A/N: The first time I posted this story, one of the grievances was that the story moved at a pretty slow place…so…I combined the original chapter two with what I wrote up for chapter three to help move the story along a little.
DISCLAIMER: The HP world belongs to J. K. Rowling. I have only contributed a few characters, items, places, ideas, and plot-points to what is otherwise completely the property of J. K. Rowling.
Chapter Two - Lockhart Loquacious
Just as Hermione apparated into the large atrium of the Ministry of Magic, a large crowd of witches and wizards poured out of the Floo-Fireplaces across from the Apparation points. Hermione groaned and once more checked her watch before holding the bottles of bubbling yellow potion close to her body for protection and heaving herself into the dense throng of people. She had eight minutes. Hermione began to mutter calming thoughts to herself
"It's okay Hermione. Just breathe. You're going to make it. You're going to be right on ti-"
"Hermione!"
Hermione stopped and closed her eyes in frustration. When she opened them again, Harold Scrivener, her young assistant secretary, was standing before her, looking quite disheveled, his short ginger hair slightly singed in places.
"Harold, I'm sorry, I can't talk. I have my meeting in seven min-"
"I know Hermione, but there is an emergency in the brewing chamber…there, uh, seems to have been an explosion that resulted in a chain of, well, several more explosions of…well…a few potions." Hermione gasped and her hand flew to her face. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.
"What was lost, Harold?"
"Well, you see, because it is Tuesday, our busiest day for constructing new po-"
"Harold. What. Was. Lost?"
"Six copper cauldrons, fifty bottles of dittany, ten bicorn horns, three shrivelfigs, a jar of doxy eggs, and…" Harold trailed off, taking a step back.
"And…?"
"Our entire stock of Veritaserum as well as half of our supply of Wolfsbane potion...yeah"
Hermione whimpered.
"The Wolfsbane was supposed to be delivered today to St. Mungo's to help with the outbreak of werewolf attacks and Harry's department was meant to receive three-fourths of the Veritaserum stock tomorrow morning! What are we going to do?!"
"I don't know. I have notified Healer Profit at St. Mungo's and Harry's assistant Arvin Wheeler of the delay."
Hermione nodded and took a deep, shaky breath, her eyes closed. After a second realization struck and her eyes snapped open.
"Who caused it, Harold?"
"Err, what, Hermione? Well, um, Annette Shadrach had to be removed to St. Mungo's. She was working at one of the cauldrons when it explode-"
"Who caused the accident, Harold?"
Harold's face fell and Hermione knew the answer before the words left his mouth.
"It was Meriwether Silverston, Hermione."
"Tell her to go to my office and wait for me there. I'm sorry Harold, I know she's your fiancée, but this is the third accident she has caused this month. I can't have her blowing everything up. We've already had to rush-deliver a new batch of skele-gro after she accidentally put scorpion stingers in all the potions. Now, I have to go, Harold. I've only got -"
"Three minutes exactly" Harold interjected, stepping aside.
"Bugger it all to hell!" Hermione sprinted forward, knocking a surprised elderly wizard to the side. "Have her in my office, Harold!"
Harold nodded glumly before turning and walking away.
Hermione raced toward the opening doors of one of the Ministry's golden elevators. Hermione flung herself into the nearly-empty elevator, causing the trio of magenta-robed witches that were stepping out to condemn everything from her "pretty little head" to her all of her "gurdiroot gardens."
Hermione frantically jammed the button to go down. A cold voice enveloped the elevator as the doors clanged shut.
"Not so rough, please," the voice chided before returning to the usual cool, soothing tone. "Going down."
"Yes, thank you," Hermione replied tartly, rolling her eyes. She checked her watch and tapped her foot loudly. "C'mon! Two minutes!"
"Level Nine. Department of Mysteries."
"Finally!" Hermione gasped.
