, the Heir of Slytherin!" He paused and looked over the class, beaming happily at his logic and ignoring the horrified expressions Harry and Hermione now wore.
"In which case, the Heir of Slytherin is now a Light House, shining in the Darkness, wouldn't you all agree?" He chuckled at his pun. "In other words, if you are a Dark House and you win control of a Light House, By Right of Conquest, that doesn't automatically make you a Light House, now does it? And the converse is also true. If you are a Light House and win a Dark House by Right of Conquest, you are still a Light House!"
Most of the class was nodding agreement.
"Hm? Got that firmly in mind? Don't forget it!" Gilderoy admonished as he resumed pacing dramatically in front of the class.
"Second, to control Slytherin's Monster you have to command it. So if Slytherin's monster really is a snake, being the Heir of Slytherin is useless if you can't control the monster. Thus, even if Mr. Potter is the Heir of Slytherin, By Right of Conquest, it means nothing if he can't get the monster to listen to him, right?"
Again, most of the class was nodding agreement.
"So, the question is, Mr. Potter, are you a Parselmouth? Can you speak Parseltongue?"
Harry stared at him wide-eyed.
"Don't know, eh? Easy way to find out," Gilderoy waved his wand, saying "Serpensortia." A small snake flew from his wand. Gilderoy suspended it in the air and studied it as it hissed. "My, but you're a pretty one, aren't you? Angry, too." He would have to pretend he could not talk with snakes. Now that he was older, he realized it would be quite useful.
The whole class, except Harry, leaned back in their chairs, staring at the snake. Harry was staring at the snake in fascinated horror.
"Well, Mr. Potter, what does this beautiful specimen have to say?"
Harry looked at the professor, eyes wide in shock.
"Come, come, now, Mr. Potter, I can tell you understood him. Tell us what the snake said!"
Harry wilted under Gilderoy's stare. He couldn't bring himself to lie; he could tell that Gilderoy knew, just by the look he was giving Harry, that Harry had understood the snake. Harry swallowed nervously.
"Er, Umm," he stammered, "He said, 'Who calls me? Put me back or I'll bite you!'"
"Ah!" Gilderoy looked disappointed at the threat, "Tell him I'm sorry I disturbed him and I'll return him forthwith."
Harry gulped and then hissed at the snake. The snake hissed back.
When all the hissing ceased, Gilderoy banished the snake back to wherever he had come from.
The entire class was staring at Harry. Those closest were inching away, even Neville. Harry was sinking into his chair.
"All right, then," the Professor said merrily, "Harry speaks Parseltongue, just as Merlin the Great did."
Half the class jolted from staring at Harry to staring at their professor.
"And in the Indian subcontinent and Southeast Asia, Parselmouths are quite admired and sought-after — all those poisonous snakes, don't you know. Plus, for some reason Parseltongue makes spells more effective. Those few physicians who are parselmouths are highly sought after and head the most famous hospitals in India and southeast Asia.
"As I mention in my book Year with the Yeti, I briefly stayed in Calcutta. While there I hired a parselmouth to clear a cobra nest out of my garden . Could have done it myself, of course, but I didn't want to traumatize the little fellows with magic. Besides, the snake charmer knew of a place that needed the snakes to help clear up a rodent problem. Quite useful, being a Parselmouth. I wish I could speak Parseltongue."
The class didn't know whether to be terrified of knowing a Parselmouth, or envious.
"So, if you want to declare Mr. Potter a Dark Wizard for being a Parselmouth, then you must also condemn Merlin, and a vast number of Indians, for the same failing." He gave the class a scathing look. "I hope you are more intelligent than that. It is a Wizard's actions that determine whether he is Dark, Grey, or Light. From what I hear of Mr. Potter's reputation at Hogwarts, he is definitely not Dark — he did save a Witch he barely knew from a Troll, did he not?" He again swept the class with a glance, stopping to look at Hermione.
He turned his attention back to Harry. "Tell me, Mr. Potter, have you been hearing any hissing around the Castle?"
He shook his head. "I don't hear hissing, Sir; it just sounds like English to me."
"Ah! Then have you heard any mysterious voices around the Castle lately? Voices that said things like, oh, I don't know, things like," he paused a moment, then growled, "'Come, . . . come to me. I'm so hungry. . . I smell blood!'"
Startled at how close the Professor had come to what he had heard, Harry could only reluctantly nod.
"Excellent! Did you hear that class? Another clue as to the identity of Slytherin's Monster! Mr. Potter has been hearing a snake in the Castle. Any thoughts on the mysterious monster stalking our school?" About a third of the class raised their hands including Miss Granger.
Oh, he had to hear what she had come up with, "Miss Granger!"
She stood beside her desk and recited:
.
"Laid by rooster and hatched by a toad,
To the Basilisk terror is owed.
Crumbling rocks with its breath,
It stares victims to death,
And by cock-crow alone, is it slowed."
.
"Excellent, Miss Granger! Five points. Anything else you have to add?"
"Yes, sir. The Basilisk kills with a look, it doesn't just petrify its victims." Several other students nodded in agreement.
"Good, good. Well that is a conundrum, isn't it? But maybe we have a semantic problem there. The petrification spell used by Wizards merely immobilizes its target, petrification as alluded to the Basilisk and Medusa turn their victims to stone and kills them! Could there possibly be a special circumstance in which the snake petrifies its victim as Wizards do instead of killing the victim? A good question, don't you agree?
"So, we need a bit more research, don't we, before we can conclusively exclude the Basilisk." He smiled broadly at the class. "Were there any special conditions that might have protected the Basilisk's victims from dying while still leaving them petrified?" He swept the class again with a glance noting the frustration evident in the smarter members. "Merlin, I love being me!" he sighed happily.
"To summarize," he stopped with one hand on his hip, his robes artfully pressed back as he held up his other hand, index finger pointed up beside his head. "Primus, Mr. Potter could be the Heir of Slytherin by descent, as could any other Half- or Pure-blood student or adult in the Castle.
"Secondus, Mr. Potter is probably the Heir by Right of Conquest, but that does not make him a Dark Wizard, any more than Lucius Malfoy inheriting House Potter would make him a paragon of a Light Wizard." A squawk came from Draco's direction.
"Tertius, Mr. Potter can also speak Parseltongue and control the monster, which also doesn't mean he's a Dark Wizard, unless you wish to call Merlin and all those Indian snake charmers, who help people by removing venomous snakes, Dark Wizards as well."
