The evening after he had presented Slytherin's Locket to the school, Gilderoy stopped in front of the Gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's Office. He held his right hand before the stone creature's eyes and flashed his Gryffindor and Slytherin rings. The Gargoyle quickly moved aside.
He took the moving staircase up to the office and barged in without knocking. The Headmaster, of course, knew he was there. The Wizard wasn't stupid, anytime his office Guardian moved, it told him who was entering and gave him plenty of time to prepare for his guest. Making them knock on the door as if he didn't know they were there was his passive-aggressive way of establishing dominance — he always waited several moments before calling for them to enter.
"Ah, Albus, I was hoping to catch you when you weren't busy," he said jovially, ignoring the stacks of paper on the old Wizard's desk and the slightly irritated look on the Wizard's face. "I thought I should warn you that Slytherin's Locket was a horcrux, just as the diary and Ravenclaw's Diadem. It appears that he never found Gryffindor's Sword, or that, too, would have been used."
The Headmaster sat back in his chair in surprise.
"That makes three horcruxes I've found, and I fear that there are still more. As I told you, I can still feel one, faintly, wandering the corridors on occasion. Do you suppose it's Hufflepuff's Cup?"
Actually, now that the Castle recognized him as Lord Slytherin and Lord Gryffindor he had complete access to the protective enchantments over the school. And the protective enchantments not only pinpointed Harry as carrying a very Dark Artefact — Voldewhore's Soul — they pointed out the there was a rat animagus in the Gryffindor Tower. There were also several minor Dark Artefacts scattered throughout the various Hogwarts Houses, but most were in the Slytherin Dungeons.
"My word!" exclaimed the old Wizard pretending surprise and astonishment.
"Yes, my feeling exactly. Just how many of these did he make? Counting the one I occasionally feel, which I am sure is Hufflepuff's Cup, and himself, that would be five. If he were using just the Founders' artefacts and he settled for his personal diary when he couldn't find the Sword, that would make sense. But what if he made more? The next most felicitous number is seven, after that is thirteen. I doubt thirteen as that would fracture him into too many pieces and I don't think he would remain sane if he had done that. Eleven is possible, of course, but it doesn't have quite the punch that thirteen does but that would still be almost a fifty-percent increase in soul pieces.
"I don't think he would use nine, because that would require three sets of three. He could do three things of the Founders, three of his own, and three of something else, but that would be chancy as it would require he know he could find all three sets of three before he started any one of them. And even then, nine might be too much for a soul to bear, and it could destroy him instead. A much better choice is seven. If I were interested in such things, well, then, that's what I would have chosen."
He paused and stared at the Headmaster. He had thought long and hard about this, before deciding to see if the old goat was willing to cooperate. Just how much was the plotter willing to share?
"Did he consult with anyone while he was at Hogwarts? It's obvious he knew about the horcruxes while still a student, as the diary and Moaning Myrtle demonstrate. And were there any personal items other than his diary that he might have invested as one of his horcruxes?"
The Headmaster stared back at him, the twinkle gone from his eyes. "He was quite close to one professor when he was here as a student. I fear, though, the man will refuse to tell us what he knows out of terror that Voldemort's followers might set out after him if it were to become known he had told others of Voldemort's secrets."
Gilderoy nodded. "That isn't a problem, I am quite skilled at getting reluctant Wizards and Witches to trust me enough to tell me things that they might not otherwise want to discuss." He smiled disarmingly at the Headmaster. "You locate Mr. Slughorn and let me convince the Wizard it is in his best interests to tell us what he knows." He practically exuded confidence and sincerity. "I am, after all, 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, Hogwarts' Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, and Basilisk Slayer. If the professor can't trust me with his secret, who can he trust?"
The Professor stared at the Headmaster, eyes shining, teeth bright, his entire bearing radiating candour and honesty. And looking like a simpleton. But how had he known it was Slughorn the older Wizard had been talking about?
"Are there any other personal effects of Tom Riddle that he might have used besides the diary? A ring, a necklace, or even a favourite quill?" Would the old goat-shagger notice his slight emphasis on ring? Tom Riddle had had the Gaunt ring during his Seventh Year.
The old Wizard looked pensive and stared down at his desk. Slowly he shook his head. "No, not that I am aware of. I shall have to peruse my memories of him to see if I can spot any clues. That will take some time."
"Ah," Gilderoy said. "Well, before you go gallivanting off around the countryside, give me a call and I'll go with you. Back up is always a good idea. Besides, I am 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, Slayer of Basilisks, and Hogwarts beloved Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. If I can't keep you safe, who can?"
Harry knew precisely what and where the next horcrux was — the Gaunt ring in Little Hangleton. He could retrieve it himself, but this would be a test. Was the Headmaster willing to work with others? Or did he still see himself as infallible? Would the Wizard stupidly attempt to retrieve the ring on his own, and ensure his death? If he hadn't learned yet that he needed to work with others, then maybe it would be better remove him from the playing field.
It was a harsh judgement, but Harry had learned that lesson the hard way in the war. No matter how loyal they were to the cause, it was better to cut someone out of the loop when their actions and secrets became too dangerous to others to trust. And if that meant consigning them to an early death by allowing them to do something fatally stupid, then so be it. No matter how much it hurt to watch it happen.
You just can't protect people from their own stupidity, no matter how smart or clever they were.
(◎_⊙)
Gilderoy walked into the Perth palliative care building and looked around. It had the feeling all such buildings did and reminded him of a hospital, which, in a way, it was. A few minutes later, he was meeting with the director of facility. Decked out in an obviously expensive grey conservative three-piece silk suit, Gilderoy just reeked of refinement and money.
The other stood as the Wizard came in the office, and they shook hands. "Thank you so much for seeing me so quickly, I know you must be a busy man," Lockhart said. Through that connection, he sent a silent imperio and the man's eyes glazed over. Gilderoy closed the door behind them and raised muffling charms that included only the two of them. Anyone listening via an electronic device would hear only a faint buzzing — unless the man was wearing one. He wasn't. Harry/Gilderoy checked.
"I need an old lady who has no kin and is expected to pass on soon," Gilderoy said. "Do any of your patients here fit that description?"
The man smiled, pleased to have the answer, "Yes, there are several, poor dears."
The Wizard handed the man a pocket watch. "When you open the watch, you'll see that there is a small disk inset into the cover. When such a woman passes on, remove that disk and step on it. I will come and claim the body as next of kin. Don't let the body leave here before I arrive. Keep the watch with you at all times until this happens. After that, keep the watch as a present from a relative pleased with the excellent service your establishment provides. When I leave, you will only remember that we discussed how my very ill Grandaunt was doing. You will act normally in all things, and, after stepping on the disk, you will amend the woman's file to reflect that you notified her nephew, here's the information." He handed the man an index card with the appropriate information. After that, you will forget I was ever here or what you did for me." The man listed on the card would have a vague recollection of the incident, completing the cover story should anyone try to backtrack it.
Gilderoy and the man spent a few minutes discussing the facilities, and how they dealt with the newly deceased, and then he left.
The Wizard could have conjured a corpse for his purposes, but the spells would eventually fail and reveal the masquerade. This way, all he had to do was alter the features of the corpse and those magics would remain stable until the corpse had decayed enough so that it no longer mattered.
