FIC: The Crisis at Hand (Gilderoy Lockhart, Dolores Umbridge, Rita Skeeter, Sybill Trelawney)
HUZZAH! I HAVE FINISHED THIS EPIC THING. I totally didn't think I'd finish today.
Title: The Crisis at Hand
Characters: Gilderoy Lockhart, Dolores Umbridge, Rita Skeeter, Sybil Trelawney, among others
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2647
Summary: How long have I been here? he first wondered. Then: aren't I supposed to be someplace else? Gilderoy Lockhart somehow has his memory back.
Author's Notes: I'd asked for these characters on hp_wishes with the prompt 'the crisis at hand', and then I realized no one but me would take up something so ridiculous. This may seem disjointed, but I promise there is a reason for every little section - I just decided I'd let you connect the dots. ;) Also, I should tell you to expect quite a bit of crack/humor.
A large, looming figure appeared in Sybill Trelawney's crystal ball one afternoon, waving its arms as if to get her attention - and get her attention it did. Sybill immediately dipped her head in closer and flexed her fingers around it, in the hopes that this new form would become clearer.
Two minutes later, she hastily descended from the North Tower, abandoning all pretenses of mysterious charm.
* * *
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, fourth floor, the Janus Thickey ward, bed three. That's where Gilderoy Lockhart was - and for the first time, he woke up with that information at the front of his mind.
He looked down and discovered an envelope in his lap, marked with his name and current location. Somehow, without even opening it, he knew it was from Gladys Gudgeon - and it wasn't because she wrote to him every week. No, it was something about the morning. There was something very distinct about that particular morning; outlines seemed sharper, smells seemed crisper... almost as if he'd never noticed the world about him before. As if he'd been blind, mute, and deaf all at once, and had been miraculously cured of all three afflictions.
How long have I been here? he first wondered. Then: why am I here? Aren't I supposed to be someplace else? And: where are my curlers?
"Healer," Gilderoy called. At once a squat, kindly witch appeared at his side.
"Yes, dear?"
"Didn't I... didn't I use to... win awards?"
"That's right, dear. Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award, I think six times in a row!"
"Five," Gilderoy corrected automatically, then jumped back in surprise at his own response. The Healer positively beamed.
"I wouldn't go so far as to claim a sixth win," he continued smoothly, the words erupting out of his chest as though they'd been buried for too long a time, "though it would have rightfully been mine had I not been so inconveniently indisposed by a wand malfunction."
His eyes bulged in shock, and reflexively he covered his mouth with his hand. For ten seconds he was able to contain himself, before he burst out shouting for all the ward to hear, "MERLIN, I'VE FOUND MY MEMORY!"
"Bravo, Gilderoy, dear!" the maternal Healer said enthusiastically, and began to bustle about with papers.
"Thank you, kind lady. It was a difficult feat, I assure you - many days did I spend in darkness - but greatness always prevails! Let us have an autograph to commemorate this sacred day! Quickly now, that's the ticket, as I'm expected elsewhere shortly - I have a press tour, you know. I have a duty to inform the world of my return!"
And when the Healer wasn't looking, he dashed away, still in his hospital gown.
* * *
One might have thought a terrible emergency had occurred simply by the manner in which Rita Skeeter gathered her things from her cubicle. She tore apart drawers and flung papers about and dumped quills and notebooks and cosmetics with ferocious speed into her crocodile handbag. After approximately five minutes of that, she stopped and ran her hand through her hair. She adjusted her glasses. She straightened her skirt. She glanced at the clock overhead.
And then charged out of her cubicle with the force of a hurricane, nearly toppling over Barnabas Cuffe, the editor of the Daily Prophet.
"Where're you going, Rita?" he cried. "What about that report on - ?"
"Can't, I'm on special assignment," she snapped, whipping around the corner and out of sight.
Barnabas stood still, utterly bemused. He couldn't remember having assigned her anything particularly exciting for the day...
"On whose authority?" he said to no one.
* * *
As soon as Sybill neared the end of the corridor, she gave up her frantic pace and settled into more graceful steps, for she was approaching the office of Dolores Umbridge. Entering in an uncouth manner was practically begging the High Inquisitor to sack her, and she was already on probation.
She knocked once before letting herself in, as she could barely contain the words any longer.
