Gaunt ~ Book 2

Twenty-eight~Lockhart

a/n: Same reminder as usual, I'm combining J.K. Rowling's work with my own. Hope you enjoy!

The Malfoy boy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, "Serpensortia!" 

The end of his wand exploded. I watched, aghast, as a long black snake fell out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between the two innocent students, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor. Students aren't supposed to know those kinds of spells! I don't even know them! And I'm Gilderoy Lockhart!

"Don't move, Potter," said Severus lazily. "I'll get rid of it. . . ."

"Allow me!" I shouted. I'm Gilderoy Lockhart. I am Gilderoy Lockhart. What does Severus Snape have on me? I brandished my wand at the snake, hoping it looked elegant, and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing majestically, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward a first year Hufflepuff — Finch-Fletchley! — and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike. 

Then something I didn't expect. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, stepped toward the snake that almost killed him. At the same time a Slytherin boy with shoulder length black hair — I don't know his name since I didn't bother to learn it, Slytherins never respect me so why bother — stepped in front of the poor Hufflepuff boy. At the same time Harry and the boy spoke in identical voices. But they weren't voices at all. They were both hissing like snakes. 

The snake slipped to the floor, docile as a thick, black Muggle garden hose, its eyes flicking between Harry and the Slytherin boy. Harry looked up at Finch-Fletchley, grinning.

"What do you think you're playing at?" Justin Finch-Fletchley yelled, directing his anger at Harry, not at the boy in front of him. Before poor Harry could say anything, his classmate had turned and stormed out of the hall. This was something not even Gilderoy Lockhart could fix.

Harry's two friends, Miss Hermione Granger — good girl — and the red-head Reagen, pulled him and the Slytherin boy out of the hall. But Severus was upon them before they reached the stairs. He grabbed his pupils collar and pulled him away from the Gryffindors, seething.

"Well," I said in my best pleasantly cheerful voice, clapping my hands and smiling. "I think that's enough for tonight. Run along to your common rooms, all of you, and get some sleep, go on."

The frightened crowd moved away, staying in groups. I watched them until the last of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws went up the stairs. I finally let out a deep breath I hadn't realized I had been holding in. Harry was a Parselmouth? That wasn't something I had bargained for. The Boy Who Lived was a golden boy, not some Slytherin scum. It was understandable that the Slytherin boy was one, he was probably a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin. 

Harry is probably terrified. I would be if I could suddenly speak the language of snakes. I shivered and walked out of the hall, weaving through Hogwarts in a fog. If I was a Parselmouth, what would I do? Jump off the highest tower of course. I was a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin. 

As I put my hair curlers in — mimicked by my many self portraits of course — I kept thinking about the look on Harry Potter's face. It didn't look like he knew he had spoken the devil's language. But the Slytherin boy knew, I swear he spoke Parseltongue on purpose. But to save a Hufflepuff? Slytherins don't like Hufflepuffs and Hufflepuffs return the favor, it's a natural rule of life at Hogwarts. So why did he save Finch-Fletchley? 

"Don't think about it too much," a picture of myself wisely suggested. "You'll get wrinkles."

"Yes," I returned. "Good choice."

I smiled, looking at my sparkling teeth in my mirror. I am Gilderoy Lockhart. I smiled bigger, brighter. I am Gilderoy Lockhart. I am Gilderoy Lockhart. I can do anything. I took a deep breath, pushing thoughts of snakes, Hufflepuffs, Salazar Slytherin, Harry Potter, and the North Tower out of my mind. I am going to sleep well tonight. Because I am Gilderoy Lockhart. Gilderoy Lockhart sleeps well at night, no matter the circumstances.  

The talk of Harry Potter and Marvolo Gaunt — that was the Slytherin boy's name — talking in Parseltongue to a snake at my dueling club had spread like a wildfire the next morning. No one would stop talking about it in my class. They didn't stop even when I offered extra credit to anyone who would join me in a reenactment of the climax of Break with a Banshee. Finally, I dismissed my distracted pupils for lunch. 

They left all in a hurry, chattering loudly. Sentences like "I wouldn't have thought that Potter was a Parselmouth," and "Gaunt was obvious but Potter? Really?" floated to me. The last student left the class, leaving me alone, beginning to worry. Don't worry, you'll get wrinkles. Gilderoy Lockhart doesn't get wrinkles. 

I sighed and followed the Hogwarts students to lunch. My stomach rumbled, setting my mind to food. I gratefully sat down in my spot at the staff table, surveying the students. I saw Potter at the Gryffindor table, hiding from the stares between his two friends. The Slytherin boy, on the other hand, was being flaunted by his peers. He was getting pats on the back, congratulations, so on and so forth. He didn't look too happy like the rest of the Slytherins around him. He seemed to be trying to hide. Unsuccessfully.

I turned to my golden plate just as the food appeared. I smiled and dug in. Don't think about it. Don't worry. Worrying gives wrinkles. I am Gilderoy Lockhart. I am Gilderoy Lockhart. I am Gilderoy Lockhart.

I can do anything.