Rita was in the tavern. It was crowded so that she could barely move. She looked around for Gilderoy, but she couldn’t make out any of the faces. With the strange feeling that someone was watching her, she turned around to see the door slam open and Mrs. Crockford storm inside. “Rita!” she screamed, causing the bar to go silent, and every head to turn and face Rita, turning crimson in her shame. What had she done that called for her boss to come to Transylvania and reprimand her as such? “Rita!” she screamed again, and soon the tavern was a swirling mass of smoke, and all became black.
Rita opened her eyes to see the sunlight pouring through the half-closed blinds. She looked around in a moment of confusion, wondering where Mrs. Crockford had gone. Not until her eyes fell upon the clock on the adjacent wall did she shake herself from her drowsy bewilderment. It was nine o’clock in the morning, and Rita was already an hour late to work! She threw herself from the bed and, on her way to the bathroom, her glance fell upon the stack of papers on the bedside table, and realized with a lurch of her stomach that she had not finished her latest article, which Mrs. Crockford wanted to have that morning.
At the Witch Weekly headquarters, Alana and Mrs. Crockford were deep in debate. “Do you suppose she’s feeling all right?” Alana asked with mock concern.
“Oh, I hope so,” Mrs. Crockford replied nervously, not catching the smirk on Alana’s face. She was pacing the office as she often did, wringing her hands together, as though it might help to solve the problem at hand. “I don’t want to sound heartless, but she was supposed to have turned in an article this morning! We won’t have a thing for the Rumors section!”
“Rita always has been a bit, oh, unreliable, wouldn’t you agree?” Mrs. Crockford looked up at Alana questioningly. “And don’t worry about the article she forgot. I’ll come up with something,” she added hastily.
“Yes, don’t worry about that too much, dear. It isn’t really due until next week. But I would have liked to have it ready. Listen to me,” she said accusingly. “Rita could be ill, and here I am complaining about a Rumors article that isn’t really due for another four days!”
But Alana clearly wasn’t listening to Mrs. Crockford, as her mind was already spinning. Her spiteful genius was at work, thinking up some remark to take advantage of this golden opportunity. Still bitter about her disappointing meeting with Gilderoy Lockhart just days ago, she decided to ask Mrs. Crockford, “Is Rita taking another vacation this weekend?”
“I wouldn’t call it a vacation, dear. She takes her work very seriously, you know. You could do with taking a leaf out of her book.” Mrs. Crockford stared reproachfully at Alana.
Alana pretended not to notice and continued, “Do you happen to know where she’s going?”
Mrs. Crockford almost reprimanded Alana for being so inquisitive, but Alana knew Mrs. Crockford too well. If there were one thing Mrs. Crockford loved, it was a good bit of gossip, and she couldn’t help but listen when Rita so carelessly left the door open when Gilderoy came to visit. “I don’t know for sure,” Mrs. Crockford began, leaning over as if to whisper into Alana’s ear. “She hasn’t told me anything just yet, but I heard her talking to Gilderoy the other day, just there in her office, and he mentioned meeting her in Transylvania.” By the time she finished, her voice had sunk to little above a whisper, and Alana was hunched over to hear her clearly.
Alana’s eyes lit up as she pondered this for a moment, but her thoughts were interrupted as the front door crashed open and a bumbling Rita charged through the door. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Crockford,” she began before she even looked up. “I didn’t--” She halted mid-sentence at the sight of Mrs. Crockford and Alana both curiously straightening up, looks of feigned innocence across both of their faces.
“Yes?” Mrs. Crockford asked quite nicely. Rita had been a reporter too long to believe this act. She was almost certain that they had just been talking about her as she walked n the door. Then again, she was late--maybe that was all they were discussing. But knowing Alana…
Rita continued with a look of vague uncertainty. “I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I assure you it was an accident--I just woke up at nine and realized I was late.”
“No harm done, I suppose,” said Mrs. Crockford. “You do have the article, then, don’t you?”
