Adhering to the principle of never missing out on some drama, Lockhart, upon seeing who the two fighters were, pushed his wand back into its concealed wrist holster—a spring-loaded device controlled by a flick of the wrist that saved him four-fifths of the time needed to draw his wand.
“Move aside!”
Snape suddenly pushed past Lockhart from behind, drew his own wand, and pointed it at the two still brawling.
“Relashio!” he shouted.
The two men engaged in fisticuffs immediately lost strength in their legs and tumbled to the floor one after the other.
Snape strode over.
“Lucius!
When did you snap your wand and decide to learn wrestling from trolls?”
“Severus?” The blond man scrambled up from the floor, looking disheveled.
“While I admit my conduct was somewhat unbecoming, the one who resorted to throwing punches like a Muggle was certainly not me!”
Then, as if remembering something, he quickly glanced around, picked up an old Transfiguration textbook from the floor, and thrust it into the hands of a red-haired girl standing nearby.
“Here, girl—take your book—the best your father can give you.”
With that, he hurriedly pulled Snape along.
“Severus, it’s been too long.
Let’s go for a drink…
Draco, follow!”
A blond boy with a malicious look on his face finally noticed Snape.
“Professor Snape!
I didn’t expect to see you here!”
Snape ignored him and turned instead to Lockhart.
“Professor Lockhart, the path we walked was not long.
Even a Hinkypunk should remember the way back…” Snape’s tone remained devoid of emotion.
“Understood,” Lockhart said briskly.
“I’ll help them buy the books on their lists, browse the surrounding shops, and then see them safely back.”
“Good.
I’m off for a drink with an old friend, and then it’s back to watch the cauldrons.”
Snape pointed his wand at the overturned shelves and uttered “Reparo,” restoring the damaged items.
Then, he made a gesture towards the Muggle parents that could have been either a farewell or a dismissal, and followed Lucius Malfoy out of the bookshop.
After he left, Lockhart shook his head slightly.
Snape wasn’t inherently so cold.
It was just that his position forced his hand.
Between pure-blood families and Muggles, he had ultimately chosen the pure-bloods.
The red-haired family, of course, knew Snape, but none wanted to greet him.
They were “blood traitors,” fundamentally different from someone like Snape, who merely pretended to be a pure-blood in name.
As the two men departed, the red-haired man’s family quickly gathered around him, fussing over him, though their method was rather rough.
“Arthur!
And with me right here!
Brawling…
what an example you’re setting for the children!
Thank goodness there wasn’t a soul we knew around…
Episkey!”
The middle-aged woman healed her husband’s wounds in an instant, but her temper was flaring up.
Seeing his wife about to erupt, Arthur quickly looked to the side.
“Molly, we have company.
This is Professor Lockhart, I believe?
I heard earlier…
Oh, so many Muggles!”
He was looking at the large group behind Lockhart.
His wife, however, focused on something else.
“Professor Lockhart?
Which Lockhart?”
Then she saw Lockhart’s beaming face.
“Good afternoon!
I’m Gilderoy Lockhart.
You must be the Weasleys!
I recognized you by the red hair.” Lockhart smiled warmly.
Molly Weasley let out a high-pitched shriek.
But someone else’s shriek was even louder, coming from a young girl.
Hermione Granger covered her face, feeling like she might faint.
…
A short while later, having bought all their books, the Muggle parents, at Arthur Weasley’s enthusiastic invitation, found themselves at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor, being treated to chilled cocktails or ice cream.
Lockhart insisted on paying for the desserts, claiming, “This is official business; I’ll have Dumbledore reimburse me.”
Arthur Weasley knew Hogwarts was unlikely to cover such an expense, but he gratefully accepted the gesture.
The Weasley family’s finances were strained, and his fascination with Muggles and Muggle technology was so great he couldn’t pass up this opportunity.
While Arthur chatted with the Muggle parents, Mrs.
Weasley and Hermione Granger conversed animatedly with the hero of their dreams.
“…Oh, my goodness!
We had no idea!
You’re this year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts professor!” Mrs.
Weasley exclaimed.
“Percy’s complained so many times about not having a proper professor for years, having to teach himself, and only getting an ‘Acceptable’ on his O.W.L…
I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem with you.”
“That’s hard to say, Mrs.
Weasley,” Lockhart replied modestly.
“The ability to combat Dark Arts and the ability to teach are two different things.”
“But if even you can’t do it, then who can?” Mrs.
Weasley said fervently.
Beside her, the girl with bushy brown hair nodded vigorously, agreeing completely.
“P-p-professor L-l-lockhart…
I bought your complete set of books, I wonder…
c-c-could you…” she began to stammer.
“Miss Granger, another’s experiences are just that—another’s, and only the parts they choose to show you.
It’s best to treat them like fiction,” Lockhart said kindly to her.
