Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry forum - Transfiguration, Assignment #3. Prompt: Switch 2 things.
Switched Severus Snape and Gilderoy Lockhart's characters to Snape thinks he's Lockhart and Lockhart thinks he's Snape. Poor Minerva xD
Word count: 2524
He groaned and moved his stiff neck. He heard several faint pops before he felt a rippling crack along his spine.
"Ah," he sighed in relief. That felt good. He loved to crack his neck and back. It was a sure way to make him feel better.
He tried to stand and stopped, brows coming together in confusion. He was wearing - well, black. All black robes. Something wasn't right here.
Gilderoy Lockhart emphatically did NOT wear all black. Never in the history of Magical Me would the famed wizard be caught dead without at least one speck of glitter.
Funny, he should have delicate hands, not calloused hands, used to hard labour. Gilderoy Lockhart did not approve of manual labour.
He frowned and stood slowly, feeling his head for any potential sign of disaster. Feeling a bit better knowing he didn't have a headache or concussion, he strode into the corridor - and stopped. He hit a wall.
"Ow!" he yelled in frustration. His head was thumping now. He felt each pulse of blood as his forehead throbbed in pain. After several moments, he looked around and straightened. He took in his odd surroundings. Nothing was where it should have been.
In the corner, there were tall shelves lined with books. A desk occupied the back center of the room, complete with writing kit and leather chair. A small fireplace sat on the right, with a sparse chair propped close by. A narrow door led into what looked like a bedroom and loo. Weird. Gilderoy Lockhart's loo was definitely not SMALL. Lockhart enjoyed a nice bath. A hot bath. And carpeting, not stone flagged tiles. Stone was cold!
Gilderoy shook his head and, for the first time, noticed his long black hair. Gilderoy did not have black hair. Lockhart was a beautiful blonde, with luxurious curly hair cropped shoulder-length, at most. He liked his curls to be cropped short as it made him look more like a cherub. Long hair did not suit Lockhart's style. He shivered at the memory of Lucius Malfoy's hair. That man needed a new fashion stylist.
But that was a concern for another time. Now, Gilderoy needed to find his own room.
Wandering around, he was blessed to find it was nighttime. And he was walking out of the dungeon. Weird, very few people had offices in the dungeons. He frowned, trying to remember. But all he knew was that he was Gilderoy Lockhart, and he was decidedly not doing Gilderoy Lockhart things.
In another part of the castle, a man rubbed his temples.
"Ugh! Okay, Ferny, I swear that is the last time I ever drink a house elf concoction again. How do I look?" the blonde man asked the bobbing house elf.
The house elf giggled, blushed and twittered some nonsense about him looking very dashing.
"Well, of course I look dashing in my," he looked down at himself and was confused. He was wearing a very loud printed robe. Odd. He was sure his wardrobe contained the same robes: five identical sets of long black robes, seven crisp, white collared button-down shirts, five identical pairs of black slacks, and three pairs of shoes. The shoes were different. One set was dragon-hide boots, made from a Norwegian Ridgeback. One set was a black leather pair used for Muggle interactions. The third was a pair of hiking boots that were often transfigured to fit his needs at will. They were the oldest, most malleable pair.
This - creation - he sneered in disgust, was not a Severus Snape robe.
He looked up and found, to his surprise, a mirror hung across from him. In fact, two walls were covered in mirrors, projecting an infinite number of Gilderoy Lockhart reflections. Severus shuddered and closed his eyes quickly. He felt like he was going to vomit.
This must be a nightmare, he reasoned. Logically, I loathe and fear Gilderoy Lockhart because the man is a crazy, fashion-obsessed, fashion-blind gay prude who is also a self-obsessed, arrogant git. I detest the man so much he shows up in my dreams - no, my nightmares. Instead of worrying about Potter, the Dark Lord, and St. Albus sent to bless us into Hell, I am stuck with this madman of a peacock. Lord, if I can save my soul, never EVER put me in the same room as that pathetic excuse for a weasel.
After his prayer was complete, Severus opened his eyes. Nope, the blonde cherub of a man stood there, staring straight back at him. Black chocolate eyes were replaced with dark blue orbs. Straight black hair was now short blonde curls. He was no longer tall and menacing. Now, he stood shorter than Minerva McGonagall. Sighing in disgust, he looked about for his boots.
