Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - English Language Studies: Task #5. Prima Donna — Latin, meaning 'a temperamental or conceited person': Include one of the following characters as your main character in the story - Character used: Gilderoy Lockhart.
Written for Quidditch League - Round 7
Wigtown Wanderers - CAPTAIN: Write about a hex or jinx that misses its target
AN: Hex used: Instant Scalping Hex - Shaves all the hair off a target's scalp. This hex is listed in the wikia but doesn't have a name or incantation, so I've taken the liberty to go ahead and add those for myself. I've used Calvesculus, as part of the word (according to google translate) means balding.
I have used information from the wikia - Including: Gilderoy inventing his own shampoo, being treated like he's ordinary when he was formerly a student at Hogwarts, and the fact that he was four years below Snape and the Marauders at school.
Thanks to Dash and Angela!
I don't wanna hurt this much
AN: Deviates from canon. :)
Gilderoy steps onto the duelling platform with ease. It's like a runway, he decides as he strides down it, nearly every pair of eyes on him, and he's glad he wore his best cloak. All that's missing are the lights to better show his—if he's to be frank—perfect features.
"Gather round," he calls. "Gather round. Can everybody see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent." Because there are some eyes still not on him, and that won't do at all. But they all turn to him and get to witness perfection at close range. They all get to admire how dazzling his hair looks with his newest shampoo—his own invention, of course. It's almost shimmering, like a glorious halo of magnificence. There are witches out there that would kill to get this kind of audience with him, so he hopes that these students appreciate their great fortune.
He pauses at the end of the platform and turns, and the cloak swishes in the most satisfying way. Yes, just like a runway. He's been on several of those. He'd have been on more, but where is the time? With all his book-writing—well, he uses that term loosely—and his many, many interviews. Not to mention all the time it takes to read and reply to his adoring fans. One mustn't neglect the fans, of course. There might be an interesting story hidden away in all the fervent words that come his way. As for some of the pictures he receives, well, those go in his private collection, and they get a special letter back.
He has everyone's attention as he sashays across the platform, and that's what he loves. It's one of the reasons he's decided to teach. Well… that, and little Harry Potter. Parentless, looking for guidance. A mentor. A father figure, even. Imagine those headlines. Gilderoy Lockhart opens his home to his new son, Harry. The two most famous people to ever exist—because Harry is almost as famous as Gilderoy. The only person worthy enough to share a spotlight with Gilderoy (and that'd be a very large spotlight to cast over the pair of them).
Gilderoy is eager to get into the lesson, because Harry needs to learn to duel. He needs that ability, because his readers will be so glad to hear that he's single-handedly helped Harry where others have failed. The old dears will all love to know these things. The young ones too.
Women do love a man who would reach out to a pitiful orphan and adopt him out of the goodness of his heart.
He can't help but stare at Severus' hair as his colleague steps onto the stage. Does this man not care about having beautiful, flowing locks like himself? Gilderoy can't imagine not having the wonderful strands of natural wavy hair that fall gracefully around his face.
He turns, his gaze finding Harry. Oh, yes, the reason he's at Hogwarts. Perhaps this whole experience could make up a future book? Imagine how many readers he'd get if he wrote a book about himself and Harry Potter. If the book could include the first interview Harry has ever given.
Of course, the interviewer would be himself. Who else is worthy enough to discuss important matters with the Boy Who Lived? Only the five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, of course. If only Harry didn't have such a… a common name. If only his name held more prestige. The poor child, suffering the trauma of an unfairly boring name. That's the first thing they'd need to do—give him a name more suited for a celebrity.
Weren't they perfect together, though? Both Seekers for their house team. Both unfairly famous, too—Harry cursed with his scar, and Gilderoy cursed with his beauty. With hair that makes all others fall before his allure. And to think, he manages all of this without even having any Veela blood. Veelas have nothing on him, that's for sure.
"Potter, Weasley." He calls them onto the stage. A guaranteed win for Harry, most certainly. It'll help the poor, lost boy to gain confidence. Easy wins will make him look better and more competent, which will just prove Gilderoy's success as a mentor. It won't be long before Harry turns to Gilderoy for everything. He'll be Harry's confidante, giving him worldly advice.
But of course Severus—a man who clearly envies his alluring tresses—decides to pull Malfoy up on stage in Weasley's place. A boy who treats Harry almost as horribly as his own school-mates once treated him, though nothing can compare to the ridicule Gilderoy has spent his life facing. Nothing can compare to the tragedy that was his own childhood. No one can ever understand what trials and tribulations he's had to face in his past, where people have thought him ordinary!
