Informed
Chapter 3: Fantasy Land
Gilderoy Lockhart walked back to his cubicle. He had no other assignments at the moment, at least according to his computer. He decided to check out the Internet.
* * *
Five minutes into the Internet, Gilderoy was interrupted by a "WHOOSH" sound. A small pointy thing whisked past his ear. It hit the cubicle wall.
Gilderoy pulled the tiny wooden dart out, examining it. The metal point at the end seemed to be slightly rusted.
He stood on his chair and popped his head above the cubicle. He immediately counted nine different blow guns aimed directly at him.
"Who blew this at me?" he asked. No one responded. "Who tried to hit me with a dart but failed?"
Again, no response. "God!" he said. Immediately nine darts were headed for his head. Gilderoy ducked, but most of the darts fell short. One flew past him. That was all for the darts.
He looked around. He needed something white before he went back up...Gilderoy checked his pocket.
Ah, a handkerchief.
Gilderoy waved it above his head, above the top of the cubicle. Immediately, a dart flew past it. He popped his head up once more, to discover nine dart guns but no darts.
"Hello," Gilderoy said. "I'm neutral." The office was strangely quiet. The calm before the storm, Gilderoy noted to himself.
"Are you with the dancing monkeys?" asked a man a few cubicles down, brandishing a dart gun.
"I am undecided," Gilderoy stated. "I am trying to decide."
"Decide now."
"I am with the dancing monkeys," Gilderoy said. "Go dancing monkeys."
A joyous atmosphere spread through the office. There were cheers. Greg's head appeared.
"Lennie," he said. "I can't believe you're for the dancing monkeys." Gilderoy shrugged.
"Neither am I. Oh, well. I don't want any darts flying at me," Gilderoy said. Greg nodded.
"You're still not with the dancing monkeys?" Gilderoy asked his coworker with a grin.
"I swore I would never support a dancing monkey. I swore on my grandfather's grave."
* * *
After his strange first day at work, Gilderoy decided to take the bus to a restaurant he had heard about: McDonald's. It was supposedly the place where you could find the most refreshing foods after a long day at work, and it sounded like gourmet food to Gilderoy. Perhaps he would take Felicia here. Its scent was rather delicious; Gilderoy savored it.
He pulled on the door handle, and his hand slipped right off. On it was some kind of fluid. It was slippery, and he wasn't about to rub it on his shirt.
He grabbed the handkerchief out his pocket and held it over the door. If this was gourmet, he certainly didn't want to see fast food. Unless this really wasn't gourmet...
Gilderoy nearly slipped on the floor when his shoes hit. More grease. Greasy, he told himself as he padded his hand one more time and opened a second door. He smelled the scent of smoke and grease and fattening things. Definitely not gourmet.
There was a large counter to his right. Behind it were the fattest and dirtiest people Gilderoy had ever seen. Nevertheless, he made his way to the front.
"Welcome to McDonald's, mate," said a fat woman with black hair. "Can I take your order, mate?"
Gilderoy checked the menu. "A nine piece chicken nuggets, large order of fries, and a medium Coke." The woman nodded, her mouth open making no sound. She does not seem to know what hygiene is.
Gilderoy paid for his meal; he had decided to eat it outside. It was probably more sanitary than eating it inside the greasy restaurant.
* * *
The next day, Gilderoy found himself on the wrong bus route from work. He found himself staring at what seemed to be cardboard cutouts of buildings, but he wasn't sure. Something wasn't right about it.
As he had gotten off, the bus driver looked at him strangely. The bus driver's eyes suddenly grew thirty times larger, and he gasped.
"Evil lurks there," he had said. "We take no responsibility for your guaranteed death. Hey, I warned you!"
And the bus had driven off.
Gilderoy pressed against the cardboard buildings and fell through. He hit the pavement on his cheek, and he wiped a dab of blood onto his shirt.
There were strange people in this place; people that wore odd cloaks and brandished pointed sticks. People that wore strange shoes.
In other words, altogether strange people. Gilderoy felt oddly out of place in this place, but he didn't know if that was right. Shouldn't these strange people feel out of place?
Gilderoy shrugged it off and began to walk down the street. According to the magnificent square red street sign, Gilderoy was on Fudge Road.
