Chapter 23 No More Pencils, No More Book

"Fawkes!" called out Harry. "I need your help, please. The safety of the school is at risk." He waited a beat, then called again, "Fawkes!" Just when he was about to conclude the bird wasn't coming a flash of flames burst into the room and the Phoenix glided to his perch.

Harry smiled broadly, genuinely happy to see the bird. He walked over and started petting Fawkes head. "I am so sorry to disturb you, but that stupid senile flipping idiot of an old Wizard over there has killed himself, although he shan't die for months, and now we must make arrangements for his replacement."

The Phoenix turned his head to look at the Headmaster and then trilled a short melancholy tune.

Harry pulled a quill and parchment out of his pocket and wrote something quickly. "Would you be so kind as to take this to Professor McGonagall and bring her back, please?"

The bird turned and stared at him.

He hung his head, "Yeah, I know, you're not a bleeding mail-owl." He looked back up, "But a mail-owl can't bring the fine professor back, now can he? Please?" He held the parchment up to the bird. "We need to make sure someone is watching this old duffing Wizard so he doesn't kill everyone in the school by doing something incredibly stupid, for the Greater Good, of course." He stared angrily at the unconscious Wizard

The phoenix huffed, then grabbed the parchment and vanished in a burst of flames.

Ten seconds later, he returned with a frantic Professor McGonagall holding to his tail feathers.

"Gil, what's wrong?" she called out and then gasped as she saw the bound Headmaster lying in the ruins of his chair.

Harry gritted his teeth as his anger returned in full force. He tried to explain calmly. "This gormless arsehole ignored all notions of common sense and decided to go after a deeply cursed and Dark item without backup and has succeeded in killing himself. Unfortunately," he gave the Wizard a scathing look, "it wasn't immediate, so we're stuck with the barmy bastard for another nine months."

She gasped again, eyes wide open, one hand over her mouth in shock.

"And that was after I told him to tell me what was going on and to take me with him before he did anything stupid." Gilderoy couldn't resist adding sarcastically, "But he is the Great-Infallible-and-Never-Makes-Mistakes-Dumbledore!" He shook his head angrily, "So he blundered on ahead and look where it got him! If he had asked me, 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, Hogwarts beloved Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, and Slayer of Basilisks to accompany him this wouldn't have happened! I have safely disposed of three of those dangerous Dark items, but, hey, what do I know that he doesn't? Arsehole!"

Gilderoy growled crossly. "So he stupidly picked up a cursed item that had a powerful compulsion charm on it — gee, he's searching for a cursed Dark Artefact, who would have expected it to have a Dark Curse on it? — and now he has the Withering Curse, as you can see from looking at his hand."

Harry did a dramatic face-palm and pulled his hand down to his neck. "I expect that he shan't last more than nine months, even with the special potions I'm sure that Professor Snape is supplying him." He paused and looked at the Witch to see how she was reacting, her emotions were in too much turmoil to give him a consistent reading.

"This terrible lack of common sense is just part of a pattern of ignoring the safety of the students and the quality of their education in the asinine pursuit of some phantom 'Greater Good' that he thinks takes precedence over his duties as Headmaster."

Harry turned and casted a quick ennervate on the Headmaster, followed by a silencing spell.

"The only responsibility he has as Headmaster is to provide a quality education and to keep the students safe. No Headmaster should put the political concerns of the Wizarding World ahead of his students. His actions show he simply doesn't care about the students, their safety, or the school itself — based on what happened last year, and with Hagrid fifty years ago, I wonder if he ever did — therefore he is lacking in any aptitude to be Headmaster of this facility."

Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "The reason I asked you to come here, Professor McGonagall, is that I have to act pre-emptively. This nitwit," he pointed dismissively at the Headmaster, "would not tell anyone of the seriousness of his affliction until the day he croaked, causing all sorts of panic and upset for no reason. And," he said sighing heavily, "if I leave it to the Board of Governors the Headmaster's position will become another political quaffle and it will sit empty for months on end." He ignored the red-faced older Wizard, whether red from embarrassment or rage, he didn't care.