"Patience is a virtue, Virtue is a grace; Both put together, make a very pretty face," the elevator chimed as the elevator doors clanked and clashed open. Hermione glared over her shoulder as she bolted out the door. She fled down the corridor, past the door to the Department of Mysteries, toward the stairs that would take her the rest of the way down toward the courtroom where her demonstration was to take place...if it still took place. One minute. The stairwell door crashed open loudly as Hermione sped through it. She all but leapt down the stairs, taking four steps at a time, spiraling downward until she reached Level Ten. Thirty seconds. Her robes flying wildly behind her and her potion bottles clinking in her hands, Hermione tore down the dank, cold corridor until she reached Courtroom Five. She burst through door. "You're late, Miss Granger," echoed the loud, raspy voice of Ministry official Candor Briggs. He watched her sternly as she meekly walked toward the center of the large room, where a table and a chair had been set up for her demonstration. "Yes, yes. I'm sorry. My assistant found me as I was coming down to tell me of a slight incident in the brewing chambers and I-" "Your demonstration, Miss Granger? We don't have all day." Hermione tried not to allow the glaring anger and mortification she felt to show on her face as she nodded and set down her three bottles of her potion. Hermione heard a derisive cough come from the back of the group of witches and wizards that she now noticed numbered in the high thirties. Gulping hard, she squinted to see the origin of the amused snicker. Draco Malfoy. What the hell is he doing here?! Came expecting me to fail, no less. She harrumphed disdainfully. We'll see. Hermione shot a scathing glare in Malfoy's direction. She then moved behind the demonstration table that held her three bottles of potion. "Miss Granger?" A kind-faced woman spoke this time. She had long red hair, large horned-rim glasses, and a pair of robin's egg blue robes. She smiled warmly at Hermione. "What does your potion do?" "Yes, what does it do, Miss Granger?" Candor Briggs's impatience was not hidden. "Candor! Why don't you actually give her a chance to speak, please," the red-haired woman chastised him.
Hermione nodded nervously and stabilized herself on the table. She hated public speaking.
"Um, yes. The potion I will be showing is of my…my own...making…" Hermione trailed off, trying to figure out what to say next.
"Obviously, otherwise there would be no need for a Potion Induction Patent Review," Candor Briggs sneered at Hermione. He rolled his eyes and quite dramatically, propped his chin on his hand in boredom. Then, for just a moment, it seemed as if his eyes dulled, before returning to their cruel, shining, steel color. "I'm sorry, Miss Granger, please continue."
Hermione did a double take before clearing her throat and continuing. "Ah, yes. Well, as I was saying, I made this potion to help those who have lost their memories by way of Obliviation. I call it 'Memoria Desiderium.'"
Several witches and wizards and the audience began whispering amongst themselves and others leaned forward in interest.
"Miss Granger, you do realize that many witches and wizards have endeavored to create the very same potion. Many of them twice your age and much more experienced. Albus Dumbledore himself attempted to conduct a full study of the properties of many plants and herbs that could possibly construct such a needed potion. What makes you think your work will surpass theirs?" The question from a wiry, grey-haired wizard sitting in the back row was not cruel or taunting, merely curious. The wizard, like many of his peers, had an interested glint in his eye.
"Yes, sir, I am aware of the attempts made before me. I am also very aware of Professor Dumbledore's research, having perused his notes myself."
"How did you come by those notes? I do not think he would have left them to a then-student when he died."
"He did not. He left them to Professor McGonagall as his true successor as Hogwarts Headmistress. When I went to Hogwarts to seek her guidance, as well as that of my friend Professor Longbottom of the Herbology Department and Professor Wheliker of the Potions Department, she shared with me Professor Dumbledore's notes on the subject."
The grey-haired wizard nodded thoughtfully and sat back in his seat. "I see. Please, continue."
Hermione nodded and stepped around the table slowly, but with purpose.
"What Professor Dumbledore did not realize was that, in order to create a potion that could reverse the permanent effects of Obliviation, the potioneer must reverse the direction in which they stirred the potion. A simple fix really."
Malfoy snorted and decided it was time to speak. "Really Granger? That's all it took? Just stir the potion the other way."
Hermione smiled. "Well, that, Mr. Malfoy, and the inclusion of a rare Mediterranean ingredient: Italian Emerald-Wood bark. In local Italian hamlets, it is known for its restorative properties."
"And how did you come by this 'rare Mediterranean ingredient?' Decided to take an afternoon trip to Italy, stroll down the beach and scrape bark off trees, did you Granger?"
Hermione gritted her teeth for a moment, trying to keep herself from hexing Malfoy's smirk of his pallid, rat face.