Now all he could do was wait.
(⊙_◎)
It was April 30th, a Friday, six months since the message on the wall announced The Chamber of Secrets was "open." The Hogwarts student body had almost forgotten that incident, especially because both Colin Creevey and Mr. Filch's detestable cat, Mrs. Norris, were both now prowling the corridors with great joy, none the worse for their experience.
There were far more interesting things to discuss — Harry a Parselmouth and Draco's fall from power in the Slytherin House were just two topics of gossip. The students also debated just what Neville Longbottom found interesting enough about Luna Lovegood to be holding her hand. And in public, no less. And the Witches were all aghast that Hannah and Susan were both chasing Harry Potter and even had said that they were willing to share! And Hermione hadn't done anything to dissuade them yet! There was a betting pool run by the Twins on when she would declare enough and start hexing them (Gilderoy had placed a bet that all three would agree to share).
Gilderoy had taken one of Professor Snape's detentions assigned to Harry. While addressing the seeming endless supply of autograph requests he had touched on the subject of Witches, dating, and the fact that in the Wizarding World it wasn't unusual for Pure-blood Witches to share a husband in order to preserve a bloodline. Gilderoy managed to convince the little Wizard that Witches considered him quite the catch because of his bloodline and his Lordships. Hermione, of course, didn't care about those, but others would and he should just learn to accept it. As long as Hermione agreed and he genuinely enjoyed being around the other girls, he should just accept the situation for what it was. In time, he might find the idea less frightening than he did currently. If anything, that talk seemed to drive him closer to Hermione.
Yes, there were plenty of things to occupy their interest instead. Such as Gilderoy, their D.A.D.A. Professor, finding Ravenclaw's lost diadem, Slytherin's lost locket, and Gryffindor's lost sword, that he thwarted murder attempt by Dobby the house-elf, revealed that a Dark Artefact was trying to possess the Gryffindor Ginny Weasley, and discovered the lair of the Basilisk and killed it. The Weasley twins had set up a betting pool on when Gilderoy would announce his recovery of the next "lost" item, and what it would be.
And the biggest point of discussion during meals was that the end of term was only six weeks away! While the Fifth and Seventh Years looked at the coming OWL and NEWT deadlines in horror, the others were in eager anticipation of going home for the summer. For Gilderoy's classes, at least, he knew his students were well prepared — the Seventh-year students would easily pass, he knew, and all the rest were at least three months into next year's lessons!
Just as he did nearly every day, Lockhart strolled the aisles between the House Tables at dinner, looking for problems before they became problems. He looked magnificent in his mauve robes with their lavender trim. In his wake, he left sighing Witches and disgruntled Wizardfriends. If Harry would let him, Gilderoy could have bedded most of the Sixth and Seventh Year girls by now. Harry had made a deal, either the girls or more publicity. Gilderoy, of course, had chosen the publicity. So far, he was quite happy with the results. That the deal did not cover the female staff helped, Sinistra and McGonagall were surprisingly compliant — and flexible!
When he stopped behind Ron and frowned at him, the other students immediately noticed and a circle of quiet began to spread. He stared hard at the boy. It took a moment for Ron to notice Neville's frantic hand motions from across the table. Ron swallowed what he had in his mouth and very nervously slowly turned to look back and up at the Wizard behind him, as did Hermione, Harry, Susan, and Hannah seated beside him. The other Witches were also watching.
The Professor suddenly said, "Mr. Ronald Weasley, please bring out your pet rat." A simple detection spell as the boy walked by him this morning had confirmed he had his rat with him.
The boy gulped, but quickly complied, pulling the rat out of his pocket where he had just dropped a small chuck of chicken. The rat was happily nibbling at the morsel and it took the rodent a moment to notice he was the centre of attention. And the attention of one Professor in particular.
"Oh, boy, Lockhart is going to deduct points from Weasley this time. Bet how many he will remove," said a Seventh Year Hufflepuff loudly to another. The Gryffindors were looking unhappy at Ron losing them more points — he had lost them more points, so far, than anyone in their House, ever, even his twin brothers. The other Houses were watching the scene with amusement. McGonagall rushed around the end of the Headmaster's Table, trying to save her House points. The other professors watched quietly, wondering what had attracted the D.A.D.A. professor's attention. The Headmaster watched, eyes twinkling, perhaps hoping to see the professor make a fool of himself as he was supposed to be doing this year at Hogwarts. Which had not happened, yet, to the Headmaster's intense dismay. He also had the vague feeling that once more he was going to take a blow to his family jewels, figuratively speaking.
"Er, I was keeping him my pocket, sir," said the boy tremulously, "he wasn't on the table or anything. I'm not breaking any rules."
The rat, beginning to suspect something was wrong, began squirming in Ron's hand and dropped the chicken chunk. Ron covered the rat with his other hand to prevent his escape.
Smiling happily, Gilderoy placed his left hand in his pocket and gave a mild ennervate to the rat in his pocket. Then he casted a switching spell replacing the fake rat for the animagus He stunned the one in his pocket to keep it quiet and motionless. Nobody noticed the change in rats, although the one now in the boy's grasp wasn't squirming, still recovering from the stunner Gilderoy had hit him with that morning.
Lockhart beamed happily at the boy, his rat huddled in his hands but beginning to struggle as it woke up. The Wizard pulled out his wand and pointed it at the boy. McGonagall pulled her wand on seeing what Lockhart was doing. Gilderoy silently casted a blue coloured spell at a horrified Ron. McGonagall quickly disarmed Lockhart thinking he was attacking her student.
She found her eyes widening in horror as when the rat began to glow and change. Ron dropped his pet on the table in horror. The rat grew rapidly larger and knocked dishes and food to the floor. The students jumped to their feet, knocking their benches over as they scrambled to get away from whatever was happening on the Gryffindor table.
The Transfiguration Professor's mouth dropped open in shock as the rat transformed into a man, a Wizard, actually. And one she recognized easily, even if it had been eleven years since she last saw him. He, and his three friends, had been the mischievous bane of her existence for almost nine years before that. "But you're dead," was all she could squeak out.
"Er, uh," the man said, confused at the sudden change in his circumstances.
Harry and Hermione were learning from his classes Gilderoy was pleased to see. Both already had their wands out and pointed at the strange man. Lockhart deftly plucked the wand from Harry's hand and casted a stunner followed by a petrification spell on the animagus. The less the previously hidden Wizard said the better.
"Isn't this man Peter Pettigrew? Isn't he supposed to be dead?" he said in a clear, ringing voice that rang out over the Great Hall. "I think he is the one who saw to Mrs Norris' and Mr. Colin's petrifications, and the ugly scribble on the wall outside Myrtle's toilets about the Chamber of Secrets." None but the Weasley family knew that it had been Ginny, possessed by Voldewhore, who had done all that. And this would keep it so.
"And look," he added, a flick of Harry's wand removed the rat-faced man's left sleeve, revealing Voldewhore's Dark Mark on his arm. "He's a Death Eater." The students that could see gasped and rapidly spread word. No one remarked on his easy handling of someone else's wand, nor its ready acceptance of his actions.