"Quartus, being a Parselmouth is hereditary, you can't be taught or learn Parseltongue. Therefore, Harry is either directly descended from Slytherin, or from another Wizard who was also a Parselmouth.
Hermione had her hand raised again. Gilderoy arched an eyebrow, but finally nodded.
"Professor, you said Harry," she glanced at Harry nervously, worried that she was upsetting him. "is the Heir of Slytherin earlier, but just now you said he is probably the Heir of Slytherin. Which is it?"
"An excellent question! Two points." He swept the room with a glance. "I think he is the Heir of Slytherin, based on my knowledge and logic. However, only a Goblin Inheritance Test can decisively determine if I am right, therefore, I say he only is probably the Heir. Logic, my dears, logic, much better than random guessing."
He saw several students nodding in agreement.
Gilderoy gave the boy a jovial grin, proud of his conclusions. "So, it isn't looking good for you, Mr. Potter, is it?" Gilderoy said cheerfully. Harry looked as if he were trying to sink into the floor, his face a solid red in embarrassment, glaring angrily at Lockhart.
"However, regarding the message 'enemies of the Heir beware' and how Muggle-borns will be driven from the castle — and this is crucial — Mr. Potter's mother was a Muggle-born! Why would he want to keep Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts? It would be rather hypocritical of him, wouldn't it? He wouldn't even be here if his Muggle-born mother hadn't been allowed in to meet his Pure-blood father."
He turned his attention to the Slytherin half of the classroom. "Tell me, Mr. Malfoy," he said, still beaming, "Would you accept being the Heir of Slytherin if it meant you had to either kill your mother, or exile her to live alone with the muggles?" The Slytherins sat back in their chairs while Mr. Malfoy went pale.
"So, even if Mr. Potter is the Heir of Slytherin and could control the monster, that does not mean he is behind the message or the attacks! You cannot conclude he is responsible until you can explain why he would want to chase his girlfriend out of Hogwarts!" There were a few startled squeaks from girls at the thought the Muggle-born girl might actually be his girlfriend. "And, as he himself is a Half-blood, siding with the Pure-bloods on their agenda against Half-bloods and Muggle-born would also be hypocritical, wouldn't it? So you have to explain that as well."
He stopped and looked across the class. "Homework! Explain the reasons why a Half-blood such as Mr. Potter would never agree to work for laws that discriminate against his or her self! One foot, with a one-sentence conclusion on what you would do if you were a half-blood faced with such a choice. For extra-credit, reasonable explanations for why a Half-blood would work to pass laws that discriminated against his or her self, with a second conclusion on if those reasons would be enough to alter your original conclusion.
"Class dismissed."
There would be some very interesting owl messages sent home this week.
(⊙_◎)
A week and a half had passed and Rita was no longer getting front-page headlines at The Daily Prophet. Mr. Malfoy had taken quite a beating.
When he had attempted to use the Wizengamot to attack the popular blonde-haired Wizard, he had discovered that only the votes he bought would back him in what was clearly a personal vendetta.
Then the Wizengamot had censured and kicked him out. It was okay to be a Death Eater in private, and several members were slightly barmy, but his public outbursts and rage at the famous and popular Lockhart, coupled with rumours of grave financial setbacks amid incompetence, and his baseless accusations against those he saw as his enemies, were attracting the wrong sort of public attention. Ah, yes, the sharks were not above exaggerating to their fellows in order to bring down a foe.
Lockhart had picked up a few more properties from Malfoy as Malfoy vainly attempted to bribe his fellow members into staying on the Wizengamot. The Malfoy's were now merely an upper-middle-class family. But that wouldn't last at the rate they were burning through their funds. Gilderoy had already bailed out several 'Light' businesses hurt by Malfoy's demand for debt repayment. The more shady 'Dark' businesses he had allowed to fail, removing financial support to various Death Eater families. And the ill-will those failures had generated towards House Malfoy made Harry smile to think on. If they had to scramble to survive, they didn't have time for extra-curricular activities that hurt their fellow Wizards and Witches.
(◎_◎)
"I'm sure you're wondering why you and Miss Granger have a detention with me tonight instead of Professor Snape, right Mr. Potter?" They were in his office and it was shortly after tea. They both nodded. "Well," he said as if confiding in a close friend, "I'm sure you've noticed how The Daily Prophet headlines are no longer focusing on Mr. Malfoy's woes, right?" He smiled winningly at them as they nodded again. Harry had a self-satisfied smirk at Draco's difficulties in Slytherin. He was no longer the Prince of Slytherin House.
"I think it's time you started, Mr. Potter, to correct the errors and lies about your life!"
He noticed both students began to look alarmed.
"Harry, Harry, Harry," he said disparagingly, "I've told you many times before that you must seize your destiny and embrace it. You must accept that the public is thirsty for stories about you, and if you don't give them stories, someone else will make up stories about you and the public will take them as truth, to your great regret."
He switched his attention to Hermione. "Miss Granger, you've seen how the press acts towards celebrities in the Muggle world, haven't you?"
She nodded reluctantly.
"And you've seen that when a celebrity doesn't talk to the press, they make up stories, right?"
Again she nodded.
"So, Miss Granger, what should a smart celebrity do? Take your time."
After a minute she said, "If the newspapers can get stories direct from the celebrity, they print those instead of making things up. A smart celebrity would make sure that he or she talks with the reporters regularly so they always get accurate stories and aren't likely to make up new ones in a bid for readership."
"You see, Harry," said Gilderoy happily, "I'm not just an egotistical braggart. I always make sure to tell the reporters what I'm doing in order to protect myself from rumours and innuendo. Some may say that I go too far, but unless you are constantly doing something new, the press lose interest in you. And I need press to sell my books."
He paused. This wasn't quite going where he wanted.
"Harry, I know you hate attention, but you are The-Boy-Who-Lived. For ten years, nobody knew where you were or what you were doing. And people want to know what kind of life their saviour leads. There is tremendous pressure on the press to answer those questions. The more you try to avoid it, the more secretive you appear. And the more secretive you appear, the more the press will hound you, trying to get answers to those questions. And as you get older, it will only get worse. You're almost a teenager, so the questions are going to be, what do you like to do? Who are your friends? Are you a git? Are you a hero? What girls do you like? Is there a special girl? Who is she?" The wizard turned to Hermione, "You can tell him how the press has hounded Prince Charles, Andrew, Edward, and Princess Anne."
