Disclaimer: Greed is good. - Gordon Gekko
Gilderoy Lockhart, Gentleman's Gentleman
Chapter One: Harry Potter and the Mean Muggles?
Gilderoy stared dumbly at the note in his hand, trying to will it into saying something other than 'The Ministry regrets to inform you that your services are no longer required.' It wasn't a surprise, he'd seen it coming for a long time, years since the cessation of the Dark Lord's terror campaign a handful of years before.
The man perked up, all was not lost, he had his savings. Meager though it was. He had his good looks. Dazzling, some would call them. He had a number of talents, any one of which was sure to be his key to fame and fortune. Any one of which such as . . . well, any one of them would do, really. Like . . . the man's gaze fell back to the note in his hands. What was he going to do?
In a flash, he had it. He would write a memoirs detailing his time as a Ministry Obliviator protecting the public, nay, protecting the wizarding world from breaches in the Statute of Secrecy. A memoir filled with daring do, romance, and any number of things that . . . he drooped after being hit by a rare wave of honesty, that no one would likely buy. It wasn't like his career had been particularly distinguished, he hadn't been involved in the capture of an infamous criminal like Sirius Black or anything like that. He'd gone in, done as little as possible, and collected his pay. Just like the majority of Ministry workers.
In search of inspiration, Gilderoy's darted around the room until they settled on the previous day's Prophet. 'Questions about the status of the Boy-Who-Lived raised, WHERE IS OUR HERO?' Lockhart smiled, he had it.
It hadn't been easy to find the boy-who-lived, but the correct combination liberal use of his favorite charm and snooping in the Ministry's secure files had managed it. And, after ensuring that he had plenty of ink, quills, and parchment, Gilderoy Lockhart went off to seek his fortune.
He was appalled by what he was seeing. Though, granted, not so appalled that he didn't remain an observer for several days to properly document the horrors their hero endured. He smiled, that was a particularly good turn of phrase, and made sure to write it down.
It was on his fifth day of observation that Gilderoy decided to act. The main villain of the tale had worked himself into a rather impressive fury meaning it was the perfect time to swoop in and rescue the lad. Gilderoy took a moment to ensure that he was looking properly heroic and another to contemplate a possible title for his book. The Savior's Savior? He'd have to work on that.
With a winning smile, Lockhart walked up to the fat man and poked the tip of his wand between the bastard's eyes. "Surrender or prepare to be thrashed, fien-" The impact of the antagonist's fist on Gilderoy's jaw interrupted both his carefully prepared speech and his carefully laid plans.
Gilderoy found himself on the ground enduring an endless battery of kicks and stomps desperately trying to protect his vital areas from the never ending assault. Eyes squeezed shut, he tried to prepare himself for the end, mourning the world that would soon lose one of its greatest lights.
"Are you okay, Mister?"
One swollen eye opened to see the-Boy-Who-Lived looking down at him in concern. "What happened?"
"Uncle Vernon wouldn't stop kicking you, I told him to stop because he was going to kill you, but he didn't stop and he tried to hit me and then he blasted across the yard into the wall of the shed and knocked it over."
Accidental magic, Gilderoy realized. Tricky, how was he going to take credit for saving the boy with an unknown spell if he couldn't reproduce it? Perhaps-he froze as a better idea presented itself. He'd tell the truth, that the boy had rescued him. The public would eat it up, he'd make millions!
"Mister?"
"Nothing a visit to St Mungo's won't fix," he said, flashing his much diminished smile. "Thank you, lad, I came to save you but you ended up saving me. Gilderoy Lockhart." He presented his hand.
"Harry Potter," the boy introduced himself.
"My word you are," Gilderoy stated, trying to sound astonished and hoped his acting looked natural.
Gilderoy glanced around, that was odd, the Obliviators should have arrived within minutes of a report of accidental magic in a predominately muggle area. Unless? His eyes widened. Of course, unless they reported an adult wizard being nearby.
