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Within Hogwarts, few people paid the article any mind. As Lockhart himself often said, his name was a regular fixture in the papers, accompanied by either glowing praise or wild speculation. Those who weren't ardent followers tended to skip over mentions of him like tuning out a toad's repetitive croak in the Great Hall.
But for Lockhart's supporters, it was a bitter pill. The Daily Prophet—the most influential newspaper in the wizarding world—had published an article riddled with skepticism and thinly-veiled malice. That was hard to swallow. Mrs. Weasley wrote Anthony a letter, filling nearly ten inches of parchment with her complaints about The Prophet's nonsense.
"The rubbish they print gets worse by the day," Mrs. Weasley wrote. "First it was Albus, now it's Gilderoy Lockhart. Honestly, Albus can be odd sometimes, but he's a great man; and Professor Lockhart is even more… Arthur tried to console me, but I can tell he doesn't take it seriously at all… He's been obsessed with that car lately…"
The bottom corner of the parchment was slightly greasy. Mrs. Weasley had probably written it in the kitchen. Anthony could picture the scene: Mrs. Weasley directing pots and whisks in the kitchen, the wireless playing in the background. She'd wipe flour from her hands onto her apron, pour some owl treats for the elderly Errol, open the paper, and see the infuriating article. Mr. Weasley, tinkering with the Ford Anglia in the backyard, would hear her muttering and poke his head through the window to ask what was wrong, offering a few half-hearted words of comfort.
"We know what he's like. Anyone who believes such gossip is beyond reason," Mrs. Weasley concluded. "I'm sure he doesn't care, but please pass on my support anyway. I'm eagerly awaiting his new book."
The Wraith Chicken strutted over, eyeing Mrs. Weasley's letter. Anthony shooed it away from the quills in his desk jar.
The next piece of parchment was from Mr. Weasley. He announced he'd finally figured out what a "motor" was. More excitingly, he'd converted the Ford's old fuel tank into a storage box for chilled drinks and ice cream.
Mr. Weasley wrote enthusiastically, "Muggles call it a 'fridge.' What a fascinating word! Fred and George couldn't properly explain how they did it. Last weekend, I tried to get a fridge dictionary from a shop"—Anthony assumed he meant 'manual'—"but the Muggles wouldn't give me one. I used a bit of magic," there were some scribbles here, "nothing illegal, of course…"
At the end, he remembered Rita's article: "Molly's been fuming over that report, but she won't cancel The Prophet subscription because she still wants the discount section. We're thinking of getting Ron a new wand, or maybe a pet… We doubt he wants a second rat, but he's not fond of cats either. We checked a Muggle pet shop, but they don't sell owls. Are parrots allowed at Hogwarts?"
Anthony made a mental note to ask Professor McGonagall about the pet policy. Considering he'd brought a chicken, a parrot probably wouldn't be an issue.
He allowed himself a brief image of Ron with a green parrot perched on his red hair. He strongly suspected Ron wouldn't appreciate the arrangement. He forcibly stopped himself from mentally replacing Ron with Lockhart—or the parrot's voice with Lockhart's.
…
Apart from the Weasleys, Mr. Lind had also sent a letter.
He and the Flamels were well into their adventure, having recently left a lake inhabited by four or five Grindylows. According to his description, Nicolas Flamel had waved his fishing rod and swatted them all back into the water, complaining loudly because one had eaten his bait.
Lind had found a strange water plant in the lake. Perenelle told him it was called "Gillyweed." She added that French Gillyweed could turn a person completely into a fish, while half a dose would turn them into a merperson. Nicolas said Perenelle was talking nonsense and suggested Lind try it himself, requesting that he bite onto his fishing hook once transformed. Lind didn't dare. He'd enclosed a sample instead, asking Anthony to identify it.
Anthony picked up the envelope again and shook it. A flattened clump of something fell out. He poured it out, fetched the Herbology textbook Professor Sprout had given him, and compared it to the illustration of Gillyweed for a good while. Finally, he decided to consult an expert.
Professor Sprout wasn't in any of the greenhouses. Anthony took a stroll around the Black Lake instead, enjoying the breeze. Unnoticed, daffodils and violets had bloomed everywhere. Thick clouds hid the sun, but the lake's surface still shimmered with rippling light.
Students had spilled out of the castle too. They sat in pairs or small groups under trees, lay on the grass, flipping through books, chatting, trading Chocolate Frog cards, playing Wizard's Chess or Gobstones. Oddly, Anthony noticed many students greeting him while casting strange, curious looks his way. It wasn't malicious, just… peculiar. As if his nose had suddenly turned blue.
He thought hard. Lately, he hadn't expressed disappointment over test results—he had none to be disappointed about—nor had he deducted a massive pile of house points.
Not wanting to bother the already busy Professor McGonagall, he had followed her advice to the letter, reducing his wanderings through the castle corridors and the Restricted Section to avoid giving Umbridge any ammunition. He couldn't think of anything that would make students stare.
Giving up, he continued his walk along the lakeshore.
The boats used to ferry first-years were moored by the dock, rocking gently on the waves. Hagrid was hauling them ashore one by one, flipping them over, and applying fresh tar.
Next to Hagrid, Anthony spotted three familiar small figures: undoubtedly Harry, Ron, and Hermione. He wasn't going to interrupt, but a fragment of conversation carried on the wind—his own name—piqued his curiosity. He edged closer.
