How is this possible, Ragnurk? How can I be Lord Potter when he is Lord Potter," Gilderoy pointed at Harry, "and wearing the Lordship Ring?"
Both Goblins stared at the parchment, scowling madly.
"And Lord Black? I realize the current Heir Black is in Azkaban, but how can I be Lord Black?"
Actually, now that Harry/Gilderoy stopped to think about it, it made all the sense in the world. His complete magical core was resident in Lockhart. And because his magical core was the same as the student Harry's, albeit more developed, as far as magic was concerned they were the same person. And as Potter from the future had been both Lord Potter and Lord Black, magic from now had accepted him as Lord Potter and Lord Black because his magic said he was. His magic knew he was Lord of those two estates.
That he was also Lord Peverell was a surprise, but considering House Potter's ownership of the coveted Deathly Hallows Invisibility Cloak, that was predictable. The father in each generation probably told his oldest child of the importance of the relic until there came a time when a father died before disclosing that important information and left subsequent generations in ignorance.
Slytherin and Gaunt, by Right of Conquest, those, too, were predictable. He had never bothered with a Heritage Search in the future, so he had never known. He had been too busy trying to keep himself and his friends alive. And, well, after he finally beat Voldewhore, there hadn't been anything left to inherit. But his magic had known. And in this time he had destroyed Riddle's soul fragments in both Riddle's diary and Ravenclaw's Diadem — two more vanquishes.
On the other hand, when he thought about it, Golderoy being Lord Slytherin would drive all the Pure-blood old farts barmy!
Gryffindor, though? That was a total surprise. Where had that come from?
And Gilderoy's mother was a Witch. Her family had kicked her out and cut her off from any inheritances for the sin of marrying a Muggle. He had had no reason to suspect that a Heritage search would reveal anything he didn't already know, so why waste the galleons? And without the addition of Harry's core, he would have been right.
But in any case, it meant that magic regarded both him and the child Harry as being the same person. And that his magic and Lockhart's had not intermixed to any real degree, yet. They existed as separate entities that had formed a sharing system. Perhaps someday they might fully merge, but Harry/Gilderoy figured it might take decades.
While Harry/Gilderoy was contemplating these possible facts, the Goblins had both the adult and the child Wizard sign new Heritage Search parchments. Harry's displayed:
.
House of Potter, Lord, by Blood inheritance.
House of Peverell, Lord, by Blood inheritance.
House of Gryffindor, Lord, by Blood inheritance.
House of Slytherin, Lord, by Right of Magical Conquest.
House of Gaunt, Lord, by Right of Magical Conquest.
.
His matched Gilderoy's except for Houses Lockhart and Black. That Harry's didn't include Black made sense because Sirius hadn't yet died and made official the inheritance to the boy. At the moment, Harry Potter was only a possible heir. It wouldn't be official until Lord Black made the announcement or Gringotts probated his Will. Harry/Gilderoy, though, had been Lord Black for over a decade in the future, so that magic maintained it. Sirius' will no longer mattered because Harry/Gilderoy Lockhart was Lord Black according to his magic.
The Goblins were as mystified as everyone else, though.
"That should be impossible," said Ragnurk, "One of you should list as a member of the House, not the Lord. There is only one way to test this." He turned to Harry. "Lord Potter, give your Lordship Ring to Mr. Lockhart." He turned and scowled at Lockhart. "If the Wizard can put the ring on his finger, then he, too, is Lord Potter. And what is true for one is true for the others."
Harry looked at Gilderoy hesitantly. The Wizard smiled at him broadly, "I promise that I will return the ring to you poste-haste. I have no desire to be Lord Potter."
Harry slowly withdrew the ring from his finger and handed it to Lockhart. Gilderoy just as slowly edged it onto his right-hand ring finger. It adjusted as he did so, growing larger to fit his adult-sized finger. When he let go, it resized to fit perfectly.
They both looked over to the Goblins, who were staring intently. Finally, Gutslasher looked at Ragnurk and shrugged his shoulders. Gilderoy removed the ring and returned it to Harry. Once it was back on the boy's finger, Gilderoy said, "Mr. Potter, I swear I will not make any alterations to your House Potter properties or financial estate without consulting you first unless it is an emergency and those alterations are to your or House Potter's benefit. So Mote it Be! Lumos."
Harry said, "You don't have to do that . . . ."
Gilderoy interrupted, "Yes, I do. These combined Lordships are going to be a nightmare when everyone outside this room discovers their existence." He paused and looked at the two children. "First, you are Lord Potter. I will not meddle with anything that is House Potter without your express permission first. I do not wish to be involved and will modify my will accordingly. Second, you do not know this, but your Invisibility Cloak is an heirloom belonging to the Peverell House, of which you are a direct descendant. There is quite a story behind it, the Fable of the Three Brothers and Death, perhaps I'll tell it to you some day."
Both Hermione and Harry looked shocked, probably at the notion that Lockhart not only knew about the Cloak, but that he knew so much more about it than they did!
"I will investigate House Peverell to make sure everything is proper before I turn it over to you as the rightful heir."
Hermione asked, "But how do you know you aren't the rightful heir?"
The Goblins were listening intently.
He smiled wryly, "I know my father's lineage as well as my mother's, nothing in either line provides as solid a link to Peverell House as your Invisibility Cloak, Mr. Potter. I have my suspicions as to why I am listed as Lord of several of your Houses, but I cannot speak of them. In any event, I will yield to your superior claims later, after I make sure there are no hidden contracts or claims against the Houses that adversely affect you or Miss Granger."
They both looked at him questioningly.
"Such as a marriage contract that circumstances would now activate," he explained. "You would be most displeased to discover that in the far past House Peverell made an agreement with House Malfoy, for example, whereby if both Houses should have their only children in Hogwarts at the same time, and of the appropriate sexes, they should wed for the continuance of the families." He smirked, "Miss Granger might object to that, correct, my dear?"
The two both had expressions of revulsion, although Hermione still managed to blush a bit.
"Similarly, I shall vet the other Houses — Slytherin, Gaunt, and Gryffindor — before we make any momentous decisions." He smiled confidently. "House Black belongs to your godfather, Sirius Black, who is illegally incarcerated in Azkaban prison. I am working on getting him out, by the way."
"I think you will want to yield the Houses Gaunt and Slytherin to me in the future. In the meantime, I shall hold as regent for you on your other Houses until you reach your majority. And you will have your hands full with Houses Potter, Gryffindor, and Peverell! That's a wife and a concubine for each, you know."
He studied the two stunned children. Clearly, they would accomplish nothing more of import today. Just coming to terms with Hermione's new status would take her the rest of the day. And Harry, poor Harry, was completely lost at discovering that not only was he rich, but that he had a home, his home, he could go to this summer. No more Dursleys — ever! Gilderoy would have to bring them back to Gringotts after Christmas to finalize some details.
In any case, this certainly moved up his plans for dealing with Slytherin's Locket. As Lord Black he wouldn't have to wait for Sirius to get out of Azkaban. He could easily get Kreature to fetch the tainted locket, deal with it, and have it ready to present on schedule to Professor Snape. And if he could get the Goblin's to retrieve the lost House Gaunt ring . . . well that would save him considerable time and effort! That only left the Hufflepuff Cup to deal with. And as Lord Black, maybe he could get the Goblin's to allow him access. If that didn't work, then he could try to use his new seats on the Wizenmaggots — Potter, Black, Gryffindor, and Slytherin — to get a law passed that would allow him access.
