If Teddy had hoped Professor Beacon would have thawed over the holidays, he was wrong. If anything, she appeared determined to avoid him. He tried to talk to her more than once after class, but she’d quickly leave the classroom, escape into her office and then slam the door on him. Meanwhile, Lockhart’s fame was spreading. His books were being translated into twenty languages, and Rita Skeeter’s biography would be out in late February. Finally, Teddy decided to respond in kind. If she was going to be obnoxious, then he was going to act recklessly. He stopped trying to get her attention, leading her into a false sense of security. In the last class before the Hogsmeade weekend, she appeared cheerful enough. Teddy could tell because she paired McLaggen up with Grass for the bakery lesson--she seemed to derive pleasure from forcing those two to work together.
On the day of the February Hogsmeade trip, Teddy detached himself from his friends once more, went behind an alley and using his Metamorphmagus skills, transformed his features into that of a nondescript middle-aged wizard. He casually entered Three Broomsticks and sat down at the end of the bar. As soon as Madam Rosmerta’s back was turned, he slipped away and walked up the stairs towards Professor Beacon’s room. On the way, he changed his features again, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he felt himself growing shorter and his hair lengthen. Then, he charmed his clothes to look like that of a female student’s and knocked on the door.
Professor Beacon could be heard hurrying inside. Teddy began to lose courage as her footsteps drew closer. He’d almost turned away when the door opened. Professor Beacon took one good look at him, and then fainted without further ado.
–Shit.â€
Teddy jumped over her body into the room, pulled her aside and then shut the door, cursing all the while. He quickly conjured a glass of water and sprinkled her face with it. After a while, she came round, and gave a half-shriek.
–It’s me, Professor,†Teddy said, returning to his original form. Then, he yelped in pain; she’d kneed him.
–What did you do that for, you little twat!â€
–You wouldn’t talk to me otherwise!†he protested, hugging his stomach. –I had to take drastic measures.â€
–You nearly killed me with shock, you know that?†she shouted.
–All of this could have been avoided if you hadn’t avoided me in the first place!†he shouted right back.
–What on earth could be so important that you’d stalk a teacher--â€
–I wasn’t stalking!†he said, sitting up. –And I found your letter to my mum, okay? Your goodbye letter.â€
That shut her up. He hadn’t meant to bring it up at all, but he had to get attention. More than that, a part of him desperately wanted to hurt her. –You left her, didn’t you?†he said mercilessly. –You pulled some stupid trick on the Hogwarts staff and Dumbledore with your Vernalia Kappanakis act. It was one of your little experiments, wasn’t it? Your way of deceiving other people so you could have some fun at their expense? I hope it was worth it in the end, breaking my mum’s heart like that!â€
She had blanched. She stared at him, her head shaking with silent denial.
–My mum’s favourite hair colour was pink,†he went on. –Because of you. And you vanished, not giving a shit, probably time-travelling back to the sixteenth century so you could write some shitty dramas to entertain the bloody queen--â€
–That wasn’t until later on,†she interrupted him. –My first disguise after shedding Kappanakis was Caroleadora. The wild witch.â€
–I don’t give a damn,†he said angrily.
–I do.†She had stood up now. –I never tricked Dumbledore. He knew. I was working on my thesis on magical disguises and glamour theory at that time, and Vernalia Kappanakis was part of it. Dumbledore was one of my guides. He highly approved of my research, and the charms and spells I had amended and invented to keep disguises in place for months. They were so valuable that my project became a secret between me and my guides. To test them, Dumbledore suggested I teach a year at Hogwarts, pretending to be a Greek witch--Defence--and I agreed.â€
She turned away from him and sat down on her bed. –I began to enjoy teaching. I got on well with the students and the other teachers. Dumbledore was happy with my work, but he warned me. The DADA post had always been a sort of joke, you know? When I was in school, we’d place bets on the new teachers. Would they be kicked out? Would they resign? Would they disappear? None of us considered the possibility that there could be an actual curse on it. I was over-confident, though. I assured him I’d try my best to outlast the others. Then, I fell in love with a student. Your mother.
–She wanted to be an Auror, so I arranged extra classes for her. We taught each other a lot, actually, and disguises were a particularly fascinating subject for both of us, what with her being a Metamorphmagus and me, well, already living under one. There were times when I was tempted to tell her the truth, but I was under strict supervision from my guides. I couldn’t divulge my real identity. It would have sabotaged the whole operation.â€
–You had priorities,†Teddy commented, and he couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.
–I didn’t complete my research, Teddy,†she said firmly, facing him again. –I left your mum, but I left everything else, too. I didn’t want to be found by my guides, and although I believe Dumbledore could have located me if he wanted to, he didn’t. I started on a unending journey of living under disguises, returning only when I saw another chance of coming to Hogwarts.â€
–But the Defence post--â€
–--is permanently taken now, I know.†She smiled sadly. –I wanted to come to Hogwarts so I could see you. I never forgave myself, Teddy. I thought I’d approach you and tell you what I couldn’t tell your mother. Evidently, I’m still a coward.â€
She abruptly got up and started straightening her bed-sheets. Judging by the sound of sniffing, Teddy suspected she was hiding her tears from him. –I’ll forgive you only if you do one thing,†he said as he stood up. –You’ll expose Gilderoy Lockhart.â€
–What?â€
–I don’t think it was he who got rid of the Wales Inferi in 1991.â€
–Oh,†she said. –I don’t care about that, Teddy.â€
–I do,†he told her. –He obviously lied. What’s to stop him from lying again?â€
She turned around, and they stared at each other. Finally, a wry smile lit up her face. –You have a point there,†she said.
