chapter 22

Thank you, Sirius, for waiting!" he called as he entered the waiting room. "I know it was difficult for you, but finally we have secured your release!"

Sirius turned to face him as Gilderoy entered. Sirius, it was clear, was still surprised that he was finally able to go home, and clearly wondered where home was.

"Now, Sirius, much as I would like to take you to lunch, I fear we would be trampled by well-wishers and attacked by those who hadn't yet heard the news. That being the case, I think we should adjourn to your home."

"Home?"

"Oh, yes, much has changed since you were incarcerated. You did hear, did you not, that both of your parents have passed on?"

Sirius gave a slow nod. "Not that I miss them."

"Based on the stories I heard, I imagine not.

"Anyway, now that we've taken care of that problem, it's on to the next! First, as I told you, I am Lord of House Black." He held out his and with the ring and let Sirius give it a good look. The thin Wizard nodded warily, "Yes, that's the real one; I can feel the family magic."

"Seriously, Sirius, why so serious, you old dog? Although being serious when you are Sirius can only be expected, right Sirius?"

The Wizard stared at him a moment, then burst out laughing.

Gilderoy gave him a broad smile. "That's much better. We'll be seeing more of that in the future, I dare say.

"Now, then, I'm sure that wherever you were staying eleven years ago is long gone by now, so I've prepared you a room at your old home, Twelve Grimmauld Place."

Sirius made a face of disgust.

Still smiling broadly, Gilderoy said, "Not to worry, my good Wizard. You shan't recognize the place once we get inside."

Sirius was not convinced.

With the aid of two glamours the two pranksters managed to sneak out using the Ministry floos without attracting any serious attention.

The sitting-room they arrived in was nothing like what the former inmate expected. He stood, staring, mouth open in shock. The room was done up entirely in light purple hues. The rug was almost blue, its lighter shading offsetting the lavender drapes, which were wide open to allow in a generous swath of sunlight. The couch was a light purple, with matching plush chairs beside polished dark wood tables. The wallpaper was another shade of light purple with a discrete pattern of slightly darker French fleurs-de-lis. A blue enamel vase with a generous bouquet of roses sat on a walnut corner-table, the reds complimenting the room nicely. A vermillion curio cabinet sat in the opposite corner. Over the fireplace was an enormous painting of Gilderoy wearing his lavender robes. He waved gaily at Sirius.

It was as unlike the dismal dark dank room Sirius remembered as a child as you could get.

"I hope you like what I've done here," said Gilderoy. "I've tried to make it as homey and welcoming as I can."

"Bloody hell!" Sirius half-whispered. "Is this really Twelve Grimmauld Place?"

Harry grinned widely, "I'm glad you like it. Let me give you a tour. I've done some remodelling as well."

Light blue colours decorated the entry hall and staircase. Underneath the window to the right of the door was a bench. There was a bit of space between that bench and the railing for the staircase landing, in which a hat rack stood. The house-elf heads that used to adorn the wall as the staircase headed up to the first floor were gone. A discrete door at the other end of the staircase led to the stairs to the basement. Past the staircase were two coat closets and, a bit farther, the ground floor "powder room." Oddly, beside the coat rack was the old troll's foot umbrella stand, although it had been spiffed up somewhat and now sported a manicure with a light purple nail polish on the toes and a matching garter at the top.

The staircase was a u-shaped arrangement. Two steps up from the floor, a landing, then a right turn and along the wall most of the way to the next floor. Then another landing, another right turn, then four steps completed the path to the next floor. This created a small stairwell up to the top floor. With the high ceiling on the ground floor, the second landing was well above ten feet from the floor.

On the hall wall between the sitting-room and the next room, the dining-room, was a portrait of a woman Sirius easily remembered, his mother. They stopped there for a moment, with Harry saying, "Madam Black, may I present the return of your lost son, Sirius." The figure in the portrait studied her son as he glared at her in hatred. She sighed, then said, "Welcome back home, Sirius." He stared at her in disbelief. "Mother," was all he said before shaking his head and walking on.