"No, Mr. Malfoy, I did not. Being Head of the Potion-making Department does have its benefits. Earlier this year, I sent one of the wizards in my department to the continent to gather some herbs that were lesser-known. Things used by those who practice potion-making in the smaller villages. This particular ingredient was collected by and sold to my representative by an Italian Healer named Adolfo Conti. He boasted of its healing properties. When my representative returned with the ingredients, I began to do some research on the bark and several of the other ingredients. I sent owls to Healers and Potioneers alike, asking of their experience with and opinions of these ingredients. What I learned was shocking. The bark was most-often used to cure short-term memory amnesia among patients, with a very high success rate. I decided to include it in my personal work with the Memoria Desiderium."
There was more chatter and noises of approval amongst the counsel.
"Fascinating, Miss Granger. Very good work. Now, may we see whether or not the potion is a success?"
Hermione dipped her head in a slight nod and smiled.
"Of course. I have already made arrangements with St. Mungo's to send over a patient afflicted with Obliviation. He or she will be accompanied by a certified Healer with papers proving he is a real patient and not an actor."
There was a loud resounding knock at the chamber door.
"That will be them. One moment."
Hermione practically floated toward the door. Other than Malfoy's attempts at disconcerting her and Candor Briggs initial behavior, everything was going her way. Now it was time for Hermione to really show them.
When Hermione reached the door, she heaved it open, with a little trouble, and poked her head out. She gasped.
"-Ah yes. Here we go. Excuse me Miss. Can you tell me why someone as devilishly good-looking as I happen to be here? Such an awful, cold, and tasteless place. It isn't because I was handing out autographs again, was it? I can prove it is indeed my own handwriting. Shall I give you an autograph as proof? I'm apparently quite famous, you know."
The white-toothed grin of Gilderoy Lockhart bore at Hermione in attempts to woo her.
"Oh. Ah. I- uh…I-." Hermione stammered, nonplussed.
"Miss Granger. This is the patient that the hospital voted to be your test subject for the potion demonstration." Hermione turned her head at the sound of the voice and noticed a salt-and-pepper-haired, tight-lipped woman staring at her sternly. Professor McGonagall.
"Professor! What are you doing here? I thought they were sending a Healer along with the subject's- er, Mr. Lockhart's records?"
Professor McGonagall smiled.
"Ah yes. That had been the plan. However, I took the job upon myself because I felt that my support was needed as it was I that urged you to continue your research." Professor McGonagall gave another rare smile and lowered her voice so Lockhart, who was trying to look at his reflection in a suit of armor by the door, couldn't hear.
"Well, that, and apparently, none of the Healers wanted to take the assignment. Mr. Lockhart here seems to have gotten himself into a spot of trouble. Tried to give an autograph to an interning Healer in a place he should not have been signing." Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and rolled her eyes.
"Ah yes," reminisced Lockhart, who had appeared by Professor McGonagall's shoulder at that moment. "I remember that. Such a nice…Healer, you say? What was her name? Brigette? Lovely girl." Lockhart chuckled to himself and ran a hand through his blond hair. He had a receding hairline that had not been there when Hermione saw him in her fifth year. His eyes were also not the bright blue they once had been, and Lockhart had obviously put on a fair amount of weight during his interim at St. Mungo's.
"Patricia." Professor McGonagall corrected sternly before returning her attention to Hermione. "Either way, Miss Granger, I am here in their stead. Here are the papers. Go back into the chamber and brief them before I bring him in." Professor McGonagall handed a thick rolled sheaf of parchment to Hermione who nodded, smiled, and ducked back into the chamber.
"My apologies. It seems as if a Healer was not available to present our subject. Instead, Professor McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, has offered her presence and has arrived with our subject and his records." She walked forward and handed the parchment to Candor Briggs. He unfurled Lockhart's records and looked at it in surprise.
"Gilderoy Lockhart?!" Whispers erupted off the chamber walls and several witches shifted to the edge of their seats, looking toward the chamber door in excitement. Hermione heard a loud laugh echo from Malfoy as he nearly doubled over, clutching his side. "You've got to be joking" he wheezed out to the surly wizard that sat next to him.