Rita Skeeter’s autobiography was finally on the bookshelves. To celebrate the occasion, she and Gilderoy had arranged to have dinner at an exclusive restaurant at London. Prickly partners though they were, both felt it was necessary to keep in touch, lest their hold over each other be forgotten.
–Tonight’s chef is a fan,†Gilderoy informed Rita. –She’s reserved the whole place for us.â€
–I hope this won’t turn into Gilderoy-talk,†Rita replied drily. –Only, I thought we were here to commemorate my success.â€
–Oh, of course, dear,†he said in what he thought was a soothing voice, but in reality came out irritable and strained.
–Shall we order?†Rita asked.
–Ah,†Gilderoy hesitated. –You see, the chef--I don’t know if you’ve heard of her name, but she’s rather famous and a fellow writer like us--pleaded with me to let her serve us her special.â€
–Who is this chef?â€
–A delightful woman by the name of Crollega Dawson.â€
–I’ve heard of her,†Rita said. –Publishes in both the Muggle and the magical world, doesn’t she?â€
–Mmhm. And she apparently owns all the books I’ve written.â€
At that moment, a waitress walked out of the kitchen, bearing a tray, and made her way towards them. They sat up, ready to feast on whatever fancy, expensive, and exotic food the famous chef had prepared for them. It was Spaghetti Bolognese.
–Spag Bol?†Rita asked archly, not caring the waitress was still there, pouring wine into their glasses. –This is her special?
Even Gilderoy appeared affronted. –Are you sure this is our order?†he said to the waitress.
–Sir, you and your friend are our only customers tonight.†She straightened up and said, quite pleasantly, –If you have any issues with the food, I can fetch Ms Dawson.â€
–That will not be necessary--†Gilderoy began to say just as Rita replied, –Yes, do fetch her for us.â€
As soon as the kitchen door had closed, Gilderoy rounded on Rita. –Are you sure this is necessary, Rita?â€
–It’s my night,†she snapped. –I’m not going to celebrate my first book in ten years with something as commonplace as Spag Bol.â€
–You have a problem with my Spag Bol,†someone else said. Gilderoy and Rita turned to see a woman striding towards them. Her blond hair was so glossy and resplendent in the glow of the room that the other two self-consciously smoothed their own hair.
–I can make Spag Bol in my sleep,†Rita sneered. –This can’t be a chef’s special.â€
–Have you tried it, though?†Dawson asked her. –It could be that my Spag Bol tastes different from yours. No one, after all, makes Spag Bol better than me.â€
–I highly doubt Spag Bol can be anything but Spag Bol, even if you sprinkle it with diamond dust.â€
–Now, now, ladies,†Gilderoy began in an attempt to pacify.
–Perhaps, you might be kind enough to have some and see for yourself, Gilderoy,†Dawson said sweetly.
–Yes, of course, I will!â€
–Because I’d hate for you to miss the opportunity a second time.â€
–Second...?†he asked. His confusion turned to horror as all the doors and windows of the restaurant suddenly shut of their own accord. He gaped wordlessly at Dawson, who had her wand out; Rita, on the other hand, acted more quickly, getting her own wand from her bag.
–Drop it, Skeeter,†Dawson warned, shooting a spell that made Rita scream and drop her wand. At the same moment, Gilderoy came to his senses and lunged at Dawson. They tumbled on to the floor. Rita, armed again, towered over them and asked, –Who the hell are you?â€
Gilderoy moved away and produced his own wand, ready to cast Memory Charms once Dawson explained herself.
–I’m Crollega Dawson,†said Dawson.
–The truth, Dawson. I want the truth.â€
On hearing that, Dawson started laughing. –The truth? Oh, that’s right. I’ll give you the truth. We have here a wizard and a witch, famed writers and infamous cheats. Gilderoy Lockhart, who snatched other people’s life away from them and made their stories his own. Rita Skeeter, notorious slanderer, already under probation for her smear campaigns. Isn’t it beautifully ironic that you wrote his biography?â€
Gilderoy and Rita tensed. –I’ll kill you for this,†Rita said, her voice trembling.
–No!†Gilderoy shouted. –The people at this restaurant know we’re here. I’ll just wipe out her memories.†He turned on Dawson. –I don’t know how you found out about us, but you won’t have to be acquainted with our secrets anymore. Say goodbye to your memories, Dawson. Obli--â€
Gilderoy ended his incantation with an odd gargle. Rita started to fume about incompetency, then yelled in fright when she saw why Gilderoy hadn’t finished; the lower half of his face had been covered by what looked like a limitless coil of spaghetti.
–What--â€
To her dismay, spaghetti was snaking between her own ankles, tying her up. She bent down to pull at them, but they’d become as strong as ropes. Soon, she and her dinner date were bound, unable to move.
–Told you,†Dawson said pleasantly, –no one makes Spag Bol better than me.â€