Chapter One: Lock to My Heart
*little note to the reader, there is a slight change. In this alternate universe, the actions that take place in the second book now take place in Harry's sixth year to make the pairing less creepy. Also, some of the dialogue comes straight from the book since this is supposed to parallel to it.
Greetings all, I am Gilderoy Lockhart—writer extraordinaire. I have produced such works as Year with the Yeti, Break with a Banshee, Gadding with Ghouls, Holidays with Hags, Travels with Trolls, Voyages with Vampires, Wanderings with Werewolves, and many other informative texts for the household. I admit…not all of my books are told completely truthfully…such as me doing all these amazing things. I just write about them after interviewing the people who actually did them. Then, I memory-charm them; simple as that.
Recently, I obtained the job of Defense Against Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts—my old almamauder. I was rather surprised to see that THE Harry Potter was in my sixth-year class. This year most definitely will be interesting. At the moment though, I am heading to the library to do some research on the Goblins of the Mining Shafts of Northern America—the subject of my latest book. Contrary to belief, I do a little work for my books to make them authentic.
I strode into the familiar room, gazing about me with drowsy pleasure to see everything as I left it many years ago. Sitting in my old table though were a group of different kids than the ones I would hang out with. I recognized the strange combination of flaming red hair, jet black mess, and bushy brown as Potter and his posse. They must be in the middle of a study hall the way they studied so intently. Sitting with them was someone I didn't recognize at first until I listened for a moment to her speaks softly to her friends.
Ah, yes. That's the transfer student. I remember her now. She came after the Cornish Pixie fiasco this morning in my class. I must comment—for someone from France, she had a flawless accent. I couldn't even tell she was from that country at all. She had become quite the talk of the school actually—more so than the story of Harry and Ronald Weasley crashing a car into the Whomping Willow on the first day back to school. Rumor had it, she was the daughter of a major minister within the Ministry of Magic—that her and her family had been stationed in France because of some major assignment. She made it no secret though, that she'd rather be in France than at Hogwarts.
She is quite beautiful, I will admit—almost stunningly gorgeous—what with her sleek long dark hair, pale unblemished skin, and dark liquid eyes— almost something out of a romance novel rather than real life. Suddenly, she leaned over to Weasley as he threw his head down with a frustrated sigh. Gently she explained the problem to him, going over it from the very beginning very patiently in that soft polite voice of hers. I decided to do some people-watching; hidden in the shadows of the tall shelves in my lovely gold suit.
How would I write this moment if I used it in one of my novels?…ah yes…The young girl leaned her head toward the boy as they sat in companionable silence; her hair with its dark luster caught the streaming sunbeams from the window nearby. There was this almost golden halo effect about them as they whispered quietly and intently together...
I was caught up in the moment of writing out this scene in my head when the girl's eyes swung to me with a raised eyebrow. Turning back to her friends, she obviously spoke of me—asking her friends who I was—by the not-so-subtle gesture with her head in my direction. The three Gryffindors turned to see what she was looking at. Granger, in a passion, roared in anger and hissed so loudly everyone that was there could probably hear it:
"THAT'S PROFESSOR GILDEROY LOCKHART! HE'S OUR DEFENSE AGAINST DARK ARTS TEACHER!" The boys and other girl flinched back from the ferocity in her tone, pushing away in their seats to escape her verbal wrath. Once she had calmed down, the girl turned back to size me up with a dark glare.
The sheer menace behind that gaze shot right through me to the core. Gulping, I hurried away and shuffled out the door without that blasted book I needed. Pausing for a moment a number of floors below, I tried to figure out what made her stare at me like that. I had never been glared at so sharply in my entire life…well…except from my mother when I would bring home my mediocre grades from school.