December 24, 1992, 7:15 PM, Great Hall, Hogwarts
Draco Malfoy
Seated at one of the many tables in the Great Hall, Draco Malfoy was surrounded by his closest friends and allies from his house. Crabbe and Goyle flanked him on either side, their expressions as menacing as ever, while Pansy Parkinson sat across from him, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
As they settled in, Blaise Zabini made a remark.
“Quite the strategic positioning, Draco.” Zabini offered, gesturing with a smirk at the stage ahead.
Draco nodded in agreement, a smirk of his own playing at the corner of his lips. “Oh, yes; a full view of the festivities is afforded to us, while also allowing us to remain relatively inconspicuous.”
“Yes.” Parkinson said, and Draco forced a smile at her. He liked the girl well enough— when she wasn’t hanging onto his every word.
“It’s important to observe without drawing too much attention to ourselves.” Draco elaborated further, giving his own reasoning.
“Which allows us to watch our rivals’ moves and be ready to seize any opportunity that presents itself.”
“Precisely.”
His companions nodded in understanding, their eyes alight with anticipation for the events to come. Despite their young age, they had been keenly made aware of the importance of the tournament and the continuing need to assert themselves as either formidable contenders or possible allies.
As they watched the other students mingle and chat, Draco couldn’t help but feel a surge of determination coursing through him. He knew that tonight was another chance to prove himself as a true Slytherin, to rise above the rest and maintain his rightful place among the elite.
“It really is a good choice, Draco.” Pansy simpered even further.
Once again, Draco resisted the urge to scowl and accepted the girl’s praise with a nod, though inwardly he didn’t want to. He knew why Pansy was like this; his parents had never made it a secret to him that the other families would be looking to acquire the Malfoy wealth through marriage to him.
It had been a bitter pill to swallow, being made aware that his worth only extended to the holdings of his family, and not of anything inherent to himself.
More than that; Draco knew that the credit for the seating arrangement didn’t belong to him. True, this offered them a well-sought-after strategic advantage. However, it was his parents who had orchestrated the placement, pulling strings behind the scenes to ensure that they had the best view in the Great Hall.
“Of course.” Draco replied, masking his hesitation with practiced ease. “It’s for the good of all of us, after all.”
His friends nodded in agreement, their expressions mirroring his own sense of entitlement and ambition. Most knew that their parents’ influence had secured them this advantageous position, and they were determined to make the most of it, even if it meant holding onto the lie that they had any semblance of control.
Draco’s gaze drifted toward the Head table, where his father, Lucius Malfoy, sat alongside the Minister and other high-ranking officials. The table was adorned with elegant decorations, a stark contrast to the bustling activity of the Great Hall below. From his vantage point, Draco could see all of the upper echelons of wizarding society, as well as the Ministers, Headmasters and Headmistresses from all nine participating nations.
As he made eye contact with his father, Lucius caught his son’s gaze and gave him a subtle nod of acknowledgment. It was a silent understanding between them, a recognition of the role Draco played in upholding the family’s reputation and ambitions.
Draco returned the nod with a sense of pride, knowing that he had his father’s support and approval. It was a reminder of the expectations placed upon him as a member of the Malfoy family, and he was determined to live up to them.
I will prove myself worthy of my family’s legacy. Draco thought to himself.
As Vincent raised his glass to make a toast, Draco couldn’t help but suppress a smirk at the sight of the darkened pumpkin juice inside. It was a feeble attempt to mimic the sophistication of wine, a reminder of their young age and limited resources.
Despite the amusement that flickered in his eyes, Draco maintained his composure, shaking his head ever so slightly as he raised his own glass of water in response. He paid silent tribute to his own ambitions.
After the toast, the conversation among Draco and his friends turned to the Quidditch tournament. Crabbe and Goyle eagerly discussed the strengths and weaknesses of the school’s teams, while Pansy speculated on the potential outcomes of the matches.
“I heard that Mahoutokoro has a strong chance of winning this one.” Pansy remarked, her eyes shining with anticipation.
“Nonsense.” Zabini added. “With Flint, Davies and Wood leading the team, we’re practically unbeatable.”