He looked up her, "I am invoking my rights as Lord Slytherin," he held up his hand allowing the ring to become visible and showed it to the other two. "And my rights as Lord Gryffindor." Professor McGonagall already knew because she was the proxy vote on the Wizenmaggots for Gryffindor. ". . . to appoint you, Professor McGonagall, as Headmistress effective the day after the current term ends. The Board of Governors will continue to handle the rest of the school's affairs as usual. So Mote it Be."

There was a flash of light in the office.

He turned to the Headmaster, finiting the incarcerus, "I expect you to teach her what she needs to know about actually controlling the protective enchantments and other aspects of Hogwarts that she has not yet experienced in her role as Depute, as well as anything else you know or suspect about the Castle and its environs. Is that clear?"

The old Wizard had felt control of the protective enchantments shift as they accommodated Professor McGonagall's new status as Headmistress-in-training. He could do nothing to the protective enchantments without her permission, now, limiting him to only the most basic levels of control. Any warning they sent, she would sense as well. He nodded slowly, wondering how things had spiralled so far out of his control simply because he had hired a fraud with the intent of exposing him to the public.

"I expect the two of you to come up with an announcement, Albus, and soon, that you are retiring to pursue other interests. Preferably this week." He turned to the Witch. "You may choose your replacement Depute from the staff or from farther afield, as you desire. For the coming year you also will need to choose a replacement for yourself as Transfiguration Professor as well as for the D.A.D.A. Professor. I suggest you ask Remus Lupin if he would like to take a turn as the D.A.D.A. Professor. He is a Werewolf, as you know, but I feel he is the best qualified to follow me when I leave next month." He paused and thought.

"You might also see about replacing Professor Binns, he doesn't even mention anything that has happened since the 1900's. And the Wizarding War of the later 1970's is quite important. Similarly, Professor Trelawney's class should be a one-year elective. Students who show actual talent in divination may take advanced classes if they desire. The Muggle-studies professor is a joke, the Muggle-born tell me he is hopelessly out of date and doesn't even know what a computer is or that the Muggles have put men on the moon, repeatedly, and are now considering a run at Mars. I suggest a Muggle-born graduate be hired with the understanding that every summer vacation they will spend it with their Muggle family reacquainting themselves with the advances Muggles have made since the previous summer, at full pay." He stood thinking a bit more.

"We need a Wizard-studies class, mandatory for all Half-blood and Muggle-born students. Pure-bloods may attend if they want. I suggest you contact Andromeda Tonks about the position, she is a House Black daughter and was rigorously trained in the old ways by her parents. If she turns it down, then maybe Madam Dowager Longbottom would agree to share her expertise."

Professor McGonagall still seemed in shock over what had happened.

"Well," Harry said, finally, "I think that's it. I'll leave you two to it." With a negligent wave of his wand he released the silencing spell. And while the wily old Wizard could do wandless magic, he was limited in magic to what amounted to mere palour tricks until he dug out his old wand.

Blast it all! he thought as he stalked out into the corridor. Now he had two of the Deathly Hallows. He bloody well hoped that Harry the student didn't count as him having the Invisibility Cloak — he had only borrowed the cloak that one time, and then promptly returned it. He did NOT want to be the Master of Death again. Once was enough, thank you very much.

Bollocks! What a cock up. It was going to take some serious work to get this sorted. He had truly expected Dumbledore ask for his help when going after the ring. That the fool had thrown away his life and all his plans was still a great shock. Just thinking about the stupidity involved in Dumbledore's decision made his blood boil.

He stormed down the corridors to his office, students ducking for cover as they stared at him and the visible glow of magic swirling around him. They had never seen him angry and scowling before — and more than just a few were terrified at the thought of what could make the perennially cheerful and pleasant Professor THAT angry.

Next year was a pass, what with Sirius already being out of Azkaban, legally. The Tri-Wizard, though, was an issue. BOLLOCKS! He had forgotten about Barty Crouch, both of them.

(⊙_⊙)

"Good afternoon Madam Bones," Harry/Gilderoy said, his smile as dazzling as ever. His last class had ended at four, giving him sufficient time to visit his second favourite law enforcement official — Tonks, of course, was first. "I was hoping I would find you in."

The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement met him halfway. "I'm always in for you, Lord Lockhart-Black," she said warmly. They shook hands before seating themselves on the couch and comfy chair at one end of the office. She waved her wand over the end table and a tea set appeared. "Tea?"