Rita stared ahead with a look of horror on her face. “I--I’m afraid I didn’t get that done, either. I’m terribly sorry, I’ll--”
“No need to worry. Alana has volunteered to do it this time. I expect this won’t happen again?”
“No! No, I can do the article!” Rita protested.
“I think Alana can handle it, dear. You obviously need to do a little catching up. Is anything wrong, Rita?” Mrs. Crockford asked with a genuine look of concern.
“No, I’m fine,” Rita said dejectedly. She was determined never to lose another article to Alana, no matter how small. Alana would never let her forget it.
“I suppose you’re still taking off early tomorrow?” Alana asked Rita, carefully glancing at Mrs. Crockford, hoping to instigate a conflict.
“Yes, I already talked to Mrs. Crockford about that,” Rita replied warily. She continued with a bit more confidence, “I hope you can handle the office while I’m gone.”
“Oh, it shouldn’t be a problem,” she answered with a faint smile.
There was something written on Alana’s face that Rita could all but decipher. She was up to something… but didn’t she always have that look about her? She hadn’t been much of a problem in the past, had she? Couldn’t Rita handle whatever it was Alana was preparing in that devilish mind of hers? Or maybe she was simply paranoid…. It had been a long week.
The next morning, Rita woke up promptly at seven o’clock, and walked through the doors of the Witch Weekly at ten ‘til eight. To her great satisfaction, Alana wasn’t there yet. She walked back to her office and took out the Rumors article she had lost to Alana. She smirked, and decided to finish it, anyway, in hopes that she could beat Alana to the deadline.
But when nine o’clock had come and passed, and Alana still had not shown up, both Rita and Mrs. Crockford began to get anxious. Mrs. Crockford, being the worrier she was, remained positive that Alana had been kidnapped. Rita, however, suspected that this had something to do with yesterday, and that curious grin. Then again, Rita had been late just the day before, and it was just as she had said--she simply overslept. Maybe… but she could never be too sure.
Whatever the reason was, it left Rita in a disoriented state of mind for nearly the whole day, so she was no closer to finishing the article than she had been while waiting for a reply from Gilderoy. Alana just wasn’t the type to let Rita get the best of her so easily…
Three o’clock came, and Rita remembered her meeting with Gilderoy. Any feelings of apprehension that had been plaguing Rita slipped away and were replaced with nothing but sheer joy. It had been nearly a week since she had last seen Gilderoy. Much, much too long…
She waved goodbye to a very flustered Mrs. Crockford, who, having no help at all, decided to leave soon after Rita walked out the door. The busy streets, the hurrying pedestrians, the careless children bumping into her at every corner, she saw it all, and yet noticed none of it. All she could see was Gilderoy, smiling at her in her mind’s eye. Those with whom she shared the sidewalk, however, could not help but notice the glassy-eyed young woman, stumbling as she walked.
When she arrived at her home, she had worked herself into a giddy frenzy. She was feeling very much alive, all too conscious of her surroundings. She wished for nothing but to be away from here, and wherever Gilderoy was. If she had ever known what love felt like, she decided, it would have to be this.
With fumbling hands she grabbed the Floo powder, threw it into the fireplace, and yelled clearly, “17 Hilden Place.” All went black, and she was lost in the darkness. She began to feel light-headed, and with an already unsettled stomach, she wasn’t sure she liked the feeling all too much.
When she emerged from the fireplace, she found herself in a room, small but quaint, fixed with all the necessities of home. It was Gilderoy’s room, but Gilderoy wasn’t there. She peered down the hall, and when she saw no sign of him to either side, she slipped back into the room. Rita decided to wait on him for a while, since it wasn’t quite four o’clock yet, and she thought with some hopefulness that Gilderoy probably had plans up until that time. He was, after all, a busy man.
By a quarter after four, she had begun to wonder, and at half past four, she wasn’t quite sure whether to be mad or worried. Alana was late this morning, also, she couldn’t keep herself from thinking. She wanted to blame everything bad that happened on Alana. It wasn’t hard. She remembered the owl Gilderoy had sent had mentioned the tavern, the same one she had so recently dreamed about. That’s probably where he is! she thought with some renewed enthusiasm.