There was a large red sign in the middle of the road. Gilderoy ran up to it, reading it.
"WELCOME TO ASTHENIA!" it read. Gilderoy had never heard of such a place. Was he mad? There was small writing at the bottom of the sign. "Wizard District of Sydney," the fine print said. Another thing Gilderoy had never heard of.
I'm mad, he thought. Wizards are fake. Wizards are only in books. They are fantasy. And I don't live in Fantasy Land.
He read the sign again. It was exactly the same. Gilderoy ran up to a passing woman and grabbed her shoulder.
"Don't touch me!" she yelled, turning around. She saw his face and ran.
"Hey! What's that all about?" Gilderoy yelled to the running woman. Gilderoy continued to walk down the street, staring at the shops lining the street.
One that caught Gilderoy's eye was a bookstore. It had the simple name of Barry's Books. A middle-aged man stepped inside the rotating door, and Gilderoy followed him.
The interior was rather bland as well. The walls were wood, as was the floor, all a dull brown. Gilderoy stepped into the fiction section, following the man in front of him.
There were rows of books with the strangest titles Gilderoy had ever seen: The Basilisk's Bath, Fear and Loathing in Hogwarts, Lunch of Losers, Arcane Smith and the Chamber of Death, Arcane Smith and the Muggles, Arcane Smith and the Hogwarts Hoaxers...it went on. Gilderoy grabbed one of the Arcane Smith books on the shelf and began to leaf through it.
"Arcane jumped over the dragon in the Chamber of Death, stabbing it with the Sword of Death."
That was all Gilderoy read. He let go of the book, and it seemed to dance its way back on the shelf. Gilderoy blinked in disbelief and continued down the aisle.
He found a section with an extravagant sign over it:
THE GILDEROY LOCKHART COLLECTION: ENGAGE IN THE TALES OF THE GREATEST LIAR ON EARTH. NOW 20 PERCENT OFF!
Gilderoy stared at the smiling picture of the blonde man that was on top of the bookshelf.
That fellow looks a lot like me, he told himself. No, that can't be. There is only one person that looks like me, and that's me.
There were rows of books by Gilderoy Lockhart...too many to name in a list. Gilderoy was staring at the strange titles before he bumped into a good-looking fellow with brown hair and specks of gray.
"Oh, excuse me," Gilderoy said to the man.
"That's okay," the man said without looking at Gilderoy. Suddenly he turned around and stared in disbelief.
"What?" Gilderoy asked. "What's wrong?" The man across from him shook his head.
"No, it can't be...you're not...he's a psycho...lost his mind..." the man murmured under his breath.
"Who is that man in the picture?" Gilderoy asked. "What's so great about Gilderoy Lockhart?"
"Well, aren't you Gilderoy Lockhart, the man who wrote hundreds of books, the greatest liar on Earth?" the man asked Gilderoy. Gilderoy shook his head.
Suddenly, there was an image. A dark chamber...two boys...and himself...he was scared...the boys almost laughed at him...
"My God..." Gilderoy said. "That is me." Gilderoy began to see flashes of what could surely be another life. This wasn't right. He shook his head, his face covered in tears. No, he told himself as he began to run. This isn't right. I don't want to be the greatest liar on Earth! And so, Gilderoy Lockhart left Duke Dingo and Barry's Books.
* * *
Gilderoy stepped out the door, running off the wooden patio into the street. The sound around him was a blur. Through his eyes he only saw colors; he could not make out individual shapes.
He stopped at the edge of the street after having ran off the sidewalk. He stopped, straining forward to admire the strange beauty of the world around him. His eyes came into focus as an old woman passed by.
Gilderoy wiped the tears of his face and ran up to her, shaking her frail body.
"Who am I?" he asked. "Am I Gilderoy Lockhart?"
"Uh..." the woman said.
"Answer me!" Gilderoy said, shaking the woman to a point at which she fell on the ground. The woman got off the ground, her mouth open and with tears.
"I dunno?" she asked. "Leave me alone, you psycho freak!" Gilderoy stared at her in distress, trying to show her his pain.
It didn't work. Gilderoy ran off, going on the next street and discovering a small boy walking out of a candy store.