He got a few nods for that, among which was Draco. “They’ve been training fairly hard. Say what you will about the members from other Houses, but our team has shaped up fairly well— even the Gryffindors, for a change.”
He got some odd looks for that statement, but Draco shook his head, affecting a look of disgust he didn’t feel. “I know; complimenting Gryffindor— ridiculous, coming from me, but I never was one to deny what’s obvious and right in front of us.”
He got a few hesitant nods for that, but Draco realized that this particular battle would be an uphill one. The enmity between the two Houses wasn’t something which could be fixed in a few short months— not that it was something he cared to fix, in the first place.
But, then again…
He remembered his first day, extending his hand to Potter in friendship in the Entrance Hall.
Perhaps…
As the conversation shifted to the dueling tournament, Zabini voiced his opinion on the odds of victory for each participant. “I’d say that Carlson has a good chance of winning his section. He’s had a few good matches.”
He got nods of agreement from the others.
“But Draco will definitely come out on top in his section.” Pansy interjected confidently, casting a fond glance in Draco’s direction. “No one’s been able to stand against him in a duel, so far.”
Draco only nodded, projecting confidence to the group once again. “They certainly have been interesting challenges, but I overcame them, just the same.”
“Of course, Draco.” Pansy said, agreeing with him without thinking, and Draco gave her a more genuine smile, this time.
He supposed that, sycophancy or not, at least her confidence in him was real; or so, he hoped.
As Draco reflected on the opponents he had faced in the dueling tournament, he couldn’t shake the memory of the difficult battles he had endured. Clarke’s words— and he would be damned if he ever referred to him as Black in his own mind— were a reminder of the grueling nature of each successive fight.
The path to victory is steep. He’d said to him during a training session, once.
And strangely, despite the mounting obstacles, a strange sense of determination stirred within him, urging him to press forward and give his all in every duel.
A year ago, he would have never behaved in this manner; too much like a Gryffindor for his previous tastes.
He had yet to discuss these feelings with his father, but Draco couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at the thought that this was his own will to conquer. It was a newfound resolve, a determination to prove himself worthy of the Malfoy name and emerge victorious against all odds.
“Draco? You all right?” Gregory’s voice came from his side.
Draco blinked, momentarily pulled from his thoughts by the boy’s question. He offered a faint smile in response before admitting. “Just thinking about a past duel.”
As he turned his attention back to the table, Draco noticed that the food had already appeared, a sign that he had been more distracted than he realized. With a shake of his head to clear his thoughts, he joined his friends in partaking of the delicious spread before them.
The conversation around the table shifted to lighter topics as they indulged in the feast. Draco found himself enjoying the closeness of his friends and allies, a welcome distraction from the weight of his own thoughts.
As he savored the flavors of the meal and listened to the animated chatter of his companions, Draco observed the dynamics unfolding across the Great Hall, noting the subtle interactions between the students from the various schools.
The Longling students seemed to be particularly drawn to their counterparts from Castelobruxo, their laughter and animated conversation blending seamlessly with the vibrant energy of the Brazilian students.
In contrast, the students from Ayn Sehr, Durmstrang, and Uagadou appeared content to remain within their own groups, exchanging polite nods and occasional glances with those around them but largely keeping to themselves.
Draco couldn’t help but notice the ease with which the students from Mahoutokoro, Ilvermorny, and Beauxbatons mingled with their Hogwarts counterparts, engaging in lively conversation and exchanging friendly smiles.
Still, is this enough?
As Draco continued to observe the interactions unfolding around him, his thoughts turned to the deeper implications of the League. Officially, it was meant to serve as a unifying force, bringing together the nine nations in an alliance to face the looming threat of Grindelwald.
However, Draco couldn’t shake the feeling that not all of the participating groups were fully committed to the ideals of alliance and friendship. Despite the festive atmosphere of the Great Hall, he could sense a subtle undercurrent of tension lurking beneath the surface.
The students from Ayn Sehr, Durmstrang, and Uagadou seemed particularly aloof, their interactions with the other schools tinged with a hint of reserve. It was as if they were only participating in the tournament out of obligation rather than genuine camaraderie.
