Magical Me
By Publicola

Published: 7-31-12

Conversations with a Charms Master

I continued reading late into the night – so late, in fact, that the next thing I knew I was being woken up by my rather frantic house-elf, "Master must wake, Professor Goblin being on the Floo!"

I shook myself blearily and rolled off the bed. "Gilderoy!" I heard my name called from the next room.

"Filius, my apologies for not responding more promptly." I sheepishly added, "A rather engrossing book on elemental magic, I'm afraid."

He grinned knowingly, "I entirely understand. I'll come through in a half-hour?"

"Indeed, I'll be ready for you then."

I hastily washed myself and ate the breakfast Glitzy had prepared, skimming the latest Daily Prophet. My autobiography Magical Me continued to top the best-sellers list – I didn't even remember how many weeks it had been on it.

I paid special attention to the sections marked 'Politics' and 'Ministry of Magic Affairs,' and was a little dismayed to find that my recent visits to the Ministry were remarked upon, though there was only speculation as to my purpose—the secrecy oaths held steady.

I also discovered a small feature on legal advice, by a Ministry wizard named Dempster Wiggleswade who worked out of the Auror Investigations Office. His column was nothing out of the ordinary, but I realized that having a professional investigator among my allies would be a huge boon. I scribbled a quick note to Amelia Bones, mentioning Wiggleswade's column and asking her if she knew any reliable DMLE investigators who could be trusted to look into the Harry Potter case.

I had just handed it to Ozymandias for delivery when the Floo flared and Filius stepped through.

Even though I'd seen him last night, his appearance still made me take a step back in consternation. My memories had taught me to expect a short man of tailored suits and impeccable grooming, but this visitor had facial hair growing out in seemingly all directions, and his robes were of a distinctly rumpled sort, more suited for a retired gentleman who does not leave his home.

He chuckled, "The aging charm, remember? Forgive me; it must be quite off-putting."

"Yes, it really is. I don't…" I hesitated "I hope you won't take offense, but could you possibly confirm you really are Filius? It's hard to reconcile the professor I knew to the face before me."

"Indeed, let me think… how's this? I advised you during career counseling in fifth year to give serious thought to pursuing a Charms Mastery in case your Quidditch career didn't work out. You always were something of a prodigy, even if your class-work didn't show it. I'm glad you landed on your feet."

"As am I," I said as I relaxed. "Actually, that brings up something I hoped to discuss with you today. Come, my pensieve is in the other room." I turned away. "How much do you—"

A flash of light, and I knew no more.

I groggily came to my senses, to find myself magically bound and immobilized in one of my dining chairs. Filius was looming over me. His former benign appearance was now replaced by so goblin-like an expression I nearly wet myself.

Holy crap.

"Ah, Mr. Lockhart," he began, "at last, you're awake. I suppose you'd like to know why you're bound to that chair?" His eyes flared. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Holy crap.

"I hear you're quite the storyteller these days, but today I have a story for you." The casual jocularity of his words was belied by the ruthless intensity of his eyes. "No doubt you've heard the rumors of the DADA curse: no teacher lasts beyond a year? That's right. Of course, it was rather easy to dismiss such rumors, as most of the turnover was due to the last War."

He paused. "That is no longer the cause. Defense professors continue to cycle, even without the excuse of a heroic death or debilitating injury. These days, the post is vacant for less… satisfactory reasons. You see, Mr. Lockhart, of the last ten appointments to the post, four were criminally incompetent, two were merely incompetent, three endangered or attacked students in their care, and one was a pedophile. You'll understand, then, when I say that your predecessors' track record does not breed confidence."

Holy crap.

"So here's what's going to happen. I have some questions, and I need you to answer them honestly. I'm going to return your wand, and you're going to make an oath. If you point your wand in my direction, or do anything other than say the words I give you, I'll start removing various appendages, starting" (he pointed) "with your wand hand and ending" (his finger shifted downward) "with your other wand. Am I clear?"

Holy crap.

He waved his wand to release me from the immobilization, though I was still tightly bound to the chair, and placed the wand in my hand. I very carefully kept it pointed away. I opened my mouth to respond, only to find I couldn't make a sound.

