The door to the faculty room swung open and Professor Lockhart glided in attempting to make an entrance, we all ignored him. Undeterred, he cleared his throat loudly.
"I have an announcement to make."
Obviously.
As usual, the git wouldn't look me in the eyes. As Snape would say, never underestimate an opponent who won't meet your eyes. "I've spoken with Dumbledore and have been given permission to re-form the Hogwarts dueling club."
His announcement was met with stunned silence. Flitwich and I exchanged a look of disgust. But it was Snape who bore the brunt of his idiocy this time. "Professor Snape, I wonder if you would be so generous with your time to participate as my first assistant, you might be a bit rusty with your wand work but I'll go easy on you?"
I had to stifle laughter at this suggestion. Flitwich was less successful.
"Of course Gilderoy. I'd be honored to help you in this endeavor." Lockhart clicked his heals and glided out with a flurry and a swish of his cloak, totally missing the sarcasm and scorn dripping from Snape's every word and the mocking way he bowed Lockhart out the door.
"Severus, you're not planning on really hurting him, are you?" McGonnagal was the first to speak up, voicing nothing but concern. "I wonder why he asked you and not one the rest of us."
"Probably thinks as a potions expert I'd be the easiest opponent." But the smile on his face said it all; yes, he did want to hurt the little peacock. Lockhart vs. Former Death Eater?
I'd have to figure out a way to see this.
"I'm putting 2 gallians on Snape landing peacock on the floor with one spell. Any takers?" We looked at Professor Vector who had spoken, and at McGonnagal, handing over a couple of gallians- and was grinning like a cat with her paws in the cream.
Snape and I spent considerable time as dueling opponents out in the broom shed. Most of the faculty who were in the Order did; including Dumbledore and McGonnagal. Snape originally approached me to oppose him to help keep his Occlemancy under control, and to reprogram the Death Eater reflex to kill or crucio an opponent who was winning.
The first year of these matches were done in tandem with Professor Dumbeldore who would cast legemancy spells at random intervals just to throw him off. There were a few close calls in the beginning, but these days it was a challenge to keep each other on our toes even without the Unforgivable curses.
July 1993, right before Harry Arrives in Diagon Alley, in POA"Any new books for me?"
I'm enjoying a rare lazy 3-day weekend, and after cleaning and catching up on the bills, paperwork, and laundry and assorted housework I decided to visit Diagon Alley for a day out. After randomly browsing the shelves of Flourish & Blotts, I stepped up to the counter to ask if any were books on my 'Eagle-Eye-Watch.' (Eagle-Eye-Watch, regular customers can pay 7-sickles for the bookstore to hold one copy of any books by a specific author or on a specific topic.)
"Two, actually." Said the clerk smiling, I recognized him, but couldn't place his name. "One of your listed authors put out another book on vintage broomsticks, and Lockhart has re-released his book on Dueling." I groaned quietly, rolling my eyes at the mention of THAT name.
"Not a Lockhart fan?" The clerk asked curiously.
"No, I am not. Can you write on my account to not hold any Lockhart books? I know they're popular with your other customers, and I'll never buy any." I couldn't help adding quietly, "They're hopelessly self-grandiose and contain no real information."
The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow at me, and returned the book to the best-sellers shelf. Sometimes I marvel how enamored the general populace still is with the git, even with amnesia.
I pay for the book on broomsticks, and spontaneously decide to stop at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor for a gelato. It's a beautiful early summer day, so I sit outside at one of umbrella tables. As I watch the other passer-by on the streets, my mind wanders back to my first ever encounter with M'seur Gilderoy Lockhart.
(1988)
It was about six years ago, at a dueling conference in Dublin. I was speaking to an old mentor and trainer from my dueling club about some of the advanced duelists I'd been training with, when Lockhart interrupted us. I recognized him immediately from various magazine covers. I suppose I should have been flattered that he stopped at our table but I was too annoyed for the interruption and that he would not stop talking.
After five minutes of incessant babbling, he finally got to the point. He made a VERY condescending offer to help "improve" my dueling skills, in a private session with "his truly." I gave him a look that said, 'just try it.'
My teacher was trying hard to keep a straight face.
I graciously, but with much sarcasm accepted his offer. And before he could take another breath, I picked up my dueling jacket, and pulled him along to the first open dueling platform I could spot. I flashed my Club ID at the announcer-attendee, claimed the next open-dueling round, gave our names to the announcer, and walked to my place on the stage. Lockhart, stunned at this turn of events, walked to his place as the duel was announced and a crowd gathered.
"3 rounds- Advanced, to disarm or disable opponent." He looked horrified.
As I was the challenger, first cast went to him. We faced off, saluted, turned and paced the required 5 steps, and took our stances. After a few flourishes he finally cast. I still have no idea what he cast, but it was easily grounded, I shot back a stumbling spell, which connected soundly. He fell backwards, dropping his wand.
