This round, we had to choose a character as a team and write about him/her. The prompt for captains was pre-Hogwarts years. We chose to write on Gilderoy Lockhart.

Word Count: 1,682

Ida Lockhart took another sip of her tea, watching as the children scampered across the garden. The sky was overcast, little ribbons of sunlight only weakly pushing through the heavy clouds. Despite the looming threat, it hadn't rained for days, and so when the children had asked to play out in the hills behind their house, she had found little reason to say no. She easily spotted her son, his golden locks gleaming against the grey. He was laughing at something someone said, his boyish face lit up with a wide grin. Matching his steps perfectly was Justin Purcell, the seven-year-old son of her friend, Thomas Purcell, and his wife, Anne. She didn't much care for the boy; he was a small, skinny child and prone to whining.

The Goyles, in her opinion, were far more superior acquaintances for her Gilderoy. They were a strong wizarding family, with a good amount of influence and substantial amount of wealth. If her son could climb among their ranks, despite his paternal lineage, then Ida would be very proud indeed. It had only been a stroke of luck that she had run into her childhood friend while in London a few months back, and they had eagerly settled down to chat over an impromptu lunch. It was in that manner that Ida found out that, in the fifteen years they had spent apart, she, Harriett, had married Gerald Goyle and had two children, the youngest of which was a little girl the same age as Gilderoy. Gerald Goyle had taken some convincing; he did not think highly of a halfblood boy, no matter the status of his mother, but Harriett had always been persuasive, and the very next week, Ida and Gilderoy had been invited over for tea.

Outside, Gordon Goyle led the group, brandishing a gnarly tree limb like a sorcerer's staff. Not yet eleven, he had already received his Hogwarts letter and was older than the others; he was the ring leader, the one who made all the final, executive decisions in their little games. He was talking with Justin and her son, using the stick to motion to somewhere over the hill. It was not visible from her position in the living room, but there was a stream that ran behind the house with flat, grassy beds and a swing set that she had helped her husband string up; it was there that she presumed Gordon wanted to go. After a moment of conferring, the boys seemed to reach a consensus, and the three set off up over the slope. It was Gilderoy who paused at the top to turn around and call out to someone behind him. Georgiana Goyle bounded up from where she was crouched and rushed after the boys, her ashy-blonde waves bouncing around her face. Ida released an exasperated sort of sigh when she noticed the stumpy bouquet of weeds clenched in the girl's fist. Ida did not understand the fascination the little girl had with the ugly things; a weed was a weed, regardless of its flowering capabilities, but to hear Georgiana talk of them, the intrusive wildflowers were as pretty as any rose or lily. Gilderoy was still waiting for her when the girl finally reached the top of the hill, and the two descended from view hand-in-hand.

Ida turned from the window to reach for a scone, smiling. Gilderoy was always such a wonderful little gentleman. As the eldest of the group and a relative, it really should have been Gordon to wait for Georgiana, but it hadn't; it had been her Gilderoy, and Ida could not have been more pleased. They were only eight and therefore too young – much too young – to be thinking about romance, but Ida thought that Georgiana and Gilderoy would make the most beautiful little pairing. She was a beautiful child, and with a surname like Goyle, she was likely to be a wonderful entrance into the elite of the wizarding community. As her third child and only son, she was desperate for a magical child that could enter her world. Ida loved her husband, she really did, but there were times that she regretted falling in love with a Muggle man. It was difficult to offer her children the world when only the possession of magical ability could unlock all that it had to offer. That was all Ida really wanted, after all: to give her children the best of anything they desired.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang from the next room. It sounded as though a door had been thrown open with such force that it bounced against the wall. Alert now, Ida placed her mug onto the table and rose from her chair, drawing her wand from her pocket. The Death Eaters were a force to be feared, but she had always believed her home to be a safe place; she kept her life quiet enough and maintained good enough connections to have secured avoiding detection by either side of this raging civil war. She jumped as a figure rushed into the room, and it barreled into her just as she raised her wand. But it was no Dark creature, or dangerous foe, or malicious hex; it was just her son, sopping wet and trembling. His face was buried in her stomach, and her robes turned dark and damp immediately upon the contact.

"Gilderoy!" she cried with surprise. She tried to pry his arms off from around her middle, but he was gripping her tightly and would not budge. "What – Gilderoy, baby, what happened? Why are you all wet?"

There was a mumble which she had to strain to make out, but from what she gathered, the other children had pushed him into the stream. She frowned. He could have been seriously injured, and this she could not tolerate.

"They said…they said…"

His lower lip trembled, and he took several shaky breaths, but he seemed no longer able to constrain himself. He burst into tears at the same time that he howled, "They said I couldn't do magic! They said I was a – that I was a-a-a Squib! I don't wanna be a Squib, I don't wanna be a Squib, I don't wanna be a Squib!"

"Hush, Gilderoy – baby, come here."

Ida hobbled over to the chair she had just vacated and lowered herself into it, careful not to hurt her distressed son as she peeled off his arms and tucked him into her lap. She hated seeing him this upset! A quick, discrete glance out the window showed her only the rolling hills; the other children were, apparently, keeping well out of sight, and Ida was certainly glad of this. She made a mental note to have a talk with the other children, especially Gordon Goyle, who was supposed to be in charge. She certainly could not have them over if he was going to be bullying and teasing her son, no matter how influential his family was!

"Baby, you are no Squib. True, your sisters don't have magic, but you are my third child, and three is a very powerful number. You are magical. And do you know what? One day, you will be strong and powerful, and when you finish Hogwarts, you will be the cleverest, most magical wizard Britain has ever seen."

"But I can't do the things they can do! Georgie can make the flowers dance, and Justin walked on the water, and-and Gordon already got his letter and-"

"Listen to me, Gilderoy. Come on, stop your crying now – that's it. Take a deep breath." She smoothed his hair back away from where it was sticking to his forehead, using her sleeve to dab at the little droplets clinging to his lip and eyelashes. "Listen to me now. Do you remember that story your father tells you? The one about the duckling?"

Gilderoy nodded. His breathing was uneven, and his whole body shuddered with each inhale, but his wails had calmed to sniffs and shivers. Ida held him close.

"Can you tell me what happens in that story?"

He looked up at her with wide eyes, confused at this line of conversation. But he was eight, and therefore still young enough to trust his mother to know best.

"The duckling's ugly, and all his brothers and sisters tease him," he answered.

"Mhm, and what happens at the end?"

Her son paused before saying in a quiet, hopeful voice, "He turns into a swan."

"Well, he realizes he's a swan, doesn't he? He was always a swan, even when he was an ugly little duckling. And do you know what? When he got older, he was bigger and more beautiful than any of the other ducklings." Ida passed her hand over his head, pressing him into her bosom. "He was stronger, too, because the mean words of the other ducks didn't bother him anymore, and he had already lived through his hardship. And when you get there – when it's finally your turn to do all the things Gordon, Georgiana, and all the wizarding children can do – then you'll be stronger for it. You will be stronger for going through all this worry and trouble, you'll see."

"They'll see, too?"

Ida nodded.

"Yes, they will see, too. When you are big and strong, you will be a powerful wizard who can do all sorts of beautiful magic." She grasped him under the arms then, shifting so that she could look at him right in the eyes. He had to understand this. She had to make him believe it. It was more than just the Gordon, Georgiana, and Justin now; it was more than just politics or social expectations. She may have chosen to live in a little pond with all the ducks, but she had been born a swan. She would be damned if she did not have at least one duckling emerge as a swan as well.

So it was with unwavering resolve that she said, "You, my son, have greatness written in your future. Don't you let anyone tell you otherwise."