Umbridge looked visibly annoyed, and made no effort to conceal her dislike for Sybill. "Barging into my office uninvited is hardly appropriate - most especially in your case."
"Professor Umbridge," the Divination instructor rushed forward, her hands outstretched and pleading, "I would not have come but for the clairvoyant vibrations of my Inner Eye. You are in grave danger!"
"So you told me yesterday. Now really, if you can't do better, I think I ought to sign for your dismissal."
"Do you not understand me? You are in grave danger - my dear, the gravest! A man is coming for you, a great, big man, and he will take your life!"
Umbridge raised one eyebrow skeptically and brought a cup of tea to her mouth. "Perhaps it's better," she said between sips, "if I make the arrangements now. For all our sakes."
* * *
People stared and muttered when Sybill began to wail loudly in the Great Hall, large tears streaming from her beady eyes.
"This cannot be happening! Oh, what am I to do? Hogwarts has been my home for sixteen years!"
Presently she felt an arm around her shoulders, and she looked up to see Gilderoy Lockhart in a hospital gown. If she hadn't been feeling so awful, she might have giggled.
"There, there," he said soothingly. "Don't you fret, Sybill, I know just the thing to turn the tables in your favor!"
"Do you?" she sniffed, her words lacking the sarcastic effect she desired. Three years ago, when Gilderoy had been a professor at Hogwarts, he'd claimed he knew just how to fix everything, when in reality he'd had no such talent.
"Of course! I couldn't be an internationally acclaimed wizard if I didn't!"
Sybill decided not to point out that he wasn't so acclaimed anymore, and smiled weakly as Gilderoy took off to face Umbridge. She was sure his charm would only make matters worse.
* * *
Rita stood behind a pillar some distance from Umbridge's office, and watched eagerly as Gilderoy made his way to it. Meanwhile, her Quick-Quotes Quill was scribbling furiously on her acid-green notepad.
And now Lockhart, who has fallen from grace since his tragic accident, comes full force to challenge Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic - who has recently usurped much of Albus Dumbledore's power at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Lockhart, wand ablaze, valiantly fights on behalf of Sybill Trelawney, a former colleague, and also for...
"How pleasant it is to see you here again so soon, Rita," a voice said suddenly from behind her. Rita spun around, and bit her lip nervously when she saw who it was. Immediately she made to shove her notepad and quill back into her crocodile purse.
"That won't be necessary."
"But you said - "
"I think," the man smiled, "we can make an exception for tonight. You have twenty minutes."
Rita beamed, firmly grasping his arm in gratitude. "Thank you, Dumbledore."
* * *
"Dolores Umbridge!" Gilderoy exclaimed, bursting through her door in style. "At last you have the pleasure of meeting me."
Umbridge looked up skeptically, surveying his hospital gown with obvious distaste. "My, my - Gilderoy Lockhart! But weren't you at St. Mungo's? Or have you charmed your way out?”
They both laughed, but the moment was very unpleasant.
"You haven't heard, have you, m'dear? I've conquered my unfortunate condition! Pity we can't say the same for you."
"Excuse me? What on earth do you mean by that?" Umbridge said coldly, the pitch of her voice dangerously high.
"You suffer from lack of respect, of course," Gilderoy continued brightly, flashing a smile at her. "Even I did once, to an extent. That is to say, not as bad a case as you have now - I was - am - an internationally acclaimed wizard, you know. You work for the Ministry, and that's not something to brag about at Hogwarts. Not to worry, though! I know just the thing to turn tables in your favor here!"
"Really?" Umbridge responded, disinterested. "What could a has-been possibly know about respect?"
"Oh, I'm very accomplished in Defense Against the Dark Arts! All the details are in my published works."
Stirring her tea slowly, Umbridge gazed up at Gilderoy and smirked. "Lies."
"Ah, but if only you knew! I am the most honest man that ever lived! I've battled with werewolves and banshees and vampires, and even faced the Dark Lord himself! Every student would pay to hear of my experiences!"
Immediately Umbridge shot up from her chair, knocking over her teacup. "YOU MUST NOT TELL LIES!" she screeched.
"Though I have heard," Gilderoy added thoughtfully, ignoring her, "that Mr. Wilbert Slinkhard comes very close. His Defensive Magical Theory, which I believe you are teaching, is just a few notches below Year with a Yeti."
