When Scorpius first woke up the following morning, he was momentarily confused by his surroundings. He’d already grown accustomed to seeing the bright red and gold hangings when he opened his eyes each morning. This morning, however, he was back in his room at home. Mr Potter had suggested that none of the children return to Hogwarts until all the suspects had been interrogated. He’d pointed out that until the information was public, there was little point in sending the children back only to be prodded for information by their classmates. Scorpius had been quite pleased when his parents had agreed to this; he’d already found out how uncomfortable it was to be questioned by all of Gryffindor.
It felt wonderfully relaxing to be home. Merlin was sleeping on a perch by the open window, all the books he’d had to leave behind were still neatly arranged on his bookshelf by his little desk, and leaning against the bed was his Thunderbolt, gleaming in the sunlight. Scorpius resolved to ask his dad if they could go flying together later that afternoon. Draco had sent an owl to the office the night before, explaining he’d be taking the day off to spend with Scorpius. However, before Scorpius did any flying, he needed breakfast. His stomach gave a loud rumble of agreement with this plan.
Scorpius left an Owl Treat on the windowsill for Merlin to find when he woke up. The little owl had more than earned it. Scorpius then made a quick trip to the bathroom to wash up before sliding down the banister in his customary fashion.
Upon entering the dining room, he was surprised to see that his mum wasn’t there. Draco was sitting in his normal place, cup of coffee in hand. He looked up from reading the Daily Prophet and smiled broadly. “Good morning.”
“Where’s Mum?” Scorpius inquired, seating himself in front of a plate of bacon.
Draco grinned like a Cheshire cat, handing his paper over to Scorpius.
To the immense relief of her friends and family, Rosie Weasley was rescued from her captors late last night. Well known Aurors, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, have taken three men into custody for the kidnapping of Ron’s daughter. Zacharias Smith, Greg Goyle and Gilderoy Lockhart were brought into Auror Headquarters late last night by Hit Wizards. While Mr Smith’s reasons for the kidnapping have been discovered, it is still unknown how Mr Lockhart and Mr Goyle are involved. However, this reporter has been granted her request for an exclusive interview with Mr Lockhart, which will be available in tonight’s edition of the Evening Prophet.
First year Hogwarts students, Scorpius Malfoy and Albus Potter (son of Harry Potter and cousin of Rosie Weasley) were the first to discover Mr Smith’s involvement in the abduction. From various Prophet news clippings, they realized that if Madam Hermione Weasley’s house-elf protection legislation was passed by the Wizengamot, Mr Smith’s business would be financially devastated. Due to her daughter’s safe return, Madam Weasley will be able to proceed with her motion to protect house-elves, the first hearing of which is scheduled for this afternoon...
Scorpius continued to read the article. He’d never taken much interest in his mother’s articles before since most of them were about the latest fashion trends. Today, however, he was quite proud of what she’d written.
“When did Mum have time to write this?” he asked, while helping himself to some scrambled eggs.
Draco poured himself a second cup of coffee as he explained. “She was discussing it with Potter last night while you were saying goodbye to your friends. Then she stayed up until two in the morning writing it. The Prophet, of course, was only too happy to accept the story, especially since she’s going to have that exclusive interview with Lockhart.” Draco paused to check his pocket-watch. “She’s probably just arriving at the Ministry now.”
Astoria Malfoy exited the lift at level two and walked towards the Auror Department, her heels clicking smartly on the stone floor. She didn’t need to wait long before Harry showed her to a small room with a viewing window.
Harry offered his hand, which Astoria accepted lightly. After the slightly awkward pleasantry was over with, Harry cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “I’m glad you’re here. He still refuses to talk to either Ron or I, but we think he’ll be more than happy to speak with you, especially if you identify yourself as a writer for Witch Weekly.”
Astoria smiled. “Excellent. I’ll be sure to pose as a fan. It shouldn’t be difficult, my mother adored Lockhart for years. My sister, Daphne, used to brag about how he autographed all her schoolbooks.”
