Informed
Chapter 5: The End of A Crisis
"The police?" Gilderoy said.
His day was going horrible.
"Yes, this is the police; but we can't show you our badge unless you open the bloody door!"
Gilderoy apparated away to the street.
* * *
There was a cold rain outside; it felt like hail as a matter of fact. Cars went up and down the street, and the wind blew a harsh chill right into Gilderoy's face.
"Taxi!" Gilderoy yelled. "Taxi, taxi!"
The taxi stopped on the curb, spewing water on Gilderoy's clothes. Gilderoy stepped in and shut the door quickly.
"GET THE HECK OUT OF HERE!"
"Yes, Sir, blonde-haired man." The driver slammed the gas pedal, and Gilderoy was thrust back in his seat.
"Whoa, you don't gotta go that fast!" Gilderoy said as they rounded the corner, heading into the heart of Sydney.
* * *
The door fell on the ground, and three policemen appeared in the door frame.
"Dang it, he ain't here," said the tallest. Almost at once, they changed in physical appearance.
To wizards.
"Search the apartment," said the head, who had just spoken a moment ago. His name was Sam Raimi.
He was a Sir.
"Okay, Tim, I want you to go down to the street, chase that bloody idiot as far as you can. Killing him would be wonderful. We'll search his room."
"Aye, Sam." And with that, Tim Robbins ran out the room.
Sam Raimi was a tall, wiry man with a thick beard and thin-framed glasses. His cloak was a dark black, as was his wand. His current companion, Leonard Nimoy, was a short stocky man with red hair and green eyes.
"Leonard, go search the kitchen. Maybe he's got some kind of plan of action or something..."
* * *
There was a bum on the street, walking in front of the cab. The cabbie made a sharp left turn, struggling to avoid the bum.
But the bum jumped on top of the taxi. "What the–" said the driver aloud.
He slammed on the brakes; and Gilderoy was thrust forward, glad he was wearing a seatbelt. The cabbie threw his door open and walked on top of the car.
"Get off my car, you little bloody–" There was abrupt silence as Gilderoy saw the cabbie's body fall to the ground. Gilderoy jumped to the front seat and slammed the front door closed. He put on his seatbelt and stepped on the gas.
The bum fell of the car, hit the street, and then was run over by a Volkswagen Jetta.
Gilderoy rounded the corner, only to hear someone call the word "taxi."
* * *
"I think he did this all from off the top of his head," Sam said after thirty minutes of searching. "He's not even obsessed with himself at all!"
"You're right," Leonard said. "But maybe we should go on foot and catch Gilderoy."
"Well, get ready for the run, my main man. It's gonna be a long one."
* * *
"Downtown Sydney, the Koala Building please," said the Aussie Gilderoy had the pleasure of driving.
"Will do," Gilderoy said. Where is the Koala Building? Maybe I should just kill this guy and get myself into even more trouble...no, can't do that...I'll just ask for directions...no, that's wrong...what–
"Do you need directions?" the man in the back asked. " 'Cause I can give them to you if you need them."
"Oh no, that's okay. I'm perfectly fine," Gilderoy said seconds before running into a Ford Taurus.
His passenger was not wearing a seatbelt, and was subsequently killed upon impact. Gilderoy managed to apparate away.
* * *
At the foot of the apartment building, agents Nimoy and Raimi loaded their guns. They were also very much invisible.
"I've got a location lock on him," Nimoy stated. Nimoy was now much taller and skinnier.
"Good, now let's apparate away..."
* * *
Gilderoy Lockhart sat in a Burger King, not half as greasy as the McDonald's.
"A Whopper, please," he ordered.
"Would you like a combo?" asked the woman behind the counter.
"Yes," Gilderoy said with calmness.
He paid for his meal, took it, and ate with as much calmness as he could muster.
Then a man flew through the glass of a window to Gilderoy's right, landing on the table of a booth. The booth was covered in blood as was a man's hamburger.
There were screams everywhere.
Gilderoy casually walked away before a man holding a gun began to shoot.
* * *
"Here's your ticket, Sir. Houston, Texas, USA, right?"
"Yes, thank you." Gilderoy grabbed the airplane ticket and rushed to the bathroom. There had been such a frantic pace to his life right now he hadn't had time to use the restroom.
* * *
"Where is he now?" asked Sam Raimi to Leonard Nimoy. Leonard shrugged.
"He's doing something to avoid the spell. I can't figure it out. God, he's too smart for us," Leonard stated.
Leonard punched Gilderoy's mattress. They had a job: to kill Gilderoy Lockhart. They were going to get fired and blacklisted from future Ministry jobs if they didn't find him.
More than the future of the wizard world was at stake here.
"I've got a lock. No wonder we couldn't find him..."
