It was Christmas Eve. Dressed in his finest darks, Gilderoy Lockhart
made his way down the long Hogwarts corridor to his bedchamber. A scowl
covered his face as a group of happy first years passed by.
"I can take points away from your house just for smiling!" the teacher barked. Ever since he had lost the "Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile" Award for the first time, his complete attitude had changed towards people. He was heart was hateful and full of disdain. Not to mention the fact that Dumbledore had passed, earned him the happy placement of Headmaster, which he despised. He got to hang out in a large office with an over-sized Phoenix and children always bothering you with witty questions and those getting into trouble. He finally found the door to his room and it burst open before him.
The room was draped in. black. The moving pictures of himself were torn and what remained of them, the figures were holding small wounds from the attack. Lockhart threw down his briefcase and collapsed onto the four poster bed. He started to think about misery and gloom when the clock chimed eleven. He sighed and gazed into the ceiling. A face was forming out of the woodwork. Lockhart blinked and looked again, this time seeing the full face of.
"Albus Dumbledore?" He said to the air. The figure opened his mouth and let out a wretched shriek. Lockhart followed in suit, screaming his lungs out. And suddenly, the face vanished back into the wood work. Lockhart shook his head, trying to convince himself that nothing had happened.
"It's all in your head, its all in your head!" He swiftly changed into his night dress and sat down to read Lying with Lockhart: The True Story , by Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, which was the source of his downfall; two teenage boys and plumbing. He tried to read the words on page 172, but his eyes grew weary, but were suddenly jolted back into reality with a bright flash of white light. He threw his hands up to shield his eyes.
"Please! I didn't kill the Witch Weekly editor! I don't wanna die!" he said stupidly. A figure had appeared. It had a long beard, half moon spectacles and a pointy wizard's hat; it was Albus Dumbledore.
"Well, if the cursing of the Witch Weekly Editor is important, I'll have to take it up with God, you know," the figure said. Lockhart uncovered his eyes, still wincing from the brightness. "You have problems, you know that?" Dumbledore said.
"Look at you, your dead. Your wearing a dress and a pair of funky boots, and you say that I have problems?" Lockhart rudely replied. Ghost- Dumbledore rolled his eyes and spoke in a mysterious whisper.
"You'd best do well to show me respect or you might be screwed one of these days. Your wearing a dress too. But that's not what I am here for. I am here to tell you that you will be visited by three spirits tonight, expect the first ghost when the bell chimes one. Be prepared, your in for quite a ride," Lockhart just threw his head back and laughed.
"I see ghosts everyday, what difference will this make?" Dumbledore made a fierce move towards the man, but just glided through him. Lockhart shrieked and fainted on the bed. Dumbledore smiled and rubbed his hands together vivaciously.
"When the clock chimes one, my poor excuse for a headmaster," Dumbledore vanished with a flash of light. Lockhart lay motionless on the bed, until the clock chimed one. Lockhart slowly opened one eye, very cautiously so as hopefully not to see anything, but to his unfortunate surprise, someone was looking back.
"Severus, um," Lockhart examined his ensemble, as a miniature Severus Snape floated above his trunk.
"I hate pink," Snape said, tugging at a pink tutu outfit, "and these freaking wings do absolutely nothing for me. Does this outfit make me look fat?" mini-Snape asked, doing a funny sort of mid-air twirl in front of Lockhart's mirror. He grabbed a blonde wig of Lockhart's off his dresser and fitted it to his head. Lockhart made a grab for it but missed, falling over his chest. Teasingly, he said "I am the ghost of Christmas Past in a pink tutu and freaky blonde wig. I will look like some sort of relation to you. Now, you will grasp my hand and you shall fly!" Lockhart gave a questioning look at Mini Snape.
"Tell me, why do I want to fly?" Lockhart put his hands on his hips and used one hand to take the wand out of his pocket. "I shall get rid of you if you don't flutter your little butt out that window, now," Lockhart rolled up his sleeves and was about to cast a spell when Mini Snape grabbed the wand and through it to the side.
"You couldn't cast a spell on me even if your life depended on it," the frilly pink man said. "Now, you are coming with me," Mini Snape grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him out the window. Lockhart screamed as the unbelievable (to Snape's disgust) pink light flashed them back to the tops of homes that Lockhart knew only so well, for he used to fly his broomstick over them continuously when he was a teenager.
"Tell me, stupid, do you know where we are? Its your past after all, I just take you here, I just don't know where here is," Mini Snape barked. Lockhart looked around, amazed at where he was. His own childhood town, Surrey, the muggle town.