"Um, yeah, they are pretty relentless."
"Exactly," cried Gilderoy in triumph. "And the way the Royals keep rumours and speculation to a minimum is with regular press updates, right?"
Hermione nodded ruefully.
"So, Harry, with my help you are going to start managing the press."
He stood, "Come with me, children," he headed for the door. "And I will teach you the ins and outs of manipulating the press into printing the stories you want while burying the stories you don't!"
He led them out of the Castle towards Hogsmeade. The Headmaster was at the Ministry, dealing with that idiot Fudge panicking over the loss of his "good friend" and private financier, Malfoy.
"Just as I promised, Harry, Hermione, this is Rita Skeeter," Lockhart said as he ushered the two students into the private room at The Three Broomsticks. He looked over, smiling his trademark smile at the Witch. The woman was staring at Harry as if he were a Christmas Roast prepared exclusively for her consumption.
"Woah, Rita," he said disarmingly. "Tone it down a little."
Hermione was definitely looking alarmed while Harry looked sullen.
The Witch blinked and looked down at the table. "Right," she said.
"Now, then," Gilderoy said as he guided the two Gryffindors to their chairs, "Let me start off with a few bits of information that Mr. Potter here is a bit too shy to come out and say frankly." He grinned at Rita. "I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award, and Hogwarts' beloved Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, though, have no such qualms.
"You, of course, know Harry Potter . . . ."
Rita gave the boy a patently false smile, "How do you do, Mr. Potter."
"Hullo."
Gilderoy said, "Harry, where are your manners? You know better."
Harry sighed and then looked up at the older Witch, "It's nice to meet you, Miss Rita Skeeter."
"You must excuse Harry's abrupt manner, Rita," Gilderoy said aside to the Witch, "He was never taught proper Wizard manners."
Rita's eyes widened slightly at that declaration.
Gilderoy pretended not to notice, "And this is Mr. Potter's very good friend, Hermione Granger." He added, "She's a Muggle-born and clearly the smartest girl in her year at Hogwarts."
Hermione blushed as she curtsied and said hello.
"She's with us today because I think she will find this an invaluable learning experience." He paused a second. "And before you ask, she is not his girlfriend," he said with an obvious exaggerated wink. "At least, not yet," he added with a chuckle. "Perhaps someday, right, children?"
"Professor!" exclaimed Hermione, scandalized. Harry sank lower in his chair. Both were blushing almost scarlet.
Harry/Gilderoy laughed. "Aren't they cute together?" he stage-whispered to Rita.
That got an even louder, "Professor!" from Hermione. If anything, the two were blushing more. He was sure even their toes were blushing.
He rubbed his hands together. He was having such fun.
"Now then, Rita, I have to set out some rules. Harry is quite shy about his life with the Muggles, and he isn't ready to discuss any details of how they treated him. What I can tell you is that they are his relatives, and no we shan't tell you their names. Their safety lies in their anonymity. And they must remain anonymous because there are people who would attack them." Let her assume those were enemies of Harry and not people outraged at his treatment by the Dursleys.
Both Harry and Hermione were staring at him.
"And yes, people would attack them. Why, in fact, there have been no less than three attempts on Mr. Potter's life last year alone! And that was at Hogwarts. Imagine what they would do next summer if they knew the identity of his magicless Muggle relatives, and that Harry was prohibited from doing protective magic by the Trace?! Not that he would have the knowledge or skill to stand up against fully-grown Death Eaters for more than a few seconds, at most."
Rita was sitting with her arms on the table, leaning forward, eyes narrowed in concentration. Her eyebrows shot up at that revelation.
"So, I thought that the way we would do this is for Harry, here, to tell you what he thought when he first saw Diagon Alley last year for the very first time ever and his experiences there. Then move on to the Hogwarts Express and the Sorting Feast. Then you could ask questions. Then, if we have time, Harry could tell you how his first time on a broom got him on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and about his very first Halloween at Hogwarts.
"Hermione, here, met Harry on the train and she can give you her impressions on first meeting the famous Boy-Who-Lived and some of the other things she saw him do.
"How does that sound?"
Two hours and several cups of tea later, Harry began describing the Halloween feast and the Troll. Both Harry and Hermione were somewhat hoarse an hour after that. Hermione greatly expanded Harry's short description of the battle: "We knocked the troll out."
Rita had a nice stack of parchments rolls by this time. "Amazing," she whispered.
"Yes, isn't it?" Gilderoy said. "Well, I think we are done for the night. We need to head back, curfew is coming quick, don't you know?
"Oh, by the way, here are some official photographs of Harry and Hermione you can use in your stories." He dropped a small bundle on the table. "Both separate and together. Be sure to give proper photographer credit to Colin Creevey, as well as a photographer's fee for each photograph used in the paper."
He ushered the two children out the door, but turned at the last minute to hand her a bottle filled with a silvery fluid. "I think you'll find this most informative, Rita. It corroborates everything they told you about the Troll," he said in a low voice. "You might want to downplay Mr. Weasley's role, he's a bit of a slob and an idiot." Then louder. "I'm not one to tell another how to do their business, but I imagine that you could make those notes last for several days, maybe a week, with a teaser about the Troll at the end of each to build suspense. Oh, and you might want to ask Madam Bones what she knows about a Troll loose inside Hogwarts' protective enchantments, and what the Headmaster told her and the other parents of the incident."
Harry/Gilderoy smiled happily, those stories would be like kicking old Dumbledore in the family jewels.
(◎_⊙)
Rita's articles helped The Daily Prophet set sales records. At first, Harry got hassled by the Slytherins, and especially Draco, about the articles and being an "attention-whore," as one Slytherin put it. Harry used the lines given to him by Gilderoy, "You're just jealous because nobody cares what you do" and "I'm just trying to put the truth out to combat the lies that have been told." They worked surprisingly well. And watching Ron's reaction to the first quote — he turned as red as his hair every time he heard it — was quite entertaining. Each time drove another nail into the coffin of their friendship. It was only Harry's good nature and loyalty that so far had prevented its burial.
Harry still directed quite a few death glares at Gilderoy for the unwanted attention, but the Wizard knew it would pass. On the other hand, Ron was practically frothing at the mouth like a mad dog at the attention Harry received. The fact that Rita mentioned his name, even if it was in a slightly derogatory manner, was not salve enough to sooth his wounded pride and raging jealousy. After all, the articles quoted Harry and Hermione extensively while he appeared as a hapless spectator to Harry's adventures. It was a sharp contrast to his previous boasting to his family and other classmates where he took centre stage and Harry was the lackey.
