Chapter Ten

Day Two

            "So, what do you think?" Lockhart beamed magnanimously, sweeping his arm out in a gesture that encompassed the entire room.  The tiny green plates of light metal that adorned his rather unusual robe glittered and clattered together jarringly.  Ron and Hermione glanced uneasily at each other.

            "Of what?" Hermione inquired suspiciously.

            "The room, of course!" Lockhart grinned widely, and they winced as the light reflected blindingly from his teeth.  Averting their eyes, Ron and Hermione looked over the airy stone room.  It was empty save a stirring of cobwebs dusting the corners, and a magenta curtain that fluttered behind Lockhart, clashing violently with his emerald robes.

            "It's, uh, really nice..."

            Lockhart nodded and rocked back on his heels, smile set firmly in place as he scanned the room.  "This," he announced with pride, "is my mind."

            Silence greeted this sudden declaration. 

            "Oh, of course, this isn't the natural state of it all!  I just thought that it would be nice to have a little tower set out for you.  Muggles really do like these types of things, don't they?  I personally think it's terribly inconvenient, and drafty at that."

            Recovering quickly from his shock, Ron choked out, "Wait!!  Hold on- This... this is all inside your mind??  We're in your head?!"

            "Correct," Lockhart beamed, teeth flashing once more.  "Rather interesting spell Severus set up in the Astronomy Tower back in the school.  Made the doorway a mental portkey, of sorts.  But would you mind terribly if I changed my mind back to the way it was before?  No?  Lovely."

            Before Hermione or Ron had a chance to react, there was a sharp blast of light that seared through their eyelids, blinding them completely.  Just as suddenly it cleared, leaving them dizzy and disoriented.  Hermione shook her head violently, clearing the spots from her eyes.  She immediately wished she hadn't.

            The room was exactly the same, save the new (though not improved) papering of the walls.  Thousands upon thousands of smirking Lockharts winked down at them from the walls, preening, gazing adoringly into mirrors, adjusting their robes.  All of them were signed.  Even the curtain behind Lockhart was no longer noticeably red- every square inch of it was pinned with a photograph of him. 

            Hermione emitted a small scream and covered her face with her hands.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

April 6th, Thursday

            Okay, I guess I'm starting a diary.  Actually, scratch that- I'll call it a 'log.'  That way I can cling onto some of the last shreds of my dignity.  Which would be helpful, since Dignity and I don't seem to be on speaking terms any more. 

            So, reader, whoever you may be, you are probably wondering why there is a log scrawled in the margins of "The Happy Warlock's Guide to Radishes and Turnips."  I will tell you why.  I am Cinderella.  Don't believe me?  Ha!  Ha!  Actually, if you are reading this, there is a fifty percent chance that you don't even know who Cinderella is anyway, so never mind.

            Wow, I'm rambling.  I guess that's what happens when you've been running around a kitchen for six hours straight, stacking and pouring and mixing and dicing.  I swear, if I see another potato I will go berserk.  That's a fun word.  Berserk. 

            The room is spinning around me.  Is that a bad sign?  If Malfoy sees me like this, he'll never let it go.  Oh, wait, we have a truce going on, don't we?  I forgot about that.  It's weird seeing that in writing: 'Malfoy' and 'truce' in the same few sentences.  We've had pretty strained relations for the past few days.  I keep wanting to mess up his hair (still perfectly gelled, damn him) or grow warts on his nose or something, just so things won't be so tense.  But it's just silence, when I bring him his food.  He'll look at me, like he's about to say something, then just shovel all that food in.

            Food.  Foooood.  Another very, very nice word.  Even The Happy Warlock's Radish Stew is starting to look good now.  When was the last time I ate?  I think I had some porridge or something for breakfast, but I can't really remember.  Having all this mouth-watering stuff cooked around me isn't helping matters much, either.  And the elves won't let me have anything.  Since when were they such slave drivers?  They were so concerned about my welfare when I first woke up here, but now they're just this sea of tiny tyrants.  Trevor's actually been a big help, hopping around and stealing bits of bread for me.  He won't stop croaking 'Gus Gus,' though. 