And in the meantime, his being Lord Black added to his already substantial wealth as Lockhart made him easily the wealthiest Wizard in all of Europe, if not the world.
"Lord Potter, Lady Dagworth-Granger, I suggest you keep today's discoveries quiet while we sort these things out. Lady Dagworth-Granger, be sure to owl your parents with a copy of that paperwork. See if they can manage to get Monday off from work so we can consult on exactly what all this means for you and them. At the very least, the three of you will want to examine your Vault to see what books and journals your esteemed ancestor has left to you. You might also be able to visit the Dagworth-Granger homestead on Monday for a preliminary examination. Who knows, you might want to move there if it's nice enough."
And seeing her parents' expressions when they discovered she had turned herself into a cat-girl was going to be priceless. Too bad they weren't of Japanese descent — the pranking potential would have been out of sight!
He turned to Harry, "Mr. Potter, I know all this is a shock, but it is imperative you tell no one of your multiple Lordships, not even Misters Weasley, Miss Lovegood, or Mr. Longbottom. You should also make your ring invisible."
Harry looked at him questioningly.
"Just will that none may see it and it will be."
In the middle of all this, a Goblin had arrived with a small box. He had handed it to Ragnurk, and now Ragnurk handed it to Hermione. Moments later, she was admiring her new ring, before making it disappear from view as well.
He turned to the two Goblins. "Ragnurk, we will return on Monday to take care of some of this business. If there are other account managers involved, have them at the meeting. Have the property protective enchantment reports available as well as all the relevant financial details on each property. Check for any outstanding betrothal or marriage contracts on all the Houses and withhold them until we can carefully examine them. I will expect portkeys to all the properties so that we may view them.
"If there are any encumbrances, provide all the details and our possible courses of action.
"Put these in logical and complete order, and in language simple enough for Muggles and children to understand with only minimal effort."
The Goblins grimaced, but nodded agreement. Lockhart also got them to agree to withhold the information on the new Lordships for as long as possible.
"I think we have spent enough time here today. Copy the property reports for Lord Potter and Lady Dagworth-Granger. We will be here at nine in the morning."
He waited only long enough for the Goblins to hand them the duplicated items, then ushered the children back out into Diagon Alley. "How about some ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour? I think we deserve a treat after all that!"
The castle's reaction to his return was startling. He could feel the protective enchantments as they started to shift to his control. Apparently, wearing the Lord Gryffindor and Lord Slytherin rings had a few additional perks. He managed, however, to delegate control back to the Headmaster before the older Wizard realized things had started to change. His new situation, though, meant that the Castle's protective enchantments no longer held any restrictions for him. It also meant he could monitor them whenever he wanted.
(⊙_◎)
The next morning, at breakfast, he received a Gringotts' owl. The estimated market value for the Basilisk parts, at current prices and after removing theirs and his reserved portions, was three million galleons — mostly in the venom sacs (almost four litres), eye fluids (sixteen litres), and one hundred square yards of Basilisk skin (extremely valuable because it was almost impervious to all spells, even the Unforgivables to a mild degree). The letter also included an offer to purchase all the non-reserved parts for a flat one million galleons. Gringotts would take the risk on selling the Basilisk parts over several years across the world through their connections to prevent flooding the markets and substantially decreasing the estimated income. The world supply of the venom at present, for example, was less than a litre! They also had the facilities to store the ingredients whereas Gilderoy did not.
He wrote in his counter offer of two point five million. He figured they would settle somewhere between one-and-a-half and two million. It was a fair price. And put their part of deal close to the original fifty-fifty split they had originally offered. Heh. Goblins. Funny how that worked out! Harry/Gilderoy didn't care. It was the fame that drove Gilderoy. And Rita Skeeter's articles were doing a fine job of that. He could hardly wait for Monday!
That the Goblins had made more profit off him in the last three months than all their other clients in the last two years was incidental — the good will he got, though, was worth every galleon. When Harry/Gilderoy got down to going after the Hufflepuff cup, that good will would pay dividends.
Plus, the massive payout would place him as the richest Wizard in the world — by at least triple — and easily provide him the gold coin to fund everything he wanted to do in the next year.
In the meantime, his deals for Harry insured the boy was moving up the ranks as well.
But it was kind of funny how both Harry and Gilderoy could care less about the money. Gilderoy only wanted to see his name in the headlines. Harry only wanted to get rid of Voldewhore. The money was merely a way of counting their success and achieving those goals! Gilderoy thought it was a pity, though, that the Wizarding world would never know he had saved them from complete destruction. Harry wasn't disappointed in the slightest.
After breakfast, he retired to his office, calling out, "KREACHER!" as soon as the door closed.
There was a long silence, then, POP! "Kreacher comes. Who is this filthy half-blood? Kreacher cannot resist. How? Kreacher's bad master is in Azkaban and no others can call." The house-elf looked around suspiciously.
Gilderoy smiled broadly at the little creature. "I am Lord Black."
The elf made an ugly grimace, "Impossible. Filthy Half-blood cannot be Lord of Noble and Ancient Pure-blood House Black. Kreacher go." The house-elf disappeared with a POP.
Harry/Gilderoy laughed. "Charming as ever," he said under his breath. "Kreacher, as Lord Black I order you to appear here!"
POP! "Kreacher comes again. How can filthy Half-blood command Kreacher?"
Before the house-elf could leave a second time, Harry/Gilderoy said jovially, striking a commanding pose, "Kreacher, how would you like to finish what your good master Black told you to do?"
Kreacher stared at him suspiciously. "Kreacher wonders how detestable Half-blood knows of Good Master."
"How I know is unimportant," Gilderoy said with an elegant wave of his hand. "That I do know your good master Regulus ordered you to destroy a certain locket, which you have been unable to do, is all you need to know."
"Foul Wizard is lying to Kreacher, to trick Kreacher." The house-elf scowled, taking a half-step toward Lockhart. "Kreacher cannot attack horrible Half-Blood. Kreacher . . . ."
Gilderoy hardened his voice, "Kreacher, I order you to bring me the locket you were ordered to destroy. Now."
Kreacher stood there a moment, clearly fighting the compulsion to obey. Then he disappeared. Several minutes passed. Gilderoy was patient. Even a House-elf needed time to fetch something under lock and key.
Just as he was becoming annoyed, Kreacher returned, the only sign of the locket was his tightly closed right hand.
"Excellent," Harry/Gilderoy said happily. He looked down at the House-elf. "Can you feel the evil taint in that locket, Kreacher?" he asked softly.
Kreacher gave him an uncertain look. "Dark thing is more than just Dark, Kreacher thinks. Is why Good Master told Kreacher to destroy it. How does miserable Half-blood feel it? Is it a trick?" he mumbled to himself.
"Follow me," Gilderoy ordered, flicking his wand and casting a disillusionment charm on the House-elf.
Moments later, he was walking back and forth in front of a wall on the seventh floor. Kreacher watched him scowling. He was only marginally surprised when a door appeared.