Gilderoy took great delight in how Rita started and ended every article with his name, describing how solicitous he was of the famous boy, and how the articles would never have happened without his helpful intercession.
It was Harry describing the Sorting Feast, and that Malfoy was the reason he ended up in Gryffindor instead of Slytherin, that the excrement hit the revolving propeller for Draco. Almost as one, Slytherin House turned on Draco for ruining their chance to get the Boy-Who-Lived — especially now after the Malfoys' fall from power and there was no fear of retaliation from Malfoy's father. Ron, for once, was the object of much praise and thanks for helping Harry to choose Gryffindor. It did little to assuage his massive amounts of envy and jealousy.
The reaction when the story about the Troll hit, though, was outstanding, from Gilderoy's point-of-view. The included pictures of Harry climbing the Troll with Ron in the background throwing debris shut up many people. It's hard to call someone a coward when you just saw him climbing a fully-grown Mountain Troll to defend a girl he barely knew.
Girls from all Houses began throwing speculative looks Harry's way. Hermione, Gilderoy was pleased to see, never let the Wizard out of her sight and acted a bit possessive when the other Witches tried to separate them. And while some girls taunted Hermione with how she did nothing to defend herself, they always shut up when someone else pointed out that that meant Harry saved her!
And Ron scowled at the downplaying of his role in fighting a Troll. Harry/Gilderoy overheard the twins saying that their parents were equally displeased with that story, though for different reasons. The Headmaster hadn't told them the whole story and that failure disturbed them and shook their trust in the venerable old Wizard.
And Gilderoy's order of a Goblin knife, holster, and a tiny half-ounce vial of Basilisk venom finally arrived. It was a steal at only five and a half thousand galleons — the venom was seventeen galleons a drop! It took only a moment for the knife blade to absorb all but a dozen drops from the vial — what doesn't destroy a Goblin blade makes it stronger. Or, in this case, makes it poisonous in the extreme.
(⊙_◎)
Albus Dumbledore stared at the various copies of The Daily Prophet on his desk. He had just returned from a scathing meeting at the Ministry with the Head of the D.M.L.E., Madam Bones. The Department had been investigating the incident, and many others, on the sly after their interview with Harry the day after his Quidditch match. The articles in The Daily Prophet had just pushed the Troll incident to the forefront.
She had raked the old Wizard over the coals for his actions regarding the Troll incident. Yes, it had happened on Hogwarts' grounds, but the near death of three students, one a Pure-blood, made the matter a D.M.L.E. concern — especially with many members of the Wizengamot demanding answers from her. And his previous explanation that a Troll had managed to get quite close to the Castle and not that the Troll was in the Castle did much to damage his relationship with the Ministry and Aurors. His supporters were unhappy at the revelation but the Wizengamot members who favoured the Dark Arts were incensed at what they termed "his blatant lies."
She had demanded a full report on how the Troll had managed to access the castle, as well as what measures he had put in place to prevent it from EVER happening again.
Dumbledore was left wondering how Gilderoy had managed to get that insufferable Witch Rita an interview with Harry and Miss Granger? When had he done it? This was the third time in as many months that the prancing fraud had managed to surprise him with competency! He was going to have to keep a closer watch on the Wizard.
Ah, Mr. Weasley!" Gilderoy stood beside his table in the Ministry cafeteria as the other Wizard approached. "So, good of you to agree to meet with me," he continued. "I am, as you know, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award, and Hogwarts' most beloved Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor."
Arthur shook his hand and returned his beaming smile with a small one of his own.
"I know you are a busy man, Arthur. May I call you Arthur?" The wizard nodded agreeably. "Oh, good, thank you for that honour. Call me Gilderoy." They settled back in their chairs. "I hope you don't mind, but I ordered dinner for both of us. It's humble fair, I know, but filling, nonetheless, right?" Actually, it was the most expensive meal on the menu, with a small bottle of wine for drink. A rich dessert was included.
He waved his wand and the noise level around them dropped significantly. Walden Macnair, seated at the next table, seemed relieved as the privacy enchantment went up. "There now, no eavesdroppers," he said happily. "I asked to meet you to talk about your children. I don't normally do things like this, who am I to tell another how to raise their children? After all, I am one of England's most eligible bachelors." He smiled winningly at the curious Wizard. "But I like your boys and wish to help you."
Arthur was looking a bit alarmed.
"They aren't in any trouble, don't fear!" he added jovially. "I just have some observations for you to think about." The Weasley head of family relaxed.
"Percy, first. Percy is . . . well there's no easy way to say this. He's a right prat. He worships authority and doesn't understand that rules are guidelines and not carved in stone. That there are nuances to any situation, mitigating factors, and damning facts. That you can be within the letter of the law and still be completely wrong. That you can obviously break the law, but still be right to do what you did." The red-haired man was staring at him. Gilderoy nodded firmly. "You need to sit down with the boy and have several nice long chats about the reality of what it's like in the Ministry. How many will exploit a young man's naivety and dedication and then throw him to the wolves when it suits their purpose, denying they even know the boy. Use many real-world examples that you've seen in your career. Tell him what warning signs he needs to watch for in his superiors and colleagues to keep himself safe. Make sure he understands that the politician that pats him on the back is concealing a knife in that hand — and that in the Ministry everyone is a politician, even the interns." He stared back at the Wizard levelly. "If nothing is done, you will see him turn on his own family rather than think for himself and see that his superiors not only are wrong, but frequently pretend to believe things they know are untrue and hurtful."
Arthur cleared his throat, "Surely you exaggerate?"
"Sit down and talk with the boy, and you'll see the truth of what I say. After all the time I've spent travelling the world, and all the Wizards and Witches I've met during those travels, well, I've become a very finely tuned judge of character. I am rarely wrong. I would like to be wrong in this instance, but I doubt I am.
"Percy's an adult and he's not going through a phase. Unless you help him, I foresee nothing but misery for him and his relationship with your family. And he is a splendid young man with a bright future before him. He needs to learn that kowtowing to your superiors to curry favour is a short-term strategy that will yield long-term difficulties. And once you lose your integrity, it is very difficult, if not impossible, to regain it. And that someone offering him an unearned promotion to responsibility is really looking for a patsy to take the fall when things go bottom-up."