"I hardly see the similarity between the two."
"It's all about coupling, m'dear - coupling! That's the key to respect. Theory and practice!" Umbridge cringed at the last word. "Though I'm afraid it may be too late to change the curriculum - I'm sure you'll learn from your mistakes next year. In any case, you need a plan in the meantime, something to gain the respect of the most stubborn of individuals! And I have just the ticket!"
"I don't need anyone's respect," she spat back. "I am the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts - everyone is already below me!"
"Ah, but you've mutiny on your hands, haven't you? Mutiny's a fickle thing, m'dear, and even I, an international sensation, have faced its ugly head."
She sat down again, her jaw clenched, reluctant to accept help from the phony man in the hospital gown. The man was a joke. Yet what other option did she have? If she did not squash the rebellious students and staff, her work would become increasingly difficult - and being the only Ministry personnel at Hogwarts, her decrees would not do much to save her.
"Celebrity is as celebrity does," Gilderoy said in a sing-song voice.
Clearing her throat with a brisk little hem, hem, Umbridge put on the sweetest smile she could muster, paused, and then asked, "What did you have in mind?"
* * *
"AAAAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
A cane flew up in the air, which Peeves nimbly caught and used to beat Umbridge repeatedly over the head, all the way to the Forbidden Forest.
"Dolores, you tortoise, we all want you dead,
You're evil and nasty and touched in the head!"
THUNK.
"I am the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, you cannot do this to me! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
All at once the students gathered near the castle doors erupted with cheers.
"She's gone!"
"Finally!"
"YEAH!"
Harry Potter grinned at Professor McGonagall, who was leaning against the castle wall, and she smiled back.
"Never, in all my years of teaching..."
"Yeah," he agreed, amazed. "Fred and George would be - "
"I HAVE RETURNED AT LAST!" boomed Gilderoy, looking suave and extremely pleased with himself. Everyone immediately turned around to face him. Sniggers broke out among the students when they saw he was wearing only a hospital gown.
"Gilderoy!" Minerva exclaimed, shocked and angered. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here? You should be in St. Mungo's!"
"I have completely thrown off my affliction and am doing quite well, thank you! Temporarily indisposed, couldn't be helped - but I am now mentally equipped to return to my post as your Defense Against the Dark Teacher!"
Murmurs and gasps echoed in the hall. "He can't be serious?" Ron Weasley groaned.
"'Course not, it's your wand's fault he'd lost his marbles, remember?" Harry muttered in reply.
"Yes, yes, I know it's all very exciting news!" Gilderoy continued, hardly skipping a beat. "I have disposed of Professor Umbridge, who you'll agree has been very sub-par according to my standards, and now that the post is available, I've decided I'd like to fill it!"
"What does he mean he disposed of Professor Umbridge?"
"Well, I suppose that means he's back to normal?"
"'Normal'? He's been barmy since the beginning!"
"I'm afraid you're not the one who makes the decisions here, Gilderoy!" Minerva shouted.
"Now, now, Minerva," Dumbledore smiled serenely, appearing out of nowhere. "Compromise is not a difficult thing. Gilderoy, you are welcome to finish teaching the remainder of the term. After that, however, I will need replace you."
"Magnificent!"
"Oh no..." Ron groaned again.
"Though I would suggest you find something to wear other than a hospital gown."
"Certainly!" Gilderoy suddenly leapt in front of a large group of students, who all staggered backwards. "FEAR NOT, FOR GILDEROY LOCKHART HAS RETURNED - NO HARM WILL BEFALL YOU NOW!"
He chortled to himself at the look on the students' faces, and then turned to walk up the staircase to his classroom.
Just then, a blur of green whisked out from behind a door and chased him up the stairs. "Lockhart!" it called. "Tell me, how did it feel to purge the evil from within Hogwarts? Exhilarating? Nerve-wracking? Difficult?"
"Well, when you've faced the many things I have," he replied, pausing on the stairs so that all might hear him below, "it becomes second-nature! I wouldn't have an Order of Merlin, third class, if that weren't so!"
"Lovely," the voiced said, which was revealed to belong to Rita Skeeter. "And what was it like to one day wake up with your memory back?"