"Yes, sir. Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart." She returned to the table. "As you all know, Mr. Lockhart suffered from an Obliviation Spell gone awry," several witches in the chamber nodded solemnly. One witch sitting in the back row wearing absurd bubblegum pink robes even drew out a handkerchief and blew her nose loudly. Hermione had to force herself not to roll her eyes. "What you do not know is that Mr. Lockhart was the castor of said spell." The subsequent intake of breath was deafening in the otherwise quiet chamber. "Yes. The intended targets were Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. The location of the incident was in the Chamber of Secrets. It was during our second year at Hogwarts." There was a collective gasp.
"Of course. He wanted to relieve those boys of the trauma they had surely witnessed. He was trying to protect them. How heroic." It was the witch in the absurdly pink robes that spoke, her grey curls bouncing as she nodded reverently. Hermione stared at her in complete shock. Malfoy snorted in amusement.
"Hardly. He was trying to wipe their memories because they had discovered that all the adventures he described in his books were in fact the adventures of other witches and wizards. He would interview them and then Obliviate them to make them forget that they had ever done anything noteworthy and take the credit for himself. He tried to make Harry and Ron forget as well, but, in a cowardly move, he stole Ron's wand that was malfunctioning and the spell backfired."
"Codswallop! I can't believe it! I just can't!" the same witch exclaimed in denial. Others, however, seemed to believe Hermione.
"Well, then, after this, I hereby move to submit him for questioning with Veriteserum….once my staff has created more."
There was silence in the chamber. Hermione cleared her throat nervously.
"What is this? It looks like a school exam. How did this get in here?" Briggs held up a sheet of parchment and waved it toward Hermione. She took it and looked at the name on the parchment. It was her own.
"This is mine. It was a quiz Lockhart gave on the first day that same year he was a professor at Hogwarts. He wanted to verify who had read his books and who hadn't."
"Well, it seems you received top marks. Er…bravo?"
Hermione blushed. "Ah, yes. Professor McGonagall probably brought it to provide us with questions to ask Mr. Lockhart to verify the return of his memory. For instance…erm….Mr. Briggs, what, according to that exam, was Mr. Lockhart's favorite color?"
Briggs perused Hermione's exam through squinted eyes. "Lilac, it would seem."
"Correct. And, what did Mr. Lockhart say would be his ideal birthday gift? It's the last question, if I remember correctly." Hermione blushed at this.
Briggs grunted and leafed through the three sheets of paper that made up Lockhart's "little quiz."
"That'll be 'harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples.'"
"Correct. And, finally, his secret ambition, according to this quiz?"
"Ridding the world of evil and marketing his own range of…hair-care products? This man is quite absurd. To think my wife actually spent so much gold on his books." Briggs shook his head. "Alright Miss Granger, you've made your point. Send him in and administer the potion."
Hermione, still pink, nodded and turned on her heel. She walked to the door with purpose, heaved it open and beckoned Professor McGonagall and Lockhart into the chamber.
Professor McGonagall escorted Lockhart to the chair by the table.
"Sit here."
Professor McGonagall's stern presence caused Lockhart to look down sheepishly and he sat without a word.
Hermione walked around the table and picked up one of her bottles of the banana-yellow potion. She unstoppered it and walked over to Lockhart. The Memoria Desiderium fizzed slightly then subsided.
"Miss Granger?"
Hermione, midway through handing the bottle to Professor McGonagall, stopped and looked up at the witch in the bubblegum pink robes.
"Yes?"
"For the record of the court would Mr. Lockhart's escort, Professor McGonagall, state her name and status and vouch that Mr. Lockhart is indeed under the heretofore mentioned permanent influence of an Obliviation spell?"
Hermione looked at Professor McGonagall questionably.
Professor McGonagall turned toward the patent committee and bowed shortly.
"I, Professor Minerva McGongall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, do hereby submit myself as the escort of the test subject, Gilderoy Lockhart. I vouch and swear to this court of the current status of Mr. Lockhart as under the heretofore mentioned influence of an Obliviation spell."
The witch nodded and began to scribble Professor McGonagall's words onto a length of parchment.
Hermione handed Professor McGonagall the potion. She stood back, crossed her arms, and bit her lips nervously.
Lockhart stared at Hermione, the court witnesses, and then the potion in Professor McGonagall's hand.
"You really expect me to drink that?" He chuckled. "Oh, how delightfully humorous this all is. Why I-"
"Open." Lockhart immediately dropped his jaw at Professor McGonagall's steeled tone.
