The Quibbler
Flourish and Blott’s was unusually packed with customers. There was a line going all the way out the door. Something must have been going on.
The trio squeezed their way through, pushing against the crowd to find their school books. When they finally managed it, they fought their way into the back of the store to try and find an extracurricular book Hermione was looking for.
To their surprise, the back was actually empty, save the man working the till. He was lazily skimming through the pages of a newspaper Harry had never heard of before. He thought it might have been called the Quibbler, but he wasn’t too sure because the man was reading it upside down. Peculiar.
“What are all of these people doing?” Draco asked the man. He set his paper down, grateful for the distraction, then began to ring up their books.
“Autograph signing,” the man scoffed. “Gilderoy Lockhart.” Clearly he wasn’t a fan.
“Gilderoy Lockhart?” Hermione exclaimed, rushing to the counter behind Harry with a giant purple tome. “I’ve read all of his books! He’s done so many incredible things!”
“Well, he’s got a new one coming out today,” the man informed them as he accepted the money from both Draco and Harry. “Better line up with the rest of them if you want a copy.”
Hermione squealed excitedly, paying for her books next and pushing back into the crowd.
The trio quickly got separated and were unable to call out to each other over the din. Harry thought he’d found an escape route through a gap in the line near the front. From there, he’d be able to walk between the bookshelves on the wall and the crowd, going around them instead of through them.
As he got closer to the front, he could see the man of the hour surrounded by photographers and books with his own face on them. He was posing with a redhaired woman clutching a signed copy of his book to her chest. She looked familiar. He thought it might have been the Weasley’s mother. He’d seen her for a brief moment last year on the train.
As Harry tried to apologize to the disgruntled ladies who thought he was trying to jump the queue, he suddenly heard a voice call out.
“My goodness! Could it be? Harry Potter?”
He tried fleeing faster as the cameras spun around and began flashing at him, but someone grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the front. Lockhart.
“My my!” the man called, addressing the crowd. “You all are in for a treat today. You came here to see me. Who would have known you’d have a chance to see two celebrities.”
“I’m not a celebrity,” Harry disagreed, trying to walk away again, but Lockhart dragged him back.
“Not a celebrity? So modest!” He was talking loudly to make sure that everyone heard him. Harry found it obnoxious. “So, did you come here today to get a copy of my book?”
“No. I came to get my school books. Actually, I’m trying to leave, so if you’d just-” Harry tried to tug his arm away, but Lockhart pulled him back.
“Nonsense! Not until we’ve gotten a few pictures together,” he insisted jovially.
“I really don’t want any pictures with you.”
Harry was starting to panic. The din of the crowd was making his head hurt. The flashing cameras were blinding him and creating spots in his vision that he had to squint through. And the pushy man beside him kept grabbing him and pulling him back. Each time, his grip was getting tighter and tighter until he just didn’t let go and Harry couldn’t help but be reminded of the strangling feeling of Quirrell’s hands around his neck.
“Please let me go!” He tried to make his voice sound commanding. The same way that Uncle Arty did when he politely suggested something, but everyone knew that they didn’t actually have a choice. Authoritative, Draco had called it once in admiration. It wasn’t very effective for Harry.
Suddenly, the crowd began to part and grow quiet. At first, Harry couldn’t tell why, but then he saw salvation as Aunt Wally waded through the mob. The air of grace and nobility was coming off of her so strongly that she wordlessly cleared a path. Not a single person dared jostle her or shout in her ear.
As she reached the very front, Harry reached a hand out to her and she took it. Lockhart finally let go as she pulled him beside her.
A moment of silence passed through the store as Lockhart and Aunt Wally stared at each other for a moment. Lockhart seemed confused, but Aunt Wally was more angry.
Finally, he spoke up, nervously trying to spin the interaction in his favor. “Ah, eager for my autograph, I see. I can’t encourage jumping the queue," he tutted, "but just this once-”
“I’ve never seen you before in my life,” Aunt Wally scowled at the blonde man, cutting him off.
“Oh, this poor woman must be confused,” Lockhart pandered to the crowd laughing awkwardly. “Surely, you’ve seen my face amongst the many books I’ve published.” He gestured to the same stack that he'd shown Harry. “Or perhaps you’ve just read my work without realizing it was me. Maybe you’ve just forgotten in your old age?”
“No.” She cocked an eyebrow at him impatiently, and Harry could tell she was close to losing her temper. “I know who you are, but I’ve honestly never seen you before.” She reached an arm out and—with surprising agility and strength—grabbed Gilderoy Lockhart by the left wrist. The crowd behind her gasped in surprise. “Which is why,” she continued, “I’m curious as to how you came across this.” Aunt Wally hooked her finger under the blue Trinket dangling just below his cuff.
The cameras began to flash rapidly after that remark, many of the photographers honing in on the Trinket.
“Oh!” Lockhart forced a laugh as he tried and failed to wrench his hand away. “This is a Trinket. I was given this just a few weeks ago. Imagine my surprise when it showed up as blue for Trueblood.” He was speaking to the crowd again, trying to show off. “A purple for Pureblood I would have expected. But Trueblood? I didn’t see that coming. Then again, look at all of the great things I’ve done in my life.” He gestured to all the books around him again. “I suppose it is quite clear that I am a powerful wizard.”
Aunt Wally shook her head. “It was ‘given to you,’ you say?”
Harry immediately caught the mistake. From the moment she helped to create the Trinkets, neither she nor Narcissa had ever given one to anybody. They only ever endowed them upon a person. Occasionally, they were bestowed.
