Ron and Dean had looked surprised when Dudley had announced that he was going to Lockhart's office later that evening.

"Why?" Ron demanded. "The bloke's a prize pray."

He has that picture from the Daily Prophet for me, and I want to ask him how I can get that story about me stopping Quirrell.

"You just want his autograph," Dean teased. He and Ron laughed as Dean left.

He found Lockhart's office and knocked on it.

"Come in! Ah, Dudley .. of course, the press cutting! Just a moment."

Lockhart had been sat behind his desk, using a handsome raven feather quill to answer what looked to be his fan mail. He was wearing a lilac gown and his hair, Dudley shuddered to see, was done up in pink curlers.

Lockhart removed a large book from a shelf. "I keep all of my cuttings," he informed Dudley. "I have three books full—whenever I make the papers, in it goes. The first one was when I was 9—I stepped foot on the long, winding road to fame much earlier you did, Dudley. First prize in the "design a monster competition"—I won a box of Zonko's jokes."

He flicked until the back of the book and there, stuck in it was the photo of himself and Dudley standing proudly. "I requested an extra copy, I had an inkling you would want one."

He gave a roguish wink and, with a flourish scribbled his signature over one of the press cuttings. "To Dudley, may all your hopes and dream come true. Your friend, Gilderoy."

"Thanks," Dudley said, putting the cutting into the pocket of his robes. He grinned, suddenly having a brainwave. "Do you have a photo too? My friend, Ron is a big fan," he said innocently.

"Of course! Of course!" Lockhart said delightedly. He rummaged in his desk and pulled out a stack of photos, all showing Lockhart wearing an extravagant set of peacock colored robes, smiling toothily at the camera and winking.

"Ron did you say?"

Dudley nodded.

"To my biggest fan," Lockhart said as he wrote. "Many thanks for all of the support. If you ever need a friendly ear, my office is always open. Best wishes. Gilderoy."

"Thanks Professor," Dudley said. He planned to hide it under Ron's pillow later. Or maybe slip it somewhere for the twins to find.

"Is there anything else?"

Dudley titled his head to the side. He had forgotten why he had come here.

"Oh, yeah, is there a way to get old copies of the Prophet?"

"Want to start your own book of cuttings!" Lockhart beamed. "It's never too young to start—and I suppose stopping a dark wizard is a good beginning. It's not as good as winning the Daily Prophet's design a monster competition, but it's a fine start, a fine start! Me and you are birds of a feather—I knew as soon as I read the article about you. A-ha, I said, Gilderoy, this young man has what it takes."

"Thanks, professor," Dudley said, wondering what Lockhart meant. Had what it takes to do what?

"I'll write to the Prophet at once," Lockhart said. "They owe me a favor—more than one. Why, their exclusive interview with me last year sent sales figures through the roof!"

After saying goodbye to Lockhart, Dudley returned to the common room. Dean and Ron were sat with Hermione.

"Did you meet your hero?" Ron teased.

"Yeah, he's going to get me the old copy of the Prophet. Then I can see just what they wrote about me."

"Becoming a proper, Junior Lockhart, aren't you?" Ron said.

"He'll be putting his hair in curls next," said Dean.

"Hi, Hermione," Dudley said, ignoring the other two and sitting down.

"Dudley," Hermione nodded. Dudley felt relieved that even though Hermione didn't approve of their behavior, she still agreed to study with them.

Dudley sat down next to them and rummaged in his bag so he could do his transfiguration homework. As pulled out Gadding with Ghouls and Holidays with Hags, another book fell to the floor.

Hermione picked it up for him. "What's this?" she asked, flicking it open.

"Dunno," Dudley said glancing at it.

"It looks like a diary."

Ron and Dean looked up, eyes gleaming.

"Dudley keeps a diary!" Ron asked.

"No," Dudley snorted, giving his shin a kick.

"What's it say?" Dean asked.

"Nothing, it's empty," said Hermione.

Dudley took it and looked at it. It was a plain, black diary—completely unremarkable. He flicked through the pages. Sure enough it was empty. "Dunno where that's from. It's not mine. Must have picked it up by accident."

He tossed it to a corner of the room, pulled out his transfiguration homework and began.