He understood this behavior well; he’d seen it so many times in his short time attending the parties his parents hosted. A wizard’s desire, for safety’s or comfort’s sake, to stand well in his peer’s eyes was a strong one, turning him to courses of action such as this.
Draco couldn’t help but wonder what lay behind their apparent reluctance to fully embrace the spirit of cooperation. Was it simply cultural differences, or was there something else at play? Whatever the reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else going on.
A sense of unease crept over him.
As Draco tried to focus on his meal, his attention was momentarily diverted by a nudge from Vincent. Draco turned towards his friend.
“What is it; you need the salt or—” He said, stopping as he followed the boy’s gaze and saw something— or rather, someone— approaching their table.
It was a young student from Mahoutokoro, making their way towards them with purposeful strides. Draco furrowed his brow, trying to place the unfamiliar face.
The student, clad in the distinctive robes of Mahoutokoro, stopped before their table, a polite yet determined expression on her features. Draco exchanged a puzzled glance with Vincent before turning his attention back to the visitor, waiting for them to speak.
Draco’s initial confusion melted away as he recognized the scowl etching its way across the visitor’s face. It was his latest opponent in the league, a witch by the name of Haruka, if he recalled correctly.
As realization dawned on him, Draco straightened in his seat, preparing himself for whatever interaction was about to unfold. Haruka’s presence here, especially with that particular expression, could only mean trouble.
Is she still mad about her loss?
She stood there for a few seconds before opening her mouth.
“Would you care for a dance, Draco Malfoy?” She said, and Draco was struck dumb for a moment.
Glancing around at his friends’ silent astonishment and catching a glimpse of Pansy’s scandalized expression, Draco turned his attention to the girl and raised an eyebrow at her unexpected invitation, his mind racing to decipher her motives.
“Join you for a dance?” He repeated, his tone laced with mild surprise.
Haruka nodded, her expression unreadable, and her voice tinged with a hint of challenge. “Yes, Draco Malfoy. I believe it’s customary to enjoy oneself at such events, is it not?”
Vincent and Gregory exchanged glances, their amusement at the way she was saying his name slowly building. Sensing the weight of their scrutiny, Draco weighed his options for a moment before a smirk tugged at his lips.
It will not do to sully the name of Malfoy with an outright rejection. Best to humor her, and perhaps I’ll find out what her stake in this game is.
“Indeed, it is.” He conceded, rising from his seat with a flourish. “Lead the way, Miss Haruka.”
Draco glanced back at his friends, a silent farewell conveyed in his eyes as he led Haruka away from the table. He could feel the weight of Pansy’s disapproving stare lingering on his back, but he pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the elegant figure beside him.
As they began to dance— a safe, slow waltz— their steps were measured, and they weaved through the growing crowd of dancers. Letting himself relax, Draco’s movements synced with the soft melody drifting through the Great Hall, and Haruka began to respond in kind, matching his movements with a certain grace as they sped up.
She exuded an air of quiet confidence as she danced, her sleek black hair cascading down her back in a waterfall of ebony silk. Her dark eyes sparkled with intelligence and a hint of mischief, framed by delicate eyebrows that arched gracefully over them. Despite her petite stature, there was a strength to her movements; it was a power which Draco had become intimately familiar with in the arena, having taken the brunt of her assault many times over.
“You’re quite skilled at this.” Draco remarked, breaking the silence between them.
A smile tugged at the corners of Haruka’s lips, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Thank you, Draco Malfoy. At Mahoutokoro, we consider dancing to be an art form.”
“Still, it’s surprising that you learned the waltz in such short a time.” Draco said, to which her acknowledgment was a pleasant hum.
As the music shifted in tempo, Draco and Haruka continued their dance, their movements filled with a noticeable, if not a little charming awkwardness.
Draco couldn’t shake the feeling that Haruka was relishing the challenge, her mischievous glances daring him to keep up with her steps. Neither of them were experts at these unfamiliar rhythms, but they managed well enough, finding joy in the shared inexperience.
Time continued to pass in this manner, and he found that couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer. With a tilt of his head, he addressed the girl.
“Why did you ask me to dance?” He inquired, his tone a mixture of genuine interest and mild perplexity.