* * *
All stalls were taken. Every single thing, even the little things you stood up for and answered Nature in were taken.
Gilderoy really had to go.
Then a stall opened.
And Gilderoy recognized the man who had just done his business.
He ran out the door.
* * *
I don't think I'll be going to meet her... Gilderoy surveyed his surroundings, trying to come up with an escape plan.
He ran back to the ticket counter.
"Refund my ticket now!" he yelled after skipping the entire line. The attendant smiled pleasantly.
"You're going to have to wait in line, Sir."
"MY NAME IS GILDEROY LOCKHART, I'M BEING CHASED BY TWO MEN WITH GUNS TRYING TO KILL ME, AND I WANT MY MONEY BACK! Is that too much to ask?"
"It says on here your name is Lennie Gil," the attendant said.
"Okay, tell me this: do I look like Gilderoy Lockhart? Do I sound like him?"
"Yes, Sir, you do."
"Then refund my stupid ticket!" Gilderoy demanded, banging his fist on the counter.
"You'll have to wait in line, Sir."
Screw it, thought Gilderoy. He ran out the automatic doors.
Moments later, two men with guns were running into the very area Gilderoy had just exited.
* * *
Gilderoy knew his time was running out. In a few minutes, he knew the Ministry would catch up with him.
He got on a bus as calmly as possible, paying the fare as calmly as possible, and sitting as calmly as possible.
No faces were attracted to his presence. No matter how famous he was now, he was not a well-known face.
"Hi," Gilderoy said to the woman sitting next to him as he sat down in his seat.
"Hello," she said with an Australian accent. "Oh my God, you're–"
"Don't tell please," Gilderoy ordered, putting a hand over her mouth. "I'm having a bit of trouble."
"Oh, don't worry, I got a gun," the woman said.
"What?" Gilderoy asked, appalled. "This is a freaking airport!"
"Oh shut up, if you were an MI6 agent you'd have one, too," she said with a British accent.
The woman's body suddenly changed into that of a man with a black cloak.
It was a Sir.
Gilderoy ran. The Sir pulled out a gun and laughed. All over the bus, people began to scream. Gilderoy tried to apparate, but he couldn't. There were apparation nets set up around the bus.
"Shoot," Gilderoy said as he saw the trigger being pulled.
And suddenly, everything stopped.
The world spun around Gilderoy. A soft chorus began to play in his ears. There were bright flashes of light everywhere.
He could see himself getting born...from his own viewpoint...his first day at school...breaking his arm...his first published book...the Chamber of Secrets...jumping out of a window in an asylum...everything from his life...it was all there...in his mind...
His life flashing past him took only about three seconds.
Then he had to face reality. He heard a gunshot. It echoed in his ears repeatedly as he stood there. There was nothing he could do. Nothing at all.
People around him stared, opened their mouths and said things. But all Gilderoy could hear was the gunshot...and a soft angelic chorus growing louder and louder...
And then he saw her. Felicia...she was waving to him. "Goodbye," she said. It was a beautiful sound, and it joined the sounds in his ear...repeating...
Goodbye, my love, he thought as he was hit in the chest. He fell to the ground, clutching his heart.
He felt his heart beating...it was slowing down all too quickly...he didn't want to go...he wasn't going to harm anyone anymore...this thing that had happened...it was just a misunderstanding...it was just revenge...a temper tantrum...
But yet it felt good. He felt as if he had done good. Was it revenge? He thought for a moment as everything slowed down...the movements of people on the bus were slower and slower...
Goodbye, my love...
* * *
"Don't move, or I'll shoot you all!" said the Sir on the bus. People were eerily silenced after seeing the death of the man who had shown wizards to Muggles.
"I am with the Ministry of Magic! My name is Joe. Just Joe," said the man, whose Sir name was Sam Raimi.
Of course, some Muggles would see the connection; so he had to change his name.
Sam vaporized the body with a flick of his wand. It was gone forever, not to even receive a burial.
"Stare at my wand, or I kill you all."
* * *
Orson Welles smiled to himself. He was, of course, the head Sir. The top dog.
No matter how much the Minister didn't want it, Orson Welles's Sirs had just stopped Gilderoy Lockhart.
Now there was the question of cleanup. Orson needed the budget.
He opened the door, catching the Minister making out with a woman. Surprise, surprise...thought Orson.
"Hi, I'm Monica," said the slightly overweight woman. They ceased what they were doing.
"Hi, Monica, I'm Orson. Give me a ring whenever you want."
Monica smiled and left. Apparently she and Cornelius hadn't even got past first base.
Not that Orson knew anything about baseball. He was, after all, very British.
"Minister Fudge, did I catch you at the wrong time?" Orson asked as Monica closed the door.
"Of course not. I was discussing the budget surplus."