Rita started wandering down the hall, not sure which way to turn. She asked a young man which way the tavern was, and he pointed her down the left hall. As she walked towards the bar, the clamor grew louder, and she knew that she was headed in the right direction. At the end of the hall, two doors burst forth and a round, smiling waitress emerged. With one hand holding a tray of empty glasses, she held the other open for Rita as she walked into the tavern. Rita cautiously entered the room, but when she turned around to see that the waitress had already left, the door was swinging closed. She walked further into the room.
To her surprise, it wasn’t very different from the tavern in her dream. The dark, musty room, crowded to the point of limited mobility… It was very similar, save that now the faces were harshly clear. They were leering at her, turning their heads and laughing with wide, toothless grins. The grotesque faces were much too close for her liking.
Just when she had been about to turn around and leave, she caught a glance of a head full of striking blonde hair. She twisted her head around instantly, hoping that it might be Gilderoy. Her heart rose up out of her chest as she identified him as the Gilderoy Lockhart, just the man she had come to meet. His smile was, if possible, grander than she had ever seen before. Could it be that he was as happy to see her as she was to see him? The thought filled her mind and flowed through her veins, elevating her from the grimy floor. He threw his head back and laughed, a brilliant echo of song resounding throughout the dismal room. She wondered who he was talking to. With a newfound confidence and the same feeling she had identified earlier as that of love, she crossed the crowded room and came to the table at which Gilderoy was seated. She walked up behind him, with the intention of surprising him, but before she did, something else caught her eye.
Seated across from Gilderoy was a beautiful young woman, her flaxen curls bouncing freely around her jovial face. Her cheeks were flushed with laughter, and her bright eyes sparkled magnificently in the dingy surroundings. Standing with her mouth open, still as if she had been frozen, Rita watched with horror. After a moment, the young woman looked up. “Oh, Rita! Fancy meeting you here!” Rita could not speak a word. It was Alana.
Gilderoy turned around. “Hallo there, Rita!” His eyes were glassy the way she had seen them in Armenia. “I’ve met your friend.” He pointed at Alana and broke out once more into drunken laughter. She wanted to cry, and she wanted to slap Alana. Of all the things Alana could have done, she had to take away the one thing Rita truly loved. But that was the way she played the game.
Rita smiled, noticeably forced, and turned around to leave, tears stinging her eyes. “Where are you going?” Alana asked playfully. “I thought you needed to talk with Gilderoy.”
“Oh, did she?” Gilderoy asked confusedly, turning around to look at Rita, who still had her back turned. A faint look of dawning spread over his face. “That’s right. Rita, come back!” he called to her.
Rita, with her back turned to the table of drunken fools, swelled up in her anger. She could not believe anyone could be so heartless, nor so unfaithful. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face Gilderoy. If only for a moment, her anger was cleverly masked. “I waited for you for nearly an hour,” she said calmly and walked towards the table, pulling up a chair.
“Oh, did you? I’m terribly sorry,” he said, glancing at Alana even as he said it. Rita followed his stare, and looked intently at Alana, waiting.
“Yes, very sorry, Rita,” Alana said, smiling. “You should have joined us earlier.”
Gilderoy looked ready to agree, but Rita couldn’t take it anymore. Instantly, she turned into some kind of beast, lashing out in fury against Alana, Gilderoy, and anyone else who dared to challenge her. “And what makes you think you had the right to come here?” she screamed at Alana.
“Rita, please!” she said with a smirk. “I was just in the area, and--”
“You know perfectly well you were not ‘in the area!’” She stood up as she screamed, “You did this on purpose, just to spite me!” She wanted to say so many things that she could not bring herself to utter. She wanted to tell Gilderoy that she loved him, and yet she couldn’t force herself to look him in the eye. She wanted to tell Alana that she didn’t care, but it was obvious that she did. She wanted to say something that would put the two of them back into their places, but she was completely at a loss for words. How could something like this have happened?