Within moments Flitwick, Snape, and Dumbledore surrounded the bound Wizard. Gilderoy handed Harry back his wand, then retrieved his wand from a stunned McGonagall. He turned back to the shocked Harry. "Mr. Potter, that was an excellent show of reflexes, but you need better situational awareness as I took your wand from you far too easily." The boy blinked and slowly nodded, examining his wand as if looking for damage.
"Prefects, lead all the students to your common rooms," Dumbledore ordered. "Classes are cancelled for this morning and no student should be outside their Houses. Prefects, do a head count." The Headmaster quickly levitated the bound body and started to his office with the professors following him.
"Ah, Professor Vector," said Lockhart to his adjacent professor, "could I trouble you to floo-call the press, please? I believe Albus will take care of informing the D.M.L.E. of today's events. If he doesn't, you can remind him when you arrive there."
"Ah, Sure thing," said Professor Vector and dashed away towards the floo in her nearby office.
Lockhart leisurely exited the Great Hall and headed for his office on the First floor.
The other professors headed to the Headmaster's office. Gilderoy was whistling happily. His owl last night to Rita had said she should be ready for something very interesting to happen in Hogwarts at dinner today regarding a Wizard known as Peter Pettigrew, and to be waiting for a floo-call from the school.
It was amazing how a little preparation can make such a big difference. Rita came through his floo as soon as he called her. Everyone would think she arrived after Professor Vector's alert. Bozo followed her. If things were true to form, Lockhart could expect the Aurors to show up in fifteen or thirty minutes through the Headmaster's floo. Fools. They should always have a rapid response team on hand, much like a Muggle Fire Department, ready to fly at a moment's notice. He would pass that suggestion on to Madam Bones the next time he visited.
"Could you please tell us how you managed to find the supposedly dead, Order of Merlin Holder, Peter Pettigrew?" asked Rita Skeeter eagerly, after he briefed her on what had happened in the Great Hall.
"Well, Rita, I was really perturbed that somebody had the audacity to try to scare my students. In fact, I took it as a personal affront and devoted myself to the cause of finding and bringing to justice the criminal who petrified the noble Mrs. Norris, and then later, the First Year student Colin Creevey. You might remember that Mrs. Norris is the valuable feline companion of our own Mr. Filch. Mr. Filch is the caretaker of Hogwarts and Mrs. Norris is vital to the school's internal security, as most any student will tell you." The students' dislike of the cat was in direct proportion to how much trouble the cat created for them.
"So, I started carefully monitoring the students and other creatures that inhabit this grand institution. I found the activities of Mr. Ronald Weasley's pet very suspicious. The rat behaves in a manner that is just too intelligent for a rat. Plus, I found out that the Weasley's rat . . . ," Lockhart stopped speaking.
"And?" asked Rita in a hungrier voice.
"Well, you'll have to find it out in my next book, Restraining a Rat. Seriously, though, Peter Pettigrew, as a rat, was under Professor McGonagall's constant surveillance for at least the last five years." He stopped and shook his head sadly. "It's really a shame that she, a cat animagus, was unable to catch the Wizard, literally a rat.
"Although I suppose I can't really blame her. After all, Headmaster Dumbledore is far more powerful than she is, with far more experience in battling Dark Wizards. Not to mention that he controls Hogwarts' protective enchantments. And if he didn't notice the rat animagus, why should I expect her to? But she will be devastated, I am sure, and blame herself relentlessly. She is very protective of her young lions, don't you know?
"Even more amazing to me though, is that the Castle protective enchantments, which are supposed to be the best in the world and only allow Wizards accompanied by staff to cross them, are apparently incapable of detecting and stopping a wizard in animagus form. Why, any Dark Wizard could sneak into the Castle and do who knows how much harm to our children here without us being any the wiser until it is far too late. How can the Headmaster call Hogwarts the safest place in the world when this can happen? And let's not even mention the Troll or the possessed Professor Quirrell incidents from last year! I think it is high time Hogwarts' protective enchantments were given an independent and thorough inspection and upgrade, don't you?"
He stopped and gave a very theatrical and heavy sigh.
"I was sorry to learn the sad story of how the purportedly vile Sirius Black killed this man, Peter Pettigrew, both supposedly the best friends of James Potter, Harry Potter's father. I discovered all that in my research when I decided to mentor the young Wizard as I have this year. And then later, when I discovered I was Lord Black, I did more research. It never made any sense to me that someone who was such a close friend, as Sirius was to James Potter, would so suddenly and without remorse turn to the Dark Lord and betray his friend."
He had already told her about being Lord Black, but had promised an exclusive at a later date for her silence till then.
"But it now appears that Peter Pettigrew deceived everyone and framed his other best friend for the act. Very skilful indeed to set a trap for another that leaves everyone thinking the other Wizard is guilty of your dirty deed." He shook his head in wry admiration for the villain. "And I just know he was the one responsible for leaving that message about opening the Chamber of Secrets on the wall here at Hogwarts, and guiding the Basilisk into attacking Mr. Filch's cat and the student Mr. Creevey. Fortunately, I was able to nip that horrific plan in the bud before any other students came to harm, such as what happened to poor Myrtle Warren fifty years ago." He flashed her a confident smile.
"I am sure justice will be brought to the notorious Sirius Black, because unlike when he was first thrown in Azkaban, we are fortunate to have a great Minister of Magic, Mr. Fudge. And Mr. Fudge has shown himself to be strong and courageous, with a solid affinity to justice and righteousness. I am sure he will see to freeing Lord Black, personally." Especially now that there wasn't a Malfoy pumping galleons into his pockets to prevent that very action. That and Harry/Gilderoy's solicitors would be hounding him using as blackmail the bribery schemes they had uncovered involving the Wizard. And doing a bit of bribing themselves.
"After all, all it will take is the application of a little veritaserum to prove his innocence on the spot. And everyone should demand that prisoners receive veritaserum to prove their guilt before sending them to Azkaban. After all, innocent people have confessed to crimes in order to protect a loved one.
"But if the Ministry can pick up the Scion of an Ancient and Noble House such as Black and toss him in Azkaban without a trial, or even charging him with a crime, why, then what's to prevent them from doing the same to any of our children, or even ourselves?! With Sirius Black's precedent, they could simply pick you up, Rita, and toss you in Azkaban and no one could object! All they would have to say it that you belong in Azkaban for your crimes, such as being an illegal animagus, without ever verifying what those crimes might be, or even mentioning what the charges are!" He stopped and pretended to be reflecting on his statement.
"Right. Excuse me now, Rita, but I must now console the grieving Minerva about her failure. But let me say this to your readers, Rita, 'Parents, there is no need to fear for your children, because the great Gilderoy Lockhart is here. Your children are safe as long as I am here!'" And with that, Lockhart turned towards the photographer and struck a pose brimming with confidence and showing off his broad smile for The Daily Prophet.
Then he said, "Perhaps you should go to the Headmaster's Office, you might be able to get a few photographs of Mr. Pettigrew as the Aurors question him." The reporter and her photographer quickly exited his office. Not quite at a run, but definitely a very fast walk. The two should arrive well before the Aurors had a chance to come through the Headmaster's Floo, if he had even remembered to call them! The Aurors hadn't had any warning that there was a game afoot this afternoon and it would take them a ridiculously long time to get things together.