Arthur looked down at the table, frowning.
"By the way," Lockhart continued, "did you know he's had a girlfriend since last year? It's an open secret at Hogwarts. And yet he doesn't think his own parents should know."
Arthur looked up sharply at that.
"Maybe you should arrange to meet with him in one of The Three Broomsticks' private rooms in Hogsmeade this coming weekend. Discuss a few things with him, hmm? Wizard to Wizard. Why wait until next summer when it might be too late?"
"Next, we have your son Ronald. And he has many problems, all correctable if something is done now. Unfortunately, almost all his problems are the fault of the twins."
"The twins? Fred and George?" Arthur was astonished.
"Yes. Let me explain. First, Ron is horribly jealous of his brothers. He feels, and rightly, that no matter what he does it will never be enough. If he gets on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, so what? Three of his brothers already did that. What if he makes Captain of the team? Oh, that's right, Charlie already did that. Well, what if he scores in the top of his class? Oops, Percy, Bill and Charlie all have that honour. Well how about becoming a Prefect, oh, Percy, Bill and Charlie, again, did that! Well, okay, how about Head Boy! Oh dear, Bill did that and it looks like Percy will, too.
"And you know what would be worse for him? What if he tries and fails at any of those? Will his mother ever forgive him for not doing as well as his brothers? She already ceaselessly compares him to his brothers, and he always comes up short. Why bother trying if you know it will never be good enough?
"So, what's the poor boy to do? Nothing he does will stand out and have his parents say, 'Wow, Ron, that's incredible, nobody in our family has ever done that!' He's afraid he'll always be in the shadow of his brothers.
"That would be bad enough, but the twins are making things worse. They continually belittle and browbeat him, and use him to test their pranks. They treat him as a pet to torment, not as a brother they should help.
"And his friends, true friends they are, make him look positively stupid. Hermione is head and shoulders above him academically, and Harry is always at the centre of attention.
"Nobody notices Ron unless he gets into a fight with Draco Malfoy. And his broken wand isn't helping him."
Arthur was looking appalled at these revelations. "Broken wand?"
"And there's more. He has the eating habits of a starving werewolf. It's truly disgusting to watch. Except for his two friends, nobody will sit near him at mealtime." He paused for emphasis. "And that is entirely the twins fault. They screw with his food so much at home, Mr. Potter tells me, that if he doesn't stuff his food into his mouth as fast as possible, they dose it with a prank. They don't treat him as their brother, they treat him as an test rat on which they try their experimental potions and spells. A test subject to check their potions for harmful effects — and who knows what type of damage any hidden side-effects may have had on the poor boy? Maybe that's why he seems to always be ravenously hungry! And you do nothing about it!"
Arthur sat up at that declaration. "I . . . ."
"Do nothing!" stated Gilderoy, interrupting and waving his hand imperiously. "If you had done something, this wouldn't have happened! Here!" He put two small vials filled with a silvery liquid on the table. He put a finger on one bottle. "This is a memory of an incident Mr. Potter witnessed at your home last summer. He was kind enough to let me copy it. Watch Ron and the twins closely. Watch how you and your wife react." He moved his finger to the second bottle, "This is a memory of an incident I saw in the Great Hall at mealtime. Watch them both, then come back and tell me I am wrong."
He stared at the Wizard challengingly. "Send an owl to Hermione and Harry asking them to describe, honestly, Ron's eating habits if you believe I am exaggerating. For the unvarnished truth from an uninvolved third party, do the same with Neville Longbottom. He's a Pure-blood and knows the proper manners one is supposed to display in public."
"Far be it for me to tell another how to control his family, but what I suggest you do is tell the twins that they are grounded next summer, all summer, until their brother learns and uses proper table manners," he suggested kindly. "And they can't coerce him in any way, shape, or manner. No potions, no spells, no hexes, no pranks to force him to change. They can only encourage him or, perhaps, bribe him.
"And the grounding means they are banned from their room! They sleep outside in a tent that they put up every evening and take down every morning. It means no pranks, no planning pranks, no visiting friends, nothing. If you hear any loud bangs, smell any strange smells from the tent, then they can spend the summer sleeping under the stars without a tent. Their siblings are not test animals for their pranks. If they want to be productive, they can teach Ron to be the best Quidditch player in the world. That would make him happy! And make sure they include their sister! She's developing quite the inferiority complex from her brothers denying her the right to do things that they and even other Witches do."
"They can spend their copious spare time taking care of the farm. This is their punishment for using their brother and sister as test prank-subjects and teaching Ron to eat like a rabid starving dog. Once he starts eating like a proper Wizard, you'll rescind the grounding." He stopped and let the other Wizard think for a few moments. "But they are still banned from using their siblings as test subjects."
Gilderoy smiled and turned his charm on full. "I'm not your enemy, Arthur," he said kindly. "I want you and your family to prosper. I've willing taken on the mantle of the Dark Wizard Messenger because I want your children to succeed. Please think carefully about what I've said.
"I know you don't have a pensieve, but if you go to Madam Bones and tell her that I, Gilderoy Lockhart, gave you some memories that it is vital you see I'm sure she'll let you use the one the D.M.L.E. has." After the tips and help he's given her, his name should have some pull. "If she says she can't, owl me and I'll make arrangements to get you access to one immediately."
He straightened, pulled out his wand, and dispelled his muffling charm.
"Now that that's done, let's enjoy this wonderful repast!"
The rest of the meal Gilderoy nattered on about his books, pretending not to notice that the man was deep in thought. Only occasionally did he directly address a question to Arthur, to which the Wizard could reply with a simple yes or no.
As they were starting desert, Gilderoy noticed Macnair seemed to be getting ready to leave. He turned to Arthur and said jovially, "Well, what do you think about those rumours that Mr. Malfoy is talking with the Aurors? I heard that Madam Bones paid a call on him at his manor recently." Macnair stilled and leaned on his elbow scowling, as he pulled a parchment from his robes. That it also moved him fractionally closer and let him listen better was merely incidental. "With what they say about how he's not that stable mentally," Gilderoy continued, "I wonder if she's hoping he'll accidentally reveal information about some of the Death Eaters she knows the D.M.L.E. missed ten years ago?" He leaned closer over the table conspiratorially, and loudly said, "Perhaps she's hoping that he really wasn't imperioed and has been meeting with others so she can trap them, all together, eh? It would be quite a feather in her cap to prove some of those who cried, 'It wasn't my fault,' were lying, hmm?" He sat back, "And the best part would be that Lucius, in his current mental state, wouldn't even realize he was letting loose things he shouldn't, so he wouldn't even warn his friends he might have slipped up. Why, he might even deny meeting with her and the Aurors completely!"