"It was a beautiful - "
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!"
Gilderoy's eyes bulged out in shock as Rita slid down the stairs as if an invisible hand were pulling her by the leg. She swung out madly, trying to catch hold of something, anything, but everything literally bounced out of her grasp.
"HEEEEEELLLLP!" she shrieked as she toppled to the floor, her crocodile bag landing on her head and her Quick-Quotes Quill drawing nonsense on her face. Collecting herself, she straightened out her skirt and made to get up the stairs again when suddenly a tremendous wind blew her outside and shut the castle doors on her.
It took her several minutes to partially regain her bearings, and when she did, she looked up to see the castle doors slightly open. Dumbledore was peeking his head out.
"I believe I was gracious enough to allow you twenty minutes, Rita, but now I must ask you to leave Hogwarts. My previous statement now holds firm." He disappeared, and the doors closed again.
For a full two minutes, Rita sat there, bewildered. Then at last she shot up, exclaimed, "What am I doing? I've an article to write!" and sped off.
* * *
Sybill knocked softly at the door, but couldn't bear to wait, and so entered without invitation.
"Come in!" Gilderoy said needlessly. "Just finishing off a few letters to my biggest fans, but please, sit down!"
"Oh, I could not sit. The aura of this room already clouds my Sight." Her beady eyes were fixed upon his cool blue eyes.
"Er, very well then. What can I, Gilderoy Lockhart, do for you?"
"But you have done too much already!" she cried, wringing her hands. "I simply came to... to thank you."
"You're quite welcome! Told you I'd find a way to set things right, didn't I?"
"Well, yes... yes, you did. Well. I thank you. I must return to my gazing now."
"Goodbye, then!"
Very slowly, Sybill walked out of the room - except when she reached the doorframe, she stopped.
"How did you do it? I could not See..."
"Ah, a celebrity never reveals his secrets! But I suppose there's no harm in telling you. All it took was a little persuasion! You see, Sybill, I convinced Dolores Umbridge to attempt to get rid of Peeves! And the rest, as you know, is fantastic history. I ought to write a book on it - Parley with Peeves!"
With tremendous flourish, Gilderoy Summoned a piece of parchment as though to begin the novel. Sybill exited quietly, vaguely wondering if he'd remember to include her in it.
Title: The Crisis at Hand
Characters: Gilderoy Lockhart, Dolores Umbridge, Rita Skeeter, Sybil Trelawney, among others
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2647
Summary: How long have I been here? he first wondered. Then: aren't I supposed to be someplace else? Gilderoy Lockhart somehow has his memory back.
Author's Notes: I'd asked for these characters on hp_wishes with the prompt 'the crisis at hand', and then I realized no one but me would take up something so ridiculous. This may seem disjointed, but I promise there is a reason for every little section - I just decided I'd let you connect the dots. ;) Also, I should tell you to expect quite a bit of crack/humor.
A large, looming figure appeared in Sybill Trelawney's crystal ball one afternoon, waving its arms as if to get her attention - and get her attention it did. Sybill immediately dipped her head in closer and flexed her fingers around it, in the hopes that this new form would become clearer.
Two minutes later, she hastily descended from the North Tower, abandoning all pretenses of mysterious charm.
* * *
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, fourth floor, the Janus Thickey ward, bed three. That's where Gilderoy Lockhart was - and for the first time, he woke up with that information at the front of his mind.
He looked down and discovered an envelope in his lap, marked with his name and current location. Somehow, without even opening it, he knew it was from Gladys Gudgeon - and it wasn't because she wrote to him every week. No, it was something about the morning. There was something very distinct about that particular morning; outlines seemed sharper, smells seemed crisper... almost as if he'd never noticed the world about him before. As if he'd been blind, mute, and deaf all at once, and had been miraculously cured of all three afflictions.
How long have I been here? he first wondered. Then: why am I here? Aren't I supposed to be someplace else? And: where are my curlers?
"Healer," Gilderoy called. At once a squat, kindly witch appeared at his side.
"Yes, dear?"
"Didn't I... didn't I use to... win awards?"
"That's right, dear. Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award, I think six times in a row!"
"Five," Gilderoy corrected automatically, then jumped back in surprise at his own response. The Healer positively beamed.
