A Rather Festive Caribbean Dance

"I won't! I ca-ca-ca-can't! I'm never going back through that d-d-d-oor again! They're trying to k-kill me! And they'll DO it, too. You ma-ma-mark my words!" stammered Lockhart, as he sat in his office atop his desk, curled in a fetal position hugging his knees and resuming the intent sucking of his thumb.

"Now, now, Professor..." Minerva crooned, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades, "I'm sure it's not as bad as all that. They're just a bit high spirited is all. And we'll soon get that sorted out," her gentle tones belied the fire in her eyes as she considered various means of 'sorting out' this situation. She was getting nowhere however, with calming him down, so decided to get some help.

Walking to the floo, she called to Professor Snape. "Professor?" she began, when he answered her summons interrupting his fourth year Potions class, "I apologize for interrupting you while teaching, but we have a bit of an emergency here in Professor Lockhart's office. Could you possibly join me?"

Lockhart was now shivering, and mumbling to himself. Minerva floo called to summon Poppy Pomfrey as well, in case he was in the throes of a seizure or cardiac episode of some sort. Both Snape and Pomfrey stepped through almost immediately.

Lockhart looked up in near panic as the newcomers brushed floo powder and soot from their robes. "What... what are THEY doing here? Are they part of it? I bet they are... they're part of the plot!"

Snape's brow furrowed as he readied an apt retort, until Minerva caught his eye with a disapproving shake of her head. He immediately censored his thoughts, and replied gently, "Gilderoy, we're part of no plot. We mean you no harm. We're here to help you. Now what's the matter?"

"THEM!" he pointed a shaky finger towards his classroom door. "THEY are the problem! They're monsters. They're demons. They're trying to kill me!" and his thumb promptly reentered his mouth.

"I see..." Snape's eyes narrowed as he glanced through the door to see the second year classes of Slytherin and Gryffindor houses sitting nervously and silently at their desks.

While this almost-a-conversation had been happening, Madame Pomfrey had scanned Lockhart from head to toe with her wand, and spoke gently. "Gilderoy? You are fine. Your pulse and blood pressure are a bit elevated, as is your respiration, but that's to be expected because you are having a panic attack. You are fine, but for levels of way too much adrenaline at the moment. I strongly recommend a Calming Draught and a nice lie down."

Snape pulled a vial of Calming Draft from his robes - he carried them with him nowadays, finding parenthood a condition requiring their frequent application - and tried to hand it to Lockhart.

"NO!" he jerked away from Pomfrey's gentle touch on his arm, and slapped Snape's hand, sending the potion flying into the stone wall to shatter into countless calm pieces. "No way! I'm not taking another potion in this place! Not another drop, dram, or crumb passes my lips here! How do I know you're not one of them? How do I know you're not going to poison me?"

"Lockhart! You ninny! Do you SERIOUSLY think we would want to poison you with a Calming Draught? If I wanted to poison you, there would be a thousand better ways just at our Dining Table! Now stop being such a baby, and take your medicine!" Snape bellowed, before realizing the classroom door was wide open with no silencing charm. He'd never had much patience for Lockhart at the best of times, and not only was he missing class time, but he could feel the beginnings of a painful throbbing headache.

Sensing that Gilderoy was becoming more agitated by the minute, Minerva thanked Professor Snape for his time and attention, and nodded with a clear cue that perhaps he could rejoin his class. Poppy just took Minerva aside for a moment and said that Lockhart was fine, he just needed to calm down a bit, and his current problems were far more mental than physical.

Minerva nodded, as Madame Pomfrey made her exit. She decided to make one more call.

"Professor Konstantyn?" she mind-spoke, again tracing calming circles on Gilderoy's back, as he rocked and sucked his thumb.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," he replied instantly, concerned as to why she would use his formal address and interrupt in class time. His first concern was that Harry was hurt, but his instantaneous check on that showed all the children to be fine, anxious, and in the same place... the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom.

"I apologize for interrupting your class, but could you join me in Gilderoy's office? I have a bit of a problem here, I think you could help."

"I shall be right there," he answered, assigning his class to some reading and essay questions he left in fire letters above his desk, instructing that they leave their parchment answers there when class ended, if he did not return in time. "Consider this a practice examination," he told them, smiling at the groans as he entered his office and closed the door, blinking instantly into Lockhart's office.