The dinning-room was entirely in deep royal purples, making the room look elegant. The candles in the two chandeliers reflected off the deep tone wood table with its twelve matching leather upholstered chairs. A lush purple shag rug hid most of the dark wood floor. The lighter purple walls were a solid colour broken by landscape paintings, as well as a self-updating map of the London Underground, in gold frames. The portraits of former Black Lords and Ladies were all absent. Being in the middle of the row house, there were no windows in this room.

Harry explained, "I told your mother about Lord Voldewhore being a Half-blood only interested in power and that he considered the Pure-bloods to be mere cannon-fodder in his quest to take over the world. That he had forced the extinction of more Pure-blood lines in ten years than had disappeared in the previous two hundred. That at the rate he was going there wouldn't be any Pure-bloods left in England in another twenty years. I also showed her how the present Pure-blood lines would reach extinction in another two hundred years without the influx of Muggle-born and Half-bloods into their families, even without Voldewhore's influence."

"He was a Half-blood?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. I have proof positive."

The tour continued with the Smoking Room and Ladies Drawing Room at the back of the house, opening onto a deck that gave onto a lush garden that filled the backyard.

The first floor contained the library and study at the front facing the park across the street. Two normal bedrooms faced the back garden while five magically-expanded bedrooms filled the space between the back bedrooms and the library — each of the magically-expanded bedrooms had its own bathoom. By the stairs was a full bathroom with a play room between it and the back bedroom. The second floor had two bedroom suites, one at each end of the house, with five more magically expanded bedrooms like the first floor, and a game room. The top floor had the master bedroom and Sirius' bedroom. And the attic was the attic.

There was a balcony off the master bedroom. The Library, Sitting Room, Dining Room, Sirius' Room, the second floor front and rear bedrooms, and the Master and Heir's bedrooms all had fireplaces, although only the Sitting Room was hooked up to the public floo network.

The colour schemes were different for each room, using soft greens, browns, blues, and yellows, but were vibrant welcoming spaces.

"When I remodelled I wasn't sure what you wanted to do about your room, so I had house-elves carefully pack up your stuff and leave it in the new Heir's Room on the top floor. Your brother's room I have likewise had everything packed up and left in your room. I think you need to go through his stuff for reasons you will soon find out when you talk with Kreacher."

"That old bastard is still alive?" Sirius said venomously.

"That he is and I would thank you to treat him with respect. I know the two of you never got along . . . ."

"That's putting it mildly — we hated each other almost from the day I was born," he growled angrily.

"Yes, so I gather. But you will treat him with respect, and he will do the same to you."

Grumbling, Sirius followed him to the basement. Sirius stopped at the bottom of the stairs — there was no door separating the bottom landing from the kitchen. "Oh, bloody hell," he said blinking his eyes and squinting.

The kitchen was . . . indescribable. The parts of the walls not covered by cupboards or appliances were an eye-bleeding bright florescent yellow. The cabinets, at least those parts not drawer-fronts or doors, were a florescent pink. The doors and drawer-fronts were alternating in other florescent colours of the rainbow — light-blue, light-green, orange, and red — and while each drawer-front/door was a different colour, they were randomly arranged and not in any kind of repeating pattern. The floor was a checkerboard pattern of stark black and white tiles. The ceiling looked like a rainbow had exploded on it and seemed to glow with an inner light. The enamel pots and pans hanging from the bright purple utensil rack were all each a different colour. Even the kitchen table and its dozen chairs all were different florescent colours.

Eyes sparkling, Gilderoy looked at Sirius, "If you aren't wide awake in the morning, this will do the job for you."

Sirius looked at him, around at the room, than back again. His lips twitched and then he burst out laughing.

Harry cryptically added, "And any meetings in this room will be short and quick."

Harry turned and pulled out his wand. He tapped Sirius with it then turned and tapped a discrete emblem just inside the kitchen from the stairs and on the wall at chest height. The walls turned an off-white colour while the cabinets became a gentle mellow yellow. The floor became a light pinewood grain pattern. The hanging rack, pots, pans, and other hanging utensils turned a neutral grey with black handles. The entire room just made you want to sit down and relax. In the far corner, between the doors that led to the pantry and the storage room, was a Gilderoy portrait, smirking. In the blaze of colours from before, it had been virtually unnoticeable.

"There now, you can touch this to change colour states. Anyone not keyed in coming down the stairs will set the room to its 'bright' setting until someone keyed into this changes it."