“Knowing him, he’d probably have autographed the ones he didn’t write too,” added Ron, rolling his eyes as he walked over to join them.
Astoria laughed good-naturedly at Ron’s joke, while noticing that he looked at least ten years younger than he had the night before. The dark circles that had been under his eyes weren’t quite gone, but the tension in his posture had disappeared. She added, “Draco’s told me stories. Apparently he was never quite as big a fan of Lockhart as Daphne was.”
Harry ushered her towards the door. “Well, he’s all yours. We’ll be watching and listening outside. He doesn’t have a wand, but we’ll be ready in case he does become at all aggressive, although, I really don’t think that’s likely.”
“Thank you,” replied Astoria, as she walked inside.
Gilderoy Lockhart took in Astoria’s appearance almost instantly: designer robes and accessories, perfectly applied make-up, and well coifed hairstyle. Gilderoy immediately felt that he’d found a kindred spirit in Astoria Malfoy.
“Mr Lockhart!” gushed Astoria. “I’m so pleased to meet you in person! I’m Astoria, and I write a column for Witch Weekly.”
Gilderoy flashed her his award-winning smile; if he’d had any remaining doubts about Astoria, they vanished upon hearing the name of the magazine she worked for. “Delighted to make your acquaintance! Please, call me Gilderoy.”
“Thank you, Gilderoy.” Astoria sat down across from him while removing a long roll of parchment and her rose coloured Quick-Quotes Quill from her handbag. “I would love an interview; I believe the world needs to know the story of Gilderoy Lockhart.”
Gilderoy’s posture visibly improved at these words. He dearly wished that the insufferable Aurors had allowed him his hair rollers the night before. Lockhart stretched his hands expansively, hoping that Astoria would note his neatly manicured nails instead of his less than perfect hair. “Then I suppose it’s my duty to oblige. Now, where should I begin?”
Before Astoria had a chance to reply, Gilderoy began a monologue. “As most people know, twenty-five years ago I had just finished writing the literary masterpiece, Magical Me. I had worked tirelessly for over a decade to accomplish my two secret ambitions: ridding the world of evil while marketing my own line of hair-care potions.”
Gilderoy was once again somewhat discomfited by the fact that his own hair was rather in need of such a potion. Nevertheless, he ploughed on with his story. “Albus Dumbledore had begged me to take the position of teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, and I decided that I owed it to the next generation of wizards to teach them what I could, especially when I realized that young Harry Potter would be at the school. He obviously needed all the help he could get; the boy’s hair was a disaster! He was trying to gain popularity: making a grand entrance to school, signing photographs, that sort of thing. I tried to take him under my wing, but well, fame engenders spite.”
Gilderoy sighed theatrically. The Quick-Quotes Quill was still scribbling furiously. Astoria was briefly concerned it might cause the parchment to catch fire. She looked up to see Gilderoy humming absently while examining a loose thread on his sleeve.
“Gilderoy?” she ventured.
A vapid smile immediately stretched across his face. “Hello, have we met? Would you like an autograph?” he asked, searching his robes for a quill.
Astoria was only momentarily caught off guard. “Actually, I was wondering if I could interview you before you gave me the autograph; you can use my quill then. I must have forgotten to introduce myself; my name’s Astoria and I write for Witch Weekly.”
Gilderoy’s smile widened at these words, and Astoria noted with relief that his eyes appeared more focused. “Excellent magazine! I can’t tell you how honoured I am to have been the recipient of the Most-Charming-Smile Award, no less than five times.”
“Yes, it is quite the accomplishment,” agreed Astoria. “I was wondering, did it cause any of your students or colleagues at Hogwarts to be, well, jealous of you?”
