Hogwarts A History – The eyes have halls
Chapter 03 – Gilded Roy

…

"He's wonderful."

Indeed.

"He's so amazing."

Yes, yes.

"I can't believe we get to have him as a teacher. We are so lucky."

That you are.

For Gilderoy Lockhart, teaching hadn't been his first choice; no, not his first choice, or second, or third. But old Dumbledore, the wily old codger, had talked him into it, and thus far, he had no regrets. If anything, this was doing wonders for his ego. So many young fans singing his praises; regular appearances to revel in the adoration; it was a dream come true.

"Do you think he'd sign this if I asked him?"

That's what the peacock quill is for.

Skulking behind a suit of armor he listened to the conversation permeating the halls, all of it about him.

"I tell you; Snape is the worst!"

Well, mostly about him.

This was what he lived for. The praise, the adulation. It was all he'd ever wanted, ever since he'd first come to Hogwarts. His mother always told him he was special, not like his siblings; poor lowly squibs that they were.

It'd been quite the shock to find out other people couldn't see his stellar quality. Some even had the gall to laugh at him.

Well, he had gotten the last laugh. Internationally known author, award winning smile, everyone in magical Britain had heard of Gilderoy Lockhart. Few names were as well-known as his, and it had been one of those names that really sealed the deal in getting him there.

"Come on Harry, you don't want to be late."

"Says who?"

Ah yes, young Harry Potter; the infamous boy who lived.

It did irk him a bit; a child who'd done nothing more extraordinary than survive the unsurvivable was somehow more famous than he. He, Gilderoy Lockhart; he, who had spent his entire life working to gain the recognition he deserved; he, who'd gone to places most had never heard of, found stories begging to be told and told them; he, whose naturally wavy hair made witches the world over swoon, was less famous than a lazy messy haired mediocre brat.

BUT; it wasn't all bad. The boy was pliable. As the man who'd taught famous Harry Potter his fame could only grow. Maybe he could even get another book out of it.

"I can't believe he made us buy all those books."

Hello, what's this?

"I thought the third was a little weak."

"Tosh and nonsense, you ask me. The whole lot of them."

Oh, now that just wouldn't do.

Stepping out from his hiding place he crept up behind his detractor, "Afternoon."

The boy leapt like a startled squirrel, the young lady with him only slightly less; a chipmunk perhaps. "P-p-p-p, Professor Lockhart!"

"Hello. Lovely day isn't it?"

At a loss for words the boy just nodded and made a quick escape dragging his shell shocked friend with him.

Gilderoy smiled, but only on the outside. He hated his detractors, those non-believers who failed to see his greatness, who claimed his books were 'tosh and nonsense'. He hated them, he feared them. They had no idea just how close to the truth they were, and if he had his way, they never would.

"Oof! Oh, my, excuse me."

The sudden assault on his rear came from one of his new colleagues. "Professor Vector." The youngest member of the Hogwarts faculty, and female as well, sort of. The Arithmancy professor had the sort of unkempt look of one who rarely came out of their books and with her thick glasses she looked nothing less than the quintessential nerd.

Of course, Gilderoy knew better. Having been a Ravenclaw he'd know many like her, seen what the bad hair and glasses managed to hide. She looked a mess at first glance, but he could see the hints of a very comely girl beneath it all.

"And a lovely good day to you Septima."

"Is it really as good as all that?" she wondered aloud.

"It is now that I've seen you." He held back his high watt smile, not wanting to frighten her off.

"Oh, really Gilderoy." She played at being annoyed but he could tell the hook was in.

"Speaking of the day with consideration for the eve," it was already after lunch, "would it interest you to know I've acquired a lovely bottle of a very particular vintage. Most exquisite so I'm told. Might I interest you in a little nightcap this evening?"

She stumbled over her words and he turned up the amperage in his teeth. She was putty in his hands—or so he thought.

"I—appreciate the offer, it's just, you—I mean your type—I'm not—that is, what I mean to say…"

Her incoherent rambling left him in a quandary, forcing him to put together such disparate notions as 'your type' and 'I'm not'. Given this little information there were few conclusions he could draw, and he chose to go with the one that least dented his ego.

She was one of those. Of course, he should have known. It was so obvious now that he looked at her. Well, that wouldn't do. He could just imagine how awkward things would be. He was having none of that. Only one thing to do; no one's looking.

"What I'm trying to say is—why are you pointing your wand…"

"Obliviate."

… activating reboot cycle…

… reboot complete…

"Huh, oh, uh Gilderoy. I'm sorry, my mind wandered off there a moment. You were saying something?"

Gilderoy flashed a smile, the one that had Witch weekly crowning him five times in a row. "It's not important," he said, "just, put it out of your mind."