Arthur was looking at him, puzzled. "No, I haven't heard any such thing."
Gilderoy waved his hand, "Ah, well, it's probably just a rumour." He took a drink from his wine glass. "But, you know, as the old saying goes, where there's smoke, there's fire."
The Professor studiously attacked his dessert as the Death Eater at the next table slowly stood and left. Harry/Gilderoy had hoped to spread the rumour by merely being loud in the staff dining room, that he managed to secure a table near a known Death Eater had been exceptional luck. Of course, using a discomfort hex on the previous occupants to get them to move to another table had helped.
A few minutes later, after a wonderful dessert, they were standing to leave. "You know, Arthur, sending a howler to Hogwarts and humiliating your children in front of their peers and professors is a terrible thing to do. Young children can be incredibly cruel, and a howler triggers days of taunts, jokes, and mean pranks at the expense of the recipient. I know it's rather common, but it truly borders on child abuse, I think. Kind of like knowing that Dark families beat their house-elves is one thing, but teaching your children that they should do that too, is another. Besides, think how you would feel if Molly sent you a Howler about forgetting an appointment and it arrived while you were in a Department Head meeting?
"You should ask your wife if she has ever thought of that. How she would have felt at receiving one from her mother when she was a mere First or Second Year and made a mistake. And, outside of humiliating her, did it really make a difference in how she acted?"
The look Mr. Weasley gave him indicated that there were going to be many lengthy discussions in the Burrow over the next few days.
(⊙_⊙)
Harry had his week of headlines and things had once more tapered down to normal at The Daily Prophet, and at Hogwarts. After a rather dull week, Gilderoy decided it was time to stir the cauldron once more.
Tomorrow would make it four weeks after Halloween and Gilderoy paced the seventh floor corridor opposite a certain tapestry just after breakfast. This time he was thinking he needed the Room of Lost Things. A frustrating four hours later, he triumphantly came out of the room with the Diadem secured in an Acromantula Silk bag.
Barely able to contain his excitement, he hurried into the Horcrux Room and followed the instructions. Harry/Gilderoy could hear a roaring noise beginning, which cut off as the inner door closed. Such was the closeness of the fit of the door to its frame he could hear nothing. So he sat on the floor, his back to the wall beside the door. He almost sat against the door, but realized he might disturb its seal, and who knew what would happen then.
To be safe, he waited an extra ten minutes.
He cautiously opened the door and looked around the room. Black scorch marks covered the wall and the cold stone floor was now warm. The diadem, in the middle of the circle looked unharmed. In fact, it looked clean and polished — so clean and polished that it almost seemed to glow.
He slowly approached the circlet and cast a Dark detection spell on it. Nothing. He moved closer and hovered his hand just a fraction of an inch from it. In the Room of Lost Things, he could feel the evil emanating from the Diadem. In here, right now, nothing. He reverently picked it up. He turned it round and round and examined it closely. It looked perfect, not a single blemish anywhere he could see. He was tempted to try it on, to see just what it could do for him. But he resisted.
"Wit Beyond Measure is Man's Greatest Treasure," he read, staring at it. "But she still screwed up, didn't she? Ignored her poor daughter until the disregarded girl stole the Diadem, determined to get her mother's attention at last. Thus, she could pretend her mother was searching for her and not the Diadem. And not long after her daughter stole it, Rowena died. Did she become too dependent on it, I wonder?
"And didn't her daughter put it on? For if she had, surely the Diadem would have allowed her to see that her actions would not yield the results she desired. So, the Diadem fails in its mission a second time.
"And finally, Tom Riddle. You travelled all the way to Romania and discovered the hidden Diadem. Did you not once try it on, Tom? If you had, wearing the Diadem should have revealed the folly of your chosen course. That it did not means the Diadem has failed again. Three times, it has failed, severely, failed to reveal the fatal flaws in all their plots. Three times! Perhaps her spell-work wasn't as magnificent as she expected.
"With that record, I fear I shall not attempt to analyse my plans with its help."
He pulled the silk bag out of his pocket and dropped the Diadem in it. Almost six hours total. He sighed. That was far better than the weeks and weeks he and Hermione had wasted searching for the bloody tiara the last time. And the horcrux's destruction had been so much easier this time.
Tomorrow, Monday morning, the last Monday in November, at breakfast, he would present the Lost Diadem to Professor Flitwick.
He left the room, not noticing as the door very slowly disappeared behind him. He headed for the owlery. He wanted to give Rita a heads up on what was going to happen that tomorrow.
(◎_⊙)
"Ah, Rita, as punctual as ever," Gilderoy welcomed the reporter and her photographer expansively. He made sure his best profile was always facing the photographer. He had told her to meet him at the Hogwarts' Front Gates at seven.
"Okay, Gilderoy, what's the big secret? Another interview with Potter?"
"Oh, no, my dear, something even better. I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award, and Hogwarts' beloved Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, guarantee you front-page headlines both tonight and tomorrow!"
He could see that the headline hungry Witch almost started salivating at the prospect. "Oh?" she replied coolly.
"It's about something," he half-whispered, "that's been missing since Hogwarts was first founded. I have accomplished what Headmasters and others have failed to do for almost a thousand years!" He rubbed his hands together gleefully. "I have found the lost Ravenclaw Diadem." He halted as the reporter stopped dead and stared at him.
He grinned broadly, "Yes, that's right, I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award, and beloved Hogwarts' Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, have recovered the famed diadem created by Rowena Ravenclaw." He paused, relishing the moment, and then added, "And you get the scoop!"
He watched as the Witch stared at him wide-eyed, then she closed her eyes and shuddered. Gilderoy/Harry almost fell over in surprise, had she just had an orgasm? He shook his head to throw out that image.
He reached inside his robes and pulled out the silk bag. Reverently, he reached inside and lifted the diadem out to show Rita.
Her mouth formed an "O" of surprise and she lifted a hand, gently touching the relic. The photographer, Bozo, swooped in for a close-up or four.
