Compulsory Education

I wake to a stone ceiling and windows overlooking vast grounds. I look into the cool blue eyes of a witch in a white uniform. I assume she is Madam Pomfrey, and I am in the infirmary at Hogwarts. Of the many memories I've gained, Lockhart's true memories aren't among them. Surely Lockhart should recognize the woman.

"Madam, I usually insist on dinner before letting a woman undress me, but I can make an exception for exceptional circumstances," I say glancing at my hospital gown. "I seem to have misplaced my wand. I don't suppose you could assist me in, ahem, locating it," I say raising my eyebrows suggestively.

The stern medi-wizard doesn't bat an eyelash setting my wand on the nightstand next to the bed. "You, Mr. Lockhart, are lucky to be alive. Let alone wrestling a beast like Greyback," she says with a slight shudder, "whatever potion you ingested almost ate through your stomach. If you had gotten here a moment later, I'm not sure there would have been much left of it - or you - to salvage."

I make a face of faux surprise. "Well, I guess I will definitely make sure to test my next potion on someone other than myself," I say conspiratorially.

Madam Pomfrey gasps in outrage. "Why, I never. Mr. Lockhart! Of all the full hardy things," she begins, revving up to scold me.

"Poppy, if I may," a wizened voice gently interrupts the woman.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," the Pomfrey says in surprise. "I didn't hear you enter."

"I just thought I'd stop in to see how our new professor is doing," Dumbledore says. "I'm pleasantly surprised you've already awakened."

A few moments later, with mild protests about patient well-being, Pomfrey is gone, and the Albus Dumbledore is sitting in front of me, twinkling eyes and all. Just feet from me is a deathly hallow. I can't help but swallow my saliva. If I got ahold of that wand, there's no telling the kind of memories I could siphon.

But just how many Shameless Bastard Points would it cost? I'm almost afraid to know. 10,000? 100,000? Could even Lockhart, and by association myself, be a shameless enough bastard to accrue anymore than that? My head hurts just thinking about it.

"Please tell me I haven't missed the sorting feast," I say.

"I'm afraid so, professor," Dumbledore says lightly.

"Headmaster, please, call me Gilderoy. Why, I feel like I'm a student back at Hogwarts scolded for sending myself Valentine's, not that anything was proven definitively," I say.

For a moment Dumbledore's eyes look into the distance. "Ah, yes, the eight hundred owls incident. I'm impressed by how far you've come since then," Dumbledore says.

"Well, I hope all of my professors can rest at ease all their hard work wasn't for not."

"Indeed. Hearing of the incident on the Hogwarts Express, I was shocked, to say the least. My first reaction was that surely the news should be fake," he says, and I feel a flutter of fear in my chest. I can't help but wonder in my heart if he knows. He's crafty old Dumbeldore. Just how much did he ever know? How much was calculated?

"But to my great shock, the story was entirely too true," the man continues in a light tone but there's no light left in his eyes. Just sternness, bordering on outright coldness. He is pulling back the curtain on the old man act, revealing just a glimpse to the man underneath. The man that defeated Grindewald and that Voldemort feared.

"I was shocked myself," I say not needing to feign my surprise in the least. I knew I overstepped myself the moment I mentioned the diary to Malfoy, but I never expected he'd act so soon or so overtly.

I thought it would be more like him to snipe me from the safety of his manor. Have a few journalists peer more closely into Lockhart's books, exposing the lies. Pressure publishers into dropping my books. Maybe finish up with a scandal with a student at Hogwarts ending up with me discredited and without a galleon left to my name.

Outright murder on the Hogwart's Express wasn't very Slytherin of him. Especially considering Draco had been on the very cart where the battle took place. That could have been purely coincidence, and given, even after the duel with Wiblin, it was unlikely anyone thought I'd put up that kind of fight. Still, if what I knew from the books could be trusted, he cared deeply for Draco.

I know there are butterflies already, but I don't know how much is me or how much is this world.

Reeling from the debacle of the potion's duel, and with the diary incident, a somewhat overt attack might be understandable as a warning. Attempted murder in front of dozens of witnesses though?

It just doesn't seem to fit his personality. I feel like I'm missing something.

"Did they manage to catch any of them? How long was it till anyone found us?"

Some amount of warmth returns to Dumbledore's eyes. "Thanks to some quick thinking by a very bright witch by the name of Hermione Granger, the faculty was directly contacted by owl. Considering the express was very near to arriving, the owl arrived in a timely manner."