"Oh, that's the silencing spell I put on you. Don't worry, magical oaths are all about intent. And trust me: your intent should be very clear. I read lips, you see, and if you say anything other than the words I give you, my previous offer stands. Now, repeat after me."

Holy crap.

I repeated: 'I pledge by magic and blood… that I shall not disclose to anyone the oath I now make… nor the circumstances related to it… nor endanger Filius Flitwick while he is in my home… and shall be bound to answer honestly… any question he puts to me… for the duration of this visit… and shall only be released from the words of this oath… as and when he chooses to release me…. So swear I.'

A second later and my bindings fell away. Of course, that was only because the oath bound me far more securely than any conjured rope ever could.

Yep. I'm screwed.

"Stay seated. This should only take a minute." Filius took the seat across from me.

Before he could begin I spoke, my voice finally free. "Filius, the answers I give may imperil my life. I am in no position to make demands, but please! I ask for a vow, to hold all you learn here in confidence!"

He gazed at me shrewdly for a moment. "Interesting. I see you feel strongly about this. My answer will, of course, depend on yours. Mr. Lockhart, are you attracted to underage children?"

"No!" I sputtered at the abrupt question.

"Good. Mr. Lockhart, do you currently seek to harm any of the inhabitants of Hogwarts."

"Yes," the answer was forced out of me. "I beg you—"

His eyes blazed with fury. "Who do you seek to harm?"

"Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Poppy Pompfrey, any student who has committed criminal acts, any student that engages in bullying, any—"

"Enough." Filius cut me off. From the first words, my recitation had clearly astonished him. He pondered silently for a brief moment. "You say these answers would endanger your life?"

"And the lives of others, yes."

Another pause. "Why do you seek to harm Madame Pompfrey?"

"She has failed to address the clear signs of child abuse for at least one of her patients."

"But her oaths!" Filius was flabbergasted. "The Hippocratic Oaths she swore! How—?"

"I know not."

Filius considered it again, the silence lasting for almost half a minute. "Who was the patient?"

Damn he's good! I suppose his intelligence was precisely why I wanted him on my side, but for the moment it made for a bloody mess. "Harry Potter."

His face blanked immediately. Cheek muscles slacked, jaw slightly ajar, eyes unfocused – all clear signs of Occlumentic focus. His eyes gradually regained their sharpness.

Of all the responses I might have expected at that point, the last one I had in mind was for my old professor to simply smile and raise his wand. "I swear by my magic and blood to hold in confidence the information I learn from Gilderoy Lockhart within these walls, unless and until he release me. May I be bound by my word."

I stood agape, feeling more than a little whiplash at his sudden reversal.

He chuckled, "I fought alongside Alastor Moody in the last Wizarding War. I was there when he lost his eye and leg in quick succession. I may not put too fine a point on it, but I can appreciate exercising a little 'constant vigilance,' especially when trafficking in such secrets as you seem to carry."

I shouldn't have pressed my luck, but I could hardly help it. "But why—?"

"Why did I pledge my word? My dear Gilderoy, I used to be a champion duelist. You do not get to that level of competition without being able to read people very well, very quickly." He paused. "I'll be frank: I did not have a clear idea of you when I came to this meeting. When I knew you as a student, you were a hearty: unmotivated, underachieving, decent at Quidditch, and wildly popular with your female peers."

"Like a jock, you mean?" I broke in.

"Yes," he looked at me questioningly, "that is the word, though I seem to recall that term being used mainly by our American cousins?"

Oh cripes.

I turned away abashed under his close gaze, but he relented and continued in a more pensive tone. "Now flash forward ten years. You're a household name, a celebrity author with a penchant for defeating dark creatures. And I'm left to wonder how I could have read you so wrong."

"Then I hear of your appointment, and concluded that either you are a fraud, or your exploits are the result of trafficking in dangerous dark magic. As I said, your predecessors do not inspire confidence."

Fortunately none of this took the form of a question, or the jig would be up. I didn't have the heart to tell him not one but both of his conclusions were accurate.