Once inside the Cleansing Chamber, Harry turned to the unhappy House-elf. "Kreacher, the Wizard that created the Dark spell on that locket is the same Wizard who killed your good master. Your good master knew what that spell was and knew it had to be destroyed. He was willing to die to destroy that magic." Kreacher stared at him scowling.
"This room is specially designed to destroy that spell without harming the object itself. Together, we will complete the task given to you by your good master Regulus."
"Kreacher tried everything to destroy the locket. Fire, acid, beating, everything. Nothing worked. This shan't work."
"Then you have nothing to lose in doing it, right?"
Reluctantly, scowling fiercely, Kreacher agreed.
"Place the locket in the middle of the room."
He did, the chain wrapping around the locket.
"We have to wait an hour. Tell me about your good master." Gilderoy sat on the floor, motioning Kreacher to join him. Harry had never talked with Sirius about his younger brother. He only knew that Sirius had hated the boy for joining with Voldewhore. And Harry had been too busy fighting the war to sit and talk with the House-elf before he died defending the Black Mansion. And he knew better than to ask the House-elf's opinion of Sirius!
Finally, an hour had passed. Gilderoy stood and then crouched down beside the initiating circle in the floor and held out his wand. "Put your hand on mine." Tentatively, the House-elf wrapped his long fingers around Gilderoy's hand. Gilderoy placed the wand tip on the edge of the circle and said, "Exorcizamus immundus spiritus." He stood and said, "We must hurry," and hustled the elf out of the chamber and closed the door. "And now, we wait again. So, what other pranks did Regulus play on Sirius?"
Fifteen minutes passed rather quickly, and they entered the chamber to see the Locket gleaming on the floor. Kreacher ran over and grabbed it.
"Do you feel anything from it, Kreacher?"
"Nothing!" Kreacher looked up at him and smiled — a scary thing to behold. "Kreacher has done what Good Master Regulus wanted! Kreacher is happy."
Gilderoy smiled, "Excellent!"
He stepped over to the House-elf. "May I see it for a moment, Please? I will give it back."
Reluctantly, yet oddly happy, the House-elf handed over the locket. Gilderoy pressed the button and the locket popped open. Unlike the last time he had seen the evil artefact, this time there were no blood-red eyes staring back at him. The chamber had removed all the enchantments, Voldewhore must have subverted the original enchantment by Salazar into becoming a part of his horcrux. Now it was merely a gold locket with nothing of import inside.
He reached into his pocket and removed a galleon. He studied the locket and its chain carefully, then changed the galleon into a duplicate, putting enough magic into it to make it permanent.
He held the duplicate out to Kreacher. "Kreacher, this locket is a priceless artefact that I would like to return to Hogwarts for everyone to see. Will you accept this duplicate I created as a remembrance of your Good Master Regulus? It will be yours forever, and I swear on my magic as Lord Black that I will not take it from you, nor have anyone take it from you. I further forbid any member of the Black Family, in perpetuity, to take it from you, on pain of expelling them from the family. It will be yours and only yours. So Mote it Be. Lumos." His wand-tip glowed. "And there's a spell on it that allows you, Kreacher, to 'call' the locket to yourself if it ever gets 'lost.'"
"You . . . you would do that for Kreacher?" Kreacher had giant tears dripping from his eyes.
Harry took the duplicate locket and draped it around Kreacher's neck.
Gilderoy left Kreacher alone for the next half-hour as he cradled the locket and cried in happiness at finally completing his master's order, and receiving such a fine remembrance.
Finally, Gilderoy interrupted. "Kreacher, now that you have finished your beloved master's last order, it is time you took care of the Mansion. It is so filthy right now, that not even a Muggle would want to walk inside, not to mention how revolted a Pure-blood would be to see it. A Pure-blood would assume you were a bad House-elf and dismiss you immediately."
Kreacher gave him a horrified look.
"But I know you were distracted by your last order from your Good Master Regulus, so you needn't worry about that. I want you to clean the house from top to bottom, so that it looks as if it were brand new. Take a spare trunk from storage and place all the Dark or Cursed Artefacts you find in that trunk. Get a second trunk and put all the cursed books in it. I want the House so safe a Muggle or child could walk through it without fear of anything bad happening. Not that I plan to have any Muggle children wandering in it, but still, it's the thought that counts."
Kreacher leapt to his feet about to POP off his new mission.
"Wait," ordered the Wizard, "You are an important member of the Black family. That means I want you to take care of yourself." He stared at the surprised elf. "You are not to work yourself into exhaustion! When you are hungry, get a proper meal to eat. When you are tired, rest — you can use your resting time to plan what needs to be done next and the easiest way to do it properly, if you want. When you are sleepy, I want you to sleep. Most importantly, do not punish yourself! If you feel you need punishment, you will tell me, and why, and I will decide! Is that clear?"
Kreacher nodded, staring at him and frowning.
"You cannot do your job properly if you are tired, hungry, or hurt! I will not be pleased," he said imperiously, his hands on his hips and dramatically posed looking down his nose at the diminutive house-elf, "if I call for you and find you too tired to do what I need because you overworked yourself. If you need help, you will tell me and I will see about getting you more help. Is this all clear?"
Again, Kreacher nodded.
"Excellent! We have an accord." He was about to dismiss the House-elf when he had another thought. "Is the portrait of Mrs. Black in the main Hall?"
"Yes," Kreacher answered.
"Excellent. Please remove it and place it in storage with the other portraits in the Black Vaults." Getting that insane biddy out of the house would go a long ways to making the place habitable once more.
"Off you go now," he waved his hands genially, motioning the House-elf away.
Kreacher POPed off. Harry/Gilderoy sighed. Maybe by the time Sirius got out of Azkaban and St. Mungo's the house at Twelve Grimmauld Place wouldn't be so miserable a place to live.
He headed back to his office. He was expecting delivery of his Basilisk parts this afternoon. He planned to get the skin to an armourer as soon as possible. Wearing that during a battle would make him almost impervious to any magical spells. And as tough as it was, even common swords and knives would have difficulty making an impression on it, never mind actually penetrating it. The armourer would have quite a chore ahead of him. But that was all right. He would give the Wizard enough skin for two outfits, let him keep the extra, and Lockhart would get the work done free!
(◎_◎)
Thursday, and Christmas Eve, came quickly and the staff had a small Christmas party after tea. Gilderoy had been unhappy to hear that Professor Snape had been an absolute cad on his date with Sinistra. He had been sullen and rude to the poor woman. Humph. See if he ever did any more favours for the stupid git!
He had situated himself between Sinistra and McGonagall at the tea and flirted shamelessly with both. Afterwards, at the party, he had sent a Hogwarts elf to his room to retrieve his record player. It was a muggle device, but he had substituted a spinning charm for the motor. A sonorous charm on the needle had supplied the amplification. As a result, he spent the evening dancing with the witches, but spending most of it with Sinistra and McGonagall. Somewhere along the way, the butterbeers became shots of fire-whiskey.
The next morning, Christmas morning, Harry woke to perhaps the best Christmas presents he had ever received — two very accommodating witches. The three missed most of the morning feast, but none of them felt unhappy about that in the slightest.
The few students in residence were shocked to see the three walk in together, laughing and in very good moods. Professor McGonagall's magnificent smile instead of her normally stern visage was what startled them the most, Harry/Gilderoy thought.