            Speaking of tyrants: Crabbe and Goyle paid a visit.  I now have very substantial black and blue proof that there still is quite a bit of muscle under all that lace.  Ouch.

            I wonder what Hermione and Ron are up to now?  I would be concerned about their welfare, but I somehow doubt their curse, if they have one, can be much more hellish than this.

~*~*~*~*~*~

            "So gorgeous it hurts, I know," Lockhart said smoothly as Hermione continued to moan in pain.  Several photographs on their right nodded along in agreement.  Ron put a reassuring hand on Hermione's elbow.  "Now, could we get this business over with?  I made a deal with Snape that if I finished with the two of you in 48 hours I would permanently have my memory back."

            "Get what over with?" Ron inquired suspiciously, raising his sword and taking a step towards the smirking celebrity.

            "You dying, of course," Lockhart said very slowly, as if he was talking to very small children or the mentally impaired.  He reached into his robes.

           Ron immediately dropped his sword and burst into laughter.  "You kill us?" he howled, "Professor, no offense meant, but you wouldn't be able to Transfigure yourself out of a matchbox."

            Lockhart's eyes darkened.  "Perhaps not," he said softly, "but I can do this."

            With that, he wrenched a small vial from an inner pocket in his scaly green robes and downed the white fluid inside in one gulp. 

            "Very impressive," said Ron flatly, not at all impressed.

            "Wait, Ron!" Hermione gasped, grabbing his sleeve, "I think that's the Lumixos potion, Snape must have made it for him- it's..."

            She was cut off as Lockhart smashed the vial to the floor, lips pursed tightly shut.  Hermione noticed with growing apprehension that each photographic Lockhart was staring at them, their mouths tightly closed as well.  Suddenly, they smiled. 

            Ron and Hermione barely had time to register the searing bolts of light reflecting from their teeth before the light hit them.  They doubled over in pain, Ron's head smacking into stone floor as he fell.  It burned, pressing into their skin like a physical force, sending waves of firey pain pounding through them.  Hermione opened her mouth to scream, but the sound was drowned out by the roar of light echoing in her ears.  Dizzy and nauseous, they slumped against the floor, twisting painfully as the light swallowed them. 

            We're getting fried to death by Lockhart's teeth!  Hermione registered as she felt her skin begin to blister.  That is not what I want on my obituary!

            This thought gave her a new sense of determination.  Shakily, despite the raw welts spreading over her arms, she pushed herself to her knees.  Clutching her wand tightly in her hand, she hastily ran a series of spells through her mind, but the light made her dizzy and her thoughts swam.        

            I can't do this! she thought frantically as bright bursts of white pressed through her tightly closed eyelids.  I... I can't think of anything to stop this!        

            Suddenly, through the blur of light to her left, she heard a weak, muffled shout of "Sootrificus!"

            The light stopped.

            Hermione choked and fell to the ground. 

            A strange, ashy substance smothered her skin and tickled her nose.  She sneezed loudly and shook her head, attempting to clear the ringing sound from her ears.  Carefully wiping whatever it was that was covering her face away, she blinked through the sudden dimness.

            Everything was dark.  Hermione could barely make out the stiff, frozen form of Lockhart before them.  He let out a slow, muffled scream like a dying toad and suddenly sank to the floor, clawing at his teeth.  "What have you done?" he wailed, "My... my perfect, pearly white, Colgate freshened teeth!!"

            Hermione raised her eyebrows and grinned.  "Sootrificus, huh?"

            Ron snickered.  "I've always wanted to do that."

            Everything in the room was covered in a fine layer of soot.  Every single Lockhart photo was completely plastered over, and their muffled protests were quickly picking up in volume as they realized what exactly had been done to their flawless complexions.  The real Lockhart was now clawing at his face like an animal, the soot streaking messily all over his face.  Beneath the ashy coating on his teeth, a light began to flicker dangerously.  His eyes flashed maniacally as he suddenly straightened and lunged at them.