“I know the name of every pureblood that has one of these.” She shook the Trinket that was still hooked on her finger despite Lockhart’s best efforts, wobbling his entire arm. “And I know the face of every Trueblood. Not hard, considering there are less than ten at the moment. And you sir, are not one of them.”
The crowd behind them devolved into shocked gasps and scandalized whispers. Lockhart grew flustered and began to stumble over his words as he attempted to explain himself.
“Ah, well… Um, you see…” he began. “Certainly, this woman is confused. This Trinket clearly states that I am a Trueblood. There is no arguing with that. As you can see.” He wrapped his opposite hand around his forearm and began tugging as hard as he could, but he couldn’t escape Aunt Wally’s iron grip. Harry suspected she was using wandless wordless magic to secure her hold.
“I helped create the Trinkets,” she told Lockhart. “In fact, they were my idea. So, you don’t need to tell me how foolproof they are.” At those words, Lockhart’s face went pale. “So, if I created them, and I’m the one who’s been endowing them to people, how is it that I’ve never seen you before?”
“C-c-clearly you are m-mistaken,” Lockhart stammered, still trying to continue with his farce, but he was quickly losing control of the situation. “I mean… how-ow else would I have g-gotten one?”
“That’s what I want to know.”
Aunt Wally proved Harry’s suspicion true when she clenched her hand into a fist. The whole thing glowed a faint green for a moment, then the silver chain around Lockhart’s wrist broke into pieces and fell to the ground. He went flying backward, landing on his buttocks with all the force he’d put into trying to pull away from her.
“What you have there,” she announced loudly, “is a fake! The real Trinkets are absolutely indestructible and bound by blood magic. Meaning they are impossible to remove from one’s wrist without the proper ritual.”
The crowd burst into scandalized whispers as the photographers continued taking pictures of Lockhart scrambling to get up. He was flustered and red in the face with embarrassment. A few of the cameras turned to snap pictures of her, but she squinted once, and they all turned back away.
“Where did you get it from?” Aunt Wally demanded.
“Well, you see… I paid for it! Just like everybody else! Where does it matter where it came from?”
“You are a liar and a fraud!” she accused.
“Now, see here…”
“I’ll bet you sought out a fake one because you knew what the real one would say! Nothing positive for you, I’m sure. Everything about you is staged and theatrical! I’ll bet you haven’t even done a single thing in those books you’ve written.”
“Now that is just an outrageous accusation!” Lockhart roared. “I should have you charged for slander!” If Harry could tell by the constipated look on his face, Aunt Wally hit the nail on the head.
“Quiet child!” Aunt Wally hissed, finally losing her temper. Her voice was powerful and laced with poison. Strong enough to silence the entire crowd behind her. Even the photographers stopped snapping.
“On the name of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, I swear that you will rue the day you were born if you don’t tell me where you got that fake piece of jewelry.” There was gasping in the crowd at the invocation of her family name. Lockhart himself looked ready to wee his pants. “Now!” Aunt Wally snapped.
“I don’t know!” Lockhart warbled, voice turning into a cowardly whine as he imagined what she might do to him. “I met him in a pub! He just offered me one. Told me he could make it say whatever I wanted if I paid him off.”
“Which pub?”
“The Hog’s Head. He had his hood up, and he never told me his name. I didn’t ask. I didn’t care. I just wanted the Trinket!”
Aunt Wally glared at the insolent man for a few moments longer, then bared her teeth at him in a snarl. “You are a pig! A disgusting, dirty-blooded, lying pig! Profiting off of stories that probably never happened and faking your blood status! No one who’s weak enough to have to get a fake Trinket could possibly have done all those things you claim! You are an embarrassment to wizardkind!”
"That's not true!" Lockhart whined.
"Bah!" Aunt Wally waved him off angrily, then she span around, storming out of the book store.
The crowd roared to life behind her, hollering and exclaiming their malcontent. They were shouting questions over each other, flinging accusations and demanding answers. They were quickly devolving into an actual mob.
Harry followed closely behind Aunt Wally, barely concealing a smile. Public humiliation wasn’t the typical kind of thing Harry liked to see happen to strangers. But Lockhart proved himself to be slimy enough of a git that Harry felt he deserved it.
When Aunt Wally finally made it out the door, Lucius was waiting and he offered her his arm. She took it with a huff and he led her away to cool down some.
“What happened in there?” Draco asked. “We got separated, and you were in there forever. Then we heard Aunt Wally screaming. She’s not mad at you, is she?”
Harry shook his head. “No. She was yelling at Lockhart.”
Hermione gasped. “Oh no! Why would she do that?”
“Apparently he’s wearing a fake Trinket. Or was. She broke it. Then she accused him of lying about all his books too.”
Hermione looked scandalized. “Well, obviously it’s not true!”
“Judging by the look on his face, I think it might be.”
“No, but...” Hermione was conflicted. “All of those books?”
“You can’t believe everything you read,” Draco warned.
“Oh, I know that!” she snapped. “I just… I admired him so much! He can't be a phony! Aunt Wally must be mistaken! ”
“It’s alright, Hermione.” Harry put an arm around her shoulder and steered her toward the apothecary so they could finish their shopping. “I’m sure there are other wizards who are much better that you can admire.”
“Like who?”
“Ummm,” Harry thought for a minute, then grinned. “Like Dumbledore,” he teased.
Hermione scoffed loudly, then swatted his arm away. “Oh, shut up!” Both Harry and Draco just laughed.