Thursday, September 16, 1993
(Gilderoy Lockhart)
By Thursday afternoon, the sun hung lazily above the grounds, bathing the edge of the Forbidden Forest in a warm, drowsy light that made even the shadows seem less threatening. I arrived early, as always, robes immaculate, mood excellent. Third-years were far less likely to scream than sixth-years, and infinitely easier to impress.
Students began filtering into the clearing in small groups, chattering excitedly. I greeted them as they arrived, offering nods, smiles, and the occasional encouraging word.
Once everyone had assembled, I clapped my hands lightly to draw their attention.
"Good afternoon, everyone," I said brightly. "Now, so far this term, we've observed Nifflers and Bowtruckles, both excellent examples of magical creatures that are deceptively harmless until you underestimate them."
A few students nodded solemnly.
"Today," I continued, "we'll be meeting something rather different. Something rarer. Quieter. Far less inclined to steal your valuables or stab you with a twig."
I paused for effect.
"Mooncalves."
A ripple of interest passed through the group.
"Now," I said, glancing pointedly toward the familiar bushy-haired silhouette, "who can tell me what a Mooncalf is? And let's hear from someone who isn't Miss Granger this time, shall we?"
Hermione Granger froze mid-enthusiastic hand-raise, then slowly lowered it, looking faintly offended.
To my mild surprise, another hand went up.
Neville Longbottom.
"Yes, Mr Longbottom?" I said, gesturing to him.
Neville straightened, clearly startled to have been called on. "Er… Mooncalves are very shy magical creatures," he began carefully. "They sort of look like goats, but with really long necks, very big eyes, and webbed feet, like a duck's."
Several students glanced at him, impressed despite themselves.
"They live underground most of the time," Neville continued, gaining confidence, "and their dung, if you collect it at sunrise, is really good for magical plants. It makes them grow faster and stronger."
There was a brief silence.
Then I smiled.
"Five points to Gryffindor," I said smoothly. "An excellent answer, Mr Longbottom."
Neville blinked. "It is?"
"Indeed it is," I replied. "Clear, accurate, and impressively detailed."
Neville looked as though he might faint on the spot.
"Now," I continued, "allow me to add a few refinements. Mooncalves are nocturnal by nature and almost exclusively emerge during the full moon. When they do, they engage in what is believed to be a mating dance."
A few students leaned forward.
"They balance on their hind legs," I explained, "and perform intricate, almost hypnotic movements that leave strange geometric patterns pressed into fields and meadows."
I smiled knowingly.
"Muggles, of course, insist these markings are created by aliens."
A ripple of laughter passed through the class.
"Normally," I went on, "you would never encounter Mooncalves during the afternoon. They are painfully shy creatures. However, thanks to a combination of patience, expertise, and a frankly impressive quantity of food, Hagrid has managed to convince a pair from the herd that lives in the Forbidden Forest to make a brief appearance for us today."
I glanced meaningfully at the students.
"That said, you will keep your distance. Sudden movements or loud noises may frighten them back into hiding, and I assure you, we won't be digging them out."
With that, I led the class toward a small, reinforced enclosure set slightly apart from the trees.
Inside, two Mooncalves stood nervously, shifting their weight from foot to foot.
They were smaller than most students expected; slender, delicate creatures with long, graceful necks and enormous, luminous eyes that reflected the sunlight like polished glass. Their webbed feet made soft, slapping sounds against the packed earth as they moved.
The reaction was immediate.
"Ohhh…"
Several girls visibly melted on the spot.
"They're adorable," someone whispered.
The Mooncalves tilted their heads, eyes widening further, as if unsure whether they were about to be admired or devoured.
I folded my arms behind my back, watching with satisfaction.
"Yes," I said calmly, "most people find them irresistible. Which is precisely why they must be handled with care."
The Mooncalves shuffled closer together, eyes darting nervously, but they did not flee.
Which was a good sign.
…
Hours later, I found myself standing before the familiar stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office. After offering the password, I passed without hesitation, and didn't bother knocking. There was little point. Albus was undoubtedly already aware of my presence.
Sure enough, the moment I stepped inside, he looked up with a pleasant expression.
"Hello, Gilderoy," he said warmly. "It seems my note reached you. Tea?"
"Yes, please," I replied, taking the seat across from him.
