Chapter 23
The crowd outside Flourish and Blotts seemed to be mostly made up of witches. Harry stayed close behind Ginny, carving a path through the waiting witches and past harassed looking wizard telling them all to settle down.
Mr Weasley, Percy and the twins were pressed into a corner of the bookstore, all looking slightly bewildered by the overzealous women. There was a rope barrier separating the crowd from the front of the store. Inside the barrier were large photos of Gilderoy Lockhart, winking and flashing blinding white smiles at the audience. The real man stood between them in forget-me-not blue robes and a pointy wizard’s hat styled at a jaunty angle on his wavy, blonde hair.
“Out of the way, there,” a short, irritable looking man snarled at Ron. He had a large, black camera that emitted a cloud of purple smoke with every picture he took of Lockhart, “this is for the Daily Prophet.”
“That’s actually him,” Ginny pressed close to the rope barrier. She twisted back to look at Harry, fanning her face, “I can hardly believe it.”
Gilderoy Lockhart had heard her. He turned his blinding smile towards them and noticed the autobiography clasped in Ginny’s hand.
“A true fan,” Lockhart said, coming closer to them. He held up a peacock feather quill. “Here, let my sign your copy.”
The photographer snapped widely as Lockhart signed Ginny’s book with a flourish. He winked up at Mrs Weasley making her blush deeply.
“It’s always good to see young fans” Lockhart said to Ginny, “have you read the new book?”
“It’s my favourite book,” Ginny nodded earnestly, “but I did have some questions about it.”
“Oh, why not?” Lockhart lifted up the barrier and gestured for Ginny to come closer. The audience broke into applause as Ginny ducked the rope. Lockhart slung a loose arm around her and posed for the camera.
“What is your name?” Lockhart said, grinning toothily at the swooning crowds.
“Ginny Weasley,” Ginny smirked back.
“And tell me, Miss Weasley,” Lockhart said, “do you go to Hogwarts?”
“I will next year,” Ginny didn’t seem at all perturbed by Lockhart’s behaviour, happily smiling for the camera.
“Then ladies and gentlemen,” Lockhart said loudly, “I believe this is the perfect moment to make a little announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time. I have great pleasure in announcing that, this September, I will be taking up the post of Defence against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts, teaching bright, young minds like Miss Weasley here everything they’ll ever need to know!”
The audience broke into cheers and applause. Beside Harry, Tim groaned.
“I don’t know who would be worse,” he muttered to Harry.
“Think he could fit Voldemort under all that hair?” Harry hissed back.
“I doubt he would survive all that bleach.”
The crowd settled down and Lockhart turned his focus onto Ginny’s signed copy of Magical Me.
“Well,” Lockhart clapped his hands, drawing the audience’s attention back to him, “it’s never too early to start teaching. What questions did you have? Is this about my favourite part of the story, I have-.”
“Actually,” Ginny smiled sweetly, “it was about your account of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf. You said you cured him with a homorphus charm. I thought that only worked on animaguses.”
Lockhart’s grin faltered. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“Oh right,” Ginny giggled lightly, “What would I know?”
The audience whispered between themselves.
“But…” Ginny drew out the word, “you said you trapped a ghoul with a tea strainer. The book wasn’t very clear. Did you find a tea strainer big enough to fit a ghoul or was it just really tiny?”
“Uh…” Lockhart fumbled.
There was a puff of purple smoke as the photography took a picture.
“I think that’s enough questions,” Lockhart laughed. He practically shoved Ginny back into the crowds. “Books signing, book signing.” With a flourish of his quill, Lockhart hurried over to the army of middle aged women aged with their own copies of Magical Me.
Tim sidled up the photographer. “I’ll give you five galleons for that last picture.”
“Shame you couldn’t ask more questions,” Harry said to Ginny, stopping her from falling in the stampeding crowd of fanatics. They moved together to a secluded corner of the bookstore.
“Seems like you’ll have plenty of time to ask questions at school,” Tim held out a photography to Ginny, “I believe this is for you.”
Ginny took the photo and pretended to swoon. “I’ll keep it under my pillow.”
“How does it feel?” came a drawling voice from behind them, “To be holding a book worth more than your entire house?”
Draco Malfoy slunk towards them, wearing his usual sneer.
“Draco?” Ginny said, eyes going wide, “The Draco Malfoy?”
“Umm…”
Ginny rushed forward and shook Malfoy’s hand. “I’ve heard so much about what a git you are.”
Malfoy yanked his hand back, scowling. “I would watch your tone, Weasley,” he snarled.
“Ginny!” Mrs Weasley sidled through the crowds. “I told you not to bother the poor man.”
Ginny shrugged. “I was only asking questions.”
“It’s mad in here,” Mr Weasley struggled forward with Fred and George. “Let’s go outside.”
“Well, well, well – Arthur Weasley.” A blonde man stepped out of the crowd and put a hand on Malfoy’s shoulder, looking at Mr Weasley with an identical sneer. This must be Mr Malfoy.
“Lucius,” said Mr Weasley, nodding coldly.
“Busy time at the Ministry, I head,” said Mr Malfoy, “All those raids…I hope they’re paying you overtime." He reached down and rifled through Ginny’s new cauldron, dismissing her copy of Magical Me and drawing out a battered copy of A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration. “Obviously not.”
Harry watched Mr Weasley’s ears flush darker than his hair.
“Dear me,” Malfoy thrust the book back into Ginny’s cauldron, “What’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizardry if you don’t even get paid well for it.” His eyes trailed over Tim and Harry. “The company you keep. Just when I thought you’re company could sink no lower.”
Ginny’s cauldron crashed to the floor as Mr Weasley dove at Mr Malfoy. Spell books fell around them and the two grown men wrestled at each other. Harry and Tim exchanged a look, wondering if they should interfere. Both men had clearly never fought anyone and it was frankly embarrassing to watch them.
Fred and George chanted “Fight, fight!” and the crowds circled around the two men. The photographer bounced around taking photos, drowning the whole scene in purple smoke.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, there’s no need for violence,” Lockhart’s irritable assistant tried to wrestle through the crowds.
“Let’s leave them to work it out,” Tim grabbed Harry and Ron’s hands. Ginny grabbed Ron’s other hand and the four of them slipped out of the bookstore.
In the rush to leave, Ginny didn’t realise that she’s left her cauldron full of books behind.
Draco Malfoy recoiled away from his father, shielding his head from falling books. His foot nudged up against a rusty, old cauldron and he glanced down at it. Didn’t this belong to that pathetic redhead? He picked up her transfiguration book, sneering at the tattered pages. A thin, black book slipped out between the pages and he snatched it up.
“Huh,” Draco said, turning the book around. “Let’s see what Weasley has to say in her diary.”