As soon as the door closed behind them, he sent a messenger patronus to Mr. Weasley at his office. "Ah, Mr. Weasley, something has come up here at Hogwarts with your son, Ronald Weasley. He's not hurt or in any trouble, for once, but you and your wife's presence are urgently needed. Floo directly here to my office from your home, as soon as you can, if not immediately." Then he gave the name of his floo connection.
"Miksy?" POP, "Miksy comes, Professor Defender." "Excellent, would you please inform Mr. Percy Weasley that I am in need of his presence in my office immediately?" "Miksy tells Stuck-up Wheezy that youse needs him." POP.
Huh, even the house-elves considered Percy to be a rule-bound prat.
It took only a few minutes for the two anxious parents to arrive. It probably would take longer for Rita and Bozo to make it to the Headmaster's Office.
"Ah. It's a pleasure to see you Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Welcome to my humble office. Come, take a seat while we wait for your son, Percy." They had no sooner seated themselves than an out-of-breath Percy arrived.
"Ah, Percy. I see that you have come too, as per my instructions." Lockhart said. Percy slowly walked in and sat cautiously. He was still somewhat stunned at the revelations about his former pet.
Gilderoy sighed. "I am very sorry; there is no easy way to say this." He tried to project a steady calm comforting air to the worried parents.
"You sons' pet rat, Scabbers, I believe he is called, was not just a rat. He was a Wizard hiding out in your home as a rat. And he wasn't just any Wizard, either. He was the supposedly dead Peter Pettigrew, a confirmed Death Eater."
For a moment, the older Weasleys looked puzzled. "But Peter is dead," objected Arthur.
Harry/Gilderoy shook his head and smiled ruefully, "Reports of his death appear to have been greatly exaggerated. He is, at this very moment, in the Headmaster's Office waiting for the Aurors to take him back to the Ministry. Isn't that true, Mr. Percy Weasley?"
"Yes, that's true," Percy said earnestly. "I saw him transform, myself, from Scabbers to a middle-aged man." He fell silent, thinking. "And he had that Death Eater mark on his left arm."
They sat there, stunned. The implications of a Wizard hiding in their home as a rat hadn't set in yet, just the fact that their sons' pet rat was a Wizard left them breathless.
Gilderoy continued after a moment, saying consolingly, "It must be terrible to learn that a monster, a Death Eater with dozens of murders to his name and who knows how many other nefarious crimes he has committed, has been boarded in your house, close to your children, sleeping their beds for over a decade." Mr. and Mrs. Weasley nodded their heads slowly, still trying to come to terms with what they had just learned.
Time to set the charge for the explosion.
"Mr. Weasley," said Lockhart, "I have to ask. Have you had any of those mornings where your wife shows a lot of affection for you for no apparent reason you can remember?" At the blank, not understanding look on Arthur's face, he continued, "Mrs. Weasley, has Percy Weasley ever had complaints of pains in his bum or blood in his stool?" A not-uncommon occurrence in small children as they grow, especially if they are active.
"When he was a child of seven or eight," Mrs Weasley said. There was a very brief pause and then she shouted angrily, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN?" Gilderoy probably didn't need to add his anger-increasing spell but he wanted her infuriated beyond common sense.
"There can be a few side effects to sleeping with an adult man, you know?" Lockhart answered delicately, with concern in his voice. "And with an accomplished obliviator, such as Peter, the boy would never remember he had a reason to complain."
Mrs Weasley slowly turned her head towards her 'perfect' son, lunged from her chair, and grabbed him into a fierce hug. She rained kisses all over his face, crying repeatedly, "Not my boy, not my Percy." Then she turned and roared, "WHERE IS THAT BASTARD?" There is no creature more terrifying, or violent, than the female of a species defending her young.
"I believe he is still in Dumbledore's office. If we are lucky, we can confront him before the Aurors take him from the school, and get the truth from him." Lockhart answered in a calculating tone. Molly immediately sstalked out of the room, knocking her chair to the floor as she did so. She knew the way to the Headmaster's Office – the twins had been the cause of more than one visit over the last few years. She had her wand out with murder in her eyes. She was an enraged mother and she was going to fix the Wizard who had dared harm her son!
Mr. Weasley's expression changed to one of horror as he slowly understood the implications of what Lockhart said. He grabbed hold of his son's arm, whose pale face indicated he, too, understood what Gilderoy had implied. Both rushed after Molly, wands in hand. Percy was still a bit confused, trying to think if anything 'bad' had really happened, and terrified of what that might mean. Were there blank spots in his memory of The Burrow? Gilderoy followed fleetly, quickly catching up with the family.
"WHERE THE HELL IS THAT BLOODY BASTARD" Molly yelled as she stormed down the corridor ahead of them and up the stairs to the Headmaster's Office, her magic rolling off her in waves. And she found the rat still there, the Aurors having just placed magic inhibiting cuffs on him to prevent him from escaping, either with magic or as an animagus. Apparently, they had responded a bit more quickly to the famous Dumbledore calling for assistance than they did regular Wizards and Witches. Poppy, Sprout, and Minerva tried to restrain the irate mother after she charged into the large office, while Rita watched, stunned. Bozo took pictures, just as he should.
However, despite their combined strength, they could not hold the berserk Witch back. She threw them off as a bear shakes off dogs and pointed her wand at the accused. Before she could speak a suitable spell, Minerva managed to snatch the wand from her grasp. Molly stood there, her hand out-stretched, and screamed wordlessly in blind rage. Magic poured out of her and hit Peter Pettigrew. There was a blast of flames.
In an instant, he was reduced to a pile of dust, not even having time to cry out in horror and pain. The two Aurors holding him were untouched, their hands not even warmed. The dust blew away in a wind that appeared to be coming from Molly Weasley, leaving only his worn clothes, two wands, and the magic-inhibiting cuffs on the floor.
Everybody stared, shocked. No one had ever seen or heard of such a powerful bout of accidental magic from an adult. It was as if she had more magic than she possibly could contain and it finally found an outlet in the cowering Wizard.
Lockhart, standing in the doorway, watching from behind the shocked Arthur Weasley and his son, said, speculatively, "I think we now know how Voldewhore died." He wandlessly and silently finited the anger spell on the woman, not that she noticed, swaying in the after-effects of transmitting so much magical energy.
This had worked even better than he had hoped. Her outrage had focused everyone's attention on her. No one had noticed him augmenting her magic with his own as they hurried down the corridors behind her, filling her with the raw power she needed to do what she could never have done on her own. Pumping magic into her so that it bled out in visible waves around her as she hurried to the Headmaster's office. The other two Weasleys, wrapped up in their own concerns, didn't notice the colourless beam of energy he kept on her back as they ran behind her.
Even a pensieve memory wouldn't reveal his meddling, as it all took place outside the Headmaster's office.