I narrow my eyes in thought. "They attacked that close? It seems risky. And attacking the next wizarding generation? A bold move even for one as unscrupulous as Greyback."

Greyback is a werewolf who bites young children and turns them for entertainment. His horrible character isn't a matter of question, but it would take serious balls, even bigger than alpha werewolf balls, to directly attack the train where all of Britain's wizarding children were concentrated. Death eater or not, the death eater's children were on the train as well.

"Though they attacked the train by broom, I suspect they sought to retreat using the Forbidden Forest as cover. Despite many privileges as headmaster, the bounds of the Forbidden Forest extend far beyond my reach or the wards of Hogwarts themselves. As for motive, the one member captured by your very own apprentice supplied some enlightenment."

"Do you have any personal vendetta with Greyback? On your...travels, did you perhaps cross paths?" Dumbledore suddenly asks, pausing on the word travels as if again questioning the veracity of my claims.

"Though I have indeed come into contact with several werewolves in my travels, I never personally came into contact with Greyback until today," I say.

"According to the claims of one Harry Howl the attack was in retribution against your claims of having bested werewolves in physical combat. He claims the attack was one of many such future attacks to prove werewolf superiority."

"A werewolf supremacy movement," I murmur. This is news to me. I'm not sure I recall any such movements in the books.

"Indeed," Dumbeldore says looking troubled. "A consequence of wizarding hubris. How long will we allow our society to be bogged down by prejudice," he says.

I cough awkwardly awakening Dumbledore from his brooding on the fate of wizarding Britain.

"Ah, forgive this doddering old man. The mind wanders with age. I will be happy to take over your class until -

"No need, sir."

Dumbledore raises his white eyebrows in surprise. "It was just a slight case of indigestion. I assure you, I will be at breakfast bright and early tomorrow," I say. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Very well, professor," Dumbeldore says. "In addition to your classes, I suspect the aurors may pay a visit to take your statement. I will let Poppy know to check up on you. I have a strong feeling you will stay the night in the infirmary," he says rising.

He stops a moment turning back to face me. "I heard of your duel with Severus. A very impressive victory. Woddleworth himself spoke highly of you. He is still quite active for his age and has even conducted some very interesting research in recent years."

I nod politely and smile at the praise, and Dumbledore is gone.

I sigh as the invisible pressure leaves. He's just a man. Just a man that is such a magical powerhouse that you can feel it like a storm brewing in the room. No matter how frail his physical body may be, his magic seems as strong as ever.

My eyes gleam. I will be there too. I'll reach those heights and more. All I need is points and memories. I have a feeling Hogwarts may just be the perfect place to obtain both.

"Magical Me," I say examining my status.

Magical Me:

Name: Gilderoy Lockhart

Shameless Bastard Points: 102

Strength: 17

Speed: 16

Resilience: 15

Coordination: 12

Intelligence: 11

Magic: 2

Charm: 15

My eyes almost pop out. My strength stat has actually outpaced my handsomeness. Do I even need magic?

I shake my head. No, that's stupid. With enough spells flying at me, I'd have no way to resist. Then again, if I increase my resistance enough, will I be able to tank spells like a giant? I'm curious how my brute strength would hold up against the likes of Hagrid.

I don't think I'm there yet. Still, I feel I've surpassed the limits of a normal, even magical, human's strength, and I haven't even finished the first of Lockhart's books.

Lockhart's books! They're the biggest untapped source of potential I have. Not only do they come with ability points but skills as well. I shake my head. No point dwelling on it now.

102 SBP? I cleared out my balance in the duel with Snape, and since then I was so busy brewing potions, I didn't even have a chance to do any shameless deeds. I wonder where the points came from?

Madam Pomfrey soon returns with a half a dozen potions. I am not even cleared to eat yet. I don't bother mentioning breakfast tomorrow in the Great Hall. Better to ask forgiveness than permission.

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

I wake bright and early in the morning and manage to exit the infirmary, a cool breeze blowing through the gown. After waking a few portraits, I manage to wrangle a house-elf who guides me to my chambers where I find my trunk.

Somehow or another I end up in the Great Hall eagerly awaiting the arrival of the students. Not long after the other professors and students begin to trickle in, and with them, owls, letters, and the Daily Prophet.

Ding ding ding…

I hear the delightful tinkle like the voice of angels. I peer over where McGonagall herself is examing the Daily Prophet.

"Gilderoy Lockhart Bests Fenrir Greyback without even Drawing his Wand!"

