"Where am I?" he asked, sitting up on his bed. The entire room was, or rather had been full of beds similar to his, leading him to guess thag he was in some kins of hospital. A hospital which now lay in ruins, evidently. It was mostly empty as well, and he found himself more sonfused than ever.
Gilderoy blinked a few times, hoping his vison would clear a bit. He felt like he had been in a deep sleep for a very long time, but he had no way to check his theory.
A few hours later, he was pacing the floor of the "hospital", unsure if he was ready to handle the ordeal of stairs so soon after just re-learning to walk.
He wished he had some kind of company, however. Someone to tell him what had happened, and to listen to his story of how during his long slumber he had battled the most ferocious of monsters, preventing them from coming over to the real world. Then, as if by magic, a frantic figure entered the room. One look at him and Gilderoy was disappointed. It was just an old man. However, the old man seemed to be heading straight his way and so Gilderoy stood up as tall as he could and put on a beaming smile.
"Hello," he began. "I'm Gilderoy Lockhart, but I'm sure you've heard of me-" But the man cut him off.
"Ah so you're the idiot my brother hired. No wonder the Healers left you behind."
Gilderoy was confused. "Rita Skeeter is...your brother?"
Aberforth paused and stared at him. "I can see you still have the spell on you..."
The former DADA professor's eyes widened. He remembered now! The stupid children in the Chamber of Secrets! They had made that spell bounce back onto him and then...then his beautiful, brilliant mind had suffered. He decided not to tell that to this strange man however. He would stick with his story.
"No you see, it wasn't the spell. When I fell asleep I found myself dreaming about facing a..."
He droned on and on, and somehow found that Aberforth was interested in his story. Not that he was surprised ofcourse. He prided himself on, among many other things, his narrative skills.
What he didn't know, of course, the Aberforth prided himself on looking like he really cared about the story, when he didn't. It was a trait he had developed over years of bartending.
When Gilderoy finally finished, he looked over somewhat condescendingly at his audience.
It was then that Aberforth spoke up again. "You're a great man," he said. "But you're late, this time."
"Late?" asked Gilderoy. He was never late. Others were simply early.
"You see, it's the end of the world," Aberforth said, matter-of-factly, as if it were a perfectly normal thing to say. "Your timing was terrible. Everyone has run to "safer" shelters. Except you, obviously."
"And you," Gilderoy pointed out, in an odd moment of realisation. Aberforth shrugged casually, gesturing that he didn't really care.
"The world cannot simply...end! Not while the great Gilderoy Lockhart is still alive!" the Ravenclaw declared, but even his pompous voice fell flat. He too, was quickly realising the gravity of the situation.
He then decided that if it was to be his last day, he would go out with a bang.
"You look wonderful today, Mr Dumbledore," he smiled. Aberforth looked back at him with a strange twinkle in his eyes.
Notes: I have no idea what this is. I have no excuse either. Sorry if you read through it...
For the Through the Universe Challenge at TGS. Prompt: EndOfTheWorld!AU
