As Harry and Hermione stepped into the bustling shop, a copy of Gilderoy Lockhart’s autobiography, Magical Me, was prominently displayed. They joined the Weasleys, who were lined up near the counter.
“Oh, Harry, thank goodness!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, brushing dust from Harry’s clothes. “We’d hoped you’d only gone one grate too far!”
A man’s voice rang out, “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart!”
“There he is!” Mrs. Weasley said, her excitement palpable.
The crowd, mostly female, erupted into applause as the flamboyantly dressed Gilderoy Lockhart made his entrance.
“Excuse me!” Regulus nearly lost his cool the second Gilderoy’s face popped up on the projector. His jaw dropped; eyes wide as saucers. “You’ve got to be joking!” he sputtered, staring at the screen like it personally offended him. Gilderoy’s over-the-top grin and theatrical expressions made Regulus cringe so hard it looked like he might hex the projector itself.
"I hate this git," Regulus muttered, glaring daggers at the younger Gilderoy, who was overly animated, yapping about himself to the students like they actually cared.
“We know, Reg. You've made it painfully obvious—especially with the secret hexes in the hallways,” came the teasing response.
Regulus scowled, crossing his arms. Of course, it wasn’t just the incessant boasting that grated on him. Gilderoy had the nerve to constantly pester his Isabella.
That pompous prat didn't deserve to be within a foot of her, let alone share a conversation. His Isabella.
“Mum fancies him,” Ron whispered to Harry, a smirk on his face. Mrs. Weasley responded with a playful shove.
James and Sirius gasped simultaneously. “Really? Him?”
“Molly, I had higher expectations from you. You wound me.” Sirius grabbed his chest falling backwards.
A photographer pushed through the crowd, calling out, “Make way there, please! Let me by, madam, thank you. Excuse me, little girl, this is for The Daily Prophet.” He snapped a quick photograph of Lockhart.
“What is wrong with these ladies?”
Lockhart’s eyes fell on Harry’s scar. “It can’t be Harry Potter!”
“Harry Potter!” the photographer shouted, grabbing Harry by the arm and shoving him to the front.
"Oh, he did not just do that," Lily seethed, her eyes narrowing with fiery indignation
Lockhart, ever the showman, pulled Harry to his side. “Nice big smile, Harry. Together you and I rate the front page!” he said, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. Despite Harry’s lack of a smile, the photographer snapped another picture.
“Ladies and gentlemen, what an extraordinary moment this is!” Lockhart continued, addressing the crowd. “When young Harry stepped into Flourish and Blotts this morning to purchase my autobiography Magical Me,”—Hermione and most of the crowd clapped excitedly,
“Mental, this bloke, and these women fawning over him. And Hermione, I—” Sirius shook his head like a disappointed parent, watching as Hermione ducked in embarrassment.
“Or maybe you’re just jealous?” Marlene chimed in, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, not you too!” Sirius threw his hands in the air, letting out an exaggerated sigh that could rival a windstorm. “I’m surrounded by madness!”
YOU ARE READING
SOLSTICE
Fanfiction"My lord," Cyril hummed in reply. Theo always preferred this title. Theo asked, referring to the future they all would be witnessing, "Are you okay with what tomorrow brings? It's like privacy being snatched away, and secrets won't be secrets anymo...