After letting her run her fingers over the inscription, he dropped it back in the bag. "At breakfast today I plan to present it to Professor Flitwick. Just follow my lead."
He led the two into the Great Hall and seated them at the head of the Ravenclaw table, explaining to the nearby students, "They are my guests this morning. We'll be doing an interview after breakfast." He looked over at Bozo, "Be ready to get some great shots of amazed Professors, especially the Headmaster."
He told the other Professors as they approached the Headmaster's Table that Rita and her photographer were his guests. The Headmaster gave him a sharp look and leaned close to say, "Next time tell me ahead of time when you brings guests into the Great Hall." The twinkle was noticeably absent. Then the old Wizard continued to his throne. The old goat apparently didn't like Rita, only Merlin knew why. Lockhart found the Witch to be delightful.
When the Hall was as filled as it was going to get, Gilderoy stood and tapped his goblet with his knife. It was show time. The sharp ting, ting, ting, echoed through the room. After a few moments, everyone had stopped talking to listen.
"I have an important announcement to make." The Headmaster did not look pleased, the last time Gilderoy had played to an audience, it had been the Aurors and Dumbledore still felt the backlash from that.
"As you all know, I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award, and your beloved Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts," there were a few snickers at that, "have been combing Hogwarts from the deepest of its dungeons to the top of its lofty spires searching for clues to the location of the hidden Chamber of Secrets."
Rita gave him an incredulous look. Apparently, this was the first time anyone had mentioned the Chamber in her hearing. He gave her a knowing smile.
"In my thorough meanderings I have come across various clues regarding many lost items, such as Slytherin's Locket, Hufflepuff's Cup, and Gryffindor's Sword, to name just a few.
"Professor Flitwick, if you would come with me." He motioned the other to follow him as he walked to the front of the Headmaster's Table. He quickly conjured a series of steps on the platform and motioned Flitwick to step up on them, putting them both at eyelevel to each other as Gilderoy stood on the floor. They were standing parallel to the Headmaster's table to give the students and staff the best possible view.
He gave a quick hand-signal to Bozo and the Wizard quickly positioned himself for the coming photos. The students and professors were watching carefully, whispering to each other and wondering what he was about to reveal.
Lockhart carefully reached into his pocket and took out the bag. He conjured a royal blue coloured pillow and placed the bag on it, then lifted and held the pillow between them. "Professor Flitwick, you are the Head of Ravenclaw House," he said loudly enough for his voice to carry to the entire hall. "It gives me, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award, and Hogwarts' beloved Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor great pleasure to restore to your House, and Hogwarts, this!"
He reached for the bag and as he touched it, the bag vanished, revealing the gleaming Diadem. He had performed a wandless finite, but planned to tell them he had previously placed a word-sensitive finite on the conjured bag.
"Lady Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem," Gilderoy concluded loudly.
Pandemonium broke out as the photographer's flash went off like a series of exploding Christmas lights as Bozo frantically took pictures.
The noise continued as Gilderoy smiled and posed dramatically, beaming happily at everyone. Flitwick stared wonderingly at the diadem on the pillow. Other cameras appeared, and even more pictures taken until finally the Headmaster set off a loud blast.
He stared at Gilderoy, then at the Diadem. "Is that really?" he asked, his eyes twinkling like mad.
Gilderoy, delighted to be the centre of attention of hundreds of watchers, said, "Well, there is one way to prove it. You do know who the Grey Lady is, don't you?" The entire school knew of the Grey Lady, the haughty and always silent Ravenclaw ghost. The Headmaster's eyes widened and he nodded.
"Perhaps if you call her," Gilderoy prompted.
Moments later, the stately retiring ghost glided into the Great Hall. Her gaze locked on the Diadem immediately and she rushed over to stare at it. Lockhart looked over at her. "I think you know what this is, Lady Helena Ravenclaw," he said quietly.
The Ravenclaws closest to them gasped and quickly spread the word that their ghost was none other than Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter. How could they not have known?
She turned her stare to him. "You cleansed it, the evil taint is gone," she half-whispered. "It is exactly as I remember it from long ago. I can feel my mother's magic in it." The Headmaster looked sharply at the ghost. He would be questioning her later about that taint.
The blonde-haired Wizard was so happy he wanted to dance. "Yes, Madam Helena Ravenclaw, it is as it was when you originally hid it away," He said loudly. The entire hall gasped at the realization as to the true identity of the Ravenclaw ghost.
Her eyes were shining and if he had thought it possible, he would have said she was crying in joy.
He turned back to Professor Flitwick. "And so, Professor, I give to you the authenticated Lady RowenaRavenclaw's Diadem." He placed the pillow in the diminutive professor's hands and stepped back.
He turned and loudly proclaimed to the room, "At last, the lost Diadem of Ravenclaw is returned to its home." He pointed his arm at the pillow as Professor Flitwick proudly faced the Great Hall and held it up high for everyone to see.
The Headmaster was the first to start clapping, and in moments, the entire hall filled with thunderous applause. Whatever his failings might be, Gilderoy Lockhart had ensured his place in Hogwarts' history as the one who had found the famous priceless Ravenclaw Diadem. None could ever gainsay that accomplishment!
When the applause died down, Harry/Gilderoy said, "I propose that a special display cabinet be placed in the Entry Way to the Great Hall, so that all can see and admire this great Founder's treasure. Perhaps with a plaque describing its history and that I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award, and Hogwarts' beloved Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor found and returned the Diadem to its rightful place."
There was another round of thunderous applause.
Monday evening's The Daily Prophet was everything Gilderoy could have hoped for and wanted. No fewer than six different articles referenced him, including one that was a biography all about his achievements. Never had he had such exposure in the newsparchment. And tomorrow the other magical newsparchments would pick up the stories and spread them across the world. He had quite probably doubled the number of people who knew his name. And increased book sales would quickly follow.
As Gilderoy/Harry folded the newsparchment so that his headline was prominent and placed it face-up beside his plate, the Headmaster leaned over. "Excuse me, Gilderoy, would you please come to my office after tea tonight?"
"Certainly, Albus! I'd be happy to do that for you. Just let me ask the lovely Minerva, here, to tell Ron his detention tonight has been changed to Mr. Filch." He turned to the Witch in question and made his request, concluding with a sigh, "It's too bad Mr. Malfoy won't be in detention with him. I heard that Mr. Filch's thumbscrews need oiling, the two students could have cleaned and tested their action."