Harry/Gilderoy surprised the two witches when he gave them presents at the table — a wand holster each, with automatic sizing, comfort, invisibility, and anti-summoning runes. He had explained that they never needed to worry about not having their wands available when needed, as he had worn his all night and they had never noticed!
They had both apologized profusely for not having anything as nice a gift for him. "I merely wanted you two fine ladies always to be safe, and the holsters are appropriate for your positions as Professors at this fine institution," he had happily explained.
He didn't mention that Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Luna also received the same gift. In addition, those three had received their special duplicate wands and holsters. The note included had advice on where to wear the new wands — tied to their legs at all times — with a stern warning that they were not to be used at Hogwarts unless in an emergency. At home, they could use them as much as they wanted. Neville would get his when he returned to school.
Dobby had been quite busy trying to capture their expressions, without anyone seeing him, when they opened them.
After breakfast, the three made their separate ways to their rooms to put away their gifts. The students never noticed that the three then met again at his room, leaving only for tea and then returned.
How he had managed to talk the two witches into such a marathon game of Exploding Snap left both witches wondering and laughing for days. The variations he had come up with as extra penalties for holding the exploding card might have had something to do with it though — McGonagall still chuckled at the memory of watching Sinistra trying to pat her head, rub her stomach, and hop on one foot, all at the same time. And that car-e-o-key singing had been hilarious, especially after the third fire-whiskey. And the Monopoly game! What a strangely engrossing Muggle game it had been — who knew Sinistra was such a cut-throat capitalist!
Dobby, of course, was keeping track of the Golden Duo — their third and fourth were spending the hols at home. Dobby had a Wizarding camera to catch all the highlights of their expedition into enemy territory. And while Hermione was distracted, he carefully decanted the rest of the polyjuice into potion bottles and dropped two into her pocket for future reference. He kept the others in stasis against a future need.
Late that evening, both Dobby and Harry/Gilderoy had spent an hour laughing at the pictures of Harry discovering too late that he should have resized his underwear, shoes, and belts before drinking the polyjuice. And while Hermione would probably never find the situation funny, seeing her change into a cat-girl was simply too hysterical for words.
Plus, Cat-Hermione was just so cute! He definitely was going to blow that one up into a poster for his office.
Harry/Gilderoy visited the Hospital Wing shortly after visiting hours were over. "Ah, Miss Granger! How delightful to see you are in fine health after your accident," he said as he walked over to her. He flicked his wand and moved some screens into place so that casual lookers in the morning would not see the poor Witch. She whimpered slightly. He studied her with a critical eye.
"I must say, you are quite a cute cat-girl." He paused a moment as she stared morosely at the bedspread. He couldn't tell if she was blushing. As depressed as she was, probably not.
"Do you know that no one has ever studied what happens when someone accidentally ingests an animal hair instead of a human hair in polyjuice?"
She gave him a horrified look — how had he guessed?
"I should think," he continued, "that an in-depth thesis on the all the symptoms and how they fade through time would be a potion's article of some fame. It would make quite a splash with the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, I'm sure. Especially coming from someone with the surname Dagworth-Granger. You could start by cataloguing all the changes and, most importantly, what didn't change. Of course, you would have to provide pictures of the progression. I suggest a front and back picture at the start of every day, with close-ups of certain features such as the ears, eyes, tail, fingers, toes, and chest. And a sample of the potion you actually used, vetted by a Master Potioneer, would be most helpful." He carefully placed two vials on her nightstand, one with a potion in it and the other with a cat hair.
"Once you have all your material, you can then select which pictures to use. You'd have to study deucedly hard, but you could take your Potions' Owl at the end of next year. Because this is a NEWT level potion you brewed, publication of the article shortly thereafter would get you your NEWT, especially considering the ground-breaking nature of your thesis." He grinned at her shocked expression.
"We can explain the accident as a special project approved by Professor Snape, and that the hair was just an unexpected contamination. A Second-year, who shall remain nameless, gave you the cat hair as a prank, not realizing the seriousness of messing with polyjuice."
The cat-girl looked at him, eyes wide and ears slightly bent back. That was the cat equivalent of astonished disbelief, Harry decided, based on the way her emotions spiked.
He smiled. "Leave the git to me. He will co-operate." The 'or else' was left unspoken.
"I'll be here first thing tomorrow morning, at seven, with Mr. Potter, and we'll start the first series of pictures."
As he turned away, he said, "Don't worry about the Goblins and Monday. A glamour will suffice for your appearance in public."
(◎_⊙)
"Good Morning, Miss Granger," Gilderoy said, a yawning Harry following him around the rolling curtains separating Hermione's bed from the others in the ward. Hermione blinked at them sleepily, their arrival awakening her.
"I have the camera." He held up the item. He handed it to Harry and quickly showed him how to operate it, including loading in new film, while Hermione rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up.
He pulled her from the bed and had Harry take a picture of them, with Gilderoy smiling broadly and Hermione looking confused.
"Excellent! Miss Granger, I took the liberty of drawing up a list of the pictures we'll need for your thesis." He moved one of the screens over to provide a neutral backdrop. "You stand there," he directed her. "Turn your back to us . . . yes, just like that. Now take off your gown." At her hesitation and horrified look, he added, "Not to worry, my dear young Witch — you are furred! We cannot see anything that you might consider embarrassing at this stage of the game. In fact, you are far better covered than any of the times that you visited the French Rivera with your parents!" At the mention of the Rivera she gave him a sharp look — how had he known they had been there? — but somewhat mollified, she complied. Gilderoy wanded the gown to her bed.
"Excellent! Harry take the first picture of her. Okay, Miss Granger, turn forty-five degrees to your left. Picture, Harry. Excellent, now another forty-five degrees for a profile. Picture, Harry. Now, Miss Granger, turn to your right so we see you at a forty-five degree angle. Picture. Another forty-five to the right for a profile. Picture, Harry."
It was at this point that Madam Pomfrey interrupted, "PROFESSOR LOCKHART! What are you doing?"
After his explanation and a subtle confundus spell, she returned to her office mollified with the understanding that this was all in the name of advancing their understanding of Magic. Nothing naughty going on here!
"Now, Harry, a close-up of her tail. Now the tip." By the time they finished with close-ups of her ears, as well as her eyes, nose, mouth, teeth, hands, fingers, feet, and toes the little Witch so used to his commands that she didn't even bat an eye when Harry took full-frontal pictures and then moved in close for her chest. That she now had six instead of two simply provided a few more pictures and outside of a moment of stunned surprise from Harry, they finished up rather quickly. All told, Harry used up two rolls of film.
As Gilderoy explained, they didn't know exactly which pictures would be most useful, so it was better to have too many than too few. "Be prepared" was his motto, after all. Harry would develop the pictures and put them in a well-warded filing case for Hermione's thesis.
He taught them the Notice-Me-Not and silencing spells so they wouldn't be disturbed while taking the pictures.
Gilderoy snickered as he left Harry and Hermione having their breakfast. By the end of January, both children wouldn't even realize that the final week's pictures would be of the Witch completely without fur. And neither would think anything unusual about it — and that should help move their relationship along!