She shrugged lightly, her eyes momentarily clouded with uncertainty.
“I’m not sure. I just felt like I needed to.” She admitted, though she smiled as she did so. “I’m glad I did.”
Haruka’s response was as enigmatic as her initial invitation. Draco found himself caught between fascination and suspicion as the two continued to dance, his mind swirling with questions.
Was her invitation to dance truly a spur-of-the-moment decision, or did it conceal a deeper purpose? He watched her closely, searching for any hint of ulterior motives hidden behind her playful facade. Yet, as they twirled and swayed to the music’s rhythm, Haruka’s expression remained the same, her gaze fixed on him with the same intensity she showed during their duel.
Can it truly be as simple as she said?
Draco’s thoughts meandered through uncharted territory, a maze of uncertainty and revelation. Surprisingly, the question of Haruka’s blood status hadn’t crossed his mind until this moment, and he found himself grappling with the implications of his gross oversight.
For someone who prided himself on his discerning eye for blood purity, this realization was both disconcerting and— strangely enough— a relief.
Relief? Why am I feeling relieved? He thought to himself. I should be panicking. What if she’s a Mudblood? I’d be the laughingstock of the community.
He was unnerved by the notion that he had so unconsciously overlooked something so obvious— and with his father here.
Had Clarke been rubbing off on him too much? Why was he acting like this, now?
“I didn’t choose to dance with you because you were a Malfoy, if that’s what you were wondering.” She explained, her voice barely audible over the music. “Though I am glad you are of a prestigious name.”
“Then why?” Draco said, at least glad that her words meant that she was of a line of some note. He may even be forgiven for his misstep.
“I chose to dance with you because I saw something in you during our matches. Something different.”
Draco’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion passing over his features. Thoughts on blood purity were gently nudged to the side in favor of satisfying his curiosity. “Different? How do you mean?”
Haruka’s gaze held his steadily, her expression unreadable. “They say that, when two opponents clash, they gain a glimpse into the other’s soul.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but found himself at a loss for words. He had expected her to speak about his appearance, or his wit, or anything but their previous battle.
“And… What did you see?” He finally managed to ask.
Haruka smiled, and he saw the mischief in her eyes once again.
“I saw a true challenge.” She said, her words carrying a weight that resonated deep within Draco’s very soul. “You have great potential— I saw it in the way you move, the way you fight. You’ll do.”
Draco tilted his head again, frowning at her. “‘I’ll do’? How insulting…”
“It was not meant as such.”
“Hmph.” Draco turned his nose, to which the girl smirked. “And what was it meant as?”
“An invitation.”
“Is that so?” Draco said, now intrigued again. “What is it I’m being invited for?”
Here, she hesitated and stopped dancing. A moment later, she gave him a serious nod, her dark eyes blazing with intent. “To be my sparring partner.”
Draco couldn’t help it. He laughed.
“You— a sparring partner!” He said, his shoulder shaking with mirth. It was not the right reaction, judging from the expression on her face.
“Yes.” She continued adamantly, and Draco’s own humor faded away in her somber wake.
“You’re serious?”
“Of course.” Haruka said. “I don’t know how not to be.”
“I…”
“If you require time to think about it—”
“No, no!” Draco said quickly. “I mean, yes, I accept.”
Surprise flashed over her face. “You do?”
“Yes.” Draco said, and he shocked himself with how certain he sounded. “Fighting against you was… very fun. So, yes.”
“Good.” Haruka said, nodding twice. “That’s… Very good.”
A moment of awkward silence passed between them before Draco extended his hand again. “Would you care for another dance?”
Haruka smiled and took his hand. She was about to lead him to another spot before she stopped, her attention suddenly drawn to something behind Draco. Following her gaze, Draco turned to see Adam Clarke on the dancefloor, accompanied by a ghost trailing behind him.
A puzzled expression crossed Haruka’s face as she remarked on the oddity of the sight.
“That’s… Quite unusual.” She murmured, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched Adam and the ghost weaving through the crowd.
Draco nodded in agreement, his own gaze fixed on Adam.
“Clarke’s a very… Unusual student.” He commented, his tone reflecting a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. “But this is strange, even for him.”
