𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼𝗰𝗸, harry potter

˗ˋ 116

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED
AND SIXTEEN
✧
-: fifth year :-

── IN WHICH THEIR JOURNEY 
IS INTERRUPTED

. . 

The group left the doors to the Dai Llewellyn behind, finding a rickety staircase at the end of the corridor, lined with more portraits of brutal-looking Healers who Aviana seemed to be able to name from memory. Each of the Healers called out various diagnoses to them and odder remedies. Aviana was called a puss-face several times for her glaring, to which she had several things to say, and Ron was offended as he was diagnosed with Spattergroit, when in reality he just had many freckles. 

"Which floor is this?" Ron asked, still particularly affronted.

"The fifth?" Hermione suggested.

"Nah, it's the fourth." Harry corrected. "One more-"  But he stopped in his tracks in the middle of the landing, staring through the small window set into the double doors into Spell Damage. A man was peering out of them, nose pressed against the glass. A man they all recognised.

"Oh, fucking hell." Aviana looked as though she had seen a ghost, as Gilderoy Lockhart grinned back of them, hair still blonde and teeth dazzlingly white. "Fuck's sake, Harry-" She rounded to him, but it was too late.

Their ex-Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher pushed the door open and waltzed over to them, wearing a long lilac dressing gown. "Well, hello there!" Professor Lockhart smiled. "I expect you'd like my autograph, would you."

"Hasn't changed much, has he." Harry murmured. 

"Er - how are you, Professor?" Ron asked, sounding slightly guilty - it had been his faulty wand that meant that Lockhart's memory had been damaged so badly he ended up here in the first place. Although... he was trying to permanently wipe Harry and Ron's memories at the time, and their sympathy was limited.

"I'm very well indeed, thank you!" Lockhart announced exuberantly, pulling a battered peacock-feather quill from his pocket. Harry saw Aviana pale, and he was sure he would see her with a brand new quill with a feather from a completely different bird before the day was over. "Now, how many autographs would you like? I can do joined-up writing now, you know!"

"None." Aviana sniped. Harry could remember now; unlike Hermione who had turned rather breathless at the sight of the man, Aviana had been much more sceptical of the man, even in their second year. "No autographs, and you shouldn't be out of your ward." 

The smile slowly faded on Lockhart's face as he surveyed the group intently, from Aviana's determinedly set glare to Harry's slightly more sympathetic expression. "Haven't we met?" He asked.

"Er..." Harry glanced at his friends, "yeah, we have." He nodded, as Aviana let out a sigh and waved a hand to encourage him. "You used to teach us at Hogwarts, remember?" 

"Teach?" Lockhart repeated, looking unsettled. "Me? Did I?" The smile reappeared on his face almost instantly. "Taught you everything you know, I expect?" 

"As if." Any of Aviana's decisive medical professionalism had been sent out of the window for a moment, her hatred of the man before her, who almost had her pecked to death by bright blue pixies. Then, it dissipated, as though in a moment. "How about them autographs?" She asked, slowly beginning to guide the man back through the double doors.

"Ah, yes!" Lockhart smiled. "Shall we say a round dozen? Perhaps a few more, you can give them to all your little friends and nobody will be left out!" He said, as Aviana opened the door and all but pushed him through as she waved him in. 

A woman appeared within the corridor, as though from nowhere, shaking her head at the sight. "Gilderoy, you naughty boy, where on earth have you wandered off to this time?" She asked, shuffling over to the group as she adjusted the tinsel wreath in her hair. Looking around the group, and their strained smiles, she grinned. "Oh, Gilderoy, you've got visitors! How lovely, and on Christmas Day too! Do you know, he never gets visitors, poor lamb, and I can't think why, he's such a sweetie, aren't you?" 

"Shag him then." Aviana muttered under her breath, and for a moment, Harry's forced smile seemed a little bit more genuine. 

"We're doing autographs!" Gilderoy told the Healer, with another glittering smile. "They want loads of them, won't take no for an answer! I just hope we've got enough photographs!"

"Listen to him." The Healer shook her head affectionately as she took his arm and beamed fondly at him, as though he were a two year-old. "He was rather well known a few years ago; we very much hope that this liking for giving autographs is a sign that his memory might be coming back a bit. Will you step this was? He's in a closed ward, you know, he must have slipped out while I was bringing in the Christmas presents,  the door's usually kept locked... not that he's dangerous!" 

Harry and Ron raised their eyebrows.

"Didn't do any of those things he said he did though, did he?" Aviana asked, quite impertinently. 

"What was that?" The Healer asked. 

"He lied in all his books?" Aviana blinked. "Didn't do a thing of it. Complete fraud." 

"Well, I don't know about that..." The Healer was still smiling at Lockhart as though he was a toddler. "He's certainly not dangerous, I can tell you that for free!" And she laughed, a high-pitched cackle of a sound that Aviana looked entirely taken aback, eyes wide. "But..." the Healer lowered her voice, "...bit of a danger to himself, bless him... doesn't know who he is, you see, wanders off and can't remember how to get back... it's nice to have you come to see him-"

"Er," Ron gestured uselessly at the floor above, "Actually, we were just - er -" But the Healer was smiling expectantly and he trailed off feebly. They all looked at each other hopelessly, following Lockhart and his Healer. 

"Let's not stay long." Ron resolved, and they all nodded in agreement.

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