“How very clever, Rita,” Alana said in response.
“Yes, she’s a clever girl, that one,” Gilderoy said stupidly, his smile just as brilliant and empty as ever. He looked from Rita to Alana as if nothing were wrong, and she decided it was just as much his fault.
“You!” she shouted, pointing madly at Gilderoy. “You were the one who asked me to meet you here a week ago! And I come in here to find you with her!” She gestured towards Alana, and half of the bar was now intently watching the scene she was making.
“Really, Rita, it wasn’t his fault, he--”
“Not his fault?! You don’t know the half of it! He’s nothing but a fraud! You know all those stories of his? He made them up! All of them! All those wild tales--they’re all lies! He’s nothing but a coward! And a filthy drunk, at that!”
“Rita,” Alana said reprovingly. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.” Gilderoy continued to smile as if this were nothing but a reunion of old friends.
Rita could see that nothing she could say would penetrate the wall between them. Alana would never understand. Gilderoy could never know how much he had meant to her. Rita stood heaving for breath, glaring at the two of them, so completely unaware of any of the pain that she felt. She felt her eyes well up with tears, and she turned around to leave. She ran out of the bar, down the hall, and into Gilderoy’s room. Throwing the Floo powder into the fireplace, she could barely choke out the words “Hollyberry Manor,” and soon she was back within the comfort of her own home. She threw herself upon her bed and broke into tears. She laid there for hours, mad at the world and all it had done to her, when she had tried so hard to do everything right. She never wanted to see them again, Gilderoy or Alana. And yet with every waking moment, she saw their faces hounding her in her mind’s eye. Only with the quietness of sleep could she forget for a few moments how cruel of a place the world truly was.
By the time Monday morning came, Rita had all but forgotten the madness of Friday night. Her despair, however, had somewhat faded, giving room to anger. She was sure that if she ever saw Gilderoy’s face again, she would distort it to unrecognizable proportions.
Determined to pick up her crumbling career, Rita left the house a bit early that morning, so she would not be late to work. She walked in the door of the Witch Weekly, driven by anger and pride, only to be shattered once again.
“Rita! Oh, Rita, look at this article Alana has written!” Mrs. Crockford sputtered excitedly. Turning to Alana, she said, “This is front page material, darling. I am very impressed!”
Rita stood dismally beside the front desk. Of course Alana would write the perfect article, she thought to herself. Kick me while I’m down, the dirty little-- Her thoughts were soon interrupted.
“And look at this photograph! Oh, Alana, this beats our past front page articles by a mile! How did you come by this story?” Mrs. Crockford was holding up Alana’s article, and a gleaming portrait Gilderoy was smiling innocently at Rita.
“Let me see that,” Rita snapped. She seized the article from a startled Mrs. Crockford. Skimming the first few lines, her worst fears were realized.
“Lockhart Saves Transylvanian Town from Vampire… villagers crowded the streets to cheer Mr. Lockhart … ‘Where they would be without me, I don’t like to imagine,’ he replied…”
“So this is what you were doing in Transylvania,” Rita spat accusingly, throwing the article down beside her.
“Simply in the right place in the right time. I suppose you know how that is,” Alana replied with a hint of sarcasm.
“You…!” Rita screamed indignantly, lost in her anger. “You knew that was my story!”
“Oh, really, Rita, how could it have been ‘your story’?” Alana asked, looking quite exasperated. Nevertheless, Rita knew she was enjoying it.
Mrs. Crockford placed a hand on Rita’s shoulder. “Dear, don’t be upset that Alana was there to get the story and you weren’t. That’s how it is in the news world, you know that.”
“But she knew--”
“She couldn’t have known what was going to happen, just as you couldn’t have known. You heard Alana, she was just in the right place at the--”
“Of course she knew what was going to happen!” Rita screamed, her arms flung out at her sides. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Gilderoy told her to meet him there! Told her all about the vampire and everything!”