"So, as I have done with your recent predecessors, I laid my trap. Had you not invited me here, I would have intercepted you the day before the Welcoming Feast and forced the oath out of you. But I received your letter, and here we are. From the few answers you provide, and your sincere fear, I have agreed to bear your secrets. But still you must relieve my doubts."

And here we go again.

"I suppose there is an explanation for why you seek to harm the individuals you named, though I will not ask until you can speak of your own free will. Mr. Lockhart, under what circumstances would you act to harm any inhabitant of Hogwarts?"

It was at times like these that an oath is an extraordinarily useful thing. Knowledge is power, and self-knowledge is even more so. I may not have considered the question before, but thanks to the oath, I knew that whatever I came up with would be accurate.

I reflected for a moment. "I would report any misconduct once I had gathered sufficient evidence for the proper authorities to pursue" (I didn't mention my rather narrow definition of 'proper authority') "and would respond more actively if I considered my life or health, or those of others in my care to be in danger."

Subsidiarity: your first responsibility is to yourself and those closest to you, especially those in your care. Feed your family, before you take your boss out to lunch.

The original Lockhart never got close to anyone. But I was gathering allies, and soon would need to take their safety into account. And while I couldn't take care of the whole castle – well, not yet – I could certainly keep an eye on a few wayward students, such as a certain gilded trio.

"Last question, Mr. Lockhart. Are you a competent teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Nope, not even slightly." My oddly cheery response threw him for a loop, at least for the few seconds before I finished. "That's why you're here."

He chuckled softly. "Ah, ah, indeed. Now, I would release you from your bindings, but I would ask for one more layer of security before I do. I would ask for another oath: this one to not harm or interfere with any Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff students without first consulting myself or Professor Sprout, respectively."

I was a bit puzzled at the selectivity (not Slytherin or Gryffindor?) but I obliged him and made the oath.

"Now, Mr. Lockhart, I release you from the compulsion to answer with complete honesty. If you wish to renew the oath, I certainly wouldn't object, but I understand the nature of secrets."

Freedom!

I nodded. "Er… thank you? I feel like I should be more upset with you than I actually am. Frankly, I respect you more from protecting your students than anything. Though, if you don't mind me asking… why did you extend protection only for 'Claws and 'Puffs? Why not Slytherin or Gryffindor?"

His face fell. "I wondered if you'd catch that. Professor Snape and I have an uneasy truce, you see. He doesn't touch mine, I don't touch his. Even offering protection would impinge on that. As for Gryffindor, Minerva is my superior and the last time I tried I got a thorough dressing-down from her. These days I only work with Sprout."

Huh. I'd have thought McGonagall would have appreciated the protection. Though I had to admit she did a piss-poor job of it herself.

"Wait… you said you did this to my predecessors?"

He nodded. "Indeed, after the pedophile I made sure to visit each new professor before the term began. It's practically impossible to remove anyone before year's end – Dumbledore has them sign magically binding contracts for the year – so it's all I can do to protect the students I can. Doesn't mean I don't make mistakes. I thought Quirrell was another incompetent, not a servant of You-Know-Who. I did not question him nearly enough."

Of course the same applied to me, but I wasn't going to tell him that. Why hadn't he asked if I'd ever committed criminal acts, or something along those lines? This was one instance where the typical lack of common sense among wizards really worked to my advantage.

"So, the Headmaster—?"

"The Headmaster does as he will. His proxies and allies control the Board of Governors, and he is not bound by any counsel we give him."

Huh. I suppose it shouldn't surprise me that Dumbledore's machinations would trouble any adult with a modicum of intelligence. It's just there were so few adults like that in the Harry Potter canon.

Even before this morning I had considered Filius a prospective ally. Now I had his oath of confidence, and the knowledge that he was not one of Dumbledore's minions. Time to take another leap.

After a minute spent deep in thought, I rose and waved him over to more comfortable seats in the front room. "Professor, Filius, I have further information you may need, information of a more troubling sort. How much were you told of Professor Quirrell's actions over the past year?"

It turned out he had been told much the same as others: that Quirrell was an agent of Voldemort, who had disappeared after a failed attempt to steal a powerful—something—from Dumbledore's protection.