Ah, Severus! Just the Wizard I wanted to see!" They were in the dungeons. Professor Snape hadn't been at breakfast, apparently taking it in his rooms. Gilderoy met the man just as he was leaving his office.
The Wizard scowled. He was nearly as unhappy to see Lockhart as the other was pleased to see him. Unfortunately, it being a Saturday and the holidays, he couldn't beg off claiming a class or other pressing matter.
Gilderoy steered the Potions Master back towards his office, "I have a proposal for you, one which I'm sure you will see great advantages in accepting. And you know 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 would never steer you wrong!" He paused for the expected fawning that most of his fans rendered unto him, but the other professor only scowled. Lockhart pretended to ignore that reaction. The pompous professor continued as if he had received the anticipated response, and raising an eyebrow in inquiry, said, "What would you say if I told you a Second Year student has successfully brewed a perfect cauldron of polyjuice?"
The other sneered at him, "I would call you a liar. That is a NEWT level potion and quite out of the skill range of any non-OWLed student. And I know none of the dunderheads in my Second-year classes could even come close to doing it." Disgusted, he made to move around the D.A.D.A. professor.
Lockhart lifted a small vial out of his pocket and held if before Snape's eyes, grinning widely and showing off his beautiful teeth.
Snape sighed and glared at Lockhart in a manner indicating he felt much put upon, but he took the vial and pulled out his wand. After a diagnostic spell, he looked over to Gilderoy and frowned. He cast another. Then he removed the cap and looked at the fluid. He waved his hand over the open vial and took a delicate sniff from a safe distance — some potions were too dangerous to risk sniffing directly from the mouth of their vial. He gave a measured look at the other professor as he resealed the small bottle, scepticism clear. He sneered, "From whom did you buy this?"
Gilderoy gave him another broad smile and struck a pose as he lifted his wand. "I, Gilderoy Lockart, Adventurer Extraordinaire, swear on my magic that the vial of polyjuice I just gave you was brewed by a Second Year student in Hogwarts, brewing completed yesterday, unassisted by any older student, adult, or other magical creature. So Mote It Be! Lumos." The wand lit-up brightly.
Snape's expression changed to one of incredulity, and he again tested the vial.
"Who?" he demanded. If what Gilderoy had said was true then this was a talent that he wanted to train.
"Ah, that's the rub, my dear fellow. Before I reveal that student's identity, I need your promise to listen to the complete story and my offer before making any rash decisions."
Professor Snape studied the dandy standing before him, scowling, glancing at the vial in his left hand. This had to be a trick he just knew it. He gave a small sigh, but any student capable of such a remarkable job of potioneering was a genius. It would be a real joy to have someone of that calibre in his classes. But how? How had he not noticed such an extraordinary talent?
Gilderoy steered the man into his office. After sitting, he placed the vial prominently in the centre of Snape's desk, and then pulled a tiny box out of one of his pockets and put it on Snape's desk. He tapped the box with his wand and it quickly grew to a reasonable shoebox size. He leaned back in his chair, put his elbows on the arm supports, and laced his fingers together in front of him.
"This whole Chamber of Secrets fiasco has incited four students to search for the so-called Heir of Slytherin. They decided that the only thing to do was to sneak into Slytherin House and spy for information, under the mistaken impression that one Draco Malfoy was the hidden heir."
He could see that Snape anticipated where this was going — Harry Potter! The Potions Professor's face reddened in anger.
"In their infinite wisdom, they decided that the solution was to brew polyjuice. They set up their cauldron in a remote location and one of them took on the task of brewing the difficult potion. The brewing started the day after Mr. Creevey was petrified. For six weeks and six days she brewed and yesterday it was completed." He waved at the vial.
"My stolen boomslang skin!" The professor started to get to his feet.
"Ah! Wait until I finish," Gilderoy chided, "You promised."
Glaring, the irate professor subsided, slumping back into his chair. It was only his promise to listen to the whole story that prevented him from immediately raging out of the room and tracking down Harry and his posse, and tossing them out Hogwarts' gates.
"I, the great 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 immediately noticed something was going on when they started." Oh, yeah, he was laying it on thick. "I did not survive my many remarkable adventures by not being observant, don't you know! For details, refer to my many books."
"I have quite the eye for detail, you know, finely-honed by years of tracking deadly monsters in their own home ranges." He was laying it on a bit thick just to annoy the other professor. "I have been watching the brewer at work this entire time. A simple alert charm on their hidden cauldron warned me whenever she, or anyone else, approached it." He smiled "My house-elf watched them quite closely to make sure nothing went wrong with her potion, with strict instructions not to interfere." He paused. "Dobby!"
The potions professor barely changed expression as the named elf POPed into the room. Dobby was dressed quite spiffily for an elf. Instead of a ragged towel, he had what appeared to be a lavender towel worn as a mid-back-length cape and another teal thigh-length towel-set tailored as robes, with pockets, all meticulously ironed. In addition, he wore one sock of aqua blue and the other a deep reddish brown. The edge of a pair of gloves were artfully protruding from a side pocket and a handkerchief from a breast pocket. Even for a Wizard he would have been rather nattily dressed!
Gilderoy knew that this revelation of his "owning" Dobby would provoke some serious thinking on the other Wizard's part. But it was necessary.
"Yes, I hired the house-elf that Malfoy released." He gave the other Wizard an aloof expression. "The house-elf is no longer affected by the insanity of his previous owner and is quite an efficient fellow." He turned his attention to the creature, "Dobby, is that the vial of polyjuice you decanted from the cauldron in Myrtle's toilets?" He pointed at the vial on the desk.
"TOILETS!?" Snape exclaimed, shock overcoming his anger. "This was brewed in a toilet stall?" He sat upright.
Dobby gave the vial a close look without touching it. "Yes, Master Lockhart, it is."
"And did you watch the brewer of this polyjuice potion every time she checked on the potion, and stirred and added ingredients?"
"Yes, Master Lockhart." Dobby was good behaviour today, not nearly as excitable as he was around Harry Potter. If he only knew!
"Did you assist the brewer in any way, shape, or form in brewing this polyjuice potion?"
"No, Master Lockhart."
"Were there any others besides the brewer and her three companions who approached the cauldron while it was brewing, and did they do anything to it?"
"Only the ghost Moaning Myrtle saw the cauldron, and she merely looked at it, Master Lockhart. The brewer's companions sometimes checked it while she was not there, but they never did anything to it." They had carefully rehearsed what Dobby would say — only the truth, but in syntactically complete sentences without the hyperactivity he normally displayed.
Gilderoy smiled at the house-elf. "Return to your duties, please."
"Yes, Master Lockhart," Dobby said, POPing out immediately afterwards.
"Now, don't get your knickers in a bunch," the blonde-haired dandy said to the fuming Potion Master. "This," he continued, tapping the box on the desk with his wand, "contains all the ingredients required for polyjuice, including boomslang skin. Enough to make twelve doses." He smiled broadly as he lounged back in his chair. "Everything in the box is, of course, under a stasis spell to preserve its freshness."
"Granger!" sneered the still irate Potions Master. "I'll see her and Potter expelled for this!" He almost smiled at the thought of finally tossing Potter out on his ear. That that know-it-all Mud-blood would go with him made it all that much more satisfactory.