Sirius laughed even harder, finally settling to the floor.

"Kreacher," Harry said. The house-elf appeared and cast a disapproving eye on Sirius, but said, "Yes, Master?"

"Tea, please."

"Yes, Master."

Moments later, the two were enjoying their tea. "Kreacher," Harry called again. "Just so you both know," he said to Sirius and Kreacher, "I expect you two to be cordial to each other. No name-calling or insulting. Sirius, that means no pranks. Kreacher, that means doing what you should do when asked, without complaint nor under-breath mumbling insults."

He stared at them for several moments while they glared at each other.

"Although, now that I think about it, if the two of you could figure out a way to prank that Half-blood twat Professor Snape . . . I don't think I would object. He has been just beastly towards Harry Potter."

"Professor!" exclaimed the ex-prisoner, "That . . . that piece of shite is a Professor?"

"Yes," was the resigned reply. "He is indeed the Potions professor at Hogwarts, I regret to say."

Sirius was staring at Kreacher with a speculative gleam in his eyes. Kreacher shifted uneasily.

"I'm sure Kreacher shan't mind pranking a vile Half-blood Wizard, will you?" A gleam entered the house-elf's eyes and a bit of smirk appeared on his lips.

"Nothing that will maim or kill the Wizard, nothing that will interfere with his brewing capabilities — he is, after all, one of the few potioneers capable of brewing the Wolfsbane potion for Remus Lupin and the other unfortunates who are werewolves not by choice."

"Remus," Sirius said quietly, distracted from the former subject and now losing himself in the past. Gilderoy sighed. It was going to take quite some work to bring the older Wizard back into some semblance of normality.

"Sirius. I have something to tell you that is very important."

The Wizard looked up questioningly.

"Because you are his godfather, I'm going to be bringing Mr. Harry Potter here this summer. I am hoping that we will be able to convince Mr. Lupin to join us here, as well. Between the three of us, I think we can easily keep an eye on the young Wizard."

The other Wizard interrupted, "How is Harry? What's he like? You said he has a girlfriend? Where's he been staying the since I was thrown in Azkaban?"

Lockhart smiled, "Harry is doing quite well and has had some rather interesting adventures last year at Hogwarts — little things like battling a troll, smuggling a dragon out of Hogwarts, being the youngest Quidditch Seeker in a century, coming face-to-face-to-face with evil and Lord Voldewhore. I'll let him tell you all about those, but to get the whole stories you'll need to talk with his girlfriend, Hermione Granger. He tends to downplay his adventures.

"As for where he's been staying — I shan't tell you just yet. He has had a rough childhood and I don't want to see you doing something stupid and abandoning Harry by getting yourself thrown into prison again." His voice grew harsher, "And that IS what you did ten years ago. Instead of staying with Harry, as you should have, as you had promised to do, you set off on a vendetta and ended up in Azkaban. As a result, you are directly responsible for Harry's awful childhood."

Sirius seemed abashed at the rebuke.

"So, before you get a chance to meet the little Wizard, you are going to be staying in St. Mungos until they can take care of your many problems from staying in Azkaban. Is that clear? This is an order from your Head of House."

The Wizard appeared mutinous and Gilderoy could see he was about to object strenuously.

"Sirius," Gilderoy said quietly, leaning forward and placing his arms on the table, "You cannot sit there and tell me that you are in great health, and that you are just as mentally fit today as you were before Azkaban." Sirius sank back into his chair. "We both know you suffered greatly in that place and it's going to take time for you to recover. The harder you work at fixing those problems the sooner you get to see Harry. I promise you it will be this summer. At the very least, he'll visit you in St. Mungos.

"The other thing to remember is that he knows nothing of you except that you are his godfather! To him you are stranger and you need to remember that when you meet him. Think of the stories you can tell him about his parents, start concentrating on remembering those!" Harry/Gilderoy sat back.

Sirius was rubbing his forehead, thinking.

"Alright, then," Lockhart said, "Tomorrow we'll head over to St. Mungos and get things started. It's Sunday so they shan't start anything major until the next day. I'm sure the first few days they'll want to keep you there for observation. After that, we'll see about making you an outpatient so you can be here when Harry arrives."

