Informed
Chapter 4: Gilderoy's My Name
Gilderoy Lockhart stared at the alarm clock. It was a Tuesday, four days after the events in Asthenia.
Gilderoy sighed. His life was a mess; he hadn't gone to work yet. He hadn't taken a shower either. His hair was a mess as well.
He had also forgotten his deodorant. Of course, he really didn't think it mattered. His entire life was a lie.
No person wanted their life to be a lie.
And with that, Gilderoy Lockhart went back to sleep.
* * *
Felicia Alberta woke up in a room. She was at a Ministry holding cell, the same place she had been for years. They're evil. They're liars. They lied to me. They lied to Gilderoy...
The walls were white and plain, as plain as her brown bed. Her face was plain as well, seemingly deprived of all the color it had when she had first met Gilderoy.
Her wand was cracked in half; and it was on the floor, as it had been for many years, a reminder of her loss. The Ministry took the Lockhart case very seriously, and they weren't going to play games.
Felicia began to cry. She wanted him...but did he want her? She could only hope the answer was yes.
* * *
Gilderoy Lockhart sat at a table in the far end of his apartment, next to a window. He shut the curtain, with its lovely view of the Sydney streets, and pulled out a copy of World News Weekly, which he always bought at stores.
On the headlines was a flying saucer. A man's head was above it. "MAN REVEALS ALIENS' PLANS!" said the headline. Gilderoy was fearful about it, but he already had another identity he was wrestling with. It was too much for the time.
He pulled out a pen and paper and began to write a letter...
To whomever it may concern,
Hello, my name is Lennie Gil. I live in Sydney, Australia. I recently discovered evidence in Sydney that magic exists, and I was part of this magic thing once.
When I was in the wizard world, my name was Gilderoy Lockhart. I was a best-selling writer, writing hundreds of books. They were especially popular with women, and I won the Most Charming Smile Award from a magazine (I can't remember the title) five times in a row.
You see, I lost my memory in a castle in England, Hogwarts. I was in the Chamber of Secrets. I was putting some kind of spell on two boys; their names are Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Somehow the spell backfired. I lost my memory of the wizard world.
A few days ago, I discovered a place called Asthenia in Sydney. I am enclosing a map that shows just where it is. It is where wizards in Sydney live. They even work there, but I am guessing some work in our world (the "Muggle" world as wizards call it) as well.
I discovered my former identity in a bookstore. A stranger told me my name when I saw a smiling and waving (their pictures move) picture of me over a collection of my novels. I ran out, not wanting this.
But now I am forced to live with this. I am forced to live with the fact that my identity was taken from me by the Ministry of Magic, their government. I spent about seven years in a mental asylum, waiting for release while being trained to think I was a Muggle.
But I am not. I am a wizard. I can do magic. I will show it to you. Please visit my home for an interview.
Longtime reader,
Gilderoy Lockhart
Gilderoy put the map in the envelope, followed by the letter. Then he sealed up the envelope, placing it to the side of the table. He grabbed another sheet of paper, preparing to write to The National Enquirer.
* * *
In New York City on a Friday, reporter Don Vinicci slammed his fist on his desk. The room was loud, filled with smoke. He'd was a published science fiction writer; he didn't need any of this.
At high school reunions, he was the butt of many jokes; after all, his job was a tabloid "reporter." One of his friends was a science advisor to the president; another was an Oscar winner.
This really wasn't fair.
"Donny!" called Jack Harper, the boss. The editor. The head honcho. The man Don hated most.
"What?" Don called, turning from his chair and staring at the ugly, short, bald man. Jack scratched his neck and pulled out a letter from his jacket pocket.
"Here," he said. "Here's a letter we just received. From this guy that claims he is a wizard or something. I find it rather funny, but I dunno if you will."
"Okay, whatever," Don said, grabbing the letter. He was wearing white, matching the blandness that accompanied the "newsroom," where reporters came up with stories.
He ripped up the letter and read it. "My God..." He got up from his chair, screaming "Oh my God!" over and over again. This story was true. He knew it. He had a gut feeling. It was the discovery of a lifetime.
"What?" asked an ugly female reporter with a Bronx accent.
"Nothing," Don said. He wiped the sweat off his receding hairline and began to run through the sweatshop the room was, running over the desks, going the quickest way to Jack Harper's office.
He stepped through the brown door without even slowing down.
"What?" Jack asked.
"I need an airplane ticket to Sydney, Australia. Now!"
* * *
"Come in," said Gilderoy Lockhart to the reporter. He motioned to a small set up with two wooden chairs and a small matching table. "Do sit down."
"Thanks," Don Vinicci said. He took his brimmed hat off and slumped into one of the chairs.
"So," Gilderoy said, "you'd like to interview me? I'd like to make the cover picture. I want to immortalized. I want people in every supermarket to see me."