            "You little brats, I'LL MAKE YOU PA-"

            "Stupefy!"

            Lockhart slumped gracelessly to the ground, stirring up a thick cloud of soot as he fell.  Coughing, Hermione lowered her wand and sighed remorsefully.  "We should have done that the moment we stepped in here."

            With another sigh and a few flicks of her wand, Hermione bound up the now unconscious professor and cleared the room of soot.  The two of them spent the next few minutes stacking up pictures and hurling them out the window.  When the last wailing, dirt-smudged Lockhart fluttered slowly out of sight, Ron and Hermione turned back to the room.

            "So," said Ron, brow creased as he frowned, "do we just leave him there?"  He nudged Lockhart's prone form with his sneaker. 

            "I suppose.  He should remain unconscious for another twenty minutes or so.  In that time frame, I'm sure we can find..." Hermione's voice faltered and broke off.  She glanced uneasily at Ron.  Ron's ears flushed bright red and his next foot-nudge was slightly harder than the first, sending the ex-professor sprawling flat on his face.

            "Well," he said dismally, "we might as well get this over with."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ginny's List

            *Gryffindor: ruled out.  All kissed.  Plus, unconscious.

            *Hufflepuff: several work with N. in Herbology- potential here: Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, Marjorie Dillon.  Also, Kittie Lanthon, but third year, eww.  Must set out pictures of these 3 for N., watch for blushing.

            *Ravenclaw: mostly disinterested.  Females only talk to N. if want to experiment on toad.  (Side note: where is that toad?) Potential: Lisa Turpin?  Seems shy.  Will force N. upon her in library.

            *Slytherin: ha! ha! ha!

                        (if desperate: Millicent Bulstrode.)       

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            Ron yanked the magenta curtain aside.  The pair blinked down the long, dark corridor that was revealed to them, winding out of sight into the wall.  "You're sure this is the only place they could be?" he asked, sticking his head into the dimness of the hall.  "It doesn't seem like it really leads anywhere."

           "Well, where else would they be?" Hermione asked impatiently, brushing past him and marching into the passageway.  Her voice echoed as she went deeper, and Ron jogged to catch up to her receding form.  "Unless they were hiding under the flagstones in that giant foyer downstairs, we would have seen them on the way up here."

            Affronted by the tone of her voice, Ron sank into a sullen silence.  He was, in fact, so irritated that he considered not telling her when he suddenly walked into a door handle sticking out of the right wall, but his pained 'oof' made that decision for him.

            "What's this?" asked Hermione interestedly, backing up a few steps to stare at the door in the wall. 

            "What's it look like?" Ron snapped, rubbing his bruised side and slumping against the wall.  Hermione gave him a very lofty look, then ignored him, giving the handle a sharp twist.

            "OW!  Watch it, kid!" the handle shrieked, and the pair stumbled back in shock.  Ron's sword clattered loudly to the floor.  The handle, suddenly looking very bulbous and nose-like, twitched, and two slanted eyes blinked up at them over its rim.  "Whatsa matter, never seen a talking door handle before?"

            They chose not to answer this question.

            Hermione cautiously made her way back over to the handle, her hand still resting over her wildly thundering heart in a steadying gesture.  Ron, scrambling to recover his sword, quickly followed suit. 

            "I'm sorry if I injured you," Hermione said hesitantly, bending so that she was face to face with the lump of brass.  "Would you mind opening this door?  We have reason to believe that some friends of ours may be behind it."

            The handle's eyes narrowed further.  "Sorry, missy, no can do.  Was told by the boss not to let anyone in, or out."

            "'The boss'?" asked Ron, brow furrowed.  "Lockhart or Snape?"

            "The blonde guy.  I am a figment of his mind, y'know, so he's boss.  Technically, you two are figments of his mind, too."

            Hermione made an offended noise in the back of her through, and Ron turned purple.  The handle charged on, heedless.  "He's conked out, though, isn't he?  Can't feel his mojo buzzing around in the air.  So that means this whole setup is ownerless.  If you kids set your minds to it, y'might be able to bend some of the rules.  Otherwise, you ain't getting into this room."   