The older Wizard sat straight and looked hopeful.

"Sirius, someday I may tell you the full story, but right now all you need to know is that for various and complicated reasons that defy normal logic, believe it or not, you are responsible for me being the Head of House Black.

"Should you so desire, I will turn the Head of House Lordship back to you," Sirius shuddered at the thought — "but not before I deal with a few problems that Lord Voldewhore has created. The first of which is that he has created Soul Anchors, horcruxes, that have prevented him from dying. Once those are destroyed, I will kill the bastard himself. It is far more complicated than I have described, but that's the gist of the situation." He stopped and took a drink of his tea.

"He's not dead?" The Wizard was appalled.

"Seriously, Sirius, no, he isn't. He currently exists as a wraith, waiting for one of his faithful followers to resurrect him. Harry defeated one such attempt last year, and I did so again this year."

Sirius sat up straight, horrified at this news.

"That's another reason why I want you back in top form as soon as possible. I need you to start teaching Harry and his friends as much as you can about defensive and offensive magic. I fear he's going to need those skills sooner rather than later. There is a dueling room in the former dungeon below. While I'm going after Voldwhore, and I intend to win, there is always the outside chance I might be removed from the scene. It doesn't have to be by a Dark Wizard either. Bloody hell, I could be hit by a bus crossing a Muggle street!

"In any event, I want Harry and his friends prepared for the worst. Once you get out of St, Mungos and we get you up to speed on occlumency, I'll tell you the full story."

"Occlumency?"

"Yes, in case you didn't know it, Voldewhore is an expert legilimens and if you even catch his eye once, he'll know all your secrets. Your only protection is to become an accomplished occlumens. And that would be a disaster of the worst possible magnitude for us. So, that's your first chore after St. Mungos clears you. When you aren't teaching Harry and his friends, you need to work on that.

"In the meantime, let me tell you a bit about myself . . . ."

Leaving Gilderoy in full, "aren't I great" form, Harry turned his attention to how he could possibly get barmy Bella to agree to help him plunder the Lestrange manor and vaults. It really was too bad that the Potter line hadn't been in the business of setting protective enchantments, because to create a protective enchantment you had to know how to take it down. Or a bunch of chivalrous thieves with copious notes on how to break protective enchantments and rob the evil rich to improve their poor selves.

The only guidance he supplied to Gilderoy was to start him off with his adventures so far this year, leaving his fake achievements for last. That this also included many stories of him pranking Harry was merely an accident.

"Oh, did you know that Harry has his own fan-club? He even sells autographed photos to his fellow students."

"What? A fan-club? A fan-club?"

(◎_◎)

Harry/Gilderoy watched Bella as she paced in her room. It was Sunday and she looked much better. She was still as thin as a rail, and her bones were easy to pick out underneath her skin, but at least she was conscious and aware of her surroundings — and she had begun to fill out slightly. Her hair was clean and brushed and her nails trimmed. He could see the beauty still hidden by her ordeal, but Kreacher's meals would quickly pack weight on her. In a few weeks, she would be as beautiful as Narcissa or Andromeda. Only if you looked into her eyes would you see the madness lurking beneath the surface. Now would be the time for this, later and she might be too conscious and not nearly as easy to manipulate.

He checked himself in the three-way mirror on the wall behind him to make sure everything was in order. He was dressed in his royal purple robes with matching shoes. His hair was perfectly coiffed. He looked every bit the dandy, as he should. He smiled brilliantly at himself, turned around, knocked on the door to her suite, and then entered.

She spun to face him, but did nothing except study him cautiously.

"I see you are recovering nicely," he said. "I'm sure you have questions, but whatever they are, they are unimportant."

She raised an incredulous, and wary, eyebrow at that.

"As you know from reading my books on the table there, I am Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award. The books don't do me justice, though, I am much more charming and personable in person." He preened as she watched, dumbfounded.

He could almost read her mind from her expressions alone: she was the most dangerous Witch in a hundred years and not only did he not seem to know this fact, he seemed to think that she would be impressed by those obviously fake stories he told in his books. Why, some of the things he claimed were flatly impossible — never mind his claim for stopping the Werewolf with a non-lethal spell, he said he fought the creature hand-to-hand! Considering a Werewolf was three times as strong as a normal Wizard that was unbelievable.

