(Gilderoy Lockhart)
The moment I walked past the entrance to the Great Hall, the Halloween feast was just beginning.
Laughter spilled through the doors behind me, along with the warm glow of floating candles and the unmistakable scent of roasted meat, spiced pumpkin, and sugar-drenched desserts. For a heartbeat, I was tempted to turn back. Just five minutes, I told myself. A plate of roast, a glass of something warm, maybe a compliment or two from awestruck students.
Unfortunately, duty had impeccable timing.
With a quiet sigh, I turned away from the feast and headed deeper into the castle, my steps echoing softly through corridors that were growing emptier by the minute. Most students were exactly where they were supposed to be, distracted, loud, and blissfully unaware.
Perfect conditions for a break-in.
As I walked toward the Gryffindor tower, I tapped the base of my staff once against the stone floor.
The world went silent.
Not muffled. Gone. The distant chatter, the crackle of torches, even the soft whisper of my own robes vanished, as if sound itself had been politely asked to leave the premises.
A second tap.
My scent unraveled, dispersing into nothingness. No sweat, no magic residue, no perfume, no trace for even the most sensitive tracking charm to latch onto.
And with a third, final tap.
My body shimmered, folded, and disappeared entirely, not through crude concealment but through layered illusion. Light bent. Space lied. To anyone looking directly at me, there was simply nothing there to see. It was a superior form of invisibility, far beyond a simple Disillusionment Charm, and one of my proudest creations, even Grindelwald himself had praised it.
Satisfied, I continued on and reached the staircase leading to the entrance of the Gryffindor common room.
The Fat Lady's portrait hung quietly at the top, humming to herself, blissfully unaware that tonight she was bait.
I sat down on the stone steps, leaned back casually, and waited.
Five minutes passed.
Nothing.
No frantic footsteps. No dramatic entrance. No escaped convict in filthy prison rags bursting in with wild eyes and worse intentions.
Ten minutes.
Still nothing.
I began to suspect Sirius Black was either later than expected or had finally learned the value of subtlety.
Then thirty minutes passed.
That was when I felt it.
A disturbance in the corridor ahead, subtle but unmistakable. Magic shifted. Air displaced. I focused, watching as a large, mangy black dog padded into view, its ribs visible beneath matted fur. The mutt stopped abruptly at a stretch of hallway completely devoid of portraits, its ears twitching.
Then the transformation began.
Fur rippled and receded, black hair lengthening and tangling as bone twisted and stretched. The dog's form warped until a man stood in its place, swaying slightly as if unused to having two legs again.
Sirius Black.
Long, filthy black hair hung in greasy strands around his gaunt face. His clothes, little more than rags, clung to a body that looked starved and half-feral. And the smell.
Merlin help me.
The man emanated an odor so potent it felt like a physical assault. I had endured dragon dung, Fluffy's morning breath, and Grindelwald's laboratory on a bad day, but this still managed to offend me on a deeply personal level.
Everything about Sirius Black was absolute kryptonite to a man of my refinement.
He approached the Fat Lady's portrait, and the moment she registered his presence, she let out a piercing shriek.
"Sirius Black!" she screamed. "What are you doing here?!"
He grinned at her, revealing yellowed, nearly rotten teeth. "Long time no see," he said hoarsely. "Now, are you going to let me in, or do I have to persuade you?"
He raised the knife in his hand, the blade catching the torchlight.
The Fat Lady trembled. "You know I can't let you in without the password," she said weakly. "No matter how much you threaten me."
She glanced at the knife again and whimpered.
Sirius's eyes narrowed. "You leave me no choice, then."
He stepped forward, arm lifting.
That was my cue.
I released the spells cloaking me and spoke calmly, having been seated beside him the entire time.
"You know," I said conversationally, "it's not that she doesn't want to let you in. It's that she literally can't. She was enchanted that way."
Sirius froze.
Slowly, his threatening posture collapsed as he turned toward me.
"And you wouldn't happen to know the password, would you?" he asked automatically.
Then his eyes widened.
He jumped back, knife snapping up defensively. "Wait. Who are you? Since when were you here?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"Mr. Black, I've been here this whole time."
"Hey!" he snapped. "Stop looking at me like that. It reminds me of McGonagall."
"Thank you," I said pleasantly. "I took inspiration from her."
"You're welcome, wait, that's not the point!" He shook his head violently. "Who the bloody hell are you, and what are you doing here?"
I stood, brushing imaginary dust from my robes.
"You're right," I said. "That was rude of me. Allow me to introduce myself."
I smiled.
"I'm Gilderoy Lockhart. Lord of the newly established Lockhart House. Order of Merlin, First Class. Honorary member of the Dark Force Defence League. Six-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award. Best-selling author. And, of course, I work here as the Professor of Care of Magical Creatures."
I tilted my head slightly.
"So the real question is, what are You doing here?"
"That's a long list of accolades," Sirius said, staring. "As for what I'm doing here, I'm going to catch a rat. Now say the password before I cut up your pretty face."
He waved the knife again. "And don't even try to pull out your wand."
I glanced down at my staff, then back up at him.
"I've had my wand out this whole time, you know."
I tapped the floor.
The stone beneath Sirius's feet twisted and rose, flowing like liquid rock. In seconds, it coiled around his legs, torso, and arms, hardening into a solid prison that left only his head exposed.
Panic finally cracked through his bravado.
"Let me go!" he shouted, thrashing uselessly. "I have to catch that damn rat!"
He twisted his head toward the portrait and screamed, "Peter! Come out, you bloody coward! I'm going to kill you! How could you betray James?!"
I tapped the floor again, and his mouth snapped shut mid-scream.
"Well," I said thoughtfully, "you seem to have quite the story to tell. And I'm sure Dumbledore will be very interested in hearing it."
I paused.
"Or," I added lightly, "I could summon the dementors."
I rubbed my chin as if considering it seriously.
"You know they'd be delighted. Minister Fudge did give them the order to administer the Kiss on sight and they have been quite eager to give you a good snogging since then."
Sirius's eyes widened in sheer terror.
He shook his head frantically, muffled sounds pressing uselessly against sealed lips.
"Oh, relax," I said. "I'm just kidding. Please don't piss yourself. You already stink badly enough."
He deflated instantly.
I tapped the floor once more, and the stone melted away, leaving him standing shakily in his filthy prison rags. The knife was gone, replaced by heavy shackles binding his legs together, allowing only short, awkward steps.
"Don't even try to run."
Sirius looked down, then up at me, as if asking: Really? You think I could run like this?
I chuckled. "I'm just being cautious. You are still an escaped convict, after all. Even if the circumstances around your crimes are… suspicious."
I conjured a rope, looped it around him, and began walking.
"Now," I said cheerfully, "let's go see old Dumbledore. Try not to fall behind."
I lengthened my stride deliberately.
Behind me, chains rattled as Sirius hurried along in short, frantic steps, looking every bit as ridiculous as I felt he deserved.
Halloween, after all, was a night for entertainment.
And this definitely has nothing to do with all the pranks he pulled on me back in the day when I was just a little firstie.
…