Fortunately, Bozo managed to capture the event for posterity. No one could accuse Molly of killing a Wizard with her wand. And when, subsequently, the Aurors confirmed she was incapable of wandless magic, they wrote it off as a massive burst of accidental magic brought about by stress of the situation. A mother's love, after all, was a very powerful force, indeed. And no court, especially a Wizarding Court, would convict her, a Pure-blood, of killing a Half-blood, especially considering the circumstances.
That afternoon Gilderoy had a short meeting with Harry. He had called the boy out of Gryffindor Tower and walked him a short way up the corridor before setting silencing charms. He was pleased to note that Harry's old hand-me-downs were long gone, and the boy was taking a bit more pride in his appearance and walking with confidence instead of that furtive crouch and sticking to the edges of the corridors he had had at the beginning of the year.
He explained, briefly, what had happened in the Headmaster's Office and why Ron and Ginny had so mysteriously been called to the Headmaster's office. That they would be out of the school for a few days as they dealt with the issues brought about by Pettigrew's discovery. He went on to point out how the startling event at dinner was going to affect Harry's future.
"You see Mr. Potter, now that the truth is known, Mr. Sirius Black will be given a trial — as Lord Black, I promise he will! I will free him from Azkaban, but it will have its implications upon you, especially as he is your godfather.
"For all these years people thought your godfather was the one who betrayed your parents to Voldewhore. The Aurors caught him the very day you arrived at your relatives, at the scene of a great explosion that killed twelve Muggles. They thought that he had also killed Peter Pettigrew. The reason for that was that the surviving witnesses told a tale of how Peter accused your godfather of betraying your parents and killing them, then there was this great explosion, and all that was found of Peter was a single finger.
"But nobody ever checked the facts. Nobody ever questioned the implausibility of only finding a finger after a great explosion. Nobody ever asked Sirius Black what had happened. Everyone just assumed he was guilty, so they sent him to prison. Remember this for the future, Harry, the Ministry is not your friend, they will never act in the best interests of the public, only in their own self-interest and who provides the most bribes. Just look at all the Death Eaters who escaped punishment after the war.
"But now we know the truth.
"I am very sorry that you have to hear the terrible things that happened to your parents all over again. To know that the traitor was in the same room with you most of the time here at Hogwarts must be sickening. But you should know that if Sirius Black, as your Godfather, asks for his right to act as your regent until you reach your majority, you may have to go live with him.
"Your emancipation as Lord Potter does give you many rights, but if he was selected by your parents as your godfather, then he does have the right to review your decisions to make sure you aren't making any gross mistakes or squandering property and money through ignorance or ill-thought plans.
"You might have to face the awful choice of choosing between who you are staying with, the Dursleys, or Mr. Black. It would be terrible for you, I'm sure, but I think, if presented properly before the Wizenmaggots, they would remove you from the Dursleys and force you to live with your godfather. But I promise to pay you a visit wherever you are. And, if you want, for the time being we can neglect to tell your godfather of your other Lordships. That would be a great prank, wouldn't it?
"Now, you and your friends need not serve detentions for a week. Seeing that you have a Quidditch match against Slytherin very soon, use the time well." Lockhart said to Harry Potter.
(◎_◎)
The following Wednesday Harry paced in his office, furious. He had been so pleased that he had successfully diverted attention from the diary, transferring the blame for the "attacks" on Mrs. Norris and Colin to Peter Pettigrew. No one but the Headmaster knew that Peter was innocent of controlling the Basilisk, but he daren't say a word or it would reveal he had known about the Basilisk and the diary's possession of Ginny and the fact that he knew Peter was hiding with the Weasley's all those years. Not to mention that he hadn't done anything to protect the students from what he knew was a deadly threat. No, the Headmaster had to go along with the story, in fact, promote the story, or look like a senile old fool at best or a Dark Wizard at worst.
As it was, he had taken quite a few lumps in the press as they blasted his not knowing about Peter being in his Castle for the last five years. But for the Headmaster that was better than the alternative!
In fact, in view of his tenure as D.A.D.A. Professor this year and his newly discovered access to the Castle protective enchantments, what he had discovered about Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore made him quite angry. The old Wizard had known far more about what was going on in the Castle than Harry had ever conceived. The more he considered his years at the school, the more certain he became that Albus had been the worst sort of manipulator. Especially as he was the only Wizard Harry knew who had four names before his surname. He had to have invented them himself to make himself look more important, as neither his father, brother, or sister had had so many names. And why would a parent lavish all those names on one child but not the others?
Dumbledore's excuses in Fifth Year for not warning Harry about Voldewhore planting visions and reading his mind were laughable. He had known what might happen. Certainly, Snape's attempts to teach him occlumency had been a joke and only made him far more susceptible to a mind attack. All it would have taken was one simple note dropped on his pillow by a house-elf to explain the old goat-shagger's reasons for his avoidance.
And looking back at his first year? The clues fell into his lap. Every time he thought he was hopelessly confused, something happened to clear up the confusion. And the traps! They took no time at all for Quirrell to conquer once he got past Fluffy. And that had slowed the Wizard down only because he hadn't wanted to be obvious when he started his assault for the Stone. That three First Year students could solve the puzzles proved how ineffectual they were. Either the Wizard was senile, or it had all been nothing more than a rat's maze to test Harry. And Harry now figured it was the second choice.
And Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Years had been the same. The old Wizard had led Harry around by the nose, kept him in the dark and prevented him from doing anything effective, dropping clues when and where Albus wanted. Had he been hoping Harry would die along the way? Flush Voldewhore out, have him waste energy fighting Harry, and then Albus the Great would step in and save the day?
Well, the Deathly Hallows stone sure put paid to the old fart's plans, didn't it do just that! And suddenly there was a real danger that everything would fall apart. But the secretive arse still didn't seem to care, neglecting to teach Harry anything valuable. Did he want Voldewhore to win when he realized he was going to die instead of living to control the Wizarding World in the U.K. as he had always planned?
Harry had concluded Dumbledore was an enemy back at the start of April when he refused to share what he suspected about the horcruxes.
And now this! That idiot Fudge had grabbed the quaffle and instead of freeing Sirius Black, had arrested Hagrid! Somehow, that twit's miniscule brain had decided the little play in the Headmaster's office was a mistake, that that hadn't been Peter Pettigrew. He had concocted some strange scenario in his head where it hadn't been Peter in the Headmaster's office but someone polyjuiced as him! Never mind they had several eyewitnesses to his unveiling as an animagus. Never mind he had been in the sight of half a dozen Professors the entire time afterwards. Never mind that you can't create a polyjuice potion using a dead man as a source. Never mind no one even knew where to find anything that would provide a source to create a polyjuiced Peter. Never mind that you can't polyjuice an animagus to appear as anyone except himself when he changes into a human.
Harry wondered if maybe the Headmaster had suggested the idiotic idea to Fudge.
Arrrgh! Harry was almost literally pulling his hair out. Fleecem, Cheatem, and Beatem had already started a full frontal assault on the incompetent dweeb. With the money he was throwing at the Wizenmaggots Fudge wouldn't last a week. But a week was an eternity in Azkaban.