Bursting that bubble of misinformation was painful but necessary.

I told him everything, more than Amelia, more than the goblins. I told him how Quirrell was not missing but dead. I told him how Quirrell was not a servant of Voldemort but a host, possessed by his wraith. He knew that Harry Potter had been involved; I told him how the set-up was engineered. I told him of my meeting with the goblins and Dirk Cresswell. I told him of my meeting with Amelia, and our concerns of Harry Potter's home life. And I told him my suspicions of Dumbledore's deeds and manipulations.

I was slightly short of breath by the time I finished, for speaking at such length, but he was far more winded than I. Understandable – his view of the world had been rather violently overthrown. Even with his concern (verging on contempt) for Dumbledore's hiring practices, I doubt he imagined the Headmaster could have sunk so low.

He shakily informed me that he would like some time to consider the matter, and before I could get a word in edgewise, he walked through the Floo back to his quarters at Hogwarts.

Well.

A thought struck me. "Glitzy!" My elf popped in, eager as usual. "Where were you when Filius had me strapped to that chair?"

"Oh, Professor Goblin said he teaching you… er, 'sitsional awakement'?"

"…do you mean, situational awareness?" Damn he's good!

Glitzy nodded so hard he practically bounced. "That's right!"

All right, deep breath. "Glitzy. Next time you find me bound and unconscious, you are to assume I have been attacked, unless or until I inform you otherwise? Is that clear?"

My elf's enthusiasm dissipated, and now he seemed on the verge of tears. "You… you mean, Professor Goblin was bad? Oh no, Glitzy failed Master! Bad Glitzy! Bad—!"

"Glitzy!" I broke in before he could punish himself. "It's all right, you couldn't have known, you must not punish yourself. And no, I don't believe Professor Goblin is bad, he simply wanted to make sure I wasn't bad myself. Just make sure it doesn't happen again, okay?"

I can't believe I actually called him 'Professor Goblin'.

A still shaken but slightly relieved house-elf popped away, leaving me to consider how to spend the rest of the day. Ozymandias had returned at some point during my tête-à-tête with Filius, and had left Amelia's response on my desk by his perch.

Mr. Lockhart,

I'd already begun to consider who among my Aurors could be trusted with the information you provided, though I believe your suggestion to first look to the Investigative Office is quite wise. Wiggleswade is the senior analyst, but I have little confidence that he would do anything but first look towards his own advancement. The same sadly applies to his chief, Thicknesse.

At this time, I believe we would be best served by one of the younger Auror investigators, whose work is quite exceptional. I have made an appointment with Ms. Hestia Jones for this evening, and will have her view the memory at that time.

Sincerely,

Amelia

Huh. I knew that name – long time since I'd heard it, though. Hestia Jones, Hufflepuff, two years behind me if memory serves. I knew her siblings better, if only by reputation – Gavyn Jones, Head Boy the year before me, and Gwenog Jones, two or three years younger than Hestia, but currently the star beater on the Hollyhead Harpies.

But she was a Hufflepuff, and if Amelia trusted her so would I.

I scribbled two quick notes, one thanking Amelia for letting me know, the other for Hestia asking if she had any questions or concerns regarding her recent conversation with Director Bones. I put them on the pile to send the next morning.

Next I dug through my post-box for new mail. I set aside more of the responses to my fan-mail form letter – same breakdown between positive and crazy responses. I soon found a note from Dirk Cresswell, informing me that he would be meeting with the goblins that evening, and had requested a meeting with Department Head Crouch for the next day.

He had promised to write again after each meeting, so there was really no reason to respond.

The rest of my mail proved utterly uninspiring, so I moved to finding a book. As a recent muggle, I had no difficulty sensing the magic within me. However, neither of my backgrounds provided much information at all on how my magic worked, so learning theory would prove essential.

I grabbed the book on elemental magic from the previous evening, and settled in to read.

It was shortly after dinner that the fireplace flared and the face of my old Charms professor appeared in the flames. "Mr. Lockhart? Gilderoy?"