"I wouldn't go so far as to claim a sixth win," he continued smoothly, the words erupting out of his chest as though they'd been buried for too long a time, "though it would have rightfully been mine had I not been so inconveniently indisposed by a wand malfunction."
His eyes bulged in shock, and reflexively he covered his mouth with his hand. For ten seconds he was able to contain himself, before he burst out shouting for all the ward to hear, "MERLIN, I'VE FOUND MY MEMORY!"
"Bravo, Gilderoy, dear!" the maternal Healer said enthusiastically, and began to bustle about with papers.
"Thank you, kind lady. It was a difficult feat, I assure you - many days did I spend in darkness - but greatness always prevails! Let us have an autograph to commemorate this sacred day! Quickly now, that's the ticket, as I'm expected elsewhere shortly - I have a press tour, you know. I have a duty to inform the world of my return!"
And when the Healer wasn't looking, he dashed away, still in his hospital gown.
* * *
One might have thought a terrible emergency had occurred simply by the manner in which Rita Skeeter gathered her things from her cubicle. She tore apart drawers and flung papers about and dumped quills and notebooks and cosmetics with ferocious speed into her crocodile handbag. After approximately five minutes of that, she stopped and ran her hand through her hair. She adjusted her glasses. She straightened her skirt. She glanced at the clock overhead.
And then charged out of her cubicle with the force of a hurricane, nearly toppling over Barnabas Cuffe, the editor of the Daily Prophet.
"Where're you going, Rita?" he cried. "What about that report on - ?"
"Can't, I'm on special assignment," she snapped, whipping around the corner and out of sight.
Barnabas stood still, utterly bemused. He couldn't remember having assigned her anything particularly exciting for the day...
"On whose authority?" he said to no one.
* * *
As soon as Sybill neared the end of the corridor, she gave up her frantic pace and settled into more graceful steps, for she was approaching the office of Dolores Umbridge. Entering in an uncouth manner was practically begging the High Inquisitor to sack her, and she was already on probation.
She knocked once before letting herself in, as she could barely contain the words any longer.
Umbridge looked visibly annoyed, and made no effort to conceal her dislike for Sybill. "Barging into my office uninvited is hardly appropriate - most especially in your case."
"Professor Umbridge," the Divination instructor rushed forward, her hands outstretched and pleading, "I would not have come but for the clairvoyant vibrations of my Inner Eye. You are in grave danger!"
"So you told me yesterday. Now really, if you can't do better, I think I ought to sign for your dismissal."
"Do you not understand me? You are in grave danger - my dear, the gravest! A man is coming for you, a great, big man, and he will take your life!"
Umbridge raised one eyebrow skeptically and brought a cup of tea to her mouth. "Perhaps it's better," she said between sips, "if I make the arrangements now. For all our sakes."
* * *
People stared and muttered when Sybill began to wail loudly in the Great Hall, large tears streaming from her beady eyes.
"This cannot be happening! Oh, what am I to do? Hogwarts has been my home for sixteen years!"
Presently she felt an arm around her shoulders, and she looked up to see Gilderoy Lockhart in a hospital gown. If she hadn't been feeling so awful, she might have giggled.
"There, there," he said soothingly. "Don't you fret, Sybill, I know just the thing to turn the tables in your favor!"
"Do you?" she sniffed, her words lacking the sarcastic effect she desired. Three years ago, when Gilderoy had been a professor at Hogwarts, he'd claimed he knew just how to fix everything, when in reality he'd had no such talent.
"Of course! I couldn't be an internationally acclaimed wizard if I didn't!"
Sybill decided not to point out that he wasn't so acclaimed anymore, and smiled weakly as Gilderoy took off to face Umbridge. She was sure his charm would only make matters worse.
* * *
Rita stood behind a pillar some distance from Umbridge's office, and watched eagerly as Gilderoy made his way to it. Meanwhile, her Quick-Quotes Quill was scribbling furiously on her acid-green notepad.
And now Lockhart, who has fallen from grace since his tragic accident, comes full force to challenge Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic - who has recently usurped much of Albus Dumbledore's power at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Lockhart, wand ablaze, valiantly fights on behalf of Sybill Trelawney, a former colleague, and also for...