“Well, now that you mention it, yes. Naturally, most of the staff were rather envious of my prodigious skill. I remember that Snape fellow, terrible hair by the way, was quite put out when I offered to show him how to brew one of specially formulated hair-care potions. Really, though, it’s odd you mention students, because there was one who was immensely jealous of me: Harry Potter.”
Astoria raised her eyebrows, feigning surprise. Gilderoy happily continued, bolstered by the reaction of his interviewer, who he already couldn’t recall the name of.
“Now this Potter, really had no fashion sense. I mean, I understand that he can’t do much about the scar, but he never combed his hair, and really, the glasses did nothing for him. Still, I tried. I explained to him that crashing a flying car instead of taking the train wasn’t the sort of publicity that would help him. Anyway, he and his little friend, Woozly, or whatever his name was, they attacked me at the end of the year and I lost my memory.”
Astoria gasped, and reached out a comforting hand. “How awful for you!”
“What was?” asked Gilderoy, blue eyes filled with curiosity.
“When you lost your memory, as a result of the attack,” Astoria answered in a slow, careful tone.
“Oh! Yes, it was terrible! However, a person such as myself doesn’t let something like that stop them! After nearly twenty-five years in St Mungo’s I was released: completely cured!”
“That’s amazing,” responded Astoria weakly. She made a mental note to do a story on the current state of the Magical Health Care System the following week.
“Well, if I do say so myself, I am quite amazing,” explained Lockhart cheerfully. “Yes, once I was released, a lovely woman named Galadriel Dungeon, or something like that, offered to let me stay with her. Sweet woman.”
Astoria couldn’t help but notice that Gilderoy was beginning to hum the same little tune he had before.
“Er, where exactly did Mrs Dungeon live?” prompted Astoria.
Gilderoy turned in surprise. “Who?”
“The lady you stayed with after you left St Mungo’s,” reminded Astoria, trying not to grit her teeth.
“Oh! Dyllis! Lovely woman. She used to write me the most charming letters.”
“Do you still have any of them?” asked Astoria eagerly. Dyllis, or Galadriel, or whoever she was, must have written something more coherent than what her poor quill was trying to piece together.
“Why, yes! As it happens, I have one on me. The Aurors let me keep it, although I would have preferred if they would have let me keep my hair rollers,” explained Gilderoy, while gingerly patting his hair.
“May I see it?”
“They aren’t special hair rollers. Besides, I don’t have any; the Aurors confiscated them.”
Astoria dug her perfectly manicured nails deep into her palm. “Would I be able to see the letter then?”
Astoria was fully prepared to seriously harm the man in front of her if he dared to ask, “What letter?” Instead, she was surprised to hear him whine, “But it’s my private letter.”
Astoria’s first impulse was to rip out Gilderoy Lockhart’s precious hair. Instead, after a moment’s thought, she subtly aimed her wand at her handbag while maintaining her conversation with Lockhart. “Would you perhaps be willing to let me see it if I were able to find you some hair rollers? I almost always keep some in my handbag...”
“Really?” exclaimed Gilderoy.
“Oh yes,” lied Astoria. “After all, one never knows when they might have a hair emergency.”
Gilderoy nodded, while holding out his hand, in eager anticipation of the promised hair accessories. Astoria was relieved to see that she had properly Transfigured her lipstick and mascara into two hair rollers. She then exchanged them with Gilderoy for the letter. While he eagerly pocketed the coveted rollers, she quickly memorized the return address on the envelope: Miss Gladys Gudgeon, Seventeen Hollybrook Lane, Devonshire. Hoping that Gilderoy’s goldfish-like memory would continue to fail him, she quickly slipped the envelope into her purse. After all, neither of them had specified how long she was allowed to see the letter for, and he did still have her Transfigured make-up.