Haruka turned to Draco, a questioning look in her eyes.
“Do you know him?” She asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.
Draco shrugged nonchalantly.
“We’re acquainted, and we may have clashed on a few occasions.” He replied, choosing his words carefully.
“Is that so…?” Haruka remarked, her tone also cautious. “I’ve heard rumors about him. Something about him savagely brutalizing four students for no reason other than sheer sport.”
Draco shrugged again, a hint of skepticism in his expression.
“I’ve heard the same rumors.” He admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “But I know him— he wouldn’t do anything like that.”
“Are you two friends?”
“Friends?” Draco said, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach.
He remembered the boy’s words from a few months before, almost having called Draco a friend on instinct.
“I don’t think we are.” Draco said, ignoring the strange feeling.
“I see.” Haruka’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she continued to observe Adam dancing with the ghost. “It’s still quite odd, don’t you think?”
Draco couldn’t help but chuckle at her comment, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Yes, it is.”
“Why are you so amused by this?” Haruka asked, turning to Draco with a quizzical expression.
“Perhaps I’ll tell you at some point.” He replied, though he shook his head. “But for now, let’s just enjoy the dance. Shall we?”
She stared at him for a moment, her earlier confusion giving way to a challenging smile once more. “Very well.”
He would deal with Clarke’s weirdness in time. For now, he wanted this moment to extend.
Just a little longer.
oooo
Same time…
Gilderoy Lockhart
Ah, but what an illustrious gathering it was!
There I sat among my esteemed colleagues, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers from the other schools, each undoubtedly in awe of my unparalleled expertise. As we exchanged pleasantries and discussed matters of the magical world, I couldn’t help but notice the rapt attention bestowed upon me.
Beside me, my date Valarie, a Ministry official tasked with overseeing the tournament, hung onto my every word with an adoring gaze.
Who could blame her? After all, I was Gilderoy Lockhart, the epitome of charm and talent. My golden locks shimmered in the blue candlelight, my robes a dazzling display of elegance; I was the very embodiment of wizarding excellence.
With each anecdote I shared, I regaled the group with tales of my daring escapades and heroic feats.
“Ah, but you see.” I declared with a flourish, my voice carrying across the table. “It was nothing compared to the time I single-handedly vanquished a fairly foul collection of Trolls with a mere flick of my wand!”
The other teachers chuckled politely, indulging me in my moment of glory. They may have dimmed their reaction somewhat, but I could see the admiration in their eyes. They knew that they were in the presence of greatness.
My date remained by my side, looking upon me with a devotion befitting a true admirer of Gilderoy Lockhart, the wizarding world’s most esteemed— and envied— hero.
More drinks appeared before us, and I graciously accepted, indulging in the finest offerings of the evening. As the conversation flowed and laughter filled the air, I couldn’t help but surreptitiously inspect my beverages for any signs of tampering.
Being the center of attention, I had to remain vigilant, ever aware of the potential threats lurking in the shadows. One could never be too careful, even of a well-meaning, if deluded fan.
And there it was. From the smell of it, a mild love potion, I gathered as I flicked my finger, making the cup tip over and ruin the robe of the person in front of me. He scrambled and nearly fell out of his seat, and everyone shared a laugh even as they cleaned him up.
Scanning the people around me, I realized that Valarie seemed to be somewhat upset at this development.
So it was her. People truly are inept. I thought to myself, shaking my head in mild amusement. They failed to recognize the cunning intellect behind the charming facade of Gilderoy Lockhart, even ones who were almost painfully close to me.
That, however, was their folly, not mine, for I was always one step ahead, my keen instincts honed by years of navigating the treacherous waters of wizarding society.
With a subtle nod of approval, I raised a new glass in a toast to my own brilliance, savoring the taste of victory as the evening stretched on. As the festivities continued, I reveled in the adoration lavished upon me, making a few forward comments to Valarie, which seemed to bring her back to a more comfortable mood, now realizing that she likely did not require the use of a love potion to ensnare me.
I’m going to have to have a nice, long chat with her. I thought, watching as she blushed under my gaze.
I couldn’t help but ponder her intentions. Was it merely a misguided attempt to ensure a lovely night with me, or was there something more sinister at play?