I walked into sight, "Ah, Professor Flitwick, you've returned."

"Indeed. May I come through?"

I nodded and a few seconds later he stepped through the Floo.

"I apologize for my rather sudden departure earlier. I would say that only rarely are so many deeply held beliefs shattered in so short a time, but I really have no excuse, it was most discourteous."

I waved him off, "No matter, I understand. It has not been entirely pleasant for myself either. What caused you to return?"

He smirked slightly, "I realized that I had forgotten my other errand, my stated purpose for visiting. I may not have come to terms yet with what you have told me, but reviewing such memories should serve as an adequate distraction, don't you think?"

"Indeed," I partially turned, then stopped. "I trust you won't stun and bind me this time, but I'll still ask that you precede me into the other room."

He blushed, "Quite right."

He hadn't gotten three steps away before he collapsed in a flash of red light. "Stupefy. Incarcerous." I rolled him over, "Ennervate. And that, my dear Filius, is just to show you I can. Finite." The ropes disappeared and I helped him to his feet.

He chuckled ruefully. "I suppose I deserve that. Quick question: how were you not stopped by your oath? I'd forgotten to release you before I left."

"Come, Filius, I only swore not to endanger you. A stunning spell has no lasting effects, and besides, I doubt such an oath applies to pranks."

"So it would seem. Before I forget, I release you from the bindings not to endanger me. If, as I hope, we are going to train together, there will come a time when you must cast dangerous magic against me."

"I would like that, very much."

"What, throw curses at me?"

"No, train toge— why, you're taking the mickey out of me!" I laughed.

"Here we are." I had been directed Filius into the study, and he stopped in front of the pensieve. "What memory shall we view first?"

"Before we go in, I actually had a question I was about to ask you before you decided to truss me up for interrogation." He blushed slightly. "How familiar are you with how a pensieve works? I trust you've used one before?"

He considered the question. "I have, though I only have a passing familiarity with the device thanks to my research on memory charms."

"Good, so we have roughly the same background. Now, you'll notice the runic array around the lip of the device." I pointed. "About half of those are concerned with how a memory is presented. The liquid acts as a conduit between the memory and the runic array. When a person touches the liquid, such as with a finger, that conduit is activated by that person's magical core, and once powered draws the individual's mind into the desired environment—an artificial mindscape, as it were."

Filius' eyebrows rose precipitously with each sentence. I got the sense he was rather impressed.

"However, the other half of the runic array is far more interesting. Tell me, are you familiar with the muggle sciences of psychology or neurology?"

He shook his head. This was getting far out of his depth.

"Muggles lack magic, but they have an astonishing capacity for innovation through mechanical means. Through such means—that is, technology—they have discovered aspects of the human body that wizards, for all our magic, remain largely ignorant of. Take neurology, the science of the human brain. Most purebloods know that the brain exists. Most muggleborn wizards are probably aware that the brain is considered the seat of the mind. However, a number of modern neuroscientists believe that the brain is not a single organ at all, but is rather comprised of three layers, three distinct organs. The basic organ is the reptilian complex, which controls for automatic bodily processes like heartbeat, digestion, and breathing. Wrapped around that is the 'paleomammalian' brain or limbic system, which controls our behavioral instincts, emotions, and subconscious triggers. Finally, the outermost layer is the 'neomammmalian' brain or neocortex, which controls our conscious mind, those things that define us as human. Are you following so far?"

Filius nodded, his darting eyes the only outward sign of his racing thoughts.

"That is how a muggle brain works. A wizard's brain works largely in the same way, only augmented by magic. At the lowest level, magic is infused through automatic bodily processes: this is why we heal faster and live longer than muggles. The limbic system controls for subconscious triggers—such as our 'fight, flight or freeze' response to fear. Among wizards, those reflexes manifest in outbursts of accidental magic. Lastly, the neocortex is the seat of conscious activity, and is it the magical connectors in that layer that regulate controlled magic, with or without a wand."

I paused, and Filius broke in with a question. "But I was under the impression that is it our magical core that determines our ability to do magic?"