He found his closet had been transformed into a large wardrobe. If this was a dream, it was very elaborate. He walked inside and, thoroughly disgusted by the array of colours, picked up a white pair of boots. Walking outside, he set a good Incendio charm at the wardrobe's contents. Of course, the castle groaned in protest and protected the blasted things. Oh shucks, he thought. It was worth a try, he apologized. The castle, if she could, sniffed and turned up her nose at him.
Hmmph, he thought, extremely vexed by this point. Tugging on his boots, he thought uncharitably, You'd think a castle old as this would have better manners.
It served him right to be tripped up the next time he tried to walk up a flight of stairs.
Minerva McGonagall could not sleep. She felt entirely too awake at one in the morning. Sighing, she stood up and transformed into her Animagus cat form. It usually helped tire her out if she used magic and walked around the castle in her diminutive form. Being a cat took up way more energy than being the severe Deputy Headmistress.
She quietly padded down the corridor and up several staircases with all the intention of sneaking into the kitchens for a quick nightcap before a short patrol and then, thank heavens, to bed. Since everyone, house elves included, knew her cat form, Minerva quietly applauded her brilliant plan. A nip of scotch and maybe even a warm glass of milk (though she'd hex anyone if they laughed) might put her in the mood for sleep.
A noise caught the attention of her sensitive cat ears. Pausing mid-step on the landing, Minerva quickly looked around for an exit.
Damn! she swore, making sure not to mewl out loud. Quickly, she shot under a nearby bench, praying the person had not heard her.
A man in long dark robes strode by, completely oblivious to her existence.
Tabby paws slowly crept out from under the safety of the bench. Hazel cat eyes peered out suspiciously before alighting on the man in question. Ah, Severus!
Minerva shot out and transformed into her human form.
"Severus!" she called, voice light. "I didn't see you there."
The man froze and slowly turned around. He gave her a confused, piercing stare that unnerved her.
"What did you say?" he asked, deep voice hissing consonants like they were drops of ice water.
"I said, 'Severus! I didn't see you there,'" Minerva replied, indulging him. Severus, after all, had a temper. Sometimes he snapped. Normally he was quite cordial to her. Cold, but respectful. They had, over the years, formed a silent agreement of sorts. They were here for the same reason and, behind the back of the most famed and powerful wizard, they would agree to be cordial in order to agree to be competitive. As Heads of opposing Houses, it was the only natural solution.
Now, Severus gave her a withering stare.
"Ah, well, I shall correct your poor, misinformed mind. I am not Severus, I am the great and famous Gilderoy Lockhart, dashing brilliant man of the world. I am unaccustomed to be treated in this manner and I assure you that I will not be addressed in this way again." Nodding briefly, he gave her a courteous half-bow before striding away, black robes billowing behind him.
Minerva was in shock. Severus - Gilderoy - wearing black? The voice was a hiss - definitely Severus. But the haughty tones, the vocabulary, the poise - Gilderoy. The billowing robes was definitely Severus. So why did the dark-haired man resist identification as such? Minerva stood in the middle of the corridor pondering this conundrum.
After awhile, the Fat Friar found Minerva standing in the middle of the landing.
"Good evening, Professor," the Fat Friar bowed. He was quite mild-mannered, prone to laughter, and heavily indulged all and sundry.
Minerva, startled, looked up and smiled faintly when she registered who it was. "Ah, Friar, good evening. Sorry, I was lost in thought."
"No worries, my dear madam, I am sorry to have startled you so," the Friar bowed - or did what ghosts do and floated downwards as a sign of a bow...
Minerva grinned. At least normality had been restored. The Fat Friar looked and acted like the Friar and admitted to being the Friar. Great. Now, to tackle the mystery of Severus.
"Have you, by any chance, Friar, seen Severus Snape?" Minerva asked, determined to solve this mystery tonight.
The Friar gave a knowing wink. "Ah, dear young Severus. No, can't say I have. Why would you be looking for him?"
If Minerva didn't know better, she would have said the Friar was positively leering at her.
"I'll have you know," she huffed, "I saw him earlier and he was spouting some nonsense about being Gilderoy Lockhart. I thought he hated the man - he as much told me so himself just last week! And now he's walking around with those stupid billowing robes acting like he's not Severus Snape but instead the very famous Gilderoy Lockhart. Everyone knows Lockhart has blonde hair!"
The Fat Friar listened to Minerva's tirade, bobbing his head at her words.