"Who am I?" he asked, swinging the boy off the street. The boy stopped licking his large lollipop and looked up at Gilderoy.
"You're in the bookstore," he told Gilderoy. "At least I think you are–you sort of look like that guy, Gilderoy Lockhart." The boy stuck the lollipop back in his mouth.
Gilderoy threw the boy to the side, going to jog into the street, looking as sane as possible. His face was red and full of tears. A young woman pulled him from behind, noticing his distress.
"What's wrong?" she asked, wiping the tears off his face. "Tell me please."
"Who am I?"
"What?" she asked.
"Answer the question! Who am I?" The woman shook her head.
"I guess you're Gilderoy Lockhart. But you should be locked up...after all, you did lose your mind."
The visions returned, but Gilderoy instead saw a flash of scenes with people in a small village.
It was a small white room. Gilderoy stared at the man across from him; the man was an Exorcist. "So, Mister Tulle, your line of work is rather interesting, you think? The whole demon and Satan thing...like that new movie," Gilderoy said, walking toward the chair of Mister Tulle. Lou Tulle.
Gilderoy squatted down, placing his hands on Lou's lap. "Guess what?" he asked Lou.
"What?" Lou asked. "You always were a phony and always will be, you piece of trash."
Gilderoy smiled. His fist began to tighten. He smiled. "I just want to have an interview with you on this Exorcism thing before I actually do it..." Gilderoy punched the man and pulled out his wand.
"Excuse me?" Gilderoy asked, shaking himself out of his vision.
"You just asked me who you were. You're Gilderoy Lockhart; I can tell. I work for the Ministry, and I know you live here," the woman said. She began to reach for the pocket of her cloak.
Gilderoy kicked her into the ground, punching her in the face. He grabbed the wand in her pocket. His knowledge of the wizard world is back.
She stared at him with a look of disbelief as Gilderoy's mind turned into a cold smile.
"Cr–" he started to say before being interrupted by a man on the street. Gilderoy snapped the wand in half; it was relatively simple. He left it on the woman's chest and ran away as fast as he could.
He reached the gates of Asthenia in two minutes, entering the Muggle world. The bus home would be arriving in a few minutes.
* * *
The head Sir, Orson Welles, sat in the Sirs base in Sydney. Wright Galen, standing in front of Orson, looked rather pale.
The room itself was brightly lit; a single light shone into Wright's eye. His pupils were dilated, as to cause even more pain.
"It appears you judged Mister Lockhart too quickly, Galen," Orson said, turning the crank up on the brightness.
Wright flinched, staring away from the lamp. "Please look into the light, Mister Galen; or I will have to use another form of extraction."
"I didn't know this would happen," Wright said. "He passed all the tests."
"Why didn't you put him in Berwick, Louisiana, or something? Anywhere but Sydney!" Orson said, slapping Wright on the cheek. Wright rubbed his burning red skin. The Sirs had a fondness for violence.
"After exhaustive research, we figured the best place to go was Sydney. The town is rather nice, and he's not that popular here. It's not my fault the Lockhart Collection shipped. He'd have been fine if he didn't accidentally find his way to Asthenia," Wright responded.
"Accidental!? I'm going to accidentally hurt you if I don't get what I need!" Orson stuck his index finger in Wright's face, his face extremely tense.
Wright nodded. Questioning was about to begin.
* * *
Cornelius Fudge sat in his office, staring at the wall. He had no idea what the Minister was to do in the post-Voldemort wake. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Ginny Weasley had accidentally discovered Voldemort in the halls of Hogwarts, possessing the mind of Hermione Granger, as his new power was taking over the minds of people. Professor Dumbledore called upon an Exorcist to save the genius girl, who had barely made it out of the process. She was closely guarded by the Ministry, as she was quite literally a psycho.
She was kept in a cell in Azkaban, guarded by the only human guards there were. The Ministry's official story was she was working for the Sirs in an underground terrorist group. Her friends are rather gullible, Cornelius thought to himself.
It didn't matter as they certainly had all the time in the world. Hermione Granger was taking a while to recover from Voldemort, a lot longer than expected. Voldemort was seriously being considered as Satan, or at least the son of Satan. The only evidence was her possession. This was the first time a wizard had possessed somebody, actually taken over their body in a spiritual sense. He could not be driven out by magic. Only faith.