"Of course I know where we are; Surrey. I grew up here, my house was just over there. I lived such a hard life," Lockhart pointed over to a mansion, furnished with the finest Magic could buy.
"Dumbledore was right, you really are an idiot," Snape mumbled to himself
"What was that?" Lockhart asked.
"Oh nothing! Just ((sigh)) let's go," bubblegum fairy slowly fluttered over to the front door of the mansion and went right through it. Lockhart blinked and followed. As he entered through the door, he watched as a middle aged woman passed in front of him.
"Mom! Mumsy! It's me! Gilderoy!" he walked backwards in front of the woman, trying desperately to get her attention.
"You bonehead, these are the shadows of your past, they can't hear or see you. I thought brains came with the job of headmaster,"
"One more word out of you and your tutu will be in flames," Lockhart said absentmindedly. Mini Snape turned deep red and flew up behind Lockhart, where he could not see the little man.
"A little gift from all the dead teachers," and Snape's little foot whammed the back of Lockhart's head just as he had picked up a piece of waxed fruit.
"You nitwit! We are hear to make you think highly of yourself, not to eat waxed fruit! Now, look into that room and tell me what you see," Rubbing the back of his head, Lockhart looked over at the table.
Sitting there at a small table in the corner, was Gilderoy Lockhart as a boy. He was slowly doing his studies out of the Monster Book of Monsters book, which occasionally tried to snap him. A tall boy came up next to him and mussed his hair.
"What was that for?" the boy said.
"Why must you be so sulky around Christmas? Your hair isn't messy, and it usually is, so I made you happy!" the little blonde gave his brother a questioning look.
"That entire statement made absolutely no sense, Hamlet," the boy said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to master the fine art of the Memory Erasing Charm,"
"Roy, dear. Why must you be so tense around this time of year? Can't you loosen up just a little bit?" the middle aged woman kissed young Gilderoy on the forehead and sat down with her laundry and Roy watched as it folded itself. "You've been this way ever since we adopted you. Why don't you be happy? Please baby?" Roy crossed his arms and slouched in his chair.
"I was abandoned by muggles, they left me at the church. I was 5 years old and it was Christmas Eve. They told me that they would come get me, I remember it as plain as day. I never forgot that day, so I despised Christmas from then on, and I still do," Lockhart said with a sigh. Fairy Snape couldn't help but feel bad for the nut head.
"Um, yeah.well. Let us see another Christmas around here, come," Mini Snape held out his hand and Lockhart grasped it. The pink light came again and he watched as the boy, himself, grew up before him. When they stopped, he was about 17 and was still working at the desk.
"By now my mother had died of Muggle Cancer and my brother, the one who had messed up my hair, was graduated from Hogwarts and was working for Gringotts in America. I was living alone," Lockhart said. Snape-fairy pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose loudly. Lockhart rolled his eyes and watched himself work. He heard the doorbell ring and the past came flashing back to him and he went to the door, followed by his young self. He reached for the doorknob, but his hand went straight through it, but another hand reached for it and the door opened.
There stood a girl, red, curly hair and bright blue eyes. She was fairly short, but very pretty. She wore a woolen hat and scarf in the cold weather. He knew that face all too well.
"Molly!" the two Lockharts said in unison.
"Hello Roy," Molly said, kissing him, her scarf falling off her shoulder.
"I.Uh. w-w-wasn't expecting you. Would you like to sit down?" the scene faded into the background.
"Do you remember this meeting?" The floating pink man asked.
"Do I? Yes, very clearly. She came to tell me that she was pregnant. I started to flip because I didn't want it. She left me, my only true love. I never saw her again. But there was." Lockhart tried to sit down in one of the chairs and went right through it. He hit the ground and buried his face in his hands. Mini Snape floated in his pink tutu, tears welling in his eyes.
"Take me away from this memory, show me something happy, please!" Lockhart balled. Snape snapped his fingers and they were standing outside of. Hogwarts.
"Oh yes! Hogwarts! My first year, I was so happy here! So many memories! Let us go inside!" Lockhart ran through the wall into his first classroom. He saw himself, decked in pink.
"God! I could barf!" Mini Snape said. "I still think that this tutu makes me look fat," he said redundantly. Lockhart shushed him, smiling.
"I requested you all to be my first class. Now, you should have all read through the books you were assigned to get and you will now take this 64 question quiz on.me!" As the shadow Lockhart was handing our papers, Lockhart was skipping around all the desks naming off the students.
"That's Hermione Granger! She was my best student. Oh! And there's Draco Malfoy, he and Harry Potter dueled each other during our tournament. And here's the man himself, Harry Pot." Lockhart stopped abruptly, noticing that there was a letter in Harry's hand. He turned his head to make out the words.