"How pleasant it is to see you here again so soon, Rita," a voice said suddenly from behind her. Rita spun around, and bit her lip nervously when she saw who it was. Immediately she made to shove her notepad and quill back into her crocodile purse.
"That won't be necessary."
"But you said - "
"I think," the man smiled, "we can make an exception for tonight. You have twenty minutes."
Rita beamed, firmly grasping his arm in gratitude. "Thank you, Dumbledore."
* * *
"Dolores Umbridge!" Gilderoy exclaimed, bursting through her door in style. "At last you have the pleasure of meeting me."
Umbridge looked up skeptically, surveying his hospital gown with obvious distaste. "My, my - Gilderoy Lockhart! But weren't you at St. Mungo's? Or have you charmed your way out?”
They both laughed, but the moment was very unpleasant.
"You haven't heard, have you, m'dear? I've conquered my unfortunate condition! Pity we can't say the same for you."
"Excuse me? What on earth do you mean by that?" Umbridge said coldly, the pitch of her voice dangerously high.
"You suffer from lack of respect, of course," Gilderoy continued brightly, flashing a smile at her. "Even I did once, to an extent. That is to say, not as bad a case as you have now - I was - am - an internationally acclaimed wizard, you know. You work for the Ministry, and that's not something to brag about at Hogwarts. Not to worry, though! I know just the thing to turn tables in your favor here!"
"Really?" Umbridge responded, disinterested. "What could a has-been possibly know about respect?"
"Oh, I'm very accomplished in Defense Against the Dark Arts! All the details are in my published works."
Stirring her tea slowly, Umbridge gazed up at Gilderoy and smirked. "Lies."
"Ah, but if only you knew! I am the most honest man that ever lived! I've battled with werewolves and banshees and vampires, and even faced the Dark Lord himself! Every student would pay to hear of my experiences!"
Immediately Umbridge shot up from her chair, knocking over her teacup. "YOU MUST NOT TELL LIES!" she screeched.
"Though I have heard," Gilderoy added thoughtfully, ignoring her, "that Mr. Wilbert Slinkhard comes very close. His Defensive Magical Theory, which I believe you are teaching, is just a few notches below Year with a Yeti."
"I hardly see the similarity between the two."
"It's all about coupling, m'dear - coupling! That's the key to respect. Theory and practice!" Umbridge cringed at the last word. "Though I'm afraid it may be too late to change the curriculum - I'm sure you'll learn from your mistakes next year. In any case, you need a plan in the meantime, something to gain the respect of the most stubborn of individuals! And I have just the ticket!"
"I don't need anyone's respect," she spat back. "I am the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts - everyone is already below me!"
"Ah, but you've mutiny on your hands, haven't you? Mutiny's a fickle thing, m'dear, and even I, an international sensation, have faced its ugly head."
She sat down again, her jaw clenched, reluctant to accept help from the phony man in the hospital gown. The man was a joke. Yet what other option did she have? If she did not squash the rebellious students and staff, her work would become increasingly difficult - and being the only Ministry personnel at Hogwarts, her decrees would not do much to save her.
"Celebrity is as celebrity does," Gilderoy said in a sing-song voice.
Clearing her throat with a brisk little hem, hem, Umbridge put on the sweetest smile she could muster, paused, and then asked, "What did you have in mind?"
* * *
"AAAAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
A cane flew up in the air, which Peeves nimbly caught and used to beat Umbridge repeatedly over the head, all the way to the Forbidden Forest.
"Dolores, you tortoise, we all want you dead,
You're evil and nasty and touched in the head!"
THUNK.
"I am the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, you cannot do this to me! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
All at once the students gathered near the castle doors erupted with cheers.
"She's gone!"
"Finally!"
"YEAH!"
Harry Potter grinned at Professor McGonagall, who was leaning against the castle wall, and she smiled back.
"Never, in all my years of teaching..."
"Yeah," he agreed, amazed. "Fred and George would be - "
"I HAVE RETURNED AT LAST!" boomed Gilderoy, looking suave and extremely pleased with himself. Everyone immediately turned around to face him. Sniggers broke out among the students when they saw he was wearing only a hospital gown.
"Gilderoy!" Minerva exclaimed, shocked and angered. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here? You should be in St. Mungo's!"