But he doesn't want to think about that. Frown lines aren't good. He's known for his smile, not his frown. Though if there was a Witch Weekly's Most Hideous Frown Award, Severus would surely win that.
He almost laughs to himself at how hilarious he is. No one would ever match his wit and humour, that's for sure. But he holds the laugh in. He's expected to be serious right now.
The best role-model, and he most certainly is the best. These poor children, with no one else to look up to. He came to the school just in time.
Gilderoy hovers anxiously as the first two spells hit the young wizards, Harry sent flying down the platform. It doesn't do for him to look so foolish, but thankfully Harry counters with his own spell.
Draco stands, wobbling slightly, and Gilderoy is proud of his young protégé. Look how powerful he already is. Of course, he can't harness that power without a mentor.
Draco lifts his wand, a slight sway to his body as he points it towards Harry. There's a moment of silence as the pair watch each other, and Draco's gaze is unfocused, dazed.
Gilderoy is already considering how to announce Harry as the winner. Maybe that boy with the camera will snap a picture for the papers so the world can see their joint glory here.
Of course, Mr Creevey is not a professional, but one has to make do with what is available. Better an amateur than no photographer at all.
Harry stands steady, wand raised, waiting, and as Gilderoy watches, he realises what he's been missing this whole time.
Father and son clothing. His own fashion line. Harry will, of course, model the younger clothes, and he himself will be the beautiful model for the adult clothing, because only he could do them justice. The duel is starting to feel a little boring, but it's a good time to plan for his future.
"Calvesculus," Draco shouts, and Gilderoy notes that his legs look shaky and he's not focusing properly. What he doesn't anticipate is that, as Draco's hand moves to cast the spell, his unfocused gaze doesn't settle on Harry at all. More towards Harry's right shoulder.
And the hex comes flying Gilderoy's way, hitting him straight in the chest—and Gilderoy feels the urge to panic rise up inside of him, until he realises he feels just fine.
"And that, children, is how you teach your body to resist such a strong and powerful spell," he tells them. He expects applause. Wide eyes and gasps and clapping and adoration.
There are wide eyes. There are gasps. But he can see horror on the faces of those closest, and Gilderoy feels that panic rise up once again.
He glances down at his clothes first, to ensure that his expensive, beautiful, hand-crafted robes don't have a mark on them. Satisfied, he glances back up, but that's when he sees it.
A perfectly golden tuft of hair falls down onto his face, and he instinctively reaches up to grab it, to put it back into place, but it comes away in his hand. It takes him a second to process what he's seeing. This thing of beauty he's holding, this masterpiece of the gods, is his own hair.
He feels dizzy as he reaches up once more. He can feel his hair there, as perfect as ever, and he lets out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. Maybe just a spark of magic caught the front bit? He can fix that. He has his own private hairdresser who can come to the school at a moment's notice. It's not the end of the world.
He removes his hand, but more hair falls away with it, and Gilderoy glances down at the floor, following the route of the locks as they settle onto the platform.
Gilderoy reaches up a second time, slower now, feeling sick to his very stomach as he realises more hair is on the floor than on his head and he doesn't know the counter-charm for this.
He drops to his knees and grabs at the hair. More joins it, and he scrabbles to get every single strand of it that he can.
His luscious strands of shimmering gold! He pulls them to his chest, the strands slipping through his fingers as he does. What now will halo his ravishing features? What will accentuate his perfect cheekbones and strong, carved jawline?
"He's bald!" someone shouts. Gilderoy glances at Severus pleadingly. They went to school together. Surely that counts for something? Surely Severus can help him?
But Severus just watches, the corner of his lips twitching, and Gilderoy knows that there's no hope. He's lost his angelic tresses, and there's no reattaching them.
There's a flash of a camera, and suddenly everything gets worse, because as he looks around, he spots Colin Creevey with his camera. Gilderoy knows exactly what'll be on the cover of the next paper, and his insides turn to ice. He's ruined, his career is ruined. He can kiss goodbye to the Most Charming Smile award next year. Farewell to the adoring fans. Cheerio to the gifts that they send him and the letters and the… saucy photos.
Maybe it is the end of the world after all?
The dizzy feeling overcomes him, and everything turns black as he drops to the floor in a dead faint.