Gilderoy sat back, pleased, sipping at his steaming tea. This was what he had been trying for all his life, important people recognizing him as one of their own. No more getting the brush-off because he was a powerless unknown.

He knew she suspected he had more than just the two Lordships. His little stunt last Saturday wouldn't fool the more astute political experts. The Wizengamot had not seen Gaunt, Slytherin, or Gryffindor for decades, that all should appear with him as Lord Black implied more than just a casual connection between them. Especially when two of the three were professors from Hogwarts, as he was.

Speaking of which, the two Witches in question had been most appreciative of his appointing them as proxies. Sinistra had even hinted at being interested in making the arrangement permanent as Lady Slytherin — she was, after all, only a year or two younger than himself. With all of her classes being at night, she wouldn't have any conflicts with attending regular Wizengamot sessions she had informed him. Professor McGonagall had no interest in becoming Lady Gryffindor, but she happily would hold the proxy until he had found a full-time replacement — which was a good thing as Gilderoy knew he would never talk Harry the student into officially marrying the stern professor to bestow the title upon her! In the meantime, Harry Potter's secrets were safe.

But while Madam Bones might suspect he had those Lordships, that's all they were, suspicions.

Well, on to business. "Things have been happening at Hogwarts that you should know, Madam Bones," he started. She straightened in her chair. "But before I reveal those to you, may I set a few protective enchantments?"

"My office is regularly checked for listening spells, my Lord," she said, somewhat offended that he thought her lax in her security.

"I'm sure you have one of the Unspeakables do that chore, however, one has to wonder, who checks the Unspeakables? As I recall, one of them was a Death Eater in the last war."

She frowned, but made a gesture to go ahead.

He gave her a broad smile and stood. The spell he cast was complex and surrounded the two of them with a visible glow — only to the participants — until the caster dismissed it. An American Indian Wizard had taught it to him in the waning days of the war when operational security was an obsession.

"There, anything we say cannot be understood by anyone other than us. Simply removing listening spells, you know, doesn't prevent someone from inserting a physical probe into the room, nor sneaking in as a bug animagus." He pulled out a parchment from his robes and gave it to her. "The spell I just used and its parameters," he said by way of explanation. "Please keep it as a D.M.L.E. secret."

She took the parchment, nodding her agreement.

He sat again. "As you know, from the memories you've seen from Mr. Potter, Voldewhore is a wraith currently trying to invest himself into a living body. He has, as yet, not found another follower to possess, but he is trying."

"I'm sure your Unspeakables have given you clues on how he has managed to escape death — I will confirm it for you, he is using horcruxes, Soul Anchors, to stay on this plane even though he has died and is not a ghost or poltergeist. And that is horcruxes, plural, as in more than one."

"Merlin," she whispered, nodding. "We had suspected a horcrux, but several?" She shuddered. "The Unspeakables didn't think he had more than one. More than one would drive the Wizard insane, they said."

"He made five."

"Five?" she said weakly, blinking.

"Quite so. I believe he intended, eleven years ago, to use Harry Potter's death to create his sixth and last one. Should he return to life, I'm sure the first thing he will do is create that last horcrux.

"So far I have destroyed three: his diary from when he was a Hogwarts student, Slytherin's Locket, and Ravenclaw's Diadem. That's how I discovered he was using horcruxes, you see. When I first found Ravenclaw's Diadem the magic on it was so foul it was almost visible. I quickly determined what it was and destroyed the Soul that was stored in it while preserving the original enchantments. It really wasn't that difficult, I am Gilderoy Lockhart, after all." He grinned widely as she flinched slightly, expecting his long-winded self-aggrandizing list of titles to come flying forth. "When I found his diary, well, that confirmed he had made more than one. Then I found Slytherin's Locket, also infested. Now it was a matter of establishing how many he had made!

"Notice the proclivity for items of importance? I predict that Hufflepuff's Cup is also a horcrux." Gilderoy then explained his conversation with Dumbledore, in excruciating detail. "So, it was either five or seven soul splits."

"Unfortunately, and the reason I am revealing this to you now, is that Headmaster Dumbledore found and destroyed a fourth horcrux — and it wasn't Hufflepuff's Cup. That fourth Horcrux, plus the one I feel wandering around Hogwarts, which is probably Hufflepuff's Cup, totals five. When you add Voldewhore, that makes six, which means he was trying for the magic number seven.