"I'm sorry, Harry, what was that?"
"I said, if you're going to be alright, I have to go back to weeding the garden."
"Nonsense," Lockhart sniffed. As if he was going to let his new moneymaker out of his sight, he'd make a killing with the boy on the lecture circuit. "I can not permit you to stay with these animals a minute longer. Now, why don't you pack up any things you have while I ensure we will be able to make a smooth escape?"
"I don't have any things," Harry said, glancing down at his feet.
"So much the better," Gilderoy said, flashing a toothless smile. "Means we can be off even faster. You empty your uncle's wallet while I wipe his memories."
"Okay," Harry agreed, unsure of what the man meant but understanding his instructions.
The healers at St. Mungo's were as difficult to deal with as they usually were, insisting as they did that they had a duty to the public to report possible crimes and a duty to their bank accounts to sell every bit of information they could about the-boy-who-lived. In the end, it was only a careful combination of memory charms and promises to make one of the healers Harry Potter's personal Healer that got them out of St. Mungo's with their privacy intact.
Returning to his flat, Lockhart spent most of his time writing his manuscript and the rest of it in making the-boy-who-lived presentable enough to show off on the lecture circuit and at signing events.
It took nearly three weeks to make the-boy-who-lived presentable, mostly by making sure the child got more than enough to eat, and two more to finish writing.
Gilderoy looked down at his draft. It was, to his surprise, mostly factual, it was compelling, it was well written, it had one thing that didn't sit right with him. What wizard wanted to admit that he'd been bested by a common muggle?
Lockhart smiled, so what if he hadn't been? What if it had been an uncommon muggle? No! A null, the opposite of a wizard. A being that fed on magic, perhaps a result of dementor blood? One that had stripped the magic and happiness from Lily Potter's, a powerful witch's, sister making her into a squib. Gilderoy was giggling as he wrote ideas. One that, having destroyed his Aunt's magic was focusing on Harry, a boy who had been rescued by the timely arrival of a brave former obliviator. No one could blame the man for being bested, few wizards could boast that the encounter would go differently for them.
"Imagine my horror, dear reader, when I realized that my spells were having no effect. A nightmare many of us have had made real. With reluctance but desperate to live, I used my most powerful curse, one I had sworn never to cast. Alas, it was for naught and the brute was upon me." Gilderoy to a moment to admire how well his prose sounded when read aloud. "I knew I was going to die, dear reader, but like you I'd have gone to my fate with a smile if it meant that our hero would live. The pain was indescribable and I hope you will forgive me for my failure to provide the details of what I endured." He jotted a quick note instructing the curious to flip to the end of the book where they'd find the healer's report on his injuries.
Lockhart wrote and rewrote his rescue by his moneymaker a dozen times before he was satisfied.
"Mr. Lockhart," a hesitant voice called out from the entrance to his office.
"Please, Harry, call me Gilderoy." He flashed his returned smile at the boy.
"What's going to happen now?"
"Why don't you think about what you want to do, or not do, and I shall do the same and we'll compare notes in a couple days? Best not be too hasty or be too long, eh, Harry?"
"Okay," the boy agreed. "Um?"
"Hungry again?" Lockhart nodded. "I'll order something up from one of the shops. What would you like?"
"Can . . . can I think about it before I choose?"
"Of course you may," Lockhart said grandly. "Anything you want so long as it's something one of the shops has."
"Okay," he agreed.
Gilderoy turned back to his manuscript and, after a moment of thought, made a small addition to the healer's report stating that his magic had been damaged by the unknown magic eating creature. Then, with a smile he added another to the-boy-who-lived's file stating that his hadn't been. He was going to make millions.
IIIIIIIIII
I'd been surprisingly simple to get his manuscript accepted. While he was only one of a dozen authors writing about the-boy-who-lived, he was the only one with access to the boy. That access translated itself into a book deal and a meeting with the head editor in record time.
"Who are you to monopolize the-boy-who-lived?" his new editor demanded. "What's stopping any of the other publishing houses from sending their own authors?"