This had always puzzled Harry. Snape knew that Harry was essential to Dumbledore's plans. Yet he persisted in this fantasy that Albus would punish Harry by forcing him to leave. Was the Wizard so far removed from reality that he couldn't see his hopes would never see fruition no matter how terribly Harry might act? Why, Harry/Gilderoy suspected Harry could kill Draco and the Headmaster would dismiss it as an unavoidable accident and allow him to escape serious punishment.
"I doubt that," Gilderoy said, disparagingly. "After all, you now have your private stock replenished with double what she took, so you can't claim that as a reason. In addition, when word gets out just how good of a potioness she is, others will ridicule you for allowing such a talent to escape your training. Not to mention for failing to recognize what was right in front of you." He smirked at the Wizard. "And it would be like cutting off your nose to spite your face.
"Why, I believe not even the incomparable Miss Evans could have accomplished that potion in her Second Year." It was a calculated risk, mentioning her in this context, but it should jolt the immature git into thinking twice before rejecting Gilderoy's offer outright.
Professor Snape scowled, seething inside, barely containing his fury at the popinjay daring to mention Lily. But he was right, Snape had to admit to himself. Lily, talented though she was, would have had a great deal of difficulty brewing polyjuice as a Second Year.
Lockhart could practically read his mind just from his expressions. Severus hated to admit it, but that soft-hearted old goat-shagger of a Headmaster would see the return of the ingredients as levelling the account. In fact, he would probably award her points for doing it! And while he disliked the Mud-blood, if it was true that she could brew a perfect batch of polyjuice as a Second Year, to ignore her talents would call into question his abilities.
"Now, instead of giving her detentions forever, as I'm sure you burn to do, you should make her your assistant instead. Not apprentice, though. There are many reasons for not doing that, as you well understand. For the rest of the year, though, give her all the homework assignments from the First Year students to correct."
Snape looked ready to explode.
"Just imagine how much private research you can accomplish now that you no longer have to waste three or four hours every week correcting the dunderheaded blatherings of incompetent and venial First Years."
Snape still looked angry, but now there was a bit of thoughtfulness in it. That was an enticing offer. More time for his projects. Less time wasted on incompetent and troll-like idiots.
"And you can foist off some of Madam Pomfrey's potion requests onto her, giving you more private time still. I imagine that if you kept the total time to under five hours a week, no one, least of all her, would complain. Five hours to devote to your own work, every week. Five hours you don't have to waste monitoring detentions — she can watch them clean cauldrons as easily as yourself." Which was how the Wizard normally conducted his detentions, grading homework assignments while the students scrubbed cauldrons.
"And when your Slytherin students object? Pick the best potioneer to grade some of the other years. Once word of the tedium, and lost study time, gets out they will stop complaining."
Snape sat silent for several minutes. It wasn't hard to follow his thoughts just by observation. While he hated Harry Potter, and by extension, anyone he associated with, he didn't really hate those others except for how they wasted his time. Clearly, Granger had a talent. A talent he could use to give himself more time for his projects and research.
"And next year, you can give her both First and Second Year assignments to correct, giving you even more time while destroying what little free time she has!"
Snape stared coldly at the D.A.D.A. professor. "Why. Why are you doing this." He paused a moment. "You didn't have to tell me this, nor replace the stolen ingredients. Nor place such a hard sell on the Witch's talents. If you had said nothing, I never would have known — suspected. But never known."
Gilderoy gave the other a chagrined smile. "Well . . . things didn't go as smoothly as they should have." He shrugged elegantly. "While the polyjuice was brewed to perfection, their plan did not go as efficiently." He sighed. "One impersonated Mr. Crabbe and snuck into the Slytherin Common Room behind Mr. Malfoy only to discover that the Wizard knew as little as they did about the Heir."
Snape was impressed in-spite of himself at their success. And farther infuriated him that they had defiled his Slytherin House.
Lockhart smiled ruefully. "Miss Granger, on the other hand, failed to acquire a hair from Miss Bulstrode, instead getting a hair from the Witch's cat."
"WHAT!" That did bring a startled expression to the other professor's face.
"Yes, she is now in the Hospital wing. A quite cute cat-girl, if I say so myself."
Snape leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Serves the little thief right!"
Harry/Gilderoy waved his hand dismissively, "That doesn't matter. Nothing a glamour can't hide until it wears off. However, what I need from you is your cooperation in fabricating a story to back her up. You see, she plans to write a thesis on her human-to-animal polyjuice accident — isn't it interesting that polyjuice, which normally wears off in an hour, appears to go for weeks when an animal hair is used? When the Witch takes Arithmancy I'm sure she'll get another thesis out of analysing what happened and discovering why. Between the two I'm sure she'll easily acquire both her Potions' and Arithmancy N.E.W.T.s in Sixth Year.
"I thought we could say you had a client request some polyjuice and drafted the girl to brew it as a test, having noticed her remarkable talent in the classroom. The cat-hair was just a bit of accidental contamination, and is a cautionary tale on verifying your materials before using them. That she is now your assistant would provide additional evidence."
"And why should I cooperate in your little plot?" the angry professor sneered, looking for any reason to deny Lockhart his objective.
Gilderoy smiled broadly and drew out three small vials. "Would two ounces of Basilisk blood and a quarter-ounce each of Basilisk Eye Fluid and Venom be a sufficient incentive to procure your agreement?" He placed the three vials on Snape's desk. The value of the three easily totalled more than Professor Snape earned in two and a half years at Hogwarts. And certainly far more than the school's yearly ingredients' budget.
Professor Snape, it seemed, was more than willing to be of assistance. He did insist that Harry suffer a week's detention for the ingredients wasted when their pyrotechnics disrupted their class and gave Hermione time to pillage his private stock. He, of course, would change his protection enchantments so that such a tactic would fail in the future.
A small price to pay, Gilderoy thought. And wasn't Hermione going to be surprised when Professor Snape walked into the Hospital Wing and dropped off all those ungraded scrolls with the orders that she was now his grading assistant! One day of training her in what Snape expected and Snape would get many days of fruitful private potioneering in exchange. And the girl would be deliriously happy at the prospect of being a Professor's assistant!
The greasy-haired git was already planning how to use his newly created free time, the blonde ponce noticed as he left the dour Wizard's office.
A visit home to his family took the rest of the day. His mother was overjoyed to see him and quizzed him relentlessly on his new position. He told her of his adventure with the Basilisk and the coming news-story next week. He also told them he was moving them to a new home that better suited his position in life — Lord Black! His two older sisters were also visiting and he extended his offer of new homes to them, as well. They made plans to visit several House Black properties in Muggle areas, as well as contingency plans to build anew if they didn't like any of those. Nothing said they had to move to an existing residence!
And they were delighted to hear that they wouldn't have to take care of their new homes themselves as he planned to make sure each had a house-elf to handle the cooking and cleaning. That this also allowed him to put up Protective Enchantments to keep them safe from Death Eaters and others jealous of his fame and fortune wasn't mentioned.
Gilderoy planned to see more of his family in the future, now that he had assured his future, and he wanted nothing to interfere with that goal.