"Anyway, stupidly, the barmy idiot Headmaster went after that fourth horcrux without me, Gilderoy Lockhart, as backup. After all, I've only found and safely destroyed three Soul Anchors without any injury whatsoever, so why should he have need of my expertise?" He added, sarcastically, "He is, naturally, the Great Albus Dumbledore, the Wizard who knows everything, never makes mistakes, and never over estimates his own intelligence and capabilities."

He shook his head ruefully, "He has contracted a fatal Withering Curse. He will be lucky to make it to Christmas, and will definitely be dead by this time next year. Which is why I am here."

"Dying?" Madam Bones said, shocked that such a powerful Wizard was laid low.

"Yes. Lords Slytherin and Gryffindor have appointed Professor McGonagall as Headmistress, effective after the end of this year's term. Albus will be showing her what she needs to know regarding that position over the summer. Fortunately, she was Depute and is well versed with most of the responsibilities.

"They will be making a joint announcement later this week that Albus is retiring to pursue other interests and that she is assuming his position as Headmistress. I wanted you to know the real reason and to be prepared for his eventual death."

She sat back in her chair, mulling over everything he had told her. He sat quietly drinking tea, and going for a refill while she thought. Finally, she looked up. "Thank you, my Lord. Both bits of news are disturbing."

He smiled contentedly. "Please keep the information regarding the horcruxes to yourself. I fear that the Unspeakables might want to recover the remaining one for study rather than destroy it to rid us forever of Lord Voldewhore."

He stood and rubbed his hands together. "This will make the biggest bestseller in history when I finally publish the full story of my quest to destroy the Dark Lord Riddle!" He sighed, "But that shan't be for a few years. Even after dealing with the horcruxes we will have to deal with the wraith itself. I fear that with the demise of Albus the populace will be disheartened should the Dark Idiot succeed in returning in two years."

She stood, slowly, as he headed for the door. He had his hand on the door when he suddenly turned. "Ah! I almost forgot!"

She looked up at him, dragged from her thoughts. She quirked an eyebrow.

"I was perusing the records at Azkaban when I was researching Sirius Black's incarceration. In doing so, I noticed that shortly before Barty Crouch, Junior, died, his mother and father visited him. His mother was dying and wanted to see her son one last time. Within a week, she died and Mr. Crouch buried his wife in a private ceremony.

"Barty Crouch, Junior, while not in great health, was at least as healthy as any other inmate, but he died within five days of their visit. How odd that mother and child should die so soon together, and just after their last meeting.

"My house-elf tells me that Winky, the Crouch family house-elf, is caring for an invalid that never leaves his room. Odd, isn't it, that a man with no living relatives has his house-elf caring for a sick relative in what used to be his son's room? Is it beyond the realm of possibility that the use of polyjuice allowed Mrs. Crouch to replace her son in Azkaban and that the 'private' burial was a sham?"

He smiled at her brilliantly. "Well, I'm not one to tell another how to run their department, but perhaps you should check and see if there is a body in Mrs. Crouch's grave. And if so, is it really Mrs. Crouch?"

He pulled out his wand and cancelled his privacy spell. "Good day to you, Madam," he said leaving the office with a jaunty stride. The Witch stared at him, completely flummoxed by his seemingly capricious parting comments that turned her world on its side. Again.

(◎_⊙)

The Wizarding World had taken Dumbledore's "retirement" quite calmly with many "thanks for a job well done" letters to the editor and editorials. There were also a few congratulatory letters and editorials addressed to Headmistress McGonagall. And the search was on for replacement Transfiguration and D.A.D.A. professors. In her interview in The Daily Prophet she mentioned her intention to introduce a few changes to the school — most, Harry/Gilderoy noticed, were his suggestions from that afternoon in the Headmaster's Office.

Before Harry/Gilderoy knew it, it was June, and he was running out of time to retrieve Hufflepuff's Cup. Wednesday evening, after supper, he headed to Grimmauld Place.

Bella was looking good. Two weeks of daily health potions had re-established her physically — once more she was a beautiful woman who commanded the attention of any males who might see her. That, of course, presented a problem. It wouldn't do for someone to "see" Bellatrix Lestrange after she had been declared dead in Azkaban!

Yesterday evening, he had introduced the Pureblood to something most Half- and Pure-blood Wizards and Witches had no idea existed — hair dyes. Bella was now a blond with shoulder-length wavy hair. Even her eyebrows were blonde — most women forget to do that, giving away that they aren't natural blondes. Contacts had changed her eyes to blue — a mild pain-relieving spell had quickly acclimated her to their presence. She could wear them for a week before she would have to remove them. No one seeing her would ever suspect she was a daughter of House Black. And a Wizard couldn't accidentally, or on purpose, terminate the Muggle disguise methods with a finite spell. Not even the Goblin's Thief's Falls would disclose the disguise.

Her practice with her new wand had paid off, she was as good with the new one as she had ever been with her old one.

"Okay, Bell," — after much discussion, and a few hexes both ways, they had decided that Bell was an acceptable derivative of Bellatrix. It wouldn't immediately trip people to the fact that her original name was Bellatrix and that she would instinctively respond to instead of ignoring the caller. If anyone asked specifically, her full name was Belladonna. — "I'm ready."

At that declaration they disapparated from the sitting room at Grimmauld Place — not that she recognized it after all his changes — and reappeared in front of an empty field. The floo connection to the Lestrange Manor would not admit anyone not already keyed into the protective enchantments. Of course, the Ministry also had disconnected the Lestrange floo from the network for non-use after years of idleness.

She held onto his arm, as if they were a couple, and walked towards what appeared to be a waist high stone wall. Like Platform Nine-and-three-quarters, they walked straight through it and a carriage-wide path appeared before them leading to a tall privacy wall interrupted by a closed gate. Bell walked up to the gate and placed her hand on the Lestrange crest centred on it. The gates swung open. A short five-minute walk later and they were standing on the porch. As she had instructed him, he did not let go of her arm. If he did, the protective enchantments and traps built into the grounds and porch would activate and immediately attack him as an intruder.

Moments later, they were inside. She turned to him. "All right, now what does it look like, you've avoided mentioning it so far." She stared at him suspiciously.

He smiled, showing off his brilliant and perfect smile. "Well, it's a golden cup with two handles." He held his hands up as if he were about to indicate its size, "It's about stupefy!"

With his hand only inches from her, she had no time to react and collapsed to the floor. A nearby portrait said, "How dare you!" His wand now in his hand, he swung it while casting a special version of the incendio spell targeted at portraits. He had learned that lesson in the War — leave no evidence. An instant later, every portrait in sight was nothing more than ashes drifting to the floor, the occupants having had no time to flee.

"Kreacher! Dobby!"

Twin POPs! answered his call.

"Take everything of value, including fixtures. Leave only the structure itself: walls, floors, ceilings, doors, windows, and so forth. Destroy all the portraits before you enter any room. Find every nook and cranny. Look for hidden rooms and compartments. Use your magic to look for dangerous spells so you don't get hurt. Put everything in the new vault I opened at Gringotts, you have the key. Shrink what you can and make as few trips as possible. Put Dark Artefacts and cursed items in the appropriate storage area in the vault. If you find any Goblin items, cursed or not, and bring them to me. And find me the Lestrange Vault key. If there is anything you think I should see, come get me."

Both house-elves stood silent for a moment, looking around, before Dobby sadly said, "Wes can't. We's has no permission from Lords or Ladies."

"Ah." He should have expected that. He turned to Bell and floated her to a nearby chair, "Ennervate. Confundo. Imperio. Give these two house-elves permission to do anything they need to do in the Lestrange House and Vault."

Seconds later the two house-elves blurred into action. "Obliviate! Stupify," he said to Bell.

It was a rather boring wait. Occasionally, Kreacher or Dobby would appear and hand a Goblin blade or piece of jewellery to Harry. He shrunk each item and placed it in his pockets. Kreacher was the one who found the vault key and brought it to Harry.

Finally, Dobby declared, "We's done."

"Excellent! Return home, take a break and make sure you eat. Rest if you need it."

Harry/Gilderoy floated Bell to the front door, opened it, and leant her against it. "Ennervate. Confundo," he said quietly. "Well," he continued in a conversational tone, "It took a while, but we found it." He held up a rather elegant looking golden cup.

She blinked