As I cut into my steak, I let my eyes wander over the four long tables in the Great Hall. The clatter of cutlery and hum of chatter blended into a pleasant background, but with a little charm I'd devised, one that sharpened my hearing, I could pick out conversations as clearly as if I sat beside the students. One of the perks of being me.
(In truth I found it in a dusty book in a forgotten corner of Hogwarts library, but it's a little trick of mine, if you want to learn how to deceive people, you first have to learn how to deceive yourself to appear more confident. Oh, don't take me wrong, I could have really crafted the spell myself, but that would have taken much more time, and if there's already a spell for that, why would I need to make another, right?)
"And then he waved his wand and said those weird words, pepsipepsi something-something, and all the pixies just dropped to the ground at once! For a second, I thought: oh great, another dark wizard teaching us!"
That was Ron Weasley, his hands flailing so wildly he nearly jabbed Harry Potter in the ear with a fork.
Hermione, ever the exasperated scholar, huffed. "That was a standard wide area stunning charm that only targets pixies, Ron. It's in his book, you would know if you actually read them instead of playing chess all the time." She rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with superiority.
Ron spluttered but, predictably, sulked back into his food.
Harry, ever the diplomat, added carefully, "Well… I don't think he's that bad. He helped Neville twice, first with the ink, and then by getting him down from the chandelier."
That perked Ron right up. And he launched into another animated tirade. "Oh, but did you see how those pixies lifted him? Neville's ears must be really strong to hold all his weight like that. He's a bit on the heavy side, you know. No offense, Neville."
Neville, who was minding his mashed potatoes, blinked and raised his head. "No offense taken. Honestly, I was surprised they didn't tear off too." He rubbed his ears gingerly. From where I sat, I could swear they looked just a bit larger, stretched by the pixies's mischief.
Hermione sniffed. "I, for one, am pleased we finally have a competent teacher. Those pixies were basic creatures and everyone should have been able to handle them. It just shows how poor Professor Quirrell's teaching was when the most effective defense some could come up with was swatting them away with a book. And he even recognized the spell I was about to use just by my wand movement!" Admiration dripped from her voice at the end.
Ah yes. That. Truth be told, I hadn't really noticed, just remembered from the movies what spell she'd use, but if she wanted to believe me brilliant and perceptive, who was I to correct her? Best let genius be assumed.
My attention shifted to the Slytherin table, where a small cluster of seventh-year girls leaned close, whispering conspiratorially.
"He's so dreamy! Do you think my father would agree to offer him a marriage contract if I asked?" one of them sighed. Raven hair down to her waist, hazel eyes, and a figure most witches would envy, clearly the type to star in most boys' fantasies.
"Are you mad?" another hissed. "Your father's a pure-blood supremacist! He'd never let you marry a half-blood, no matter how handsome."
A third adjusted her glasses, clearly the analyst of the group. "Unless he earned a First Class Order of Merlin. Power and fame can shift opinions. Just look at Dumbledore, he's a half-blood, but no one dares to call him filthy for who his parents were. Strength makes blood status irrelevant. Just imagine if someone discovered the Dark Lord himself was a half-blood or Merlin forbids, a mudblood… do you think they'd dare say a word? Of course not. They'd bury it and invent some ancient pure-blood lineage to keep his legend intact."
I nearly choked on my steak. Oh, girl, you have no idea how close you are to the truth. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if a few of Tommy's inner circle already knew and did exactly that.
"What, Dumbledore is a half-blood?!" the second girl almost shouted in surprise.
"See? Most people don't even know that little tidbit, most just assume he's a pure-blood because of how strong he is. When someone reaches a certain level of strength nothing else matters anymore."
Before I could eavesdrop further, Aurora Sinistra swept into the seat beside me. A perfect English breakfast appeared on her plate, complete with black tea. I blinked at her choice.
She caught my stare and immediately pulled out a hand mirror. "What? Do I have something on my face?" After a quick inspection, she relaxed, her braids swaying as she tucked the mirror away. She looked striking, lipstick a shade darker than usual, hatless for once, her braids tied into a ponytail that brushed her shoulders, but with how tight they looked, her hair would probably reach her knees if it was straight.
"No, you look lovely, as always," I said smoothly. "The lipstick suits you. And I must admit, I was just surprised you'd choose breakfast food at lunchtime."
Her lips curved into a smile. "Ah, well. For me it is breakfast. You know I keep nocturnal hours. By now I'm only just waking, and I never skip breakfast."
"Well, I wouldn't mind bacon at any hour," I said cheerfully. And as if on cue, a plate of sizzling bacon appeared beside me. I recognized the magical signature immediately, being much more attuned to magic after the fusion.
"Thank you, Pipi," I called. House-elves did have such peculiar names. This particular one I was familiar with because he was in charge of cleaning my room.
Aurora laughed softly into her tea as I continued, "Merlin, I love being back at Hogwarts: the food, the elves, the magic… and of course, the company." I gave her my most charming wink, satisfied to see a faint blush bloom on her cheeks.
She coughed, hiding behind her teacup. "Yes, well… the company is nice. But how will you deal with the curse? No Defense professor has lasted more than a year in decades. Some haven't even survived the year."
I detected a hint of worry in her tone.
Ah, the infamous curse. If I wanted a permanent position, that would be an obstacle. I'd read enough fanfiction in my past life to have a few theories, but theory and reality were two different beasts. Eventually, I'd need to corner Dumbledore and get the truth. A meeting I wasn't exactly eager for.
Still, I was Gilderoy Lockhart. Confidence incarnate. Smiling, I leaned back. "Don't worry your pretty little head, Aurora. From the moment I stepped foot back into the castle, you can consider that curse already undone. I simply had more urgent matters, like preparing a curriculum worth teaching."
Her frown softened, reassured by my composure. Good. "Besides," I added with a flourish, "I already have ideas to break it, and once I've had a word with our esteemed Headmaster to get the specifics, I'll make it vanish for good. You can count on that."
Her shoulders eased, and she gave me a small nod. "Well… I hope you're right."
Of course I was right. Or at least, I could fake being right long enough to make it true. Fake it till you make it, as they say. And no one fakes better than Gilderoy Lockhart.
…
(It took me some time to think up this chapter, I didn't want to write a recount of canon just from Lockhart's perspective. And right before starting to write, I was thinking about writing it from someone else's perspective, like Ron or Harry, but Lockhart seems to have become alive in my head and he really doesn't like not being the center of attention.)