Work Text:
8 November 1992
Minerva rubbed her eyes tiredly, leaning back in her favorite armchair in the staffroom and releasing a slow, deep breath. She had spent the better part of the night scouring the castle with Albus, but their efforts had been futile. The Chamber of Secrets and the beast it boasted were either extraordinarily elusive or utterly nonexistent. It had been with a heavy heart that she had returned to her quarters, after two hours of fruitless searching. One of her own had been petrified, and Minerva was no closer to discovering how it had happened than she was to joining Gilderoy Lockhart's fan club…
Yawning, Minerva glanced around the staffroom. It was unusually empty, given the time of day. The early mornings, in the wee hours before breakfast, tended to be the busiest hours in the staff quarters. But today, the room was unoccupied, apart from Minerva and Severus—who was hunched over a desk in the corner of the room, marking papers with a very surly expression on his face.
Minerva watched as he dipped his quill in red ink, scribbled something very ferociously on an essay, then scrawled an enormous zero at the top of the parchment, before slamming the assignment onto the pile to his right. Suddenly, he looked up and caught her gaze from across the room; he scowled.
"What?" he snapped.
Minerva raised her eyebrows. "You're in a charming mood."
Severus's lip curled as he turned back to his stack of essays. "You wouldn't be particularly pleased, either, if Gilderoy Lockhart almost knocked your office door down at six o'clock in the morning."
Minerva pressed her lips into a thin line. "What did he want?"
"The usual," Severus said sourly. "He wanted to give me tips on brewing the perfect Mandrake Restorative Draught."
Minerva stared at him. "That man can barely cast an Unlocking Charm."
"And yet, he claims to have saved an entire village from a rogue werewolf."
Minerva snorted. "You don't honestly believe that he has done any of the things he claims to have done, do you?" she asked. "I taught the boy Transfiguration for five years, and if I remember correctly, his biggest talent was spinning tales."
"Are you talking about Lockhart?"
Minerva and Severus looked around. Pomona had entered the staffroom, holding a stack of essays. She was closely followed by Filius.
"Yes," Minerva said dryly. "And I think the fact that you knew exactly whom I was referring to speaks volumes."
Pomona shook her head, taking a seat at the staff table. "I taught him, too," she said, in a tone of long-suffering, "and I don't think I've had a student since who put more effort into styling his hair."
"But he was a smart chap," Filius chimed in, sitting down next to Pomona. "He achieved good marks, overall, I remember."
"Maybe so, Filius, but he also once carved his signature into the Quidditch pitch and shot a hologram of his face into the sky during an Astronomy lesson," Pomona rolled her eyes. She looked at Minerva. "Filius won't hear a word against a student of his house, no matter how foolish they grew up to be."
Minerva snorted with laughter, while Filius spluttered indignantly.
"That is completely untrue, Pomona," Filius reproached, frowning. "I'm not saying I particularly enjoy Gilderoy's company, but surely he did something right to have achieved the things he has. I mean, how many people can say they have banished a banshee, defeated a Yeti, and saved a village from a werewolf?"
"Yes, Severus and I were discussing that, Filius," Minerva arched an eyebrow. "I'm afraid I cannot believe Lockhart actually performed those acts."
"But his books—!"
"You know, I'm starting to think Filius is a fan," Pomona interrupted in a carrying whisper, winking at Minerva, who smirked.
Filius flushed with color. "I most certainly am not!" he squeaked. "I just happen to have a friend from the village in New South Wales where Lockhart subdued the werewolf. I know for certain that a werewolf was, in fact, found and tried."
There was a brief silence, as the other three professors contemplated this.
Then— "Just because the werewolf was caught," Severus began slowly, "does not necessarily mean that Lockhart was responsible."
Filius piped up, "But if it was someone else, why has the wizard not stepped forward? Why hasn't Gilderoy been denounced for taking credit?"
Minerva frowned; Filius made a valid point.
"By the way, is it true, Minerva?" Pomona asked suddenly. "Has Colin Creevey really been petrified?"
Minerva released a heavy sigh. "It's true. Albus and I found him on the stairs last night."
"How awful," Pomona said miserably, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "That poor, sweet boy."
"I'll be writing to his parents tomorrow morning," Minerva swallowed. "They're Muggles—the way they'll see it, they've sent their son off to a castle so dangerous that he's managed to get himself seriously injured in just two months."
Pomona stared at her. "Minerva, if the Chamber of Secrets has indeed been opened again, I must say I quite agree—"
Suddenly, the door to the staffroom flew open, and Minerva had to resist a groan as Gilderoy Lockhart—sporting sweeping, resplendent robes of the gaudiest fuchsia—swept inside, beaming around at them all.