"They also don't mention my latest accomplishments, of course. I am currently the esteemed and beloved Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts, which has given me two more books to publish! In the first one, I tell the story of how I hunted down and killed the Basilisk that's been hiding in Salazar Slytherin's lost Chamber of Secrets underneath Hogwarts. That one is coming along very nicely, it's in the final editing process and I expect the printer get it into stores by next Christmas! Isn't that thrilling? Another exciting true-life adventure from the one and only Gilderoy Lockhart. My fans will be lining up at stores all over the world!" He sighed happily.

"In the second, I tell the story of how I have scoured the Castle this last year looking for the lost treasures of the Founders, and found them! Lost for a thousand years, but I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award, and Hogwarts' beloved Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Slyer of Basilisks, am the first to find and return them to their rightful place at Hogwarts."

He started pacing as Bella stared at him wide-eyed in astonishment.

"So far I have found Slytherin's Locket, Gryffindor's Sword, and Ravenclaw's Diadem. That leaves only Hufflepuff's Cup on the loose. I must find it to complete the set. Without the last Founder's Treasure, my book will be a failure! I can't limit myself to only restoring three of the four Founder's lost treasures, where's the true fame in that? Sure, I uncovered a hidden Dark Wizard hiding at Hogwarts for over five years and saved three students from both a nest of Acromantulas and a pack of werewolves, but what about that last treasure?

"People will say, yes, he found three, but he couldn't find the fourth. If he were as great as he says he is, he would have found that fourth treasure!"

He spun to face her, holding up his index finger in triumph.

"And that's where you come in. I have traced the stories and carefully sifted the evidence. You, yes, you, have the Hufflepuff Cup!"

She looked surprised.

"Didn't suspect that did you? Someone in House Lestrange came across the artefact and never realized what the treasure was they found. Whether it is in your vault at Gringotts or at the Lestrange Manor, I know not, but with your help we shall retrieve it!"

He sighed dramatically, "I tried talking with the Goblins, first, but they were most unhelpful. They absolutely refuse to allow anyone except you or your husband into the vaults. They were quite emphatic about that. Even my extraordinary wiles were unable to move them to cooperate." He shook his head in disappointment. "And, naturally, I cannot access the Lestrange Manor without your permission and presence. Hence, the reason you are here!" He smiled at her broadly.

She stared at him, blinking. "You broke me out of Azkaban to retrieve a cup from my Manor?" She was incredulous.

"Or vault," he added helpfully.

Her eyes narrowed shrewdly, considering her options. He could feel her emotions flicking between hope, suspicion, and surprise before finally settling on a hope.

"And after? If I help you what happens to me after?"

He posed carefully, projecting calm and slight condescension — that should anger her a bit and the anger would cloud her judgement. "Perhaps you should ask what will happen if you don't. I got you out of Azkaban without anyone noticing, I can put you back."

She snorted in disbelief. "The Aurors are probably scrambling around like the idiotic ants they are in a total panic that I escaped!"

"Not at all, my dear, they think you are sleeping in your cell."

"Oh, right, I believe that!"

"Kreacher."

"Kreacher comes when Master calls."

"Kreacher, tell the truth to Mrs. Lestrange, née Black, here. She's a Pure-blood."

Kreacher stood a bit taller at hearing that command.

"Have you been monitoring the Aurors and Azkaban as I ordered?"

"It bees hard, Master, but Kreacher sneaks into Ministry. Kreacher can only watch prison shore dock. Kreacher will slam oven door on hands later as punishment."

Harry let that last pass uncommented, the self-centred twit he was portraying Gilderoy as wouldn't notice what a house-elf did as long as it didn't directly effect himself.

"Kreacher, does anyone suspect Mrs. Lestrange, née Black, is not in Azkaban?"

"No Master. The onlys ones who knows are Master, Kreacher, and Honourable Mrs. Lestrange, née Black."

She said, staring intently at Gilderoy, "How?"

He snickered, "I left a golem in your place."

Her eyes grew wide.

"So, you see, it would be a simple matter to just switch you back if I wanted."

She scowled. He could feel her anger at her predicament rising.