Professor McGonagall touched the lip of the bottle to Lockhart's mouth and paused for a second before tipping it and pouring the whole potion down his throat. He coughed and sputtered and clutched at his neck for a moment. His face turned a bright pink and Hermione, along with some of the other witches present gasped in horror. Briggs stood up.
Lockhart let out a loud cough and shook his head. He gave a weak grin to the court and Hermione released the breath she had been holding.
"Positively awful. Tasted like spoiled cabbage and milk. Disgusting. I hope it doesn't color my teeth. That would be absolutely aw-"
Lockhart's eyes widened and he wheezed. He slowly turned his eyes toward Professor McGonagall and gasped.
"P-P-Professor McGonagall. How lovely to see you. You're looking quite…stern, today."
Hermione gasped and smiled. It had worked!
Lockhart looked around and saw he was being watched carefully by a courtroom full of witches and wizards.
"Oh. Oh dear." His eyes darted toward Hermione and understanding dawned. "I see. Professor McGonagall, I don't know what these children have told you but I was simply a hostage down in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry Potter, in an act of less-than heroism, coerced his ginger friend, Rupert…Rodney…the slow one, into pushing me into the Chamber with the intent of feeding me as bait to the great monster that it held. Whatever silly stories they told you of Obliviation spells and lies and all such rut is entirely false. Being the forgiving and genteel man that I am, however, I recommend that-"
"Hold your tongue, Mr. Lockhart!"
Lockhart immediately snapped his mouth closed, slightly raising his hand to his mouth, before fisting it in his lap.
Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes and turned away from the chided Lockhart and faced the court. "Ask your questions."
Candor Briggs looked down at Lockhart in dubious amazement. "Err, right. Mr. Lockhart? I have just a few questions for you."
Lockhart stared up at Briggs in fear; he nodded.
"Mr. Lockart…what is your favorite color?"
Lockhart looked shocked for a moment before grinning. "I see. It's a press conference! I did not realize I had let slip that I was releasing a new book soon! Ah, my adoring fans must have broken into my chamber. Again. Bless them. Tsk tsk. Naughty scamps." He chuckled. "Lilac, sir, is the answer to your question. Although I do believe lavender goes better with my eyes. We'll experiment for my post-conference photo shoot, shall we?"
A loud murmur echoed throughout the chamber. Several witches and wizards clapped and Hermione noticed that even Malfoy looked amazed, albeit thoroughly amused.
Briggs, although obviously surprised and impressed, kept his formality and raised Hermione's quiz to look for another question.
"Mr. Lockhart, erm…."
"Mr. Lockhart!" The witch in the pink robes stood up, blushing slightly. She gave Lockhart a shy smile, who returned a toothy grin of his own.
"Yes?" The witch's cheeks flushed a deeper scarlet, if possible.
"Mr. Lockhart, how many times was it that you won Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award? Three times?" Hermione noticed the intentional change.
Lockhart pressed his lips together. "Five times, dearest. It was five. Not three. Five. I'm hoping to be nominated for a sixth year, though, I daresay I have nothing to worry about." He winked cheekily at the witch, who sat, blushing, and began to scribble furiously onto the parchment.
"It worked. It actually worked," a young short-haired witch in the front row declared.
More murmurs broke out and the red-haired witch got to her feet.
"Miss Granger. It would seem as if your potion worked. It is my honor to fully notarize the patenting of your Memoria Desiderium potion. I'm sure each and every marketer here would love to represent your potion. I-" But Hermione never got to hear the rest.
Lockhart had begun to cough and sputter again. He slid out of his chair and to the chamber floor, clutching his throat. He was choking.
Professor McGonagall and Hermione stared in shock at the plum face of the blonde-haired wizard.
"He's been poisoned! Someone do something!" Lockhart had begun to jerk around violently on the floor.
Professor McGonagall pulled her wand out from her robes and pointed the tip at the now-empty bottle in her hand. "Aguamenti!"
The bottle filled with clear water. She bent down by Lockhart, turned up his chin, and forced him to swallow every drop. She had to refill the bottle twice more before his paroxysms ceased. There was a moment of still silence before he looked up, his once-coiffed hair now askew and his robes disheveled.
"Where am I? What is going on? And why in the name of Merlin am I on this filthy floor?"