She gave him an appalled look.
He grinned mischievously, "You know, making sure the heads are nice and firm, that the clamps are good and tight, that the screws go in and out smoothly, that the knobs are properly polished?" He arched an eyebrow inquisitively.
She stared at him an additional moment, startled at the innuendo, before suddenly smiling back, "Of course, I don't mind, Gilderoy. I'm finished anyway, so I'll tell him now." There seemed to be an odd twinkle in her eye. She stood and walked around the table, her hips swaying a bit more than he usually noticed when she walked in the corridors.
In the back of his head Harry could hear Gilderoy giggling, 'oh, she's ready, she is.' Harry/Gilderoy closed his eyes momentarily trying to drive out the thought that his former Transfigurations Professor was flirting with him.
That evening, after tea, he followed the old bearded bastard back to the Wizard's office.
After offering Gilderoy a lemon drop, which he declined, the Headmaster said, "I had an interesting discussion with the Grey Lady this afternoon."
Gilderoy smiled, "Yes, she's quite a lovely lady, isn't she. Doesn't say much though. It's a pity because I believe the students could learn a lot from her, especially what the Founders were really like instead of what generations of historians have made up. Perhaps you could talk her into giving us a lecture in the Great Hall one evening on the founding of Hogwarts?" The Headmaster nodded and smiled at the suggestion, half-whispering, "Perhaps."
They both sat silent. Gilderoy knew this game. Albus loved this passive/aggressive crap. Say something vague and leading, and wait for his victim to get nervous and say something they hadn't intended. Gilderoy just kept a silly vacant smile on his face. If the Headmaster let too much time pass, then Gilderoy planned to start talking about his next book, tentatively entitled, "Hanging Out at Hogwarts."
Fortunately, Albus caved in first. "She tells me you only spoke a few words to her, and never about the Diadem."
"That's true. I knew she was Helena Ravenclaw the first time I saw her. It's rather obvious, don't you know, she looks almost exactly like her mother's painting in 'Hogwarts, A History' and her bust in the Ravenclaw Common Room. And if she hadn't revealed any clues about the Diadem in the last thousand years, she wasn't about to start with me. I mean, I know I'm personable, I know I'm persuasive, I know people, especially women, tend to adore me — and why shouldn't they? I'm a five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award! But, in spite of that, I decided it would be better to just observe her." He stopped. "Meanwhile, I carefully combed the Castle looking for clues, trying to . . . to feel . . . the magic of the Diadem. And then I found it."
The Headmaster's eyes had widened abrupt explanation. "And where did you find it?" he finally asked.
"Ah! To find the answer to that question, you'll need to buy my next book, 'Hanging Out at Hogwarts'. It will be quite an enthralling tale with much advice on how to maintain your composure and good looks while under tribulations!"
The Headmaster's eyes were not twinkling as much as they were a moment before. "I see," was all he said.
"There is one thing that bothers me about the Diadem, though." Gilderoy paused and watched the old Headmaster, waiting.
He could see the Dumbledore's glasses tilt slightly at he raised an eyebrow in silent enquiry. "Well, the Diadem had a quite Dark Curse on it. So powerful a curse, I could feel it while still a step away. And I had the oddest compulsion to put it on." He shifted in his chair, as if uncomfortable. "Naturally, my extensive experience in the Dark Arts allowed me to ignore the compulsion. Many Wizards would, I'm sure, have succumbed, but Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award, and Hogwarts' beloved Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor is made of sterner stuff!" he declared, straightening in the chair, casting a beaming smile at the old Wizard. "Thinking quickly I conjured a silk bag and a long pole. I picked up the Diadem with the pole and dropped it directly into the bag. Then I cast a powerful containment enchantment on the bag to protect myself."
He leaned forward towards the other Wizard. "Do you know what a Horcrux is, Albus?" The Headmaster froze still, only his eyes moving as he watched and listened.
Gilderoy nodded. "That's what it was, Albus." He leaned back "Fortunately, using my vast knowledge of runes and experience with magic circles, I created a way to destroy the Horcrux without destroying the Diadem."
The Headmaster frowned, "Are you sure it was a Horcrux?"
"Absolutely. I found a book in Egypt several years or so ago that described them in great detail, as well as describing how difficult they were to eliminate. And any Curse-breaker in Gringotts can tell you all about them. They run into them frequently in Egyptian tombs." He sighed and leaned forward again.
"And the worst thing is, Albus, now that I have first-hand experience with the vile things, I know I've felt the same evil taint wandering the corridors of this school." He nodded sagely at the Headmaster's dumbfounded expression. "Yes, wandering the corridors. Someone in this school is carrying a Horcrux around as if it were a common book, ring, or locket."
The Headmaster appeared to refuse to believe him, but he knew he had shaken the Wizard to his core. He left not much later after some small talk about the Weasley boys.
(⊙_◎)
There was one thing that gave him even more pleasure than all the mentions in The Daily Prophet. Buried in the back of Tuesday morning's edition was a story of an attack. Unknown assailants had murdered Mr. Malfoy in his own home Monday afternoon while his wife was out visiting a friend. The Aurors believed it had to be a known associate of the man or he would never have allowed his attacker inside the protective enchantments on his home.
Gilderoy grinned happily at that. The Aurors' questioning was bound to bring up details the Death Eaters would have preferred remained hidden.
Draco was devastated, but in all the rejoicing at the return of the Diadem, not many people noticed the boy's distress. Perhaps he should suggest to Ron that he console the poor boy in his loss. At the very least he could take a few points and maybe assign a detention or two based on how violently Ron exploded at the thought of actually being civil to his hated enemy.
He had struck a mighty blow against the Death Eater organization and Voldewhore, depriving them of both a major funding source and a wily strategist.
Gilderoy visited the Hogsmeade Post-owl Office at Tuesday dinner and sent a brief message to Madam Bones. He suggested she search for a secret room under the Malfoy's drawing room floor. He had over-heard Draco mumbling about it during a detention, worrying that his father might have revealed the secret cache and stolen the galleons he knew were stored there as well as other things of importance.
The fines for the hidden Dark artefacts would severely dent the Malfoy family's remaining financial resources, and their status, and increase Draco's discomfort.
After his brief meeting with the Headmaster, he gave several interviews to international newsparchments. And, incidentally, bragged about his other exploits and repeatedly mentioned how he was mentoring Mr. Harry Potter to follow his example to become a great Wizard.