"I bet Anthony hasn't seen it yet," Ron said. "But Mum will tell him. She'll go spare."
Hagrid, untying a rope, rumbled, "Definitely hasn't seen it."
Hermione said, "Oh, you can't just because you don't like—"
"Merlin, Hermione, it's not that I don't like Lockhart—you know I didn't get all teary-eyed when he gave me that set of books!" Harry said, sounding annoyed.
Ron added, "Come on, Hermione, you were there!"
"Well… that might have just been a figure of speech…" Hermione hedged, but her tone quickly firmed. "Anyway, he did give a full set of the adventure series, didn't he? Ginny was thrilled, at least."
Ron made an incoherent grumbling noise that sounded like a mix of "Mum" and "why."
Hagrid hauled another boat onto the bank. Without looking up, he said, "Bloke's a fraud. If a single word out of 'is mouth were true, this tar'd turn into firewhisky."
Hermione sounded both shocked and irritated. "Hagrid, he's our professor!"
"Heard about 'im since he was a student," Hagrid said. "Listen, Dumbledore hired 'im, must've had 'is reasons. But I can tell you, Lockhart was never a standout student." He paused, looking up proudly. "Not half as good as our Hermione, if you ask me."
Anthony saw Hermione blush. Her irritation vanished, replaced by a sweet smile directed at Hagrid.
"Thank you, Hagrid," she said softly. "But Professor Lockhart is a remarkable person… I mean, you can't assume Professor Anthony doesn't admire him…"
"I heard my name," Anthony said.
Hermione's mouth snapped shut. She looked up. Harry and Ron turned around.
Hagrid straightened up, beaming. "Henry!"
"What's going on?" Anthony asked.
"Nothing, Professor Anthony," Harry said quickly.
"It's Witch Weekly," Hagrid said. "Heard you're a big fan of Professor Lockhart, Henry. Why didn't you say? I could've got you… er, what's the one with the banshee called?"
"Break with a Banshee," Hermione supplied instantly.
Seeing Harry and Ron's expressions, she lifted her chin slightly, defensive. "It's brilliant! Not just the banshee part. It describes how Professor Lockhart found the banshee's lair, and how he used its shrieks and the cave's echoes…"
"Right, that one," Hagrid said. "Could've got you a copy, Henry." His black beetle-like eyes held a familiar glint—the one he got when he was about to tell a joke involving brandy and mead.
Anthony laughed. "Thank you. I'll let you know if I ever decide to become Professor Lockhart's supporter."
Harry and Ron chuckled. Hermione looked affronted, glaring at them.
"Ha! Just as I said!" Hagrid told the three students triumphantly. "The person who'll make Henry beg for a signed photo hasn't been born yet—he's not even a fan of any Quidditch team!" He clapped Anthony on the back, nearly sending him tumbling into the Black Lake.
Anthony quickly sat down on the dock railing. "So, can someone finally tell me what this is about?"
"Oh, right," Hagrid said. "Lockhart shared another excerpt from his new book. Seems you and Harry are his devoted followers now."
"Are we?" Anthony said, surprised.
"See for yourself," Hagrid said. "It's right there."
Anthony noticed a magazine lying on the tar barrel, nestled among canvas, rope, a boat lantern, and old newspapers. He picked it up. The cover featured a witch with bright green lipstick winking, half her face obscured by a ridiculously large green pointed hat.
He flipped it open. Beneath a color moving photograph of a beaming Lockhart, he found the mentioned piece: Gilderoy Lockhart Autobiography Excerpt: Returning to Hogwarts.
In his florid yet vivid style, Lockhart described receiving Dumbledore's invitation, his internal deliberations, and his noble decision to accept the post at his alma mater to guide young minds on confronting Dark creatures.
He mentioned seeing Harry Potter at Flourish and Blotts for a Magical Me signing—"arms laden with a stack of the Lockhart Adventure Series"—and his generous gift of a full signed set to his young admirer.
Then he wrote of the warm welcome from his colleagues upon arriving at Hogwarts. Almost everyone wanted to speak to him, telling him how perfect he was for the role, his former professors all expressing their approval and high hopes.
Of course, there was the exception of the dour Professor Severus Snape, who, jealous of Lockhart's greater popularity and superior Defence Against the Dark Arts skills, refused to believe it—but, naturally, Lockhart took it in stride. He magnanimously forgave Snape, hinting in the text that his charming smile and formidable prowess had eventually won Snape over as a "friend"… or perhaps admirer.
As for Anthony, he was portrayed as a loyal guardian, leaping to Lockhart's defence the first time Snape gave him trouble. Yet, whenever Lockhart spoke to him, Anthony was supposedly rendered speechless by nervous excitement. Despite their offices being on the same corridor, Anthony never dared knock on Lockhart's door for fear of disturbing him. Lockhart claimed to have caught Anthony passing by his door, noting he even walked softly, and was deeply moved by this quiet adoration.
He is a shy, lovely young man, eager to seek my advice on research and life. In truth, we are of a similar age, but my vast experiences often make me feel decades older. I frequently think of myself as his elder brother…
As Anthony skimmed the article, the three second-year Gryffindors watched him in odd silence. Hagrid finished inspecting another boat and glanced at him. "What d'you think?"
For a moment, Anthony said nothing. In response to Rita Skeeter's piece, Lockhart had devoted four full pages to describing how beloved he was at Hogwarts.
Ron ventured, "Er, it's all made up, right?"
Anthony tossed the magazine aside and burst out laughing.
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