We went through our customary ritual, each of us adding an entirely unreasonable amount of sugar to our cups. By the time we were finished, the tea looked more like syrup than anything drinkable.
"So," I said casually, taking a sip, "what did you summon me for, Albus?"
Dumbledore did the same, unfazed. "I wanted to keep you apprised of the ongoing investigations," he said. "Given your involvement, it seemed only fair."
His tone grew more serious.
"I followed the lead you mentioned, Lucius Malfoy. It appears Tom's lost diary has… evolved. It has manifested as a teenage version of Voldemort himself."
I raised an eyebrow but kept my composure.
"He had been residing at Malfoy Manor," Dumbledore continued, "but fled some time ago. Lucius claims to have no knowledge of his current whereabouts."
"I see," I said calmly, taking another sip. "That is rather troubling."
How he managed to get that information from Lucius… I won't even bother to ask.
"Indeed," Dumbledore murmured, stroking his beard. "On another matter, regarding the Horcruxes. I uncovered a lead that brought Gellert and me to a coastal cave."
He reached into his robes and produced a locket.
"The protections were extensive," he continued, "but it appears someone arrived before us and removed the true Horcrux."
I took the locket from him and opened it. Inside was a folded note.
[To the Dark Lord,
I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.
R.A.B.]
I read it once more, then looked up.
"Regulus Arcturus Black," I said thoughtfully. "I remember him. A couple years older than me. Rumour had it he made a mistake and Voldemort himself killed him."
"Sharp as ever, Gilderoy," Dumbledore said approvingly. "Unfortunately, we have no confirmation that Regulus succeeded in destroying the Horcrux. And no clear way to verify it."
I rubbed my chin. "We might have an option. Sirius Black escaped Azkaban, didn't he? If we manage to catch him, we could gain access to the Black family home."
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "That may indeed be our only path forward."
He lifted his teacup once more.
"And one we may soon be forced to take."
Dumbledore set his teacup down with deliberate care, the porcelain clicking softly against the saucer.
"But Sirius Black does complicate matters," he said thoughtfully. "If he can indeed be persuaded to cooperate."
I arched a brow. "That depends entirely on who finds him first."
I know perfectly well he will cooperate, after all he's innocent, but Dumbledore doesn't know that, so I'll keep it to myself for now.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Dumbledore's mouth. "Quite."
I leaned back in my chair, steam curling up from my cup, the overwhelming sweetness doing little to mask the tension settling in my chest. Pieces were moving now, too many of them, and not all on the same board.
"A sentient diary," I mused aloud. "A teenage Tom Riddle wandering about with all the arrogance and none of the restraint of age. That's… unpleasant."
"Dangerous," Dumbledore corrected gently. "Even more so than the original, I suspect. Youth coupled with certainty is a volatile thing."
I nodded slowly. "And Lucius losing control of him doesn't surprise me. Tom has never been the type to trust anyone."
Dumbledore's eyes flicked up at that, sharp despite the twinkle behind his glasses. "You sound as though you speak from experience."
I smiled smoothly into my tea. "Purely academic observation."
Silence stretched between us, not uncomfortable, but heavy. The office hummed faintly with magic, instruments clicking and whirring in the background as if keeping time with thoughts best left unspoken.
"At the very least," I continued, "this confirms that the Horcrux theory is correct. Which means there are others."
"Yes," Dumbledore agreed. "We just need to confirm how many."
That was… something, at least. I know exactly what and where they are, and I'll have to find an excuse to give Dumbledore their locations, or at the very least some clue.
I set my cup aside and stood, straightening my robes. "Then our course remains unchanged. We prepare. We watch. And we keep the students alive long enough to grow into the fight they don't yet know is coming."
Dumbledore rose as well, resting his hands atop his desk. "As always, Gilderoy, I am grateful for your… perspective."
I inclined my head. "Someone has to see the whole picture."
As I turned toward the door, his voice stopped me.
"Be careful," he said quietly.
I glanced back, meeting his gaze.
"I always am, but that should be my line, shouldn't it? After all, I'm just a professor, and you're the one out there hunting Voldemort and his soul anchors," I replied.
The gargoyle slid aside as I left, sealing the office behind me. The corridors beyond were filled with laughter, hurried footsteps, the sound of ordinary school life continuing blissfully unaware.
For now.
I walked on, already adjusting my smile, already slipping back into the role the world expected of me.
After all, monsters were easiest to fight when they underestimated you.
…