"Mister Lockhart, perform magic for me," Don said. Gilderoy was shocked. He'd expected this to be one of the final things. Don pulled out a video camera.
"Please, Mister Lockhart. I'm going to record it all on video, if that's okay," Don said.
"Sure, that's fine," Gilderoy said with nervousness. He grabbed the wand he'd stolen in Asthenia a few days ago from under his pillow.
"Lumos," he said. There was light at the end of the wand, rather strong light.
"Wow," Don said, in awe. "How? Oh my God..."
"It's magic. Comes from the heart."
"I see...can I try?"
"I don't think it'll work, but go ahead." The light went out, and Gilderoy handed the wand to Don.
"Lumos," Don said. Nothing happened. He tried again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Nothing happened. It was safe to say that Don was pure Muggle.
"I'll take that," Gilderoy stated, grabbing the wand. Don nodded and pulled a small notebook out of his pocket.
"So...explain just what happened to me," Don ordered Gilderoy. Gilderoy bit his lip, leaning over in his chair.
"You see, I just found this place...I was coming home from work...on the bus...stayed on...saw a place that looked fake...went inside...found a bookstore...discovered my identity...went crazy...quit my job..."
Don nodded.
"Show me this place."
* * *
"This is Asthenia," Gilderoy said, outside in the rain. He pointed at the magnificent welcoming sign. It was probably safe to say Don was the first Muggle to enter the all-wizard city.
"Oh my God..." Don was in awe, staring at the small children jumping through the street, throwing beams of light (which appeared from their wands) at one another.
"Those spells...well, they're simple really," Gilderoy said. "Most children learn them before attending magic school."
"Magic school, eh?" Don asked, intrigued. What a scoop!
Not to mention it was all true.
Of course, the last prank pulled on him was the–ah, never mind.
Don thought of hamsters.
And Mars.
That's all he thought of.
And he, of course, thought of magic.
Back to the subject.
No one seemed to notice the oddly dressed pair.
No one even seemed to care. Gilderoy pulled a robe out of his pocket and slipped it on. The yellow thing fit perfectly.
He pulled out a maroon one and handed it to Don. It fit him as well.
"Autographs!" Gilderoy yelled. "Get your Gilderoy Lockhart books signed by Gilderoy Lockhart himself!"
The boy across the street took notice at the man. That's the fifth guy today!
No one ran to Gilderoy to get their books signed.
It was almost safe to say no one even seemed to care. Gilderoy Lockhart was old and gone...he was forgotten.
He was someone good to do your social studies report on. You'd go all the way to the top with a report on him.
Not that anyone would care.
* * *
A week later.
The Minister of Magic could only stare at the tabloid on the desk. There was Gilderoy Lockhart gracing the front cover.
"WIZARDS STOLE MY IDENTITY!" the cover said.
Cornelius Fudge cursed and threw open his office door. "I want the best men we've got in my office!"
There were murmurs through the hallway...no one knew just what the Minister wanted–there were so many things these days.
Cornelius Fudge sat at his desk and sighed, his head in his hands. Five men stepped into his office, each dressed in dark black Muggle business suits.
"Hello," Gilderoy said. "You are the Five, I presume?"
"Yes, we are the Five," said the tallest. His face was covered in shadow, a result of the window blinds.
The Five were more secret than the Sirs, and they were not officially connected with the Ministry. They were chosen by a private organization, which was owned by a front company for the Sirs. Thus, the Sirs were their connection.
But they were not Sirs. The Sirs were always on call. The Five were used only in emergencies, and they were the top dogs. All were Animagi, so for one it was quite literal and figural.
"Are you Number One?" Fudge asked.
"Yes," the man hidden in the shadows replied. "I am the only one that talks in public."
"I see..." This conversation almost seemed to Fudge like something between him and the Sirs, just he preferred the Five much more. They weren't as arrogant.
But you used the Five only in emergencies.
And if this wasn't an emergency, Cornelius didn't know what one was.
* * *
There was a knock at Gilderoy's door. Gilderoy woke up from his bed, checking his watch. The darned thing was broken.
So was the radio alarm clock.
His entire room was trashed. Ransacked.
"Holy–" he said, interrupted by another knock.
"OPEN THE DOOR YOU AUSSIE PIECE OF TRASH!" yelled a British voice.
"How polite," Gilderoy said. "I'm not even Australian." He yelled that at the man behind the door.
"OPEN THE DOOR ANYWAY!" yelled the man known as Number One–not that Gilderoy knew it.
"Uh, who is it?"
Gilderoy was trying to get dressed; he didn't want a man to see him naked.
Then he saw the masked face hanging in front of the window. And a hand was trying to cover it.
The hand looked pretty hairy.
Gilderoy had forgotten to close the blinds last night.
Oh great, Gilderoy told himself. Now that's just wrong, Number Four thought to himself. Yuck...