"Indeed you're right. Our core powers our magic. However, active magic is intent-based, which is tied to the magical conduits in our brain. That is the difference between a squib and a muggle, for instance. A muggle has neither core nor conduits, while a squib has the neural conduits without the core to power them. That's why squibs can perceive magical creatures, where muggles ordinarily cannot. That's always why the Hogwarts' caretaker Filch is capable of very minor acts of magic, though he is a known squib. The neural conduits of a squib are activated in the presence of ambient magic."

"Remarkable!" He breathed. Indeed, Lockhart's knowledge of mind magic was so encyclopedic as to be truly out of character. Combining his research with my muggle background, and the conclusions I was drawing were quite original.

"Now, the reason I bring this up in the first place is very simple: according to the muggle understanding of human memory, perfect recall is a myth. Every second we are bombarded with more external stimuli than we can possibly handle. The only way we do is by restricting what we perceive and what we remember. It simply should not be possible to review memories and find new details that went unnoticed the first time around, precisely because the details we fail to notice are not included in our memories at all!"

At this Filius looked astonished – he clearly hadn't considered the point in this light.

"Yet we know such a thing must be possible, because we experience it every time we use a pensieve. That is where the other half of the runic array comes in. You see, for wizards, memory is not simply stored in the neocortex—that is, the conscious mind. For us, memory is also archived in the limbic system. It is a survival strategy. Magic is intrinsically dangerous, so we adapted by constantly surveying our environments for danger, even when we aren't aware of it. It is that which we extract every time we use a pensieve – the conscious memory is merely an anchor. It is the runic array in the pensieve that takes the residue from these subconscious sweeps and enhances the mental image before they can be viewed."

I could tell that Filius had begun to respond with enthusiasm. He was the Ravenclaw Head of House for a reason; he knew where this was headed.

"By studying that portion of the runic array, I realized that memory charms could be modified to create a similar effect. Such charms can amplify certain memories, or reduce the effect of others. That is how I made myself the wizard I am today, out of the unmotivated hearty you taught at Hogwarts."

I gazed triumphantly at Professor Flitwick, only to realize he once again bore all the symptoms of Occlumentic focus. A few seconds later, his eyes sharpened and he gazed at me again. "The prospects of such a discovery are… are phenomenal!"

I hated to do it, but I burst his bubble for the second time that day."And extraordinarily dangerous. This goes beyond mere memory-replacement or Obliviation. A spell like this could mimic the properties of a hyper-intelligent eidetic mind for anyone who learns it. It would be the ultimate shortcut for students to skip years ahead in their studies, or for dark wizards to do the same. Knowledge is power, and a spell such as this could amplify the power of anyone, regardless of their virtue. In time, I might be willing to share it with others, but for now I have not entrusted this discovery to anyone."

"Then why bring it up?" A deflated Flitwick queried.

"For one, I plan to use that charm to enhance the memories you provide, so I will perfectly recall observing your class for however many years you choose to provide. You'd probably figure it out anyway, just by seeing me use the charm. Besides, we seem to have reached some sort of understanding. I felt explaining the charm would be an sign of trust, an olive branch of sorts."

"Of course, it wouldn't hurt that I swore an oath not to speak of it to anyone, isn't that right?"

I chuckled at his wry observation. "Fair enough, the thought did cross my mind."

He shook himself. "Well, this is all well and good, but let's get on with the memories. Where shall we begin?"

I knew quite well where I wanted to begin, but wasn't sure how to make the request. I decided for a frontal approach. "Given our conversation earlier, I had hoped you might be willing to share your memories of teaching James Potter and Lily Evans? Mr. Potter has no one to tell him of his parents, and while I knew of them by reputation I hoped that by observing them, I might have stories to share with him."

"I hadn't thought of that." He chuckled. "Be warned, though, they were quite notorious troublemakers, though all the teachers loved them. It was a sad day we saw them leave Hogwarts for graduation, but there was not a little sense of relief as well." His expression slowly moved to sorrow for the loss of their young lives.

A few seconds later he moved the tip of his wand to his temple, and we entered his memories without further ado.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Responses to select reviews are posted on my forum. You can find the link on my profile, or type in:

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