            A thoughtful look crossed Hermione's face as she thanked the handle, then turned, dragging Ron back to the entryway.

            Ron shook his head and sighed.  "This just keeps getting weirder and weirder."

            Hermione shrugged.  "What did you expect?  This is Lockhart's mind we're in, after all."

            "Good point.  But what are we going to do?  Did you understand half of what that handle was saying?"

            By this point, they had reached the curtain.  They pushed past it, into the light, and paused to clear their eyes.  Lockhart groaned and shifted at their feet.  Hermione re-Stupefied him.

            "I think I understand some of it," she said slowly as she slumped to the ground, her back against the wall.  Ron lowered himself beside her, and without thinking, she dropped her head tiredly onto his shoulder, not noticing when he stiffened.  "Mind magic is tricky," she continued, "and I've never fully comprehended it.  But from what I could make out, it seems that all these things created by Lockhart's mind don't flicker out of being when he's knocked out; they just stop being part of him.  They just become normal things, made of mind matter.  This mind matter can be manipulated, with a great deal of effort, by outside forces if its owner is unconscious."

            "So, in order to get to Seamus and Lavender, we have to somehow get rid of that door."

            "No, I don't think it works that way," Hermione said slowly, "you can't just get rid of mind matter; the Conservation of Mass applies in this situation.  I think we have to alter the rules Lockhart's set up in his mind, instead of the bits of mind matter."

            "All right, then, so we change the rules so that the door knob lets us and not Lockhart?"

            "I suppose... it's worth a shot.  Let's just try to picture the door knob opening the door for us."

            The pair squeezed their eyes shut, foreheads wrinkling as they pulled the image of the door handle into their minds.  They sat in tension for what must have been five minutes, the silence stifling as they pictured the door opening, over and over. 

            Ron was growing bored.  It became a pattern, flickering against the insides of his eyelids: open, shut.  Open, shut.  Open, shut.  He began to hum a Twisted Sister song under his breath to go with the beat.  Hermione flinched in surprise when he began unconsciously tapping out the rhythm on her knee.  "Ron!" she hissed, "Concentrate!"

            Sullenly, he obeyed, the song fading from his mind as he went back to the image of the door.  Open, shut.  There was a faint thumping sound to his left and a murmur of Stupefy! as Hermione idly knocked out their ex-professor once more.  Open, shut.

            The wall was pressing painfully into his back, and Hermione's hair was tickling his nose.  He couldn't help but be distracted as she nestled further into his neck, her steady warmth pressing into his side.  He had a sudden urge to wrap his arms around her, but he quickly pushed it aside.  Open, shut.

            The door in his mind shut one last time, and he drifted into sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Father:

            I have received the letter, pen, parchment, and ink you've sent me via Flash, and am very grateful.  But would you please check on Flash's left wing?  If you haven't already noticed, the school seems to have damaged it in when he was trying to get in through the window.  

            The past few days have been a dreadful bore.  You would be pleased to know that I've been keeping Potter on his toes: Snape has assigned him to be my personal slave, and he has been personally delivering my meals every day since this has started.  Also, I seem to have cowed him into submission; he no longer goads me or tries to start fights.

            I am (*various words heavily scratched out here*) doing fine.  Snape has neglected to curse me, or any other members of the Slytherin House.  You needn't worry about me; studies have slacked off considerably, but we are managing ourselves well.  I'm sure you would rather be back at the Manor right now. 

            Send Mother my regards. 

Your Son,

Draco Malfoy

P.S.  I could do with some extra hair gel.  I seem to have lost mine.

~*~*~*~*~*~

TBC

Fairytale Count:

            * Alice in Wonderland (talking door knob)

            * Mary Poppins (not really a fairytale, I know, and not really mentioned, but the whole soot thing was inspired by 'Chim-chimeny')

Thanks so much to all of you who told me about Baba Yaga- I never would have been able to remember otherwise.  And once again, a million thanks to all reviewers!  You have all been the greatest encouragement.  Hugs to all.