Number Four shut his eyes; but the mask was cursed to where he saw everything, even with his eyes shut.
This is one of the rare times I hate being part of the Five.
* * *
"Did you look through the door, guys?" Number One asked Number Three and Two, standing next to him behind the door.
"You're sick, Number One," Number Two told Number One. Only in private by themselves did they refer to each other by their real names.
"It's not my fault he sleeps naked," Number One stated.
"Where's Number Five? Wasn't he just with us?" Number Three asked.
"I think he just threw up."
"Oh."
* * *
The door fell to splinters and collapsed on the floor. Gilderoy had a splinter in his finger, and he was greeted by three men in business suits wearing what appeared to be gas masks.
The television was also on.
"And in other news, The National Enquirer is claiming to also have an interview with Gilderoy Lockhart–" said the reporter on the television, but no one heard it. They were all too busy yelling.
The television was somehow broken in the midst of the confusion. "Who are you?" asked Number One. "Are you Gilderoy Lockhart?"
"I believe the question that should be asked is 'Who are you?' You just don't go busting my door and expect me not to ask who the heck you are!"
"We are the Five, sent by the Ministry–" Number Two began to say, only to be knocked over the head by Number Three. Number One performed a quick memory charm on Gilderoy.
"We're your new landlords. Come with us; we've gotta take you somewhere," Number One said.
"No," Gilderoy stated. He threw an upper cut at Number One's jaw. Number One threw off his mask immediately after Gilderoy's fist collided with his chin.
The blood was all over Gilderoy's hand. Gilderoy examined it with a sense of pride before Number One responded back with a punch.
Number One's face was horribly scarred, with one scar starting at the hairline, then going down the nose, all the way to the upper lip.
Gilderoy kicked him right below the waist, and it appeared that Number One had forgotten about a cup in the morning.
"Oh, G–" Gilderoy slammed the man's head with a glass vase Gilderoy grabbed; it was very clear they were sent to kill him.
By the Ministry.
Number One fell to the floor; it was safe to assume he was pretty much dead, considering his head was bleeding.
Number Two and Number Three attacked Gilderoy at once. Gilderoy ducked, and being as agile as he was, was able to grab a shard of glass. It was about five inches long.
And with one swift motion he rose to Number Two's face, ripped off the mask with his right hand, and shoved the glass in the man's right eye.
"Holy–" Gilderoy stepped on his toe, Number Three fainted, and Number Two screamed in pain.
He also called Gilderoy a very bad name. Gilderoy responded by kicking the man in the stomach and calling it back to him.
Number Two could no longer see out of his right eye. Gilderoy almost smiled.
Then he let in, smiled, and laughed.
* * *
Number Four watched from outside the window, unable to do anything, and hearing the purely evil laugh of Gilderoy Lockhart.
"He's insane."
* * *
Gilderoy Lockhart burned the bodies. He didn't feel evil.
He felt depressed.
Regret was the thing to blame.
"Why?" he asked himself the Monday after. "Why did I do that? It's not right!"
He turned on the television, and on it was his smiling picture. "What the..."
"And in the news is the first ever true story to come from the tabloids, the story of Gilderoy Lockhart and the Ministry of Magic," said the Australian newswoman.
This was a show broadcast all around Australia, Worldwide News.
"Here is footage taken by Don Vinicci, tabloid reporter, of Gilderoy performing magic."
There it was. "Lumos." Gilderoy fell from his chair.
"What have I done?" Gilderoy asked out loud.
* * *
The Ministry have magic had only two surviving members of the Five. The Five was disbanded, and its two remaining members rejoined the Sirs.
The Ministry was beginning to form a plan of attack...
* * *
"Gilderoy, come back to work for us," said the voice on the phone. "You've been gone four months, and you were a real leader. Please come back. I don't care if you are a wizard or whatnot. Heck, it'd probably help us. Top office, top desk, top secretaries. What do ya' say?"
Gilderoy thought for a moment...No, no chance at that...
"Yeah, sure I'll work for you. Give me about a week to get ready."
"Thanks, Gil. Or is it Gilderoy? Or Lennie? I'm confused."
"Don't be, Jon. Gilderoy's my name..."
There was a knock at the door, and Gilderoy abruptly hung up the phone–on accident.
"This is the police! Open up!"
Author's Note: Hey, I hope you liked! It's a bit short - I know - and a bit fast paced- I know, too! - but I think that it's best to have a bit of ambiguity to the thing. Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm very proud of this story.
Also, if you are offended by the violence, TOO BAD. I think it is necessary to show that while this guy is sane a lot, he's insane when provoked. He's an animal on the inside. Besides, I write violence good.
Also, the Golden Toad nominations have begun. You can go vote for Informed (well, I'd like for you to! Best new look perhaps) or any other fic right over there: www.geocities.com/toadawards Well?
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Thanks and bye!