From earlier introductions, Lockhart knew her name—Hermione Granger, one of the famous Potter trio, the most outstanding witch of her year.
Add the freckled red-haired boy nearby, smearing strawberry and raspberry cream ice cream all over his face, and two-thirds of the Savior’s trio were present.
—Speaking of which, where was Harry Potter?
He should have been fetched by the Weasleys to the Burrow, messed up the Floo powder, and been hauled out of Knockturn Alley by Hagrid by now.
Lockhart couldn’t quite figure out the reason for the discrepancy, but it didn’t matter.
Whatever happened to Harry, Dumbledore would ensure he arrived safely at Hogwarts.
He was more curious about how Hermione knew of him.
Mrs.
Weasley was a witch, so her knowledge was normal, but Hermione shouldn’t—because on the booklist he gave Dumbledore, he had only included the textbook Madam Marchbanks used for exams, [Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts], and one reference book, [Forgotten Old Magic and Spells].
If Hermione had still gotten hold of his complete works somewhere, that was truly problematic—because questions like his favorite color or his secret ambitions were things even he didn’t know now.
Perhaps Hermione knew more about “Gilderoy Lockhart” than he himself did.
—Except for Ogden’s Old Firewhisky.
He had developed quite a liking for that.
Lockhart waited for Hermione to continue her questioning, but she had something else in mind.
“I-I-I meant…
c-could you sign an autograph for me?
Professor?” She looked at him hopefully.
Lockhart was momentarily speechless, even somewhat touched.
At least 80% of the material composing Hermione’s mental world was rationality.
Of the remaining 20%, aside from family and friendship, the name “Lockhart” undoubtedly occupied 90% of that remainder.
“Certainly.
Where would you like it?”
“Just in your autobiography, please.”
As Lockhart took out his peacock-feather quill and signed Hermione’s book with a flourish, a look of longing appeared in Mrs.
Weasley’s eyes.
But she quickly dismissed the thought—her treasured copy of [Gilderoy Lockhart’s Guide to Household Pests] was too old and shabby to bring out.
Gilderoy Lockhart did not look down on the Weasleys for their financial state.
Moreover, considering his future plans, he would need to rely on Arthur Weasley quite a bit.
After all, the man was still a pure-blood.
Many assumed the Weasleys were poor because the couple was too loving and had too many children.
That wasn’t it—considering the dwindling numbers of pure-blood wizarding families, having many children wasn’t necessarily a flaw.
Their financial struggles were purely because Arthur and Molly had “eloped,” receiving no support from either family when starting their own.
Their post-marriage poverty was also due to Arthur Weasley “betraying his bloodline,” leading to subtle ostracization by other pure-blood families, cutting off any extra sources of income.
However, no matter how unwilling those pure-blood families were, to maintain “purity” and avoid producing offspring with cognitive issues from inbreeding, they would have to consider readmitting the Weasleys.
If Arthur were willing to “admit his error,” they’d likely welcome him back with open arms immediately.
But sadly, the so-called “glory of pure blood” probably mattered less to Arthur Weasley than figuring out how a plug worked.
Lockhart continued to exercise his social skills and charm.
Apart from the Weasleys and the Grangers, he didn’t neglect the Muggle families either, and he managed to correctly pronounce everyone’s full name.
Bill Clinton, to become a politician, memorized twenty thousand names in college.
Lockhart figured remembering the names of a few thousand witches and wizards and their family members across Britain shouldn’t be too difficult, especially with the help of a little Pepperup Potion to cheat.
Through conversing with the Weasleys, these Muggle-born witches and wizards learned more about Lockhart—they hadn’t realized this amiable professor was such a prominent figure in the wizarding world.
He was witty and approachable, and made people feel at ease.
By the time they parted, all the parents—wizarding and Muggle alike—felt assured that with Lockhart watching over their children at Hogwarts, they had nothing to worry about.
After leaving Diagon Alley, the parents of the new students felt it would be too much trouble for Lockhart to escort all twelve families’ children.
Their purchases were already stowed in that one magical trunk, taking up little space.
So, the parents decided to seize the opportunity to get together themselves, have some tea, and show their children around London.
Lockhart only needed to see the few students from less affluent backgrounds home.
Bloody class system, Lockhart muttered under his breath.
“Well, a marvelous and exciting day draws to a close!” Lockhart said to them.
“I shall await you all at King’s Cross Station on September 1st!”
After he left, Hermione looked at Ron Weasley beside her with disdain.
“The most adventurous and chivalrous wizard of our age was just sitting right in front of you, and all you did was eat ice cream!” she chided.
…
While Lockhart had been bonding with the parents earlier, in the Lamb and Flag pub on Rose Street, Snape fixed his eyes on Lucius Malfoy and asked a question that sent a chill down the other man’s spine.
“…So, Lucius, what exactly were you doing in Diagon Alley just now?”
(End of Chapter)