Ron: This guy is a nut head Harry: Tell me, who doesn't know that Hermione: I think he's- Harry: Oh shove it, Hermione. He's an idiot. Watch. - Harry: See, look what he did! Gives us a test and sicks rabid fairies on us! Hermione: Harry, one day, I am going to be married to someone, and you won't be allowed to come to Christmas Dinner, so you might as well accept this comment while I'm peppy, Happy Christmas!
"I see they didn't like my lessons,"
"Deal with it, Lockhart. None of your lessons were good, all foolish," Mini Snape said, filing his nails. Lockhart sighed. "Lets go," he said.
Lockhart saw the pink light again, and what seemed like an eternity, Lockhart found himself back in his bedchamber with the fairy.
"My time on Earth is dwindling, and my blonde wig is getting dusty; my pink tutu is giving me a wedgie. I'll see you when your dead," and with a flash of pink light, the bubblegum fairy was gone. "My Wig!" Lockhart shouted after the little man. Giving up, Lockhart collapsed onto his bed, falling asleep instantaneously. Little did he know that Spirit number two would be coming in ten minutes.
Ding! Ding! The clock struck two a.m. Lockhart jolted upward as a brightly colored figure slashed the curtains. It was a 14 year old boy, short, scrawny and mussled black hair. Wearing Hogwarts robes with the Gryffindor crest, he knew that face, yet again. "Harry! My dear Harry! What brings you hear at this hour?" Lockhart reached out his arms, but the boy pushed them aside.
"Who's Harry? Well, who cares. Anyway. I am the ghost of Christmas Present, here to show you what's going on around you at this very moment, but enough talk. If you'll come with me please," the boy held out a misty hand.
"Please, I don't want to fly again, no more pink light!"
"Here we are, Christmas Morning. Let us see what is going on around you, shall we?" Harry waved his hand and they were both suddenly in Hogsmeade. People were merrily romping around the village, in and out of Zonko's, Honeydukes and other various places. Lockhart heard "Happy Christmas's" and "Have a Great Holiday!" from corners of the small wizarding town.
"Look over there, what do you see?" Harry pointed to a small home nestled between two shops. Lockhart wandered over and looked into the windows. He saw a young, brown haired, woman, no older than 25 and a red haired man, not much older than her. Two little boys with vivid red hair ran around the kitchen rambunctiously. And a small child in a high chair slowly examined her present set before her, wrapped in brightly colored paper.
"I can take points away from your house just for smiling!" the teacher barked. Ever since he had lost the "Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile" Award for the first time, his complete attitude had changed towards people. He was heart was hateful and full of disdain. Not to mention the fact that Dumbledore had passed, earned him the happy placement of Headmaster, which he despised. He got to hang out in a large office with an over-sized Phoenix and children always bothering you with witty questions and those getting into trouble. He finally found the door to his room and it burst open before him.
The room was draped in. black. The moving pictures of himself were torn and what remained of them, the figures were holding small wounds from the attack. Lockhart threw down his briefcase and collapsed onto the four poster bed. He started to think about misery and gloom when the clock chimed eleven. He sighed and gazed into the ceiling. A face was forming out of the woodwork. Lockhart blinked and looked again, this time seeing the full face of.
"Albus Dumbledore?" He said to the air. The figure opened his mouth and let out a wretched shriek. Lockhart followed in suit, screaming his lungs out. And suddenly, the face vanished back into the wood work. Lockhart shook his head, trying to convince himself that nothing had happened.
"It's all in your head, its all in your head!" He swiftly changed into his night dress and sat down to read Lying with Lockhart: The True Story , by Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, which was the source of his downfall; two teenage boys and plumbing. He tried to read the words on page 172, but his eyes grew weary, but were suddenly jolted back into reality with a bright flash of white light. He threw his hands up to shield his eyes.
"Please! I didn't kill the Witch Weekly editor! I don't wanna die!" he said stupidly. A figure had appeared. It had a long beard, half moon spectacles and a pointy wizard's hat; it was Albus Dumbledore.
"Well, if the cursing of the Witch Weekly Editor is important, I'll have to take it up with God, you know," the figure said. Lockhart uncovered his eyes, still wincing from the brightness. "You have problems, you know that?" Dumbledore said.
"Look at you, your dead. Your wearing a dress and a pair of funky boots, and you say that I have problems?" Lockhart rudely replied. Ghost- Dumbledore rolled his eyes and spoke in a mysterious whisper.
"You'd best do well to show me respect or you might be screwed one of these days. Your wearing a dress too. But that's not what I am here for. I am here to tell you that you will be visited by three spirits tonight, expect the first ghost when the bell chimes one. Be prepared, your in for quite a ride," Lockhart just threw his head back and laughed.