And Harry, Neville, and Hermione! Just as he had done in his Second Year, they would follow the great oaf's clues in an attempt to prove him innocent and end up in the Forbidden Forest facing off with Aragog and his children! And if Gilderoy told them everything was under control, they would ignore him as Harry always ignored adults. To hope he had gained the little Wizard's trust was too much. Hermione might trust him more than any other Wizarding adult, but she wouldn't be able to convince Harry, not after the continual bashing by Snape, the way McGonagall had blown him off in first year, and all the other professors turning a blind eye to the awful things happening to the little Wizard.
Plus, this was the one time Harry/Gilderoy wished Ron would accompany Harry. Fortunately, their friendship had fallen to the point where if Hermione was involved he wanted nothing to do with them. Instead, the arachnophobe would hide in his bed.
The spiders did not know that the Basilisk was gone, the scent of the snake was strong throughout the Castle and it would take months to air it out. In the meantime, the spiders infesting the Castle were making their treks to the Forbidden Forrest as its scent reached them and drove them out. Or the egg cases hatched and the tiny spiders detected the Basilisk scent for the first time.
Harry/Gilderoy would have to double his charms on the group to prevent them heading out without his supervision. Hmm. Now that he thought about it, this would be a fine time to do a little clean-up in the Forest and make it somewhat less Forbidden.
(◎_⊙)
Harry/Gilderoy happened to look out the window towards Hagrid's Hut as he was patrolling the seventh floor a week later and was just in time to see three figures and a large dog disappear into the Forbidden Forest.
Damnit! Hermione was getting too good at finding and removing his alert and tracking charms. He took off at a dead run for his office. He paused only long enough to grab his broom and then he was flying out the window, around the Castle, and soon over the forest. For a moment, he thought he saw something moving below him, but when he looked, he saw nothing unusual — and especially not the children.
He held up his wand and said, "Point-me Harry Potter." It quickly indicated the direction he should go and he took off after them again. He had lost precious time running in the Castle, and if he remembered correctly, they were probably already in the claws of Aragog's offspring. Last time, it had been just Fang, him, and Ron, this time it was Fang, Neville, Hermione, and Harry. And Gilderoy wasn't sure if the additional third person might affect the outcome of their frantic escape.
The gibbous moon provided enough light to make it easy to spot the centre of the Acromantula nest in the hollow, the dead trees and webbing strung everywhere were a silent but highly visible giveaway. He halted above where he thought the children were and listened closely using a hearing enhancement charm. He could faintly hear Harry's voice and the clicking from Aragog's. He moved until he was directly over them.
"We'll just go, then," he heard Harry call desperately to Aragog.
That was his cue. He pulled his wand and pointed to the side of where he estimated the children were huddled. "Incendio," he cried pushing the biggest possible flame he could from his wand. It was like a giant flamethrower, a swath of flames easily ten feet wide splashed to the ground. The dry webbing and long dead trees went up in blaze of fire, rapidly spreading as the fire used the webbing to leap from dead tree to dead tree. He swung his arm in an arc, putting a flaming semi-circular barrier between the children and Aragog, and most of the spiders as well. The spiders screamed and scrambled away from the conflagration, all thought of the chasing the children and dog driven from their minds by the directive for self-preservation. Even the spiders behind them were beginning to flee.
He heard the long lonely sound of a car horn echoing up from the hollow, the headlights almost unneeded in the glare of the swiftly spreading fire. He sent a second blast of flames alongside of where the children were running. While that might drive a few spiders into their path, the Weasleys' former car would easily plough through them on the way out. The rest were scrabbling frantically to run away from the wall of fire, which the children and car were skirting.
In the meantime, he shot over to the opposite side of the hollow and began a circle around the perimeter, lying down a curtain of fire and trapping the fleeing spiders between the fire at the centre of the hollow and the one at the perimeter. Aragog, he was sure, would hide and survive in his cave, but the vast majority of the spiders would perish in the flames, he hoped. At the very least, he would decimate the horde.
Before he could complete more than half of his circuit, the entire hollow was an inferno. And he had caught a large percentage of the spiders in the blaze, easily half of them. He turned and headed back to the Castle, the glow of the fire lighting the sky behind him. It would take a long time for the spiders to regroup and recover — spiders store their egg cases in their webbing, and the fire had destroyed all the webbing.
He managed to arrive at the edge of the Forest nearest Hagrid's hut just as the car did. He watched, amused, as Fang practically flew to the hut as he exited the car and ran. He was much less amused when he saw several figures rise up from the cover at the edge of the Forest and grab the three children as they tried to follow Fang while the car took off back into the forest. From their stealthy actions, it was clear the attackers were up to no good.
He quickly fired a series of stunners, hoping they wouldn't not notice until it was too late. Unfortunately, although he did hit one of their number, the others nimbly dodged out of the way. It was interesting that none of them made an effort to ennervate their fallen comrade or responded with magical spells.
"Try that again and we'll kill them," called a voice from the group. "Try to escape and we'll do the same."
Interesting, they still weren't trying to hit him with any spells. Harry/Gilderoy drifted down to the ground and closer, stopping only a dozen feet away from the group.
They spread out, four men it seemed; three were each holding one of the children. Harry was the farthest to the right, then Hermione, and then Neville. The fourth man stood to the side of the man holding Harry.
Under the cover of getting off the broom, Gilderoy cast a quick serpensortia spell at his left hand and called forth a coral snake, catching the small snake on his broom by his hand. A second wandless silent spell from his left hand magnified the potency of the snake's venom by a hundred — what would normally take forty-five minutes to take man down to a coma would now do so in less than thirty seconds, incoherency and loss of muscle control would set in in less than ten seconds.
While the apparent leader said, "If you come quietly, we shan't kill you," Harry/Gilderoy hissed quietly under his breath to the snake §Get close and attack the man with the girl when I say the word NOW.§ He dropped the broom, and the snake, to the ground.
"You can't escape, you know," he said in a conversational tone, as if they were discussing the weather.
"Professor . . . ." started Hermione, clearly recognizing his voice, but the man holding her jerked her up, cutting her off and showing Gilderoy the knife at her neck.
"Hogwarts' protective enchantments prevent portkeys and apparition," Harry/Gilderoy continued blandly, ignoring her outburst. "And if you harm any of those three, you will take a long time to die. Why don't you just let them go, and I'll let you walk out of here alive."
It had been at least a few years since he had last dealt with a hostage situation, but the tactics were easy to remember.
It was dark, moonlight notwithstanding, and even he had a hard time seeing the small snake as it slithered through the high-cut grass here at the edge of the forest.
"Professor?" said one of the men to the others.
"Which one are you?" demanded their leader, the voice he had heard first. The one holding Harry.
He said, "What?!" Acting offended and sweeping his right hand, he silently conjured another coral snake in his left, also amplifying its venom's potency. Their eyes would follow his moving hand and not notice his left behind him, hiding any slight flashes of light. "You don't recognize me?" He shook his head and pretended to be laughing ruefully while hissing, §Attack the man holding the boy farthest on the left when I say the word NOW.§ Then he dropped the snake.