A wry smile tugged at the corners of my lips. Valarie’s affections were flattering, of course, but I had little patience for such amateurish tactics. After all, I was Gilderoy Lockhart, and my heart belonged to no one but myself.
Yet, beneath the veneer of indifference, a seed of suspicion took root. What if Valarie’s actions were not borne out of infatuation, but rather a ploy to gain leverage over me?
With a dismissive wave of my hand, I pushed aside such troubling thoughts. Surely no one would deign to betray me in such a manner. It was unthinkable.
“Would you care to dance, Gilderoy?” She said, plastering on a smile so fake that it was almost funny.
I graciously accepted with a smile. “Oh, but of course, dear Valarie!”
I led her to the dancefloor with all the charm befitting a wizard of my stature. We moved together in perfect rhythm, the music swirling around us as we enjoyed a few dances in each other’s company.
But then, as fate would have it, Valarie shivered as a ghost accidentally passed through her, her delicate mask faltering for just a moment. I couldn’t help but suppress a smirk at her display of vulnerability, though I made sure to maintain my own composed demeanor.
“Goodness, these ghosts.” Valarie exclaimed in annoyance, her simpering demeanor slipping for a brief instant before she hastily put it back up. “They really ought to be banned from such gatherings. It’s positively ghastly.”
“You’d be surprised at what a specter can do.” I said, keeping my smile mysterious and almost playful. “So it’s always best to accommodate them, lest you find yourself at the mercy of one, someday. They cannot be killed, after all.”
“I see…” She said, and for a moment she seemed unsure of what to do.
And so, I dashingly reassured Valarie that everything was well, brushing off her momentary discomfort with the ghost as nothing more than a minor inconvenience. We continued to dance, and my movements were as graceful and eye-catching as an icon, drawing the gaze of all around me.
Smiling again, I leaned in close, my voice low and suggestive. “Perhaps we should find somewhere a little more… private. Wouldn’t you say, Miss Valarie?”
I gazed into her eyes, seeing them gleaming with anticipation. I saw the thrill coursed through her at my suggestion, her mind surely already racing with possibilities. After all, who could resist the allure of Gilderoy Lockhart, especially when offered the promise of seclusion and intimacy?
With a charming smile and a twinkle in my eye, I nodded in agreement, my heart pounding with excitement as I took Valarie’s hand in mine. Oh, the adventures that awaited us in the shadows, far from prying eyes and the constraints of propriety.
Tonight, I, Gilderoy Lockhart was prepared to indulge in every pleasure that came my way, consequences be damned.
As Valarie led me out of the bustling Great Hall, I couldn’t help but notice the various couples engaged in similar clandestine activities.
“Seems like we’re not the only ones seeking a bit of privacy.” I remarked with a knowing smile. “Perhaps I should stop them… It is my duty as a Professor of this school, after all.”
“True.” Valarie said, though the promise in her eyes stayed my hand. She chuckled softly, her hand warm in mine. “Indeed, it’s quite the night for romantic rendezvous, why ruin it? Besides…”
Her smile widened under my gaze, her voice growing heavier and lower. “I know just the spot for us.”
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her promise.
“Oh? Pray, do tell.” I said, my curiosity piqued.
With a mischievous glint in her eye, Valarie stopped and leaned in close.
“It’s a secret spot from my years here.” She whispered, her breath tickling my ear. “Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.”
And so it was that I eagerly followed as she led me farther and farther away from the prying eyes of the crowd. Oh, the adventures that awaited us in the shadows! Perhaps I needed to write a different kind of book series to my usual adventures?
Hm… Waltzing with Witches? I tried a book title in my mind before smiling slightly. Needs some work, but there is potential to be had, there…
As Valarie led me to the empty hedge maze in front of the entrance, a chill hung in the air, the ground dusted with a layer of frost and snow. I couldn’t help but remark. “This place isn’t particularly private, is it?”
Valarie’s smile remained enigmatic.
“Trust me, Gilderoy.” With a gentle tug on my hand, she led me deeper into the maze, weaving through the intricate pathways until we reached an out-of-the-way section with only one exit.