Mr. Potter followed through Sunday morning with visiting Hermione and getting the daily pictures, according to the list Gilderoy provided. It took longer this time because they both kept referring to the list, but soon it would become a rote procedure, done automatically without much thought. Madam Pomfrey at first opposed the idea, but after consulting with Gilderoy, had no objections to Harry being the lone thesis photographer. He was, already, one of her favourite patients, with unfailing manners always following her orders to the letter. He would never do anything inappropriate she knew — especially after Gilderoy casted a suitable confundo on her, of course.
Madam Pomfrey decided that Hermione, with a bit of a nudge — no spells! — from Harry/Gilderoy, could attend her classes under a glamour during the day. She had to spend the nights in the Hospital Wing, though. Harry/Gilderoy was sure Harry would sneak in under his Cloak for many of those. Nothing naughty would happen, they'd just talk and study, he was sure. Harry in Second Year was far too passive and afraid of rejection to initiate anything that others even might even remotely consider naughty. No to mention he would be terrified of bolloxing up his friendship with the little Witch. And he knew Hermione had a solid grounding in sex education and would keep things under control.
Sunday night, well after curfew, found Gilderoy sauntering up Diagon Alley towards the offices of The Daily Prophet. Rita was surprised to see him arrive, but relaxed when he explained, "I wanted to see tomorrow's paper tonight. And make sure we both are happy with what appears." She had smirked, she knew he would heartily approve of her block-buster articles.
While waiting for the first copies to roll off the press, Harry/Gilderoy had talked an enthusiastic Rita into giving him a tour of the printing plant. It was a simple enough matter to get her to leave him to watch over the typesetter as he laid her article to bed.
With a Notice-Me-Not in place, he quickly carved a few runes into the press's ink barrel — Trust, Believe, and a set that made you want to read the entire paper. Why he had never thought to do this for his books, he couldn't understand. Sure, he would have had to research the runes, but the pay-off was well worth the effort. Harry wouldn't let him do it now, but still . . . .
The runes, powered by Gilderoy's initial charge and without a charging rune of their own, would run down in about a week. By then, everyone would be praising him and distrustful of the Great Dumbledore. He would have to make it a habit to recharge them whenever an appropriate article appeared. Eventually, he would remove them lest someone find and abuse them. And put a few self-charging runes on the presses to remove any enchantments should any others with questionable moral try to repeat his trick with the ink.
After taking a couple of copies of the freshly printed newsparchments, he returned to Hogwarts. He debated just staying awake but decided to nap the five hours before his next appointment.
At five A.M., he arrived in the Ministry's atrium and found his way to the Aurors' offices, where he accosted a tired Wizard filling out paperwork at his desk.
"Excuse me, my good Wizard," He grinned his brilliant smile. "But 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, need to speak with Madam Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
The man stared at him, shook his head, and said, "She shan't be in until eight."
"Ah, well, that just shan't do." He pulled out a copy of The Daily Prophet and showed the man the newsparchment. The man stared, astonished, at the picture and headlines dominating the front page — Lockhart Kills Deadly Monster! And below that, Mystery Monster Stalked Hogwarts' Students, One Confirmed Dead! And below that it said, Headmaster Befuddled for 50 Years, Did Nothing to Protect Students. A side article's headline asked, Is Dumbledore Senile or Incompetent? The Wizard reached to grab the paper to read it, but Harry put it back in his pocket — he was pleased to see his runes worked.
"I think," he continued, "That Madam Bones will be most upset if you tell her you could have warned her of this before the public saw it. And didn't."
Ten minutes later, he was sitting in her office, watching as she scowled while reading the newsparchment. It was loaded with articles about the Chamber, monsters that could kill or petrify with a look, the Four Founders, and an absolutely brilliant piece, in Gilderoy's opinion, about him and his accomplishments, including his tenure so far at Hogwarts. It was by far the best piece in the entire newsparchment.
Rita had done a masterful job researching the history of the Chamber. She had the entire fiasco involving Hagrid down pat, ridiculing both the Ministry and the previous Headmaster, Armando Dippet, for ignoring the facts and going for a simple scapegoat — Harry's memory of what Tom had shown him had helped considerably. She had then pointed out how Dumbledore, as Headmaster, had known, or at the very least, suspected the truth. And yet failed in every particular to correct the injustice as well protect the students in his school from being at risk from the Basilisk in the future when he became Headmaster — the least he could have done was seal up the known access point for the beast, the Witches' Toilets on the First Floor! But he had done nothing for Hagrid or the students. He had just wasted fifty years with his wand up his . . . well, Rita let the readers finish that sentence themselves.
She had then pointed out how he had done nothing this year to protect the students from what he clearly knew was a dangerous beast — not even closing the toilets that he had to know hid the entrance the beast had used. He had played fast and loose with their lives. Only by the most incredible luck was a student petrified instead of killed, unlike the previous time with Myrtle when someone had opened the Chamber.
And how he had been oh so content to wait until Spring to cure the petrified boy and find out what had happened! It had taken the intervention of the skilled and expert Professor of the school's D.A.D.A. to acquire the proper ingredients to cure the student, at the professor's own expense, no less. The famous Professor Lockhart was more concerned with the welfare of the students than the school's Headmaster! The Headmaster obviously put money ahead of worry about a student's education. Then she had gone into a rant about how little he seemed to protect the students, using last year's four attempts on Harry Potter's life as an example.
Her concluding paragraph pointed out that it took a newly-hired Gilderoy Lockhart to deduce the identity of the monster, find its lair, and deal with the threat. And Gilderoy Lockhart, brilliant world-famous celebrity though he might be, had only graduated from Hogwarts twelve years before! He was a new-hire, for Merlin's sake! What was the Great Headmaster Dumbledore, the so-called greatest Wizard of the century, doing during the last fifty years that he couldn't manage this? Was he incompetent? Was he senile? Or did he know and simply not care about the students? "It seems," Rita wrote, "that Dumbledore can't be so great if a new-hire, Gilderoy Lockhart, can do what he hadn't been able to do in fifty years! Does that mean that Gilderoy is a greater Wizard than Dumbledore?"
Finally, the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement slammed the paper down on her desk and glared at him.
He smiled wryly. "Considering that the Headmaster never told the parents that a Basilisk has been running around in Hogwarts since Halloween, I thought you might be interested.
"Bearing in mind that Dumbledore is also Grand Sorcerer; Chief Warlock of the Wizenmaggots; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards; and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, perhaps it's just a matter of one man being stretched too far. From my understanding, each of those jobs would take the full-time attention of one Wizard, yet he is trying to do them all himself. Perhaps he should pass up on three of those positions and devote his full attention to just one?
"In any case, while I am not one to tell someone else how to do their job, perhaps you should interview the Headmaster and the Hogwarts' staff today as to the situation there over the last few months. Find out what they knew, when they knew it, and what they did to safeguard the lives of your niece and the rest of the students."
From the sour expression on her face, he knew that the Headmaster was not going to be given easy, simple questions to answer.
"You know from the memories you took from Mr. Potter last November how dangerous the castle was last year to him. This year the danger seems to have expanded to include all the students. Can you imagine the loss to the Wizarding world if the Basilisk had happened into the Great Hall during a Feast? An entire generation wiped out in mere seconds! And Headmaster Dumbledore never seemed worried in the slightest."