“Rita, dear, please calm down,” Mrs. Crockford said consolingly. She looked genuinely worried. “It’s not your fault, it’s not Alana’s fault, and it’s not Gilderoy’s fault. How could Gilderoy have told her what--”
“He’s a fraud! He takes credit for things other people have done! He can’t do a lick of good magic himself!” Rita yelled, looking from Mrs. Crockford to Alana in desperation. “Don’t you understand?”
“Rita, you know that isn’t true. Remember all those wonderful articles you’ve written about Mr. Lockhart? You were there! You saw him banish that banshee, and turn those werewolves back into men! I believe you’re acting quite childish. It isn’t flattering to be so jealous of Alana because she got the better story. I think,” she said, pausing for effect, “that you owe her an apology.”
Rita stood there with her mouth open, in quite a quandary. She couldn’t admit to having known Gilderoy was a fraud--that would ruin any chances she might have of regaining her status as a reporter. She obviously couldn’t defy her boss, no matter how difficult it might be to comply, if she wanted to keep her job. With a deep sigh, she turned to Alana. “I’m sorry,” she said, and turned into her office.
It was Tuesday morning, and the Witch Weekly was being made ready to deliver. Rita, not having written a single article for this week’s paper, was in a particularly sullen mood as she trudged to work. Copies of the paper would be floating around the workplace, parading before her eyes, all heralding the much-loathed face of Gilderoy Lockhart. For the first time, Rita honestly did not want to go to work.
Headquarters turned out to be very much like she had imagined. As the first papers were coming off the presses, Alana stood waiting to admire her work. Mrs. Crockford was nearby, sitting at her desk, busying herself with something irrelevant, as she often did.
Rita pretended not to notice the glint in Alana’s eye as she walked into her office. As hard as she was trying to pretend that it was just a normal day, she knew better than to believe it.
Sitting at her desk, Rita noticed, for the first time, the stacks of paper she had been hoarding for weeks. Had she neglected her assignments for so long? She flipped through the papers, none of which looked familiar, and realized all that she still had to do. Maybe, she thought, I can redeem myself, if I at least finish these assignments.
By the time midday rolled around, Rita had completed more assignments than she had done in weeks. She had been busy for hours, contacting people, double-checking facts, and typing up drafts. With all that had been happening, she had quite forgotten the simple pleasures of the news world. All withstanding, she was having quite an enjoyable day, locked up in her office.
Enjoyable, that is, until Alana came in, uninvited, to show her the newspaper.
She laid down a copy on Rita’s desk, and stood, still as stone, in the corner. Rita looked at her through narrowed eyes, and began to read Alana’s article, which was what she expected Alana wanted her to do. After a moment, Alana emerged and hastily flipped the pages to the Rumors section, and stood back, smiling. Rita looked up at her, confused and disgusted. “What do you want--”
“Look!” Alana screeched indignantly, pointing to the page with her neon orange fingernails.
Rita turned back to look at the page, and her eyes immediately caught sight of an announcement from the Ministry of Magic. In bold lettering, it read: “STOLEN PROPERTY FROM THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC. Experimental Time-Turners have been stolen from the Ministry of Magic less than one month ago, and have not yet been accounted for. These highly classified devices, which allow the user to travel into the future, are still in early stages of development. As they have not been properly tested, they are NOT SAFE FOR CIVILIAN USE. If you have any information as to the location of this stolen property, please contact the Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, as soon as possible.”
The color drained from Rita’s face as she realized with a jolt how Gilderoy had been finding out about these events before they happened. Alana looked at Rita with grim satisfaction. Rita turned up at her with revulsion. “What is this? Do you know about Gilderoy’s secret?”
Alana’s smile suddenly faded. She looked as though she thought Rita had lost her mind. “What are you talking about?”
“The Time-Turners! They’re stolen property! Gilderoy isn’t supposed to have those! They could be dangerous!”