"Good morning, my dearest colleagues!" he announced with a flourish of his robes, strolling to the tea service at the back of the room. "How are you all on this fine day?"
Minerva clenched her teeth, exchanging a grim look with Pomona. Next to Pomona, Filius had suddenly become very interested in a fleck of lint on his robes. And in the far corner of the staffroom, Severus had returned to grading his essays, a muscle working in his jaw.
Lockhart poured himself a cup of tea, seemingly unperturbed by the stony silence his entrance had caused.
"I have just been given some wonderful news from the headmaster himself," he said cheerfully, taking a sip from his teacup. "In light of the dreadful attack on dear Mr. Creevey, he has given me permission to establish a dueling club."
Severus dropped his quill. Filius's elbow slipped off of the edge of the staff table and hit the arm of his chair. Pomona let out a loud snort that she managed to disguise as a hacking cough.
Minerva stared at Lockhart in disbelief. "A dueling club?" she asked hollowly.
"Indeed," Lockhart beamed. "A chance for the students to learn some proper defensive tactics, should they ever encounter whatever horror is causing these petrifications."
Moments passed in stunned silence.
"And…and you will be leading it?" Minerva broke the quiet. "Albus has given you permission to lead the club?"
"He has," said Lockhart majestically, possibly mistaking her incredulity for awe. He set down his now-empty teacup and clapped his hands together. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my good people, I must get back to my office. Much to do, much to plan!"
With a roguish grin and a wink, Lockhart swished out of the room in a flash of lurid pink.
The moment the door snapped shut behind him, Pomona swiveled around in her seat to face Minerva, a dumbfounded look on her face.
"You don't think he's actually serious, do you?"
Minerva was still staring at the door in astonishment. "I sincerely hope not."
Severus made a disparaging noise. They all turned to look at him.
"I have absolutely no trouble at all believing that the headmaster has given Lockhart the go-ahead," Severus bit out. "It sounds exactly like the kind of outrageous thing he would do."
Pomona climbed to her feet and walked to the tea service. "But this is about more than just indulging Lockhart's ego," she shook her head. "This is a matter of safety—do we really want this man demonstrating dueling tactics to our students?"
"Perhaps he is an accomplished duelist," said Filius, though he looked very uncertain. "After all, to take down a werewolf, one must—"
"Filius," Minerva interrupted irately.
Pomona bit her lip, pouring a splash of milk into her cup. "I hope Albus knows what he's doing."
"Come now, Pomona," Filius reasoned. "I have learned to trust the headmaster's actions, no matter how strange I find them. If he has given Lockhart permission to start this club, then he must have made sure that—"
"Filius, I'm fairly certain any one of us could crush Lockhart in a duel, even with our hands tied behind our back," Minerva snapped.
"He is a fraud," Severus said harshly. "Until I hear someone tell him, 'By the way, thank you for saving my life' with my own ears, I will not believe a single word—"
He was cut off by a roaring whoosh from the fireplace. All four of the professors looked around, just in time to see Albus Dumbledore emerge from the grate in a blaze of green, dusting off his robes.
"Good day, professors," Albus said brightly. His beaming look slipped as he took in their faces. "You all look very troubled."
"Albus, Lockhart has just told us that you've given him permission to reinstitute the Hogwarts Dueling Club," Minerva explained, without preamble.
Albus's blue eyes twinkled. "Ah, yes," he took a seat in the armchair opposite Minerva's. "He was very passionate about the idea."
The four professors stared at Albus. Then, Minerva said bluntly, "Albus, I hope you realize what exactly you are risking by allowing this to happen."
A corner of Albus's lips twitched. "And what would that be, Minerva?"
Minerva shared an incredulous look with Pomona. "Albus…I simply can't see how it would bode well for Lockhart to instruct the students on dueling, when he is so—" she paused.
"—prone to error," Pomona put in wryly.
Albus smiled. "I understand your concerns," he said lightly. "And I have already informed Gilderoy that under no circumstances will he be allowed to conduct the club on his own."
Minerva looked at him in surprise.
"Do you mean to tell me, Headmaster, that you will be joining Lockhart in demonstrating dueling tactics?" Severus was smirking.
Pomona snorted into her tea. Minerva considered Albus hopefully; it would be worth attending Lockhart's dueling lessons, simply to see the idiotic man receive his comeuppance from the headmaster, himself.
"Certainly not, Severus," Albus quipped. "I have told Professor Lockhart that, as a Defense Against the Dark Arts enthusiast yourself, you would be delighted to assist him with his endeavor."
This appeared to be too much for Pomona, who choked on her tea and burst into a fit of silent laughter. Filius was hiding a smile behind his fist. And even Minerva couldn't quite resist a chuckle at the horrified, murderous expression on Severus's face.