When Myths Meet Magic || 2

25|| Jason

Jason, Annabeth, Harry, and Ron slipped out of the staffroom, silently. Ron's legs weren't working right and Annabeth had to support him. They sat in the common room, unable to speak.

"She knew something, Harry," Ron said, speaking for the first time. "That's why she was taken. She'd found out something about the Chamber of Secrets. That's why she was taken. I mean, she was a pureblood, there can't be any other reason." His voice quavered madly.

"We should go see Lockhart," Jason said suddenly. "At least tell him what we know. If he's going to try and get in the Chamber, he might as well get a lead."

They nodded grimly before slipping out and walking silently to Lockhart's room. Harry knocked quietly, and the door creaked open.

"Oh, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Grace, Ms. Chase— I'm rather busy at the moment, if you'd be quick—"

"Professor, we've got some information for you," said Harry. "We think it'll help you."

"Er— well, it's not terribly— I mean— well— all right," He opened the door and they slipped inside.

The office had almost been completely stripped. Two large trunks stood open on the floor, another one next to it, already packed. Robes of all colors had been folded into it, books jumbled untidily next to them. The photographs covering the walls were tightly wound in a pile on his desk.

"You're running away," Annabeth said coldly, straight to the point.

"Urgent call— unavoidable— got to go—"

"What about my sister?" Ron snapped jerkily.

"Well as to that—most unfortunate—" he wrenched open a draw and tipped the entire contents into another suitcase. Jason spotted the revolting feather-quill pen in the pile. "No one regrets more than I—" he continued.

"You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" Harry protested. "You can't go now! Not with all the Dark stuff going on here!"

"Well I must say, when I took the job— nothing in the description— didn't expect—"

"After all that stuff you did in your books?" Ron managed to roll his eyes at Harry, though he was still shaking with anger.

"Books can be misleading!" Lockhart cried vaguely.

"You wrote them!" Harry shouted.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, matching Ron. "Harry, isn't it obvious?" She jabbed her wand at Lockhart, eyes narrowing dangerously. "He's a fraud."

"Precisely, Ms. Chase." Lockhart said, shoving more socks in a side pocket. "I mean, no one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He'd look dreadful on the front cover— no sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a hairy chin. I mean, come on—"

"So you've just been taking credit for what a load of other people have done?" Ron roared incrediously.

"Ron, Ron, it's not as simple as that. There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them how they managed to do what they did, which was quite easy, by the way—" his gaze drifted to Jason. "—then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn't remember doing it. If there's one thing I pride myself in, it's my Memory Charms. No, it's been a lot of work. It's not all book signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long, hard slog."

Annabeth walked closer, the end of her wand hovering over Lockhart's robes. "You charmed them into telling what you wanted them to say," she said menacingly. "And I suppose you found it quite easy?"