"Why, I am 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, Slayer of Basilisks, and Hogwarts' beloved Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. To truly appreciate what that means, I suggest you read my books. You can start with 'Break with a Banshee' and then read 'Gadding with Ghouls.' In fact, if you release those three children right now I will be happy to give each of you a complete and personally autographed set of all my books, including my latest when it is released later this year, 'Burrowing with a Basilisk.' I'll even include some autographed photos for your lady friends." He paused, as if waiting for them to accept his generous offer. "It is much better to read about my great exploits than to be involved in them, I assure you. Those that become involved usually have very bad endings."
The four men stared at him blankly, before breaking into laughter.
Their leader said, "Actually, you're just the man we want. Tell you what we'll do. You drop your wand right there, and your holdout, and come over here. We'll set these kids free as soon as we secure your hands." The lone man pulled a rope out of his cloak pocket.
It was too bad that no one had ever told the kids the best way to deal with being a hostage — to faint! Trying to hold up and use an unconscious hostage as a shield is almost impossible, as anyone who has ever tried to support a passed-out drunk will attest. Even with kids, it was like trying to lift a child-sized water balloon.
Harry/Gilderoy looked at them, puzzled. What the bloody hell did they want with him? "Why, gentlemen, if you had wanted an interview all you had to do was contact my agent and he would gleefully have set it up for you at the earliest opportunity. There is no need for all this drama!" He tried to project the air of a celebrity delighted to meet a fan in an unusual situation. "Well, I suppose now that we are all here, perhaps you could tell me what this is about?" And he gave them one of Gilderoy's brilliant smiles.
"Not going to happen. Drop your wands and get over here or the kid gets cut," the man shifted slightly so Gilderoy could see his blade glint in the moonlight.
Gilderoy saw Hermione startle. The first snake had arrived and apparently decided to use the girl as a climbing post to get a bit closer to his target. Her captor gripped her tight and said, "Stop wriggling or I might accidentally cut your throat."
Gilderoy sighed as if much put upon and not realizing the deadly seriousness of the four assailants. "Well," he said lightly, "if you insist." He made a production out of reaching down to his leg and pulling out his second wand, leaving him with a wand in each hand. He placed both wands in his right hand. Then he started walking towards the leader.
"No, professor!" came the exclamation from Neville. "Shut up," came the immediate gruff response. He gasped as his captor did something.
Gilderoy looked up. "Tut, tut, we'll have none of that, my good man," he said. He held his wands by their middles.
The leader spoke up quickly. "No closer! Throw the wands over there!"
Gilderoy stopped and placed his hands on his hips. "Make up your mind! Come here, don't come here, drop the wands, toss the wands. Are you sure you should be in charge?"
The leader growled — aha! — he was a werewolf! That made things simpler. He didn't have to worry about wands.
He smiled at the leader. Then he threw the two wands in a long arc to his right. At the same time he hissed §NOW! § The leader's gaze followed the wands. He jerked his attention to his accomplices as two screamed. One yelled, "Shite! Something bit me!" The other just cussed loudly.
The werewolf watched his companions as one grabbed his neck, the other his hand. A long thin rope-like object dangled from each.
In that instant, Gilderoy disapparated to behind the man. He fired off a reducto into the middle of his spine. The werewolf collapsed like a puppet with the strings cut. He knocked Harry down in the process. Harry hit the ground, but rolled away immediately. The fourth man belatedly realized Gilderoy had moved. He jumped forward. He managed to dodge the stunner from Harry's right hand. Then he dodged one of the two simultaneous reductoes Harry then sent. The second caved in his chest. Harry spun to check on the students. They were all standing and pointing their wands at their former captors.
"Excellent show, children!" Gilderoy said. Then he cast quick stunning and binding curses at all five assailants, using both hands. The students were quick to notice him using his hands with no wands in sight.
Neville and Hermione both had taken advantage of their captors shock at being bitten and escaped without injury, except for an accidental shallow cut on their necks from the knives. Hermione had stomped on the man's foot while Neville had just spun away. The two werewolves, though, were already incoherent from the poison and would be comatose in under a minute. Without immediate medical assistance, they would be dead in ten minutes.
"Accio my wands," Harry said, catching them as they flew to him. He turned to the two students. "Mr. Longbottom, Miss Granger, are you all right?"
"I think so," Hermione said shakily, Neville echoing her a moment later.
"Check each other for cuts, the spell is episkey while concentrating on healing the cuts. Repeat as often as necessary." He was walking over to check on Harry as he said this. He heard them saying lumos. Harry was unharmed, standing, and holding his wand on the prone werewolf.
"Excellent, excellent," Harry/Gilderoy said. "You all did an admirable job not panicking and keeping your wits about you!" He walked back to the erstwhile leader of the kidnapers and flipped him over. He didn't recognize the man. He heard a set of episkeys in the background.
"Miksy!"
"Miksy comes when called, Professor Defender."
Sigh, ever since he had dispatched the Basilisk, and the Sorting Hat gave him the Sword of Gryffindor, the House-elves had started calling him the Defender of Hogwarts. It was all a bit much, coming from them, because he knew they truly meant it. He couldn't tell them to stop, they would be deeply hurt — and they wouldn't stop doing it anyway.
"Would you be so kind as to bring me my veritaserum from my office?" The house-elf vanished.
"Did you apparate? You can't have apparated!" exclaimed Hermione, coming over to Harry and Gilderoy with Neville following. "No one can apparate on Hogwarts' grounds."
Gilderoy grinned broadly, "Of course, I didn't apparate, Miss Granger. Everyone knows that Hogwarts' protective enchantments prevent both apparition and portkeys." Unless you are the one controlling the protective enchantments, that is. Forestalling her barrage of questions on what he did do, he said, "The experienced fighter that I am with years of dealing with dangerous creatures, my reflexes are such that I moved so quickly that it merely looked like I apparated."
She closed her mouth. He could see her frown clearly in the moonlight. She couldn't really argue with him, though, he had agreed with her. But nobody could move that fast, so he had to apparate, but he said he hadn't . . . .
It was like watching someone work through the logic of the statement, "I never tell the truth."
The little Wizards looked worried. They were sure that they were about to get into a ton of trouble for being outside after curfew, and in the Forbidden Forest to boot. Hermione's logic puzzle kept her distracted. She would panic later.
Miksy returned at that instant and held out the vial of veritaserum.
Gilderoy kneeled beside the semi-paralysed werewolf and, after forcing his mouth open, carefully placed three drops in the creature's mouth. Then he ennervated him.
"What is your name?"
"Fenrir Greyback," came the somewhat snarled reply. He must be truly enraged to get that much emotion into his reply. Or maybe it was his nature as a werewolf coming through
"Why were you here?"
"I came to kill Gilderoy Lockhart."
Gilderoy exchanged surprised glances with the three students.
"Why?"
"The Carrows think you arranged Malfoy's troubles and exposed Macnair and two others in the Ministry."
"Why did you grab these kids?"
"I thought I could use them to get you out of the Castle to the Forest, where we would ambush and kill you. Five werewolves can easily take out a Wizard."
"What would you have done with them afterwards?"
"Had a bit of fun with the girl, then eat them."
"What are the names of all the Death Eaters you know?"
It was a short list and added no names he didn't already know. Gilderoy re-stunned the werewolf.
Harry looked at him questioningly.