He paused, as if a new thought had struck him, "Is it possible the Headmaster was in control of the beast?" He stood as if horrified at the thought. "No, that couldn't possibly be true, he is the leader of the Light, after all." He sighed. "Maybe he is a Gray Wizard and has managed to fool us all this time." He paced back and forth across her office for a minute before sitting back down.
The Head of the D.M.L.E. looked distinctly unhappy at that thought.
"Because it is the hols, you needn't worry about disrupting the school's schedule. The Headmaster always is at breakfast, and if you arrive before the owls do, at eight A.M., you can catch him before he has seen The Daily Prophet or received a warning from a friend who has seen it. Don't give him time to think up a suitable explanation and tell the rest of the staff what they should say. When he does see The Daily Prophet he will already have told you his version. If his explanations are lacking when compared with the known facts . . . well, need I say more about trusting his veracity in the future?"
"To start things off," he withdrew a small vial from his pocket and placed it on the edge of her desk, "here is what happened in The Chamber of Secrets.
"I skipped some of the more mundane aspects of my confrontation — I'm sure you'll understand — I do want to put out a book of the entire experience, you know." He knew she would have several others view the memories with her, and they would spread rumours across the country, raising anticipations at seeing the rest of the week's The Daily Prophet. And spreading his fame that much farther.
She nodded slowly while looking at the vial of memories.
He stood, "Well, now that that's all sorted, I'll get back to Hogwarts. You should have plenty of time to review that memory and prepare an investigative team for the staff. I would suggest that the Headmaster be interviewed here at the Ministry while the staff is interviewed at the school. You might want to dispatch some Aurors to interview a few of the more important Hogwarts' children at their homes, preferably before The Daily Prophet arrives to complicate things. Perhaps Mr. Longbottom, Miss Abbott, the Weasley children, Mr. Malfoy, your niece, and so forth. You needn't bother with Mr. Potter or Miss Granger, you will see them in the memories I left you. Besides, I will be conducting them to Gringotts for some unfinished business today. If you would like to speak with them, I would be happy to escort them here on Tuesday.
He started towards the door. "I expect I'll see you around seven, hmm?" He stopped at the door. "Oh, by the way, that hidden room under the drawing room in the Malfoy's Manor, was it everything you had hoped to find out about Malfoy senior? Perhaps you should set an alert and tag spell on the Floo's to the Ministry watching for the Dark Mark to see if you can detect any Death-Eaters that you might not know about. Hmm?"
(⊙_◎)
Monday morning at Hogwarts was everything Gilderoy Lockhart wanted.
The Aurors, and Madam Bones, arrived at seven just as breakfast appeared on the round table the Headmaster had prepared for the holidays — Gilderoy was sure she used a time-turner to arrange everything and still get here on time. Gilderoy was the only one in attendance and he graciously invited them to dine with him while they waited for the Headmaster. Half an hour later, Albus Dumbledore strode confidently into the Great Hall. He knew, of course, the moment the Aurors had crossed the protective enchantment lines that they were here. He was unaware of any problems in the school that might require the Aurors, so he was not in any hurry to dress and meet them in the Hall.
"Ah! Madam Bones," he said as he entered, "What brings you to my illustrious school?" He smiled at her genially, eyes twinkling.
The Head of the D.M.L.E. put down her tea and stood. "Headmaster Dumbledore. Something has come up of extreme importance regarding the safety of students at Hogwarts and I wanted to discuss the matter with you at the Ministry."
"Oh? Really?" He paused a moment, his grandfatherly aspect in full force. "I assure you, Madam Bones, that all the students are completely safe at Hogwarts. Hogwarts' protective enchantments are second to none in Europe. Hogwarts is the safest place in the world," he quietly affirmed, smiling reassuringly at her.
"Interesting," she said, "Because I have it on good authority that there has been a Basilisk wandering the halls of Hogwarts since September. That certainly doesn't sound safe to me. Especially when we know for a fact that the creature has killed a student in the past."
Dumbledore's eyes flicked to look at Gilderoy before staring at Witch. "I assure you that the students are safe, Madam Bones. There have been no student fatalities in the school in many decades, and certainly none this year."
She tilted her head slightly. "True, no student fatalities, but you have lost a distressing number of Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers over the last two decades. Not even the Ministry has had as many Wizards die in the building as has Hogwarts. Doesn't sound too safe to me. Besides, how can you call Hogwarts 'safe' after the four attempts last year and one this year to kill Mr. Potter? A safe environment does not include regular attempts to kill a student."
The Headmaster sighed in the manner one does when being put-upon by others for matters that really are trivial. "My I break my fast first?" He waved his hand at the table.
"Certainly, Headmaster. After all, we aren't here to arrest you; we'd just like you to enlighten us about certain events."
The other Professors, and several students, wandered in for breakfast over the next half hour, looking nonplussed at seeing the Aurors at the now slightly larger table.
Twenty-five minutes later, the four Wizards and one Witch headed out of the Great Hall towards the Headmaster's Office. They intended to use his floo to go to the Ministry. Dumbledore had wanted to do the interview here, at the school, but Madam Bones prevailed upon him, stating there were a number of people who would be in on the interview and it was easier to move one of him than several of them. Unstated was that there would be Unspeakables at the meeting, and they were notorious for not wanting to leave their headquarters.
Barely ten minutes later, several owls came winging into the Great Hall.
Gilderoy placed an entire platter of bangers in front of the owl delivering his copy of The Daily Prophet as he snatched the paper from owl's leg. The picture dominating the top of the page was almost perfect for Gilderoy. The three adventurers were standing in front of the serpent doors to the Chamber, with a giant question-mark floating to the side.
Proper preparation is the key to success, and he had made sure the three of them had faced away from the wall/doors back the way they had come, while he had pointed to the snakes over their heads. A perfect pose for a picture he knew the paper would use from the memories they provided. He made it look as if he were merely pointing out their progress so far.
"My word!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed while staring at her copy of the rag. Professor Sinistra was staring at him over her copy. Similar exclamations came from the rest of the staff. Harry and Hermione, after a quick look at the cover picture had both blushed bright red. The other students were soon oohing and ahing, as they shared reading the two copies they had received.
Moments later a squad of Aurors came in and confiscated the newsparchments, explaining to the protesting Professors and students, "Sorry, but these are part of an investigation into things here at Hogwarts. We need to question you all before you read The Daily Prophet to prevent it from accidentally affecting your interviews." They grumbled, but agreed to finish their breakfasts and begin the interviews. The Aurors would interview the students only in the presence of their Head of House, after they had interviewed Heads.
Gilderoy, of course, preened under the attention. He started nattering on about how dangerous it was and how he had ensured that his two students were always perfectly safe. When pressed for more details about what was in the Chamber and what had happened, he demurred and said he didn't want to taint their testimony. Instead, he told them more details would appear in tomorrow's edition. Likewise, he mentioned nothing about what had happened previously in the year; he didn't want to prejudice the statements the others would be making.
It was a bit of a tease. Tomorrow's edition was about how he had reasoned out what the creature was and how to get at it. And how the great Boy-Who-Lived had helped. Wednesday would be an in-depth story about the history of the Chamber and events this year, with a teaser showing part of the inside of the Chamber. Thursday would show-case his battle with the Basilisk in Chamber with Friday as a follow-up on the reaction of Wizarding England.