"Round 1, winner- Lory Finnigan, Instructor, Crosswinds Dueling Club." I could hear the applause, but I was focused on the next round. Honorably, I waited for him to regain his feet and return to stance.
My spell was cast first. I threw a partial-body bind against him, which to both our surprise he successfully blocked. He cast a disarming spell at me. I deflected, and countered with the tickling spell. He deflected it, into the audience hitting a spectator. This was getting amusing. He cast jelly-legs at me, easily reflected back at him, and he again lost his balance but managed not to lose his wand. I could see he was getting angry. He cast a second spell out of turn, and threw a transfiguration spell at me. I cast finite incantatum, and threw a blast of energy at him with a "get out of my way" spell. He fell over, stunned and unable to continue the duel.
I heard the audience cheering for the victory.
Taking a bow, I re-sheathed my wand, and went to shake hands with Lockhart according to form. He was already in the midst of a circle of sympathizers who were all throwing me dark-glances.
"Excellent work, Lory!" My old-teacher approached. "That extra work you've been spending on fast-casting has really paid off! Let's go join Lacy and Ferdinand for a butterbeer, my treat!" As he leads the way to the food sellers, he leans over to me and said quietly, "Watch your back, I think he may try something."
He wasn't wrong.
As I was leaving the convention two days later, after leaving my report with security, Lockhart (amazingly alone for once) confronted me in an empty hallway.
"You're quite a duelist, I've been watching you in the tournament."
"So they say." I reply non-committal. I didn't win, but I did receive special recognition for form and honorable dueling. It had been a good event.
"Where did you learn?" He asked, looking interested.
"School dueling clubs, work, and I've been a member of the Crosswinds Dueling Club for a good few years now." I wondered where this conversation was going.
"So you're very well learned then. My apologies for my earlier comments. It seems rather, that you could teach me a thing or two." He bowed, and walked on down the hallway. I finish locking my room, turning away from him. I heard his footsteps stop, and before I could look up, I heard him yell, "OBLIVIATE!"
Only years of training at work allowed me to dodge that spell by rolling out of the way, and casting reducto at the same time wand-less. It was still a close call. Lockhart had cast it with no warning, at full strength, at relatively close range. I pulled my wand while still in the tumble roll and came up quick-casting.
"ACCIO Wand!"
"OB-"his wand was out of his hand before he could finish the word. I catch his wand in my free hand and cast the leg-locker curse on him before he could turn to run.
"Nice, very honorable." I was dripping sarcasm. "I should snap your wand right here you crazy git." He flinched and started babbling excuses. I snapped at him telling him to shut up.
"I have no witnesses or proof that you tried to mind-wipe me, which I'm sure you planned. But you EVER try that again on anyone, and I catch you at it, I will challenge you before I drag you to the aurors and this time I will NOT use the stupid baby-spells I cast today. Do I make myself clear?" He nodded mutely.
I released him and returned his wand. Without a word, and with a swish of cape, he glided away.
I sigh and finish the last of my ice cream. Well, he finally got his. Apparently while trying to curse Harry Potter and his friend Ron last year. I still have to smile at that. I remember on his case file that the auror who investigated him decided that justice had been served. As Lockhart is still in Mungo's, I couldn't agree more. I leave the parlor and head over to Quality Quidditch Supplies. There's a new broomstick display going up, curious I look closer.
"Thinking about actually purchasing a new broom?" It's an old joke between the shopkeeper and I.
"Now, Harold, you know I won't sit on a broom younger then 30 years!" I say laughing.
"Well, lets see what you think of this years newest racing model, just in this week. Finally replacing out those Nimbus brooms you despised so much." He quirked a smile at me. Debating the various qualities of racing brooms (or lack there-of) over mulled-mead and tea has filled many an afternoon for both of us. He knows my hobby is to find the oldest broken down racing brooms I can find and restore them to working order. He actually sells my brooms on consignment in his shop.
"I just think that the odd-numbered Nimbus' are best left as trees, that's all. I never said I despised them." In my line of work, it's good to have hobbies. Some day when I'm ready to settle down, I hope to retire to my teaching and coaching, and add a full adjunct used broom store and workshop to the back of Quality Quidditch here in Diagon Alley, or maybe Hogsmeade. But that's a long way off. I suddenly realize the new school term at Hogwarts will be starting in a month; I make a mental note to contact Madam Hooch before the new term to go through the past years broom donations.
I look closer at the broom he's handed to me. Along the side its name proclaimed, Firebolt. Even without reading the card, I can tell that this broom is one that will stand the test of time provided it crashes well, which most racing brooms don't. It practically hummed with all the spells and charms imbued in it. But the lines were clean, the grip was solid, and the balance seemed sounder then I've seen in ages.