"What's wrong, Professors?" Pavel asked, with his most gentle voice. He was not accustomed to seeing a Professor, or ANY adult for that matter, rocking on top of their desk sucking their thumb. He suppressed the urge simply to slap the man up side the head - remembering Patton in that moment, as Minerva patiently crooned to him as she would a frightened child.

"Gilderoy has had a bit of an episode, but can't seem to tell us specifically what happened. He is very afraid, believing his class is out to get him, and that perhaps even we faculty may be 'in on it' and trying to kill him," all this Minerva said aloud to Pavel.

"I see..." he replied in a soothing voice. Then he mind-spoke to her, "Are you SERIOUS?" in a tone of absolute incredulity.

"I'm afraid so," she answered, trying unsuccessfully to keep any hint of humor out of her voice. "I have no idea what these little hooligans did this time, but they've frightened the daylights out of this poor man, and he's in a full blown panic attack. Here's what has happened so far..." and she opened her memory of the past few minutes to him. "I suspect... having seen you work a time or two... that you can address this most easily?"

"Probably," Pavel answered, with a sigh. "Though I have very mixed emotions about this, as you know."

"I know. We both agree that he's a blithering idiot. BUT he's faculty, and we can't have our classes go around giving professors a nervous breakdown, no matter how much they may deserve it."

"True enough. Ah well. Here we go."

"Professor Lockhart, sir..." Pavel began, standing directly in front of the rocking teacher.

"Ummm hmmm?" Lockhart responded, not unhitching from his right thumb.

"Gilderoy..." Pavel smiled, comfortingly... "I vant you to look into my eyes, deeply and calmly, and focus on your own breathing for a moment. Breathe with me... in... out... in... out... Feel your breathing, feel your chest expand and take in the air through your nose, and then blow it out through your mouth. Focus on nothing else but your breathing." And Pavel began to give a cadence for his breaths, and Gilderoy began to comply, slowing his respiratory rhythm back to a calm normal.

"Good! Wery good, Gilderoy. Now, I'd like you to stretch please. As if you were yawning with a big stretch! If you vant to curl up again afterwards, that's fine... but for right now, just give me a huge stretch. Try to yawn if you can..." and again, Gilderoy complied, but after stretching he just sat on the edge of his desk, rather than curling back up.

"Vonderful! Wery good, Gilderoy. Now, I'd like to help you feel calmer, but I understand you have concerns. Think about me... just me right now... have you any concerns trusting me?"

"You? No... you're a strict teacher. You don't let the monsters nibble at you. I can trust you," the man nodded in a rather childish nonsensical way.

"All right then, have I your permission to help you feel better and calmer?" Pavel asked clearly.

"Yes, OK. Go ahead."

Pavel placed his hands on either side of Gilderoy's skull and began humming almost tunelessly as both of them closed their eyes and Pavel's hands began to glow. It took less than a minute for Pavel to drain Gilderoy of his anxiety and fear, and suffuse him instead with a sense of comfort and safety. While 'trust' is indeed a decision, and not a feeling, there is a deep feeling of safety and security that is fundamental to the decision to trust, and Pavel loaded that emotion up to Gilderoy's maximum for the moment. It took a great deal of reassurance before that filling even began to register. Clearly, Gilderoy is a deeply insecure man... but that's not what he was doing here at the moment. One thing at a time.

Letting go and backing up a pace, Pavel asked, "There, Gilderoy, feeling better, are we?"

Lockhart's eyes opened, he'd dropped his thumb about halfway through Pavel's intervention, and again flashing his "award winning smile", he bounced to his feet, saying, "Oh my yes, Professor. I feel simply MARVELOUS! I could take on a Basilisk now!"

"Really," Minerva mind-spoke. "We could arrange that, you know."

"Minerva!" Pavel chided, smiling. "Don't be catty!"

"Pshhh!"

"Vell, good, Gilderoy. Vot happened, if you don't mind my asking?" Pavel tried to get to the bottom of this in his mildest voice.

"Ah, well, that..." Gilderoy's face again took on an anxious look... "It was nothing really! Just a slight misunderstanding between me and the class. Nothing for either of you to worry about. I'll just go... erm... dismiss them, shall I?" and he sidled away from them, too embarrassed to admit that he'd been unmanned by a bunch of 12 year olds calling his bluff.

"Minerva? There's something fishy going on here, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it one way or another."

McGonagall matched his calculating look as she nodded, "I couldn't agree more, Pavel. I couldn't agree more."