"But, to answer your question, I don't care what you do. With a couple of simple tricks, I can change your appearance and no one will suspect you are the dangerous and deadly Bellatrix Lestrange. You can vanish into the Wizarding world. I'll even give you a thousand galleons to hold you over until you are settled and can access you vault as needed."

Half to herself, still scowling and staring at Gilderoy's hands, she said, "I can hunt for my Lord, I can feel him! I know he's out there!" She considered her options for a while before looking up to meet his eyes. "I'll do it."

Harry/Gilderoy could feel her intent. She planned to trick him, and escape at the first opportunity. He said, "Excellent!" He pulled out his wand with one hand as he pulled a second wand out of his pocket with the other. "As you can feel, there are protection enchantments around this suite — anti-portkey, anti-disapparation, and special intent-based ones that block any magic intended to cause harm."

He tossed the extra wand to her. "Go ahead, cast a curse at me."

He could decipher her thoughts from her emotions. Shock at recognizing the wand, twelve and a half inch walnut with dragon heartstring core. It was like her familiar wand, but not quite. How had he acquired an almost exact duplicate?

He grinned at her reaction, "It wasn't as difficult as you imagine. It's just different enough, though, to get people to write it off as mere coincidence. Now, curse me!"

Uncertainty, distrust, curiosity. If the protective enchantments didn't exist, would he take such a chance as he had requested?

"Go ahead," he goaded. "You know you want to, if only to satisfy your curiosity. If you don't you'll always wonder, what would have happened . . . ."

Far faster than he expected her hand came up and a reddish light shot from her wand. Only to fade to nothing mere inches from the wand-tip. She stared at the wand, somewhat surprised that the protective enchantments indeed had blocked the reducto. In truth, they hadn't. The protective enchantments simply drained any spell over a certain strength, taking their power for its own. Low-powered hexes and healing spells would pass through unnoticed.

He smiled broadly, "Excellent!" He walked over to her and held out his wand. She tentatively held hers out to him.

"Do you swear on your life and your magic that your magic shall prevent your attacking me or any in my Houses . . . ." That would prevent her from duelling Harry or Sirius in the future.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise that he held claim to more than one House.

". . . unless you are mildly pranking someone"

That garnered another surprised look. Hey, he didn't want her to die if she got peeved at him or Sirius and sent him a harmless stinging hex for pranking her!

"That your magic shall prevent you from betraying me or any in my Houses to others. That you shall assist me in retrieving the Hufflepuff Cup and not keep it for yourself. That you will obey all my commands while we are actively involved in getting the cup and returning here to my base of operation, and for one month afterward." At each condition, a magical glow wrapped around their wands and hands.

"In return, I promise my magic will not let me surrender you to the authorities for any crimes you have committed or have been accused of committing in the past or for any you may commit while carrying out my instructions now and in the future. That it will not let me return you to Azkaban, nor any other prison or official holding facility, for those crimes after we have retrieved the Hufflepuff Cup. Any crimes you commit without my orders are your responsibility, as is the any punishment you might receive or be assigned for crimes committed after we retrieve and return here with the cup. On my life and my magic I will assist you in creating a new physical identity so you may pass in the Wizarding World without being recognized as Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black, unless you reveal that information to others yourself. That I will provide financial assistance in the amount of one thousand galleons after we retrieve the Cup. That I will allow you to leave this base, should you decide to do so, on your own at any time one month after we complete the retrieval of the Hufflepuff Cup. That you may stay here, if you so chose, under the protection of my Houses for as long as you like. That I will do my best to protect you as long as you are under my protection."

"So Mote it Be."

After several seconds to think through what she was pledging, she said, "So Mote it be." She was disgruntled at being unable to leave immediately to start her search, but she would be patient.

The glowing bands brightened, then sank into their hands.

She hadn't noticed the loopholes to his advantage in the oath.

"Excellent! Now, much as I would like to start immediately, you are in no condition for any strenuous activities. For the next few weeks, you shall stay here and recover from your horrid experience in Azkaban. Kreacher will provide nutritious meals with an eye towards rebuilding your body. I will acquire potions to help repair any mental or physical damage you may have suffered."

She nodded her understanding.

"Next week I shall open up a training room for you so you can get back into the regular use of your magic without undo strain."

