AN: For the Wishful Thinking Competition, round one ("I wish I could make them proud of me.")

I.

His parents are always careful not to mention it in front of him, but Gilderoy knows.

He presses his ear against the wall, listening to the voices on the other side.

"Are you sure he's not a Squib?" his father asks.

"He's in Ravenclaw, dear," his mother points out.

"But he can barely manage the simplest of spells!"

"He's a late bloomer. That's all."

Gilderoy hears his father groan. He can imagine the man pinching the bridge of his nose and wearing his serious face as he often does. "There's something wrong with him, Mary. Has to be."

Having heard enough, the twelve year old crawls back into bed, pulling his blankets around him and sniffling. His father is ashamed of him. Even if his mother defends him, it's only out of maternal duty, not faith.

Gilderoy Lockhart is a failure, and everyone knows it.

"I wish I could make them proud of me," he whispers to himself, sinking into his pillows and fighting back tears.

II.

Over the next few years, Gilderoy throws himself into his studies. His nose rarely leaves the books, and he even accepts remedial work. Still, he's mediocre at best.

Except...

"Well done, Mr. Lockhart! Finest Memory Charms I've seen in years."

A modest smile cracks Gilderoy's lips as he looks down at his wand. It isn't much, but maybe it's the key he's been looking for.

III.

"A book?" the old witch asks, blushing deeply. "About me?"

Twenty year old Gilderoy Lockhart nods, offering her his most winning smile. "My dear lady, the world deserves to hear your heroic tale. So brave, so noble in the face of danger!"

The woman falls for it. She pours two generous servings of wine, sitting across from him, offering a toothless smile. "Well, it was last December. I was going out to feed my cat, you see. And this..."

OoOoO

Gilderoy folds his parchment, satisfied and smug. "Thank you for your time, dear."

"When do you think it will be published?"

His smile turns just a degree colder. "Oh, soon. With a few adjustments."

"Adjustments?"

"No one wants to read about a wrinkled old woman. The people need a hero they can admire."

"What are you-"

Gilderoy raises his wand. "Obliviate."

The old witch blinks several times, looking up at him as she scratches her knots of grey hair. "What are you doing in my house?"

IV.

His mother wraps him in a bone-crushing hug. "Oh, Gilderoy!" she cries, kissing his cheek again and again. "Oh, you brave boy! I've just finished your newest book!"

With a dramatic sigh, Gilderoy shakes his head. "That was nothing. Wait til you read the next one. Nearly lost a- Well, spoilers. Wouldn't want to ruin the ending."

"Damn proud of you, son," his father says, resting a hand on the young wizard's shoulder. "I always knew you had it in you."

Gilderoy takes his dad's hand, chuckling. "All thanks to you, Dad. All thanks to you."