I raised an eyebrow in curiosity as I surveyed our surroundings. It was clear that this was not a place where one would deliberately go to cross the maze. The sense of seclusion settled over us like a cloak, and I couldn’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation at the thought of what awaited us in this hidden alcove.
With a sly grin, I turned to Valarie.
“Well, it seems I was wrong.” I remarked, my voice laced with praise. “I must say, I’m impressed.”
Within seconds, she was already on me, pressing me against the hedge walls before we finally settled on the sole bench in the corner. As Valarie began to act almost desperately intimate with me, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of amusement mixed with a hint of annoyance.
It was far beyond clear that her intentions were not as genuine as she had portrayed them to be.
With practiced ease, I played along with her advances, feigning ignorance as I reciprocated her gestures. But all the while, my mind was sharp and alert, my senses attuned to the subtle signs of approaching footsteps and hushed whispers.
The spells I had surreptitiously laid across the area had already alerted me to several people approaching, their presence signaled by the faint shimmer of magic in the air. Yet, I remained outwardly oblivious, allowing Valarie to continue her charade as I bided my time.
It was a risky game I played, one of deception and deceit, but I was well-versed in such matters. After all, I was Gilderoy Lockhart, and no one could outwit me in the game of intrigue.
As the footsteps drew nearer, I tightened my grip on Valarie’s hand, a knowing smile playing on my lips. For tonight, I would indulge her in her little game, but in the end, it would be I who emerged victorious, as always.
Laughter came from the sole exit, and I pretended to jolt in shock as I threw a facsimile of a panicked look there.
“Having fun, are we?” One of them said as they approached, wands already drawn. “Don’t make any hasty moves, now.”
Three men. I thought, not recognizing any of them.
“You made a mistake by coming out here alone, Lockhart.” One of them said, and they laughed again.
“A mistake, what do you mean?” I exclaimed, playing along with their game while inwardly calculating my next move.
Turning towards Valarie, I expected to see a look of satisfaction on her face. Instead, to my surprise, she appeared shocked, her eyes wide and her demeanor frightened. Was this a change of heart, I wondered, or was she merely playing another angle in our little charade?
Despite the uncertainty gnawing at the edges of my mind, I maintained my composure, my gaze steady as I waited for the next development.
“W-What’s going on!” She said, her fear palpable.
The three wizards wasted no time in launching spells in my direction. With lightning speed, I pushed her away as I lunged to the right, narrowly evading their onslaught as their spells collided with the hedge walls behind me.
The first spell, a burst of crimson light, struck the hedge with a deafening crack, causing it to burst into flames that licked hungrily at the surrounding foliage. Smoke billowed into the air, thick and acrid, as the flames consumed the once-lush greenery with ferocious intensity.
The second spell, a surge of blue energy, collided with the hedge, slicing through branches both fiery and frost covered and sending them flying in the air. Sparks from the flames and frost broke rapidly off of the respective branches’ surfaces, filling the air with particles both orange and blue, which sparkled in the moonlight.
The third spell, a crackling bolt of electricity, struck the floor in front of me with a resounding boom, sending shards of rock flying in every direction. I stepped backwards and obscured myself in the fallout, buying myself some time before I made my next move.
As the dust settled and the echoes of the spells faded into the night, I stood amidst the wreckage, unscathed. For in the face of danger, I had emerged victorious, my quick thinking and lightning reflexes proving to be more than a match for my adversaries.
And as I surveyed the destruction around me, a satisfied smile tugged at the corners of my lips. After all, no one could outwit Gilderoy Lockhart, the wizarding world’s most cunning and resourceful hero.
You’ve had your chance, boys. I thought as my hand brushed against my wand, filling me with a sense of supreme power. And you wasted it.
The three interlopers continued to unleash their onslaught upon me, their spells hammering against the shield I had hastily erected. The air filled with bursts of light and energy with every impact.
Hmph. I thought, feeling a mild strain against my power, though it was nowhere near enough to harm me.
Their curses of annoyance filled the air, one of them grumbling that my defiance wasn’t part of the plan. But it was too late for regrets now, for I had already turned the tables on them, and they were the ones left scrambling to regain control of the situation.