"I see ghosts everyday, what difference will this make?" Dumbledore made a fierce move towards the man, but just glided through him. Lockhart shrieked and fainted on the bed. Dumbledore smiled and rubbed his hands together vivaciously.
"When the clock chimes one, my poor excuse for a headmaster," Dumbledore vanished with a flash of light. Lockhart lay motionless on the bed, until the clock chimed one. Lockhart slowly opened one eye, very cautiously so as hopefully not to see anything, but to his unfortunate surprise, someone was looking back.
"Severus, um," Lockhart examined his ensemble, as a miniature Severus Snape floated above his trunk.
"I hate pink," Snape said, tugging at a pink tutu outfit, "and these freaking wings do absolutely nothing for me. Does this outfit make me look fat?" mini-Snape asked, doing a funny sort of mid-air twirl in front of Lockhart's mirror. He grabbed a blonde wig of Lockhart's off his dresser and fitted it to his head. Lockhart made a grab for it but missed, falling over his chest. Teasingly, he said "I am the ghost of Christmas Past in a pink tutu and freaky blonde wig. I will look like some sort of relation to you. Now, you will grasp my hand and you shall fly!" Lockhart gave a questioning look at Mini Snape.
"Tell me, why do I want to fly?" Lockhart put his hands on his hips and used one hand to take the wand out of his pocket. "I shall get rid of you if you don't flutter your little butt out that window, now," Lockhart rolled up his sleeves and was about to cast a spell when Mini Snape grabbed the wand and through it to the side.
"You couldn't cast a spell on me even if your life depended on it," the frilly pink man said. "Now, you are coming with me," Mini Snape grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him out the window. Lockhart screamed as the unbelievable (to Snape's disgust) pink light flashed them back to the tops of homes that Lockhart knew only so well, for he used to fly his broomstick over them continuously when he was a teenager.
"Tell me, stupid, do you know where we are? Its your past after all, I just take you here, I just don't know where here is," Mini Snape barked. Lockhart looked around, amazed at where he was. His own childhood town, Surrey, the muggle town.
"Of course I know where we are; Surrey. I grew up here, my house was just over there. I lived such a hard life," Lockhart pointed over to a mansion, furnished with the finest Magic could buy.
"Dumbledore was right, you really are an idiot," Snape mumbled to himself
"What was that?" Lockhart asked.
"Oh nothing! Just ((sigh)) let's go," bubblegum fairy slowly fluttered over to the front door of the mansion and went right through it. Lockhart blinked and followed. As he entered through the door, he watched as a middle aged woman passed in front of him.
"Mom! Mumsy! It's me! Gilderoy!" he walked backwards in front of the woman, trying desperately to get her attention.
"You bonehead, these are the shadows of your past, they can't hear or see you. I thought brains came with the job of headmaster,"
"One more word out of you and your tutu will be in flames," Lockhart said absentmindedly. Mini Snape turned deep red and flew up behind Lockhart, where he could not see the little man.
"A little gift from all the dead teachers," and Snape's little foot whammed the back of Lockhart's head just as he had picked up a piece of waxed fruit.
"You nitwit! We are hear to make you think highly of yourself, not to eat waxed fruit! Now, look into that room and tell me what you see," Rubbing the back of his head, Lockhart looked over at the table.
Sitting there at a small table in the corner, was Gilderoy Lockhart as a boy. He was slowly doing his studies out of the Monster Book of Monsters book, which occasionally tried to snap him. A tall boy came up next to him and mussed his hair.
"What was that for?" the boy said.
"Why must you be so sulky around Christmas? Your hair isn't messy, and it usually is, so I made you happy!" the little blonde gave his brother a questioning look.
"That entire statement made absolutely no sense, Hamlet," the boy said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to master the fine art of the Memory Erasing Charm,"
"Roy, dear. Why must you be so tense around this time of year? Can't you loosen up just a little bit?" the middle aged woman kissed young Gilderoy on the forehead and sat down with her laundry and Roy watched as it folded itself. "You've been this way ever since we adopted you. Why don't you be happy? Please baby?" Roy crossed his arms and slouched in his chair.
"I was abandoned by muggles, they left me at the church. I was 5 years old and it was Christmas Eve. They told me that they would come get me, I remember it as plain as day. I never forgot that day, so I despised Christmas from then on, and I still do," Lockhart said with a sigh. Fairy Snape couldn't help but feel bad for the nut head.
"Um, yeah.well. Let us see another Christmas around here, come," Mini Snape held out his hand and Lockhart grasped it. The pink light came again and he watched as the boy, himself, grew up before him. When they stopped, he was about 17 and was still working at the desk.