"To help bring you up to speed on current events, Kreacher will bring you selected Daily Prophet issues from the last year." A tremendous stack of papers appeared in one corner of the room. "If you wish to contact me, Kreacher can relay your requests.

"Also, once we have acquired Hufflepuff's Cup I will acquaint you with my Houses and their significant members so that you don't accidentally violate your oath. In the meantime, I bid you adieu!" He turned and left the room.

(◎_⊙)

It had been six weeks since he visited with the Headmaster and it was time to check in again. Dumbledore had yet to mention if he had made any progress regarding the horcruxes, either in figuring out possible items or where they might be hidden. Harry/Gilderoy was more than a little worried about that. Had he determined that the ring was the next logical item? Had the old bastard gone after the ring himself? If not, then it was time for Harry to fetch it. He didn't dare wait any longer. He had to get rid of it before he and Bella went after Hufflepuff's Cup.

Gilderoy thought he looked rather dashing as he strode through the corridors of the school just after Monday's dinner, his golden locks framing his face perfectly. He wore an azure robe set today that brought out the blue in his eyes. He looked every inch an important and powerful Wizard as his cloak billowed dramatically behind him. The Witches almost swooned as he went by them, he could practically see the stars in their eyes.

There should be just enough time before his first afternoon class started to get the answers he wanted.

Soon he was bounding up the escalator to the old fraud's office. Moments later, he burst in not bothering to knock, and caught Dumbledore off guard. "Albus," he called out cheerily.

The Headmaster was just pulling his right sleeve down to hide his hand.

Harry went ballistic at the sight of the withering curse afflicting the Wizard's hand.

"Expelliarmus!" he screamed, catching the Headmaster completely by surprise. The spell smashed him against the wall behind his desk as the wand in his pocket leapt into Harry's hand. The moment he grabbed it with his right hand he knew it was the Death Stick. Damnit! Now he owned one-third of the Deathly Hallows, two-thirds if magic thought he co-owned Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

"You stupid, pompous, arrogant, ignorant, venal old fool!" Harry raged at the Wizard, still sitting on the floor amid the wreckage of his desk's chair, dazedly staring up at him. "Are you completely off your trolley?" Harry loomed over the desk glaring at the stunned Wizard. "You're going to die because you are too stupid to ask for the help I was willingly giving you. I can't believe you are so self-centred as to believe you can do no wrong, and are immortal and can't die! Well, now you know you're wrong, don't you! You aren't immortal. You aren't infallible. And you aren't the smartest Wizard alive, you aren't even the cleverest Wizard alive! No matter your delusions of grandeur, your conceit has killed you!

"And for what? A stupid cursed ring! That you knew was cursed! Tell me was it worth it? Trading all your plans, all your schemes, the fate of the entire Wizarding World, just so you could talk with your sister for five minutes?" The Wizards stared up at him, shocked. "WELL, WAS IT?" Harry screamed.

The Old Wizard blinked and slowly shook his head.

"If anything proves you are incapable of being in charge, this does it! Give me that bedamned thing before you cause any more trouble!" Harry held out his hand as Dumbledore pulled his right hand closer to his body in reflex.

"Give it to me or I'll accio it, and your finger, right off your hand!"

Dumbledore stared up at the irate Wizard. He had never suspected that Lockhart had such power, his magic glaring brightly around him and his eyes glowing a menacing bright green. With his magic battling the curse, the old Wizard knew he could not win a battle against the younger Wizard, especially without the Death Stick.

But the ring!

He saw Lockhart pointing the Death Stick at him and he knew he had lost already. Even at his most powerful, he couldn't defeat the younger Wizard as long as the other held the undefeatable Deathly Hallows wand in his hand ready to use. Slowly, mournfully, he pulled the ring off his hand. It had had no sooner cleared the end of his fingernail when it jerked out of his hands and flew to the other Wizard.

The blonde-haired Wizard stared at the ring a moment, "Well, at least you got rid of the horcrux. Thank god for small favours, at least I don't have to do that as well." Almost as an afterthought, he casted, "Incarcerus," and ropes appeared wrapping themselves around the old Headmaster. A quick stupify followed. He didn't want any sneak attacks while he was distracted.