"And what I just saw was?" Orson asked, smiling.
"A dare," Orson responded quickly. And with confidence.
"Do you get dared like that all the time?" Orson asked.
"Of course not. This was the first time."
The first...hmm...maybe I should go public...
"Well, we need a big budget to do the cleanup work, now that Gilderoy Lockhart is dead," Orson said, smiling. "Apparently I can do more than take up space and yell at you. I do run the Sirs."
"You Sirs are mavericks. I specifically specified bringing him back here for questioning!" Cornelius yelled. He reached across the desk and slapped Orson in the face.
"Cornelius," Orson began, "what the heck was that for? The man is insane! He killed over half of the Five!"
"I do not care! Just–"
"His thought pattern is not correct. He is a threat to Ministry security. We had no choice. Sam Raimi shot him. Don't blame me, blame him!"
"You ordered it, Welles."
"Okay, I come in here to ask for a budget increase and get this! All I want is enough money to fund the idea we've got! Otherwise, we'll pretty much have to go from house to house to delete the minds of the world!"
"Okay," Fudge said. "Let me hear your idea..." I hate Pureblood Party members, Fudge thought. All they want is money...
* * *
All across the world, people logged onto their computers or turned on the television.
Only one thing was on their televisions. They could only get on one website, and they were being treated to streaming video. (A very fast connection.) There was a man's smiling face on the screen. He was dressed sharply.
He was dressed sharply for a Muggle. To wizards the man's name was Orson Welles. To Muggles, he was unknown.
"Hi," the man said. "I'm sure you're trying to find something else to do. There is literally, just one thing on. The world is glued to the media, and I figured this would be the best way to address you.
"Hey, you're even pretty much glued to your seats." The people quite literally were.
All over the world, one man spoke in hundreds of languages. He even appeared in the sky. It was almost as if he was God.
Some people believed he was.
"Most of you know about Gilderoy Lockhart, the greatest liar on Earth." All over the world, people screamed. How could this man be the greatest liar on Earth?
"Yes, I know you are all very mad. But it is true. Gilderoy Lockhart continually lied...deleted people's memories...all for the sake of fame. Yes, it's true. He was the Tom Cruise of wizards."
What a reference, Orson thought to himself.
"His face was instantly recognizable...his books published as nonfiction, when they really were fiction. He was also like Tom Clancy, if you wanna say that." Lots of Toms...
"But I am here to address one problem: the wizard world and the Muggle world are not one. 'Now who are Muggles?' you ask. Well, you are Muggles. Yes, you the viewer.
"The wizard world–at least most of it–does not want to do with your world. Sure, we've got our fair share of problems, but I have a feeling that in the future you will not even know what you want...you won't be able to elect the president of the United States! That is my prophecy.
"Not that you'll be able to remember any of this monologue. Yes, you won't remember any of it.
"None. Zippo. Nada. Absolute zero. Zero percent. Yes, you won't remember any of this.
"Have I told you enough yet? The suspense is building, and I know all of the world is wondering 'Will this give me cancer?' No, it won't. It has no apparent side effects beside erasing your mind.
"And that's not much of a side effect.
"So, good Muggle people of Earth, I, Orson Welles, tell you to stare at my stick. The one I'm holing in the air. The black one. The one in front of me. Yes, that is how you do it..."
Orson's heart was racing. No one had ever tried a mass memory charm like this.
He muttered the spell under his breath, and all over the world people's memories were being replaced according to region.
Orson had succeeded.
It was the end of a crisis.
* * *
Felicia Alberta awoke from her dream. She was in no Ministry holding cell; she never had been. But it had been in her dream.
But what were dreams? What was reality? She could feel Gilderoy's mind...as it began to turn evil...it was a bond between them...a bond of love...
Felicia was living in America now. She was a doctor. In Seattle, Washington. She had left the Ministry.
But even if she loved the man, she couldn't feel too sure about his feelings. Violence was what he had been resorting to.
She had felt his death. And no matter how much she loved him, she thought it was fitting.
If you are going to cause pain, you might as well go down with it.
* * *
That evening, no one mourned Gilderoy Lockhart. No one could really care less. It was a sad, horrible thing for some; but he was all but forgotten.
One man once said good will always conquer evil. However, did good conquer evil? Who was good? Who was evil?
The world has completely split over everything. And as a great wise man once said, one day we may not be able to choose the leader of the free world.
Good and evil will always fight. But only one will triumph...
Author's Note: I'm done! Cheer, the few that read! I wonder if this was good or not...uh I had to comment on the state of the election at 10:00 CST, Tuesday, November 8, 2000. It's just weird.
Anyway, was this final chapter worth the wait? I'd like to know...I'm very tired, too...so no long author's note here.
Until next time...