"I have completely thrown off my affliction and am doing quite well, thank you! Temporarily indisposed, couldn't be helped - but I am now mentally equipped to return to my post as your Defense Against the Dark Teacher!"
Murmurs and gasps echoed in the hall. "He can't be serious?" Ron Weasley groaned.
"'Course not, it's your wand's fault he'd lost his marbles, remember?" Harry muttered in reply.
"Yes, yes, I know it's all very exciting news!" Gilderoy continued, hardly skipping a beat. "I have disposed of Professor Umbridge, who you'll agree has been very sub-par according to my standards, and now that the post is available, I've decided I'd like to fill it!"
"What does he mean he disposed of Professor Umbridge?"
"Well, I suppose that means he's back to normal?"
"'Normal'? He's been barmy since the beginning!"
"I'm afraid you're not the one who makes the decisions here, Gilderoy!" Minerva shouted.
"Now, now, Minerva," Dumbledore smiled serenely, appearing out of nowhere. "Compromise is not a difficult thing. Gilderoy, you are welcome to finish teaching the remainder of the term. After that, however, I will need replace you."
"Magnificent!"
"Oh no..." Ron groaned again.
"Though I would suggest you find something to wear other than a hospital gown."
"Certainly!" Gilderoy suddenly leapt in front of a large group of students, who all staggered backwards. "FEAR NOT, FOR GILDEROY LOCKHART HAS RETURNED - NO HARM WILL BEFALL YOU NOW!"
He chortled to himself at the look on the students' faces, and then turned to walk up the staircase to his classroom.
Just then, a blur of green whisked out from behind a door and chased him up the stairs. "Lockhart!" it called. "Tell me, how did it feel to purge the evil from within Hogwarts? Exhilarating? Nerve-wracking? Difficult?"
"Well, when you've faced the many things I have," he replied, pausing on the stairs so that all might hear him below, "it becomes second-nature! I wouldn't have an Order of Merlin, third class, if that weren't so!"
"Lovely," the voiced said, which was revealed to belong to Rita Skeeter. "And what was it like to one day wake up with your memory back?"
"It was a beautiful - "
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!"
Gilderoy's eyes bulged out in shock as Rita slid down the stairs as if an invisible hand were pulling her by the leg. She swung out madly, trying to catch hold of something, anything, but everything literally bounced out of her grasp.
"HEEEEEELLLLP!" she shrieked as she toppled to the floor, her crocodile bag landing on her head and her Quick-Quotes Quill drawing nonsense on her face. Collecting herself, she straightened out her skirt and made to get up the stairs again when suddenly a tremendous wind blew her outside and shut the castle doors on her.
It took her several minutes to partially regain her bearings, and when she did, she looked up to see the castle doors slightly open. Dumbledore was peeking his head out.
"I believe I was gracious enough to allow you twenty minutes, Rita, but now I must ask you to leave Hogwarts. My previous statement now holds firm." He disappeared, and the doors closed again.
For a full two minutes, Rita sat there, bewildered. Then at last she shot up, exclaimed, "What am I doing? I've an article to write!" and sped off.
* * *
Sybill knocked softly at the door, but couldn't bear to wait, and so entered without invitation.
"Come in!" Gilderoy said needlessly. "Just finishing off a few letters to my biggest fans, but please, sit down!"
"Oh, I could not sit. The aura of this room already clouds my Sight." Her beady eyes were fixed upon his cool blue eyes.
"Er, very well then. What can I, Gilderoy Lockhart, do for you?"
"But you have done too much already!" she cried, wringing her hands. "I simply came to... to thank you."
"You're quite welcome! Told you I'd find a way to set things right, didn't I?"
"Well, yes... yes, you did. Well. I thank you. I must return to my gazing now."
"Goodbye, then!"
Very slowly, Sybill walked out of the room - except when she reached the doorframe, she stopped.
"How did you do it? I could not See..."
"Ah, a celebrity never reveals his secrets! But I suppose there's no harm in telling you. All it took was a little persuasion! You see, Sybill, I convinced Dolores Umbridge to attempt to get rid of Peeves! And the rest, as you know, is fantastic history. I ought to write a book on it - Parley with Peeves!"
With tremendous flourish, Gilderoy Summoned a piece of parchment as though to begin the novel. Sybill exited quietly, vaguely wondering if he'd remember to include her in it.