"By now my mother had died of Muggle Cancer and my brother, the one who had messed up my hair, was graduated from Hogwarts and was working for Gringotts in America. I was living alone," Lockhart said. Snape-fairy pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose loudly. Lockhart rolled his eyes and watched himself work. He heard the doorbell ring and the past came flashing back to him and he went to the door, followed by his young self. He reached for the doorknob, but his hand went straight through it, but another hand reached for it and the door opened.
There stood a girl, red, curly hair and bright blue eyes. She was fairly short, but very pretty. She wore a woolen hat and scarf in the cold weather. He knew that face all too well.
"Molly!" the two Lockharts said in unison.
"Hello Roy," Molly said, kissing him, her scarf falling off her shoulder.
"I.Uh. w-w-wasn't expecting you. Would you like to sit down?" the scene faded into the background.
"Do you remember this meeting?" The floating pink man asked.
"Do I? Yes, very clearly. She came to tell me that she was pregnant. I started to flip because I didn't want it. She left me, my only true love. I never saw her again. But there was." Lockhart tried to sit down in one of the chairs and went right through it. He hit the ground and buried his face in his hands. Mini Snape floated in his pink tutu, tears welling in his eyes.
"Take me away from this memory, show me something happy, please!" Lockhart balled. Snape snapped his fingers and they were standing outside of. Hogwarts.
"Oh yes! Hogwarts! My first year, I was so happy here! So many memories! Let us go inside!" Lockhart ran through the wall into his first classroom. He saw himself, decked in pink.
"God! I could barf!" Mini Snape said. "I still think that this tutu makes me look fat," he said redundantly. Lockhart shushed him, smiling.
"I requested you all to be my first class. Now, you should have all read through the books you were assigned to get and you will now take this 64 question quiz on.me!" As the shadow Lockhart was handing our papers, Lockhart was skipping around all the desks naming off the students.
"That's Hermione Granger! She was my best student. Oh! And there's Draco Malfoy, he and Harry Potter dueled each other during our tournament. And here's the man himself, Harry Pot." Lockhart stopped abruptly, noticing that there was a letter in Harry's hand. He turned his head to make out the words.
Ron: This guy is a nut head Harry: Tell me, who doesn't know that Hermione: I think he's- Harry: Oh shove it, Hermione. He's an idiot. Watch. - Harry: See, look what he did! Gives us a test and sicks rabid fairies on us! Hermione: Harry, one day, I am going to be married to someone, and you won't be allowed to come to Christmas Dinner, so you might as well accept this comment while I'm peppy, Happy Christmas!
"I see they didn't like my lessons,"
"Deal with it, Lockhart. None of your lessons were good, all foolish," Mini Snape said, filing his nails. Lockhart sighed. "Lets go," he said.
Lockhart saw the pink light again, and what seemed like an eternity, Lockhart found himself back in his bedchamber with the fairy.
"My time on Earth is dwindling, and my blonde wig is getting dusty; my pink tutu is giving me a wedgie. I'll see you when your dead," and with a flash of pink light, the bubblegum fairy was gone. "My Wig!" Lockhart shouted after the little man. Giving up, Lockhart collapsed onto his bed, falling asleep instantaneously. Little did he know that Spirit number two would be coming in ten minutes.
Ding! Ding! The clock struck two a.m. Lockhart jolted upward as a brightly colored figure slashed the curtains. It was a 14 year old boy, short, scrawny and mussled black hair. Wearing Hogwarts robes with the Gryffindor crest, he knew that face, yet again. "Harry! My dear Harry! What brings you hear at this hour?" Lockhart reached out his arms, but the boy pushed them aside.
"Who's Harry? Well, who cares. Anyway. I am the ghost of Christmas Present, here to show you what's going on around you at this very moment, but enough talk. If you'll come with me please," the boy held out a misty hand.
"Please, I don't want to fly again, no more pink light!"
"Here we are, Christmas Morning. Let us see what is going on around you, shall we?" Harry waved his hand and they were both suddenly in Hogsmeade. People were merrily romping around the village, in and out of Zonko's, Honeydukes and other various places. Lockhart heard "Happy Christmas's" and "Have a Great Holiday!" from corners of the small wizarding town.
"Look over there, what do you see?" Harry pointed to a small home nestled between two shops. Lockhart wandered over and looked into the windows. He saw a young, brown haired, woman, no older than 25 and a red haired man, not much older than her. Two little boys with vivid red hair ran around the kitchen rambunctiously. And a small child in a high chair slowly examined her present set before her, wrapped in brightly colored paper.