1 Gilderoy Bloody Lockhart

"Lockhart! Mr. Lockhart," a woman cries behind me. I turn around to see a young woman approaching me with a quill in her hand.

A dream? A Harry Potter dream. I do love Harry Potter. The world blurs a moment.

"How about an exclusive interview?" I say giving her the look. A soft blush creeps up her neck as I fight to keep my eyes above her neckline.

Another blur.

I look at a my face in the mirror, even though it's not my face. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. I've never had teeth that white. I look at the bottle in my hand where a tiny picture of a bull is animated tossing its horns.

"Mister Lockhart," the woman calls from the other room. "It's time to weigh your wand."

"You know it is," I say with a roguish grin downing the potion. I didn't even need to confund her. Who says I don't still got it?

Another blur.

This is a really long dream.

Sweat. Sounds. More blurs.

A panicked voice. "Lockhart! Lockhart! Gilderoy. Oh Merlin, I think he's dead."

Rustling clothes. A slamming door.

My vision fades to black. Rather like a cutscene.

I awake with a groan. I feel like I slept out in the sun after a bender. My other wand feels a little sore.

I rub my eyes. Other wand? I guess I've been reading too many Harry Potter fan-fics. Maybe it's time to let go?

I wander to the bathroom to run cold water drinking directly from the tap before splashing water on the face. I look up only to shout.

"Bloody hell," I say in a genuine British accent. "I'm Gilderoy bloody Lockhart."

I slap myself in the face. I run out of the bathroom, leaping over my bed, to throw up the window heedless of my lack of clothes. I'm in - I don't know where, but it's not my house and seems like it must be England. A floorboard creaks, and I turn to see the woman is back.

She has her clothes to her chest, one heel on her foot, the other in her hand. There's an awkward silence as we stare at another while she slowly reaches for her wand, apparently dropped in her haste.

I cough mildly. What was her name again? I don't think Lockhart ever asked. Even if I am in another world in another body, I can't help but feel a need to recover a little pride. "No need to be alarmed madam. I took a curse years ago during the war," I say allowing my expression to darken slightly.

"During certain strenuous activities, my heart sometimes falters. People hear of my victories and the glory, but few know the true cost," I say and my voice cracks slightly without me even trying.

"Oh," she gasps slightly. "You poor man."

Ding

"I hope you can forgive me for cutting the night short. My healer advised me against prolonged activity, and yet evil never rests, so neither may I," I finish somehow wrapping up the moment well enough and ushering the woman out the door with a haunted yet flashing smile.

Ding

I shake my head and poke around in my ears. What is making that sound? A blue screen appears in front of my eyes.

+10 Shameless Bastard Points!

"Oh", I say. "So it's one of those kinds of stories."

---------------------------

Am I dead? If I'm dead, how did I die? I wrack my brains trying to remember the last thing that happened.

I was drinking a cup of coffee, and then…

Then I woke up to Lockhart banging a Witch Weekly journalist with too many assets and not enough self-esteem.

I suppose I might have been struck by lightning? Or maybe the Earth was destroyed? Spontaneous dimensional shift?

It doesn't matter. I am in another world. I am Gilderoy bloody Lockhart.

"Accio," I say for about the twentieth time in the past five minutes causing a signed copy of Magical Me to flop haphazardly across the floor. Gilderoy might suck at magic, but still - magic! Real magic. I have a flipping wand and am saying incantations to actual spells that actually make things happen.

"Status?" I say. I think that's the magic word. No results so far. I've been trying in between spell-casting to figure out how my system works.

After a moment's consideration, I walk out to the balcony - still naked - and give a mad shout. The elderly woman across the street watering her plants yelps, looks down in consideration and gives a final parting of, "Bugger off!" before returning into her flat.

Ding

+1 Shameless Bastard Points!

I smile. Well, that's pretty self-explanatory. I didn't worry about the muggle police, or rather, the bobbies, since the muggle-warding and notice-me-not charms on the flat would take care of them - Gringotts's finest.

An owl follows me into the flat through the open door and with a thud, a bundle of papers knocks me in the chest, and then the bird is gone. I pick up the evening delivery, a regular service that Lockhart used to keep abreast of things.

Fan mail. Fan mail. The evening edition of the Daily Prophet.

Ding Ding Ding Ding Ding Ding Ding DingDing Ding Ding Ding Ding Ding Ding Ding

I slam my hands on my ears as I am assaulted by the flood of shameless bastard points. The Prophet's headline draws my gaze.

Lockhart Wields Wand! Defeating Evil or Defeating Decency?

Photographs, metrics and more on page 12…

"Oh," I say a little speechless for a moment. Gossip really does travel fast in the wizarding world. I think I should feel worse, but it isn't really my body anyway.

Ding +1 Shameless Bastard Points

"Thanks?" I guess. "How magical", I say turning to page twelve and giving a low whistle. No wonder Lockhart is so full of himself. "Magical Me," I say.

A blue menu pops up in front of my face.

Magical Me:

Name: Gilderoy Lockhart

Shameless Bastard Points: 1155

Strength: 7

Speed: 8

Resilience: 5

Coordination: 10

Intelligence: 11

Magic: 2

Charm: 15

Looking at the stat system, I wonder how the points are scaled, and if ten is average, then I pretty much suck. Considering Lockhart isn't especially strong, fast, or resilient as far as I can tell, the odds are I really do just suck. I am basically a near-squib.

I wonder if there are levels within each rank. My spell repertoire hardly compares to a firsty. Other than a few cosmetic charms, obliviate, and engorgio. I get the cosmetic charms and obliviate, but why would he be so good at - oh. Right. Ahem.

Moving on.

Green fire bursts from the fireplace. I turn around to see woman standing with her arms crossed and looking pretty pissed off. The woman is of course gorgeous. I kind of hate Lockhart. Actually, scratch that, I am Lockhart. I throw on a roguish smile.

She rolls her eyes and points her wand right between my legs.

"Oh," I manage dumbly before she says, "Finite incantum."

I feel a breeze between my legs and look down, "Oh", I say again in understanding. I guess his prowess there was about as real as the rest of his books.

"Really, Gilderoy," she says tossing the paper in my face. I smile sheepishly.

Who is this woman? She obviously knows Lockhart well. "Two weeks until you start at Hogwarts, to work with children, and this? For Merlin's sake, the last thing we need is another scandal."

I guess I really shouldn't mention the Witch Weekly journalist. "Are you going to get dressed or not?" she snaps. "Poppy!" she shouts.

With a pop, a house elf appears, pulling at her ears. "Yes, missus editor?" she says in a high pitch voice, cowering slightly.

"Miss," she says, and then in a gentler tone, "Would you be so gracious as to clothe this buffoon?"

She smiles at me and Lockharts saggy balls shrivel seemingly by reflex. "I expect you at Diagon Alley prim and proper for the book signing in five minutes, or even Ollivander won't be able to save you," she says turning on her heels and marching back into the fireplace.

Ollivander...wands...ah. I see what she did there.

"Poppy, please get me some damn clothes," I say to the elf.

I really would like to figure out my system more, but I have books to sign.

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