"What's stopping them?" Lockhart smiled, hoping an answer would come to him. "That's easy."
"Well?"
"Are any of them young Master Potter's Gentleman's Gentleman?" And his head of house had told him he'd have been better served learning something other than grooming charms.
The editor nodded. "Just make sure he doesn't get any maids or cooks and, you know what, I'll get you an elf to make sure none of them can worm their way in."
"Sensible thinking," Lockhart agreed, especially since he'd be able to dump most of his new duties onto the creature. "Now, about that advance?"
"It'll be in your account by the end of the week," his new editor promised. "Now, what are your thoughts on book two?"
"Book two?" Lockhart asked dumbly. "You don't want us to go onto the lecture circuit?"
"I want to be ready to put out the second part in the series as soon as possible," his editor stated. "The public's starving for anything Potter. We'll hold off on the lecture circuit until that starts, ha, if that ever dies down."
"If that's what you want," Gilderoy agreed, having realized he was going to be rich but not how rich he would be.
"Well?"
"I thought it best to consult you before making any firm plans."
"Good, that's exactly the sort of attitude I like to see in my authors." He leaned in. "Too many of the bastards think that every idea they have is a winner." The man leaned back and gave a broad smile. "What I was thinking, was a world tour. Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived, had bested the null with the help of his new valet, but it was a close one. Too close, so he has decided to travel the world and learn old, powerful, and above all forgotten magic in his quest to protect the world he saved."
"I think it's brilliant, but where are we going to get the travel funds?" Gilderoy asked, hoping the answer would not be from the advance on the first novel's sales.
"I'll arrange it with the publisher, don't worry about that," his editor replied. "You just worry about making sure the next book is as good as the first."
"Do you have any suggestions on where we should start our journey?"
"I'll get back to you after I have a talk with the boys in PR," his editor replied. "Speaking of whom, they already had a suggestion."
"Yes?"
"Says that the boy-who-lived wanted to learn a couple healing spells from the healers after seeing what the null did to you."
"Yes?" Gilderoy asked cautiously.
"PR wants to include them in an appendix, made the point that we can publish a spell book if we continue doing that so be sure you note any and all spells learned by the-boy-who-lived during your journey. We'll make millions on the books and millions more on the spells."
"What if he learns spells and is sworn to secrecy?" Gilderoy asked, laziness warring with greed.
"Make a note of it and make sure he learns at least ten publishable spells for every secret one."
AN: Been meaning to write a fic about the-boy-who-lived books being true for a while. Should I ever get around to writing it: Stay Tuned for the next exciting chapter in the-Boy-Who-Lived's saga, Harry Potter and the Library of Alexandria or Harry Potter and the Quest for the Perfect Wand or even Harry Potter and the Talent Agent.
Typos by: Joe Fenton, Andrew Chapman, Jenifer Winterbine
Omake: Dumbledore
Albus flipped through the advanced reader copy he'd gotten of 'Harry Potter and the Mean Muggles?.' It was much better than he'd expected it to be, Gilderoy had found his calling as an author. He gave careful consideration of the 'null' creature his former student had thought up. Perhaps he should publish a few articles under a pseudonym suggesting that the creature had been created via death eater attack or muggle baiting?
Perhaps one in a thousand muggles has the chance of becoming a null, they are created through a mix of dark magic and bad luck and inevitably kill the magic users responsible. Add to that some pointed remarks about the number of purebloods killed by death eaters and he had the makings of a negative PR campaign. Done correctly Tom would find things much more difficult upon his return.
The old man noted with approval the caption on the cover that promised a percentage of the royalties to the-boy-who-lived and made a mental note to contact the publisher to inform them that said percentage should be somewhere close to fifty percent if they didn't want any trouble.
Dumbledore set the book in his pile of things to be returned to and went back to his in box. The next was a missive from Ms. Fig informing him that the boy hadn't been seen for some time. His eyes flicked to the assortment of monitoring gadgets which informed him that the wards around the boy were strong, that he was happy, and that he was in excellent health.