Gilderoy was already happily humming away again. He also seemed to have forgotten that Astoria was still there, because he had taken the hair rollers back out of his pocket and was busy putting them in his hair. Astoria silently asked Merlin for patience. She then amended her inaudible plea, specifying that she meant Merlin the great wizard and not her son’s tawny owl. Gilderoy didn’t notice as he was currently focusing his attention on the flowing movements of the Quick-Quotes Quill, delightedly reading what it was writing about him. Astoria changed her mind; she’d even ask the owl for help if it would get her away from this twit any quicker.
Nearly two hours later, Astoria had Transfigured most of the contents of her purse into hair rollers, cologne, dental floss, tooth whitener, and tweezers. She’d also had to sacrifice her comb and nail file. However, she felt it was well worth it. She had her story, on an eight foot roll of parchment, and it was quite the story if she said so herself.
Gilderoy waved goodbye to her merrily. He’d somehow remembered that he’d promised Astoria an autograph, although he couldn’t recall who she was. He had noticed the slight flush in her cheeks when he signed her handbag for her, and thus felt that he’d given her enough of a treat that he needn’t feel overly bad over having forgotten his acquaintance’s name. Five minutes later he was humming to himself again, while industriously filing his nails.
Meanwhile, Astoria was vigorously using every cleaning spell she could think of in hopes that her favourite handbag could be saved from her own never-fade ink. She was somewhat surprised to hear Harry Potter’s voice. “My mother-in-law can get that out if anyone can. If you want, I could take it for her to look at and give it back to you at dinner.”
Astoria smiled gratefully. “I’d really appreciate it. I never did very well in Charms; Transfiguration was always my strong suit. Unfortunately, this ink will not simply Transfigure into nothingness.”
“Not to worry. The Auror Department will pay to replace the handbag and all its contents,” Harry informed her.
“Ah.” Astoria smiled. “So, getting your mother-in-law to fix it is just a way of saving your department some Galleons.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to keep it that way?” asked Ron. “I mean, it does have Gilderoy Lockhart’s signature on it. Perhaps we could have a fundraiser selling genuine Gilderoy Lockhart autographs.”
Astoria grimaced as she looked at her watch. “I really need to get my story into my editor if it’s going to make the Evening Prophet as promised. Can you let me know which charges will be laid before five o’clock?”
“We’ll let you know about the charges as soon as it’s decided,” answered Harry.
Astoria nodded as she started to tie the large roll of parchment.
“Just out of curiosity... could I see your notes?” Harry asked.
Astoria handed him the parchment which Harry quickly scanned through, reading aloud.
“Mr Lockhart’s eyes glisten as he searches for the right words to describe his many trials... You can’t mean to print this.”
“Of course not,” replied Astoria. She tapped her wand on the parchment as she exclaimed, “Veritas!”
Harry glanced back at the same line which now read:
Mr Lockhart’s eyes glaze over as he once again forgets the question he was just asked.
Astoria explained, “I couldn’t very well let him read that during the interview; he would have refused to speak to me. That’s the beauty of my rose-coloured Quick-Quotes Quill; it gives a glowing view of my subject and then a simple spell gives a much more truthful version.”
“Wish Skeeter would’ve used a few of those,” grumbled Ron.
“Well, we won’t keep you any longer,” added Harry, who had noticed Astoria checking her watch again. “Is seven o’clock too early for dinner?”
“No, that’s perfect,” replied Astoria. “Thank you again for allowing me to do the interview, we’ll see you tonight! Oh... and could you perhaps take your time in releasing my father-in-law? I wouldn’t complain if his paperwork was misplaced...”
“So you really don’t like Mr Potter or Mr Weasley, do you?” asked Scorpius, swinging his feet from a tree branch. Draco had agreed to take him flying and they were currently sitting in an old apple tree, enjoying some of its fruit.
Draco shifted uncomfortably. “We can be civil to each other,” he answered diplomatically.
“Does that mean you still hate each other?”
“No, that means that we don’t particularly like each other.”
“But you like Rosie and Albus, don’t you?” Scorpius asked in a rush.