I lean over to see pictures of the wrecked Hogwarts Express. Around the debris, Neville and the Weasley's surround my prone form where I collapsed. Hermione seems to be covering her face while peering through her fingers.

In the fight, the entire train was wrecked. My robes were torn to shreds. As for my muggle clothes underneath. They didn't come out unscathed.

"Well, I think it's a rather flattering angle," I say. "At least I fell down face first. Otherwise, I'm afraid my first lesson would have been quite different from the one I planned." McGonagall swiftly crumples up the paper and throws it under the table, her cheeks just barely peppered with flecks of red.

"I dare say red suits you," I say in a teasing tone. She coughs and drinks her tea. I take my seat at the table.

All around the Great Hall, the children are murmuring. The ones who weren't there on the cart look at me in disbelief or pour over the Daily Prophet article. The ones who were on the train cart want to look anywhere but at me, but can't seem to help shooting glances. There's a fair mix of disbelief, awe, or among many, outright fear.

This is the man who bested Fenrir Greyback without a wand.

Shit. I did that. This shameless bastard did that. I shake my head hiding my smirk. All because of my system I am able to be the man Lockhart always wanted to be.

Dumbledore stands causing the voices to quiet and gradually cease. "You may have heard much of the unfortunate events that took place yesterday on the Hogwarts Express. Rest assured despite the damages to a school heirloom, no students were harmed. And neither, as you can see, was our latest defense against the dark arts teacher. Please allow me to introduce Professor Lockhart."

I immediately shoot to my feet. "Why thank you for that kind introduction Albus," I say. Even Dumbeldore seems taken aback for a moment at my behavior since our conversation last night.

You aren't the only one who gets to project a looney public image old man. I smile at him with Lockhart's fakest simpering smile. Dumbledore sits down without another word, his hands crossed demurely in his lap.

"Thank you for your kind welcome," I say gesturing to the students as if they had all applauded at my introduction. I didn't even give them the chance. "It seems like just yesterday, I myself was a student here at Hogwarts learning spells rather than dodging them on the battlefield. Being here brings back so many memories both bitter and sweet," I say. I cough lightly clearing my throat. "Such a special occasion calls for a speech."

I pull a scroll from my robes and let it unroll several feet across the table and into the floor. I slowly pull out antique glasses from my robes and place them gently on my head as I begin to read.

"Yon yesteryear, I first entered Hogwarts' halls inviting me like a pulchritudinous maiden with open arms. Hogwarts, like love, so apt to surround her hero with an atmosphere of illumination of magic, life, and enlightenment igniting within me the coruscation of erudition, as one who gathers his learning from books and can measure what he knows by the page, perhaps conceited that his knowledge, like his legs, outruns that of his fathers', but, where experience is the master, the scholar is made to know the value of years, and respects them accordingly….

Forty minutes later.

"Ahem, Professor Lockhart, the children are going to be late for lessons. We all are going to be late," Professour Spout says gently waking me from my trance.

I take a sip of pumpkin juice. I look at the awkward faces of the students filling the Great Hall. Most of the professors have long since fled. Only Sprout was loyal enough to stick around for the sake of the students. Every one of them is on the edge of their seat waiting to bolt. But, who would snub the man who bested Fenrir Greyback without even using a wand?

I ruthlessly smash the mirth back inside. I should send the wolf a fruit basket. This would never have gone so smoothly if he hadn't appeared for me to smack him around.

"Ah, yes, time got away from me," I say with an embarrassed laugh. There is a collective sigh of relief as the torture is over. "We'll just have to continue at lunch," I say to a chorus of groans. There is a stampede causing the cutlery to rattle as the children outright flee never so thrilled to go to class.

I check my status.

Shameless Bastard Points: 3340

Some of it can be attributed to my sweet cheeks on the front pages of the Daily Prophet. However, at 280 students reacting to me roughly every five minutes - isn't this just a shameless bastard gold mine?

I hold my arms open wide basking in the glory. I'm home.

On the first day of school, most teachers have a feeling of being trapped. Am I really trapped with these children? In my case, I can only feel sorry.

It's not me who is trapped with you kiddies. It's you who is trapped with me!

This is compulsory education. There's no escape!

Standing alone in the Great Hall I laugh.

"Muahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!"

"Um, Master Lockhart," Neville says causing me to cry out in surprise. "You're going to be late for your first class."

"Right you are Neville. And stop with this master nonsense. People will really get the wrong idea. Just call me...sensei."

"Yes, sensei!"

Shameless bastard points, just wait. Daddy's coming!