He sighed, he sometimes forgot to take into account that while squibs aged slower than muggles, they aged quite a bit faster than wizards and witches. Perhaps he should have found someone a bit younger or with more magic for such an important task? Waving the matter off, he dashed off a quick note to the woman assuring her that he had matters well in hand before returning to the book. Perhaps it would be best to have a number of articles theorizing nulls and pointing to the fact that Tom's actions had nearly destroyed both the statute of secrecy and magical society? Mind made up, he began writing letters to a number of friends and former colleagues each containing a suggested list of talking points and a request to have an article ready to publish around the time of the book's release.
Omake: Luna
Luna didn't panic when her mother fell. Panic was for people that didn't know what to do and, thanks to her best friend's odd obsession with the-boy-who-lived, she did know what to do. Snatching up her mother's wand, the girl began casting the healing charms she'd leaned from 'Harry Potter and the Mean Muggles?' Charms she and her best friend had spent hours practicing with sticks so they'd be prepared to help in case they found themselves in one of Harry Potter's, no doubt many, upcoming adventures.
"Luna, wha?" her mother croaked.
"Don't move," Luna ordered, casting the next in the series of charms. "You're going to be okay."
Fifteen charms later, Luna was ready to collapse and wondering what she should do next. But, more importantly, her mother was stable.
"Go to the floo and call medical emergency, rookery," her mother instructed. "That will call for help."
"Yes, mummy," Luna agreed, happy to get some direction and wondering why that instructions on how to do so hadn't been included in the Harry Potter book.
The healers arrived with in seconds, her father within minutes, and Luna stood back to watch as they cast several more charms on her mother.
"Is she going to be okay?" her father asked, looking as if he were about to cry.
"She's going to be fine, thanks to your daughter's quick thinking," the lead healer replied. Then, to Luna's delight, he squatted down to look her in the eye. "You should be proud, you're a very brave girl, you saved your mother's life. Where did you learn those spells?"
She told him and was rewarded by a look of astonishment. The next day, the Quibbler carried the headline; 'How Harry Potter Saved my Wife's Life' over an article thanking the boy-who-lived, thanking his publisher, thanking his chronicler, and suggesting that the next edition include instructions on how to call for assistance.
Omake: Wand
"Your second book, Harry Potter and the Library of Alexandria, is scheduled to be released in two weeks," the editor began. "What are you going to do for a third?"
Gilderoy smiled. "Perhaps a trip to South America or the Caribbean?" Or some other place that was both tropical and warm to enjoy his new found wealth. "Harry's just happy to be learning things. Do you have any suggestions?"
"I do." His editor grinned. "I was thinking that the-boy-who-lived needs something better than an ordinary wand, something specially made to contain his power."
"Harry Potter and the Extraordinary Wand, maybe Harry Potter and the Wand of Heroes? Do we have a wand maker lined up?"
"Was going to go with Olivander, but he didn't want to pay for the product placement. Luckily, we were able to find a wand maker that understands just how valuable a mention in one of our books is and is happy pony up a few galleons to see their name associated with the-boy-who-lived."
"Harry's going to want to learn at least a little wand crafting," Lockhart cautioned.
"Not a problem, we've already got the plans for a paper wand that anyone can make themselves. That and whatever spells you learn on your quest will be perfect for volume two of Harry Potter's own Spellbook."
"I wasn't aware there was a volume one?"
"Mostly filled with the spells you sent back from the Library of Alexandria," his editor replied. "We beefed up the healing section with help from St. Mungo's and added a section on wards and curse breaking for the sake of completeness."
"Might be a good idea to get some time with a curse breaker or warder before we go off then," Gilderoy mused. "Harry's going to want to learn about both subjects after he learns they were in his book."
"I'll arrange it," his editor promised. "Take two weeks for yourself while he studies and be back here eager to strategize the next book."