I weathered their assault for a few more moments, allowing them to exhaust themselves in their futile attempts to break through my barrier. But as their attacks continued unabated, I grew tired of this charade. With a flick of my wand, I forced the shield forward, slamming the three wizards against the hedgewall and stunning them for a moment.
In that brief moment of hesitation, I seized the opportunity to strike back, dismissing my shield and unleashing a barrage of spells of my own with precision and finesse. With each flick of my wand, their cries of surprise and alarm filled the air as they found themselves on the receiving end of a power they had not anticipated.
The first was struck down by a simple Stunning Charm— a pitiful showing after all his bluster, really. Even as he fell, I stepped forward, deflecting the spells from both of my enemies.
My turn. I thought and waved my wand with a flourish. Immediately, the hedge maze’s wall came to life, enveloping both wizards in a tangle of vines and hoping to bury them alive. A flash of light, and one of them managed to escape, scrambling away from the greenery even as his comrade cried out in pain, the thorny vines digging deeply into every inch of skin they covered.
“Plea—” But I did not heed the man’s words, instead lobbing a quick Bludgeoning Hex at the fool who attempted to run away. The spell struck him in the back of the head, sending blood and bits of skull flying every which way. I stepped back, brain matter landing where I was standing not a moment before.
“How unsightly…” I said, my face shifting into an expression of disgust even as the still conscious attacker screamed within the confine of his thorny prison. “Please, be quiet. Stupefy.“
A flash of red, and then, silence.
“That’s better.”
As I marveled at my own prowess for a moment, a sense of satisfaction washed over me.
I had emerged victorious once again, proving my superiority in the face of adversity. But as I turned towards the woman who had led me to this secluded spot, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of suspicion lingering in the back of my mind.
I suspected, despite her show of fear, that she likely had a hand in orchestrating the ambush, but I would deal with that later.
After all, she was with the Ministry, and I could find her anytime I wanted. For now, I had to concern myself with the optics of the situation, ensuring that I appeared calm and collected in the aftermath of the confrontation.
“Are you all right?” I asked, my voice tinged with mild, fabricated concern as I approached her. Despite my suspicions, I couldn’t afford to show any signs of distrust. After all, appearances were everything, and I had a reputation to uphold as the wizarding world’s most esteemed hero.
As Valarie turned to me, tears glistening in her eyes, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of uncertainty. It was clear that she was shocked by my display of concern, as if she hadn’t expected me to come to her aid. Dare I say it, she even appeared grateful for the assistance!
In that moment, I considered the situation again.
True, she had attempted to slip me some love potion, and led me to this quiet area, but perhaps she wasn’t part of this attack force? Could it simply have been a coincidence that they were here?
What was her angle, then?
A surge of conflicting emotions washed over me, and I decided to stare into her eyes, subtly combing through her mind for the answers.
Images flashed in my mind: a meeting with a reporter, a love potion, a plan to seclude me, and a hefty bag of coin as payment.
I see. I thought. She was hoping to cause a scandal— the reporter gets a story, and she receives money?
It was certainly distasteful, but it was a few orders of magnitude above trying to kill him.
But before I could dwell on it any further, Valarie started apologizing, her voice trembling with emotion.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered, her gaze pleading. “This is my fault.”
I pretended not to understand, a mask of calm and reassurance settling over my features. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for. Those men came from nowhere! Perhaps they are attacking you?”
I kept my voice soothing and gentle, even as I pretended to be the fool she had thought of me as.
It seemed to have a different effect than I was expecting. With a trembling lip, she tried to say something in response, but the words caught in her throat, choked by the swell of emotion threatening to overwhelm her.
Instead, she pressed herself onto me, her lips locking onto mine in a desperate embrace.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still as I allowed myself to be consumed by the intensity of the moment, the world around us fading into insignificance.
“It’s an act.” She said. “It’s all an act.”
“What is?” I said, still not acknowledging her words. She responded by kissing me again.
Had I so moved her heart with my actions, this night?
I supposed it was only natural, for who could truly resist my charms?
None could, for I was Gilderoy Lockhart, Eleven Times Winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award, Order of Merlin, Second Class, and Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League.
And now, a savior of damsels in distress.
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