"Children," Gilderoy said quietly, "These men are the worst sort imaginable. You heard what these men planned to do. Do you think they would have not done what they had planned if I hadn't subdued them?" The three slowly shook their heads. "Fenrir has a large bounty on his head," the older Wizard continued. "He is responsible for the deaths of dozens of children and turning scores of others into werewolves so he can add them to his army. He is wanted dead or alive. Do not concern yourselves with what has happened to these parodies of humans, you are blameless and they are not. Unlike many werewolves, they chose to be evil. They will never be able to bother you, or any others, again, that I swear." They stared at him silently.
"By the way," he added, "If I were to officially report these men to the Headmaster, your other adventure tonight might come to light and complicate your lives more than they are now. You have enough detentions already, Harry. Any more and Hermione will have to draw up a colour-coded schedule just so we can figure a way to leave you time to sleep!" Hermione huffed while the other two boys tried to hide grins.
He looked over the three students. "I think it is well past your bedtime. I think you should retrieve your cloak from Hagrid's Hut, Mr. Potter," — that got a long narrow-eyed look from the boy — "and all of you go to bed after a nice hot shower. I will take care of these men and deliver them to the Ministry. Now, go, shoo!" He made hurrying motions with his hands.
The children slowly started off. "Oh, by the way," he called out, "I will ensure that Hagrid will return to us forthwith, you needn't worry about it too much. I already have my solicitors savaging Minister Fudge for his precipitous actions. He will not be Minister for long, just you watch!"
Harry waved an arm in acknowledgement and turned back towards Hagrid's Hut.
Gilderoy sighed.
§Are my friends still here?§ he called out in Parseltongue, startling the three into looking back at him. "Ah," he called out to them, "if you could keep it secret that I am a Parselmouth, I would appreciate it. As you can see, it makes for a powerful weapon if your enemy is unaware."
§Yes, Speaker, I am still here,§ came the twin answers.
The children resumed their march to bed.
Gilderoy said softly, so Harry wouldn't here, §Excellent, would you be so kind as to bite the bound up men several times each?§
§Yes, Speaker.§ §With pleasure, Speaker,§ came the twin answers.
§And when you're done, make yourselves at home in the Forest, just never bite a student.§
§Yes, Speaker, I can do that,§ they each answered.
Gilderoy stopped and thought a moment, then conjured up a couple of fat rats from the Hogwarts' kitchens. "And here are two nice, juicy rats for your hard work this night." He laid the stunned rats beside Greyback.
Surprised, the two snakes replied, §Thank you, Speaker.§
"And that was the most fun I've had in a thousand years," said Sam, the name Harry/Gilderoy had decided to call the Sorting Hat in lieu of just Hat. Harry blinked, startled, he had forgotten he was still wearing Sam from his night patrol in Hogwarts. He shrugged, at least Sam got see a bit of adventure.
Fifteen minutes later, a pile of five bodies spilled out of the phone-booth elevator entrance into the Ministry Atrium. Stuck to one of them was a note:
.
I'm terribly sorry about the mess. Just a short while ago I saw these men attack some children walking home close to the edge of the forest near my abode. When I interrupted them, they told me it was none of my business and threatened to kill the children unless I cooperated. I managed to surprise them. During the duel they fell into a snakes' nest, were severely bitten, and died. The children were unharmed and I sent them on their way after making sure they wouldn't tell their relatives or friends of their adventure. No need to call the obliviators..
If there's any kind of reward for these men, please have it donated to the Children's Ward at St. Mungo's Hospital.
(⊙_◎)
Fenrir Greyback Dead, screamed The Daily Prophet's Thursday headline. Below was a concise story about how a pile of dead werewolves arrived at the Ministry in the dead of night under mysterious circumstances. Following that was a very long and very lurid article on Greyback's life and crimes. Several other articles detailed the fate of some of his victims.
Unfortunately, there were no stories about Gilderoy, and after the great battles of the night before, he was more than a little restive. Harry consoled him with the thought that the Hufflepuff cup would soon be in their hands and his name generating more headlines.
And that call came the next day in the morning. At dinner, he sent an owl to Madam Bones. At four, after his last class let out, he apparated to the palliative care building in Perth and ten minutes later walked out. As far as anyone knew, the old woman's next of kin — funny that they hadn't known she had any — had arrived and removed the body for burial. As she had died of old age — heart failure — there would be no need to go through the Coroner's Office.
The next day was the beginning of the hard part.
"Ah, Madam Bones! A pleasure to see you, as always," Gilderoy said as he entered her office. He was dressed in his finest lavender robes, upgraded to Acromantula silk after the Goblins had paid his Basilisk ingredients' buyout price.
"And you, too, Mr. Lockhart."
"Excellent news, is it not, that Fenrir Greyback is dead, don't you think? But what a strange way to die! Poisoned to death by snakes not native to Scotland, how strange." He paused a moment as if to think.
"I heard a rumour that some disgruntled Death Eaters commissioned him to kill me, don't you know? The werewolves must have been on their way to find me when Greyback ran afoul of his desire to cause mindless mischief and mayhem.
"It was just a stroke of luck that he ran up against someone capable of sorting them out before they had a chance to do any real damage. The children involved, I'm sure, are thankful for their selfless protector. I'm sure they would be telling all and sundry if only they could. Five werewolves against one Wizard and rescuing three helpless children from certain death. The skill and talent it must have taken rivals my own, I dare say! I wish I could claim such a fantastic battle for one of my books. It would be another bestseller, I'm sure."
He sighed theatrically, his gaze roving over her office. "Anyway, the rumour says the Carrows, Amycus and Alecto, think that I, somehow, was involved in Lucius Malfoy's death, as well as the unmasking of Macnair and a few other hidden Death Eaters here at the ministry, can you believe it?" He shook his head sadly. "How they could think that is beyond me. Why some people seek a scapegoat for their own incompetence, I do not understand. After all, is it not the case that it is a mistake to attribute to malice what might simply be the result of incompetence or stupidity?"
He looked directly at her. "By the way, has the Dark Mark alert and tag spell on the Ministry's floo's yielded any interesting finds? I should imagine that if someone arrived whom you didn't know was a Death Eater that that would mean you could safely administer veritaserum to them. After all, they were never given a trial and therefore you don't know if they were forced to take the mark, do you? Even if you can't do that, it would be nice to know whom to watch for . . . shall we say . . . underhanded activities, wouldn't it? Not to mention whom they associate with and whom might share their proclivities. And no one except perhaps the Unspeakables need ever know how you came upon such information.
"After all, we both know Voldewhore is trying to come back. It would be better to know who his allies in the Ministry are before that happens so you can plan accordingly."
Gilderoy knew they hadn't yet put up such a spell or he would have felt it today. A gentle reminder was in order. Plus, his preceding monologue let her know in no uncertain terms that he was claiming to be the source of the gift of dead werewolf fugitives.
She just stared back at him, her face carefully blank. Damn, he was coming across as too competent, he had expected her to roll her eyes at the very least. Well, at least one person in authority would take him seriously when he made suggestions in the future.
Finally, she said, "What brings you to my office today?"
"I want to go to Azkaban." He left off, 'to rescue Bellatrix Lestrange.'