Cornelius sighed to himself, recalling his fight with Voldemort–or Satan. It was rather horrid, but he had managed to fight of Voldemort's advances in the form Kevin Smith, the then head Sir.
And Voldemort left Kevin's body, heading for Hogwarts. Harry Potter was given credit for the Exorcism, increasing the air in his head. Cornelius hated it, but life was like that.
There was a knock at the door. Cornelius jumped from his desk, interrupted from his meditation.
"Come in," he said, greeted by Orson Welles's familiar face. Orson smiled as he sat down.
"Hello," Orson said, sitting down across from Fudge's desk. "I have some news; I don't know if you've heard it yet."
"What?" Fudge asked, leaning forward from his leather chair. "What's wrong?"
"Gilderoy Lockhart–"
"That mindless jerk? The pixie dude?" Fudge asked. "I thought we locked him up somewhere."
"We did. But he was pronounced cured a few months ago by a certain Doctor Wright Galen and sent out to live in the Muggle world," Orson explained.
"Where?" Cornelius asked as Orson opened his mouth to speak.
"Sydney. Sydney, Australia," Orson responded. "A large wizard community, as well as Muggle community. The Australian following of Lockhart is more of a cult following than any other thing though. It's not like what we have here. It's rather small."
"Ah," Cornelius said. "Well, what's the problem with Lockhart?"
"Well, he found Asthenia."
"And?" Cornelius asked, waving his hand. "And?"
"He discovered just who he was. He nearly did a Crucio to some poor woman. Horrible, if you ask me. You have a man that is insane and discovering a government just lied to him...and then–" Orson moved his hand through the air–"you've got a Ministry that doesn't know what to do with him."
"Are you insulting me, Mister Welles? I'll let you know that nobody told me about this confounded incident!" Cornelius exclaimed, leaping from his chair and pointing his index finger at Orson's chest.
"Maybe you should keep up with your intelligence organizations, Minister! We've had insufficient funding, budget losses–everything you can possibly imagine; and I know you have since you approved it all!" Orson's face straightened; and his stare could take out Cornelius in a second, if looks could kill.
"Don't insult me, Mister Welles," Cornelius said. "I am the Minister of Magic, and I can give budget increases to whomever I want! You don't come barging in on me while I am trying to run a government that spans the world!" Cornelius slapped Orson across the face.
"I'd fire you in an instant, Orson; but I don't seem to have control over the Sirs as much as I'd like."
"Likewise, Minister Fudge. I would fire you in an instant as well." Orson made a rather rude gesture to the Minister of Magic, one that tended to end every meeting he had with the man.
Orson then put his hands in his pockets and left the room.
* * *
It was a classroom, and a group of older students sat in it. They were dressed in cloaks, attending the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Gilderoy Lockhart sat on the top of his desk, reading from his book Midnights with Muggles.
"Muggles seem to be odd creatures; they definitely have destructive capabilities, from the atomic bomb to the evils of fast food.
"It's not as bad as a Dark Wizard or an evil demon–check out my Exorcism books for information on that–but it's certainly a pain."
Gilderoy shut the book and stared at the blank faces of the teenagers. He smiled and set the book down on his desk.
"Okay, class, time for a pop quiz on Muggles!" Gilderoy pulled out a sheet of parchment.
Gilderoy Lockhart awoke from his bed and yelled. I don't want this...that isn't me...I'm normal...I do not love myself like that...not me...cold water...Felicia...
Gilderoy wiped the lone tear off his face. He leaned up from his bed, looking at the wall. He didn't want any of this. He just wanted to be Lennie Gil, a man with one mind, one life, one love. No evil conspiracies in his life. He just wanted to live like another person. A normal person.
Author's Note: Oompa loompa doopity doo! This was another chapter for you. Well, did you enjoy? Now you do know what the story is about so that must be pretty nice. I actually almost cried writing this chapter - so boo yah. Of course, that's ALMOST...I think you may figure out where it was...I'm not telling! Also, if you don't like the fact that this chapter is shorter - too bad, since I found a good stopping point here...
"To read is human, to review, divine..." That's something Cassandra Claire said. And since she is one of the best...maybe you should follow HER advice. :-)