Draco took another bite of his apple, chewing thoughtfully. “The most important thing I learned from the war was not to judge someone because of their family. Family is important, but that only means that you should look out for your family. It doesn’t mean judging people because of theirs.”
“So do you like them?”
Draco looked into his son’s gray eyes, which seemed desperate for approval. “I don’t really know Albus or Rosie, but they seem quite loyal to you. So even though I don’t get on with their parents, I’m glad they’re your friends... and yes, you can invite them over for part of the holidays.”
Scorpius grinned and took a bite of his apple. “They told Bernard’s dad that they wouldn’t let him kill me. They even tried standing in his way,” he added.
A small smile twitched on Draco’s lips as he quietly muttered, “Gryffindors.”
“What?” demanded Scorpius, his newly acquired Gryffindor pride slightly bruised.
“So... is this Rosie just a friend?” asked Draco, changing the subject.
Twenty-five years ago, Gilderoy Lockhart was employed as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Near the end of the school year, he tried to modify the memories of second year students, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter as they had just discovered that he had been claiming credit for the work of others in all of his then-popular books. As it turns out, one of the few spells Mr Lockhart could perform correctly was the Memory Charm. Unfortunately, for Mr Lockhart, he failed to notice that the wand he stole from Ron Weasley was damaged and the spell backfired, erasing a good deal of his own memory and permanently damaging his short term memory.
Mr Lockhart spent the next twenty-two years in St Mungo’s. A recent discovery in Memory Enhancing Potions enabled Mr Lockhart to recover a good deal of his short term memory capabilities. Gladys Gudgeon, a fan who wrote to Mr Lockhart weekly for over two decades, then offered to take him into her care. After Ms Gudgeon passed away, Mr Lockhart was no longer given reminders for taking his Memory Potions and his condition worsened. He took to wandering aimlessly, often finding himself in taverns. It should be noted that alcohol only worsened his memory problems.
Several months ago, Mr Lockhart chanced to meet another of his former students, Zacharias Smith, in the Hog’s Head. Mr Smith had just read about Madam Weasley’s proposal to extend house-elf rights, and realized that if the Wizengamot passed it, his business would be unable to recover. Mr Smith was also aware of Lockhart’s skill in performing Memory Charms and together they devised a scheme of revenge and financial gain.
Mr Smith had a long standing grudge against the Malfoy family and Greg Goyle. Greg Goyle was promptly put under the Imperius Curse by Mr Smith, and remained under his control until late last night. It was quickly realized that placing a member of the Malfoy family under the Imperius Curse would not go without notice. Instead, Mr Lockhart stole Lucius Malfoy’s wand and then modified his memory. Since both Mr Malfoy and Mr Lockhart are tall, with long blond hair, it was assumed that if Lockhart was seen he would be mistaken for Mr Malfoy and that the stolen wand would further condemn Mr Malfoy. Mr Smith used the wand of the late Ms Gudgeon, who had purchased her wand from the late German wandmaker, Gregorovitch, making it nearly untraceable.
Mr Smith’s son, Bernard, played an unwitting role in his classmate’s abduction. Mr Smith strongly encouraged his son to befriend Miss Weasley. Mr Bernard Smith mentioned part of Miss Weasley’s schedule in a letter to his father, giving him a time and place for the kidnapping to occur.
Mr Lockhart blamed Ron Weasley and Harry Potter for his memory loss and was planning on using his fifty percent of the ransom of Miss Weasley to start a new life in America. Mr Smith’s main interest in the kidnapping remained in preventing Madam Weasley’s house-elf protection act from being passed, but was planning on using his share of the ransom to start a new business in the event that the motion passed without Madam Weasley’s support.
Mr Smith is to be tried by the Wizengamot and it is already expected that he will be given a life sentence in Azkaban. The Auror Department has agreed that Mr Lockhart will be made a permanent ward of St Mungo’s until such time as he is seen fit to stand trial. All charges against Mr Goyle and Mr Malfoy have been dropped.