Alana chuckled. “Don’t try to change the subject.”
Rita was fuming. “I’m not changing the subject! Gilderoy is in danger!”
“No, he’s not,” Alana said exasperatedly. “Unless, of course, you mean his amazing defeat of that vampire! I didn’t actually see him, but he told me all about it, and--”
“Alana! This is more important than that! Gilderoy could get sent to Azkaban for this!”
Alana rolled her eyes and pretended to ignore her. She picked up the paper and held it right in front of Rita’s face. “Do you like the picture?”
Rita’s mouth was half-formed in reply when she felt her blood run cold. Covering half the page was a picture of herself “ a gruesome shot from the tavern in Transylvania. “Famed Reporter Loses her Cool at Transylvanian Tavern,” read the headlines. A detailed account of her clash with Gilderoy followed, encompassing all of two pages, save for the margin that held the Ministry of Magic announcement that Rita had been so quick to notice.
“Did you write this?” Rita asked as her blood began to boil.
“Of course!” Alana said smugly. “You never did turn in that assignment for the Rumors section. We had to have something.”
Just at that moment, Mrs. Crockford walked in. “Alana? Are you in here?” she asked as she opened the door. “Oh, good! You’ve shown Rita the paper!” She was all smiles, so unaware of the growing tension. She reminded Rita sickly of Gilderoy.
“Have you read this article?” Rita asked Mrs. Crockford, snatching the paper from Alana’s hands and thrusting it towards her boss.
“Oh, yes. Best Rumors article we’ve had in years. I’m thinking of giving Alana this assignment permanently.”
“You mean you allowed her to publish something like that? About one of her coworkers?” Rita asked, shrieking in rage.
“Well, why shouldn’t I have? I figured you would enjoy the attention, seeing as you have no front page article this week.”
“Don’t you two understand anything?” she screamed at them. “This isn’t about me! This is about her stealing my article! This is about Gilderoy, giving her the story! This isn’t about me!”
Alana snickered in the corner, and Mrs. Crockford stared at Rita sternly. “I thought you were a better reporter than this, Rita. I believe the fame has gotten to your head. Just because your stories have made the front page a couple times doesn’t mean you can’t share the spotlight. I’m really ashamed of you, Rita, acting so immature about the whole thing. I thought you could give Alana some helpful advice, but you’ve been so cruel to her ever since she started.” Alana nodded her head mockingly.
Rita knew it was pointless to argue with them. They knew what they had done, but they didn’t understand. They could never comprehend this torrent of emotion that they had inflicted. It was pointless, Rita knew, and it would never get any better. Just glancing at their faces made Rita realize where she had gone wrong…
Sighing audibly, she seized the pile of papers from her desk and stormed past, nearly toppling Mrs. Crockford. Bewildered, Mrs. Crockford called to her as she headed toward the door, “Where are you going?”
“I quit!” Rita screamed, slamming the door behind her.
Rita walked with tears in her eyes down the busy London street. She suddenly became aware of all the things she had seen before and never noticed. The bustling center became a new place to her, one of fiends and devils of all sorts, waiting to tear out the heart of some poor, unsuspecting young woman like herself. A respectable young woman, with a heart of gold, who had never heard of the malicious cruelty that lay in waiting for her. But at every corner was a ravenous beast, waiting for a piece of her heart, an irreplaceable bit of her spirit. Through all the hardships she had endured, she had learned one lesson, and that was to guard to heart to every passerby, keeping it well within herself, so that she would be vulnerable no more. She was deserving of a prominent standing in this great world, and she would have it, no matter the trials she must continue to endure. But this episode would forever be kept a secret, locked away in that heart of gold, that no man might find the weakness that lay there.
A/N Thanks a bunch to my wonderful beta, DreaTonksLupin! :-D
A Heart of Gold by the_evenstar
Chapter Notes: Disclaimer: The wonderful characters of this story (namely, Rita and Gilderoy) and most of the names/settings belong to JK Rowling - I borrow them merely out of homage to her greatness.