"Who's the manufacturer?"
"Actually, it's a subsidiary of the makers of those Silver Arrows and Shooting Comets you tend to prefer."
"Figures," I say with surprised approval, "those people at least know how to make a solid broom. I may have to suggest these to be tested for the Irish National team."
"Wow, that's high praise coming from you." He's mocking me. I can tell.
"Not at all, they have every trainer, coach, team member, and scout out looking at new brooms for the upcoming season. They're looking to go all the way to the world cup, and with the strong team they have right now, they want them on the very best."
"Well, you're the one to know that. How long have you been working with that team?"
"About 15 years (since 1976), off and on. I'm more of a consultant for them these days; provide the odd outside opinion to keep their perspective fresh. Make suggestions for improving training techniques, recommend new recruits, spot defensive weaknesses- that sort of thing. Really, I just keep an eye on things on circuit, and see if anything can be done better."
"Let me guess, you were the one who suggested they get better brooms."
I laughed and shook my head no. "They were due for an upgrade any year now. The head captain came up with that without too much prodding from me- just the careful application of a thick board to the back of his head these past 2 years. Okay, I'm a fish, I'll take the bate. How much will this set me back? Do I have any credit right now?" It had been a while since I checked on the brooms I put up for sale before the holidays.
He chuckled. "I was wondering when you'd get to that. Actually, congratulations are in order- all but two of the last dozen sold. No one will believe that a refurbished Cleansweep6, even at the low price you're offering, can fly as well as a Nimbus 1990. Eh, none of your lectures now! I've seen what you can do with them, but without a real demonstration like the one you gave me, who's going to believe it?" He grinned mischievously at me.
"You've been leaving store credit aside for years now in case a new broom ever showed up to rival your Silver Arrow I. And here it is, I've seen this one demonstrated and yes, you're still ahead credit wise." I shook my head in disbelief, trying to do calculations in my head- and... he's correct. I hadn't cleared my store account for five years. Even with this large of a purchase I am still ahead.
"Could you have that delivered to my place? And since it seems your supply is low, I have more refurbs for your stock. Go ahead and knock 5 gallons off those Cleansweeps. With the school year starting soon, they should move at that price. If they haven't, I'll take them to with me to clearance at the Scottish broom show in October."
"Sounds good. Sides, you got a steal. If Ireland does purchase these sweeties, the asking price is going to go through the roof. So how are things at work?" A causal question for anyone else, but the store is empty and he's a colleague from my old team and one of the last that knows how deep I'm 'keeping my hand in.'
"Still has me moving all over Britannia at random intervals keeping my eyes open, cleaning up messes and trying to figure out what caused them, and still observing specific backs, and partly guarding others. You know I like the travel- and hey, it pays for all the conferences I'd want to go to anyways. They all still like having someone who actually belongs on the scene- and keep me well compensated. Was even able to visit my family a few months back after cleaning up that big mess over in Galway."
"Oh, and this is new as of last week, hasn't even made the papers yet, but thought you'd should know Sirius Black somehow got out of Azkaban." I say very quietly. "Head Minister seems to think he's going after Harry. With his file, I say rubbish."
"So you DO still have that file collection and lists our team put together? I wondered if you did."
"Yeah, I moved it when they moved my office. It still doesn't even unofficially exist. Fudge hasn't any more interest in looking into the untried cases then Crouch did. I know that's a big reason why you left the ministry. And there are days I wish I had. But I have to listen to Carly, you know how she is with these feelings of hers." He nodded.
"She told me it was important to take the position I was offered. Even she's not sure why, but here I am- officially retired, and yet mysteriously still on the Ministry payroll. At least I'm a senior minister now and where I can do some effective good." We both had to smile at the pun.
"Remember that essay for history we had to do all those years ago? The one about why witch hunts were a waste of time? I keep a copy of that on my desk at all times. To remind me."
"So you still think Black's innocent?" He looked at me curious.
"Yes, Harold, I do. Him, and several others actually. I stand by what I said 12 years ago to Moody. All the evidence we gathered at the scene points that he was potentially guilty of nothing worse then casting spells in front of muggles. And without knowing his side of the story, we can't properly charge him as to severity in case it was in self-defense. But I was a new junior auror at the time, and Frank... was senior on that case." I still get choked up with anger when I think about what happened to Frank Longbottom. He was an excellent auror and a good friend. I have to take a deep breath before continuing.
"Without his verbal testimony of what he saw that day, there can never be a retrial under this administration. Everything else we found was covered up, or conveniently destroyed except for the copies of everything Moody made us keep for our own records."
"There's really no other news. Keep your ears open for any gossip in this quarter, for me?"
"No prob. So what kind of brooms you sending to me this season?"
Two customers had come into the shop ending the conversation.