"Yes, that is very concerning. I will let you know if I see him. Good night, Professor McGonagall," the Friar said, drifting through the opposite wall.
"Good night," Minerva replied faintly, realizing how idiotic she probably sounded. Cursing herself and that damned Snape, thinking he was pulling a prank on her, (and probably laughing his head off in the safety of his office, no doubt, she fumed), Minerva turned swiftly on her heel and started the long trek back to Gryffindor Tower.
Passing by the Prefect's Bathroom and the kitchens, Minerva decided it would do her good to stop for a quick chat with the house elves. Telling herself she was truly interested in the house elves, particularly the new one, Elfie, Minerva did a sharp side-step and turned into the kitchens.
Half an hour later, having drunk some very good gilly water and scotch, as well as half a glass of milk, Minerva left the kitchens laden down with various cookies, sweets and biscuits poking out from the pockets in her robes. Blushing a bit at what she must look like, Minerva performed a few quick charms to make her appearance neater.
Satisfied with her state of being, Minerva proceeded to continue her journey back to her personal quarters.
However, the fates had something else in store for Minerva's Very Odd Night.
On her way past the sixth floor, Minerva heard a rustling sound. Pausing in a corner to draw her wand, Minerva turned and held her lit wand tip out, surveying the area quickly.
She sighed with relief when she spotted Gildery Lockhart leaning over a bench, hand questing for something that must have fallen.
"Oh, Gilderoy, it's just you," Minerva sighed, gasping for breath. Holding her chest, she tottered over to Gilderoy's side and sat down on the bench.
"What? Oh, Minerva," Gilderoy plastered on a fake smile. "How lovely."
"What are you doing, Gilderoy? It's nearly three in the morning!" Minerva quirked an eyebrow at the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Gilderoy flashed a brilliant smile that nearly dazzled Minerva's eyes.
"Oh, well I think I dropped something behind this bench by accident. But I somehow am having great difficulty retrieving it. What are you doing?" Gildeory asked, as though the fact that it was three in the morning had nothing to do with their respective activities.
"I was on patrol," Minerva said as primly as she could manage. "But if you're here, then I might as well go to bed."
"What does that mean?" Gilderoy asked, confused.
"I see no reason to be patrolling if you, the dashing young hero, are already here," Minerva explained patiently, as though she was telling a young child that the sun will rise in the morning.
"Oh, well, I am flattered you think I am a young man, Minerva," Gilderoy said, face slightly flushed.
Minerva gave Gilderoy a concerned look.
"Have you been dipping into the firewhiskey, Gilderoy?" she asked.
"I am not Gilderoy!" he yelled.
"Shhh!" Minerva tried to shush him, which only provoked a louder response.
"Do not confuse me ever again with that lazy, arrogant lout! I am Severus Snape, greasy dungeon git. As Deputy Headmistress it is shameful you cannot tell the difference between the colleagues you hired." Now, Gilderoy sounded more like Severus. And Minerva had a HUGE problem on her hands!
"Gilderoy Lockhart, do not take that tone with me," Minerva sassed the blonde man. "You clearly have blonde curly hair, you're in fact a head shorter than me, and you are wearing very loud and colourful robes. Do not even attempt to try to fool me with this pathetic, poorly thought out act. I do not know what is going on around here, but mark my words: I will find out and get to the bottom of this. And both you and Severus will be sorry to have attempted to prank me!"
Minerva stormed away angrily before Gilderoy, who was claiming he was Severus, could say another word.
Dumbledore's office opened before Minerva could knock. Tonight, Minerva was unperturbed by the uncanny way Dumbledore always knew she would visit him.
"Albus, I demand to have answers!" Minerva exploded before Albus was even fully awake. "First, I see Severus, but he claims he is Gilderoy. Then, I see Gilderoy near the kitchens. But he claims he is Severus. Albus, this is a madhouse!"
Albus chuckled, a deep lion-like laugh.
"Hah, I always wondered what would happen if Severus accepted a lemon drop."
Minerva's face paled.
"Severus? Lemon drop? ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!" Minerva raged.
With a pop, Fawkes the Handy Phoenix enveloped Albus in a veil of fire. The two disappeared before Minerva's hex could reach them.
"You, my dear old man, will be very sorry," Minerva promised. Nodding her head, she decided it was too late to sleep. She would plot her revenge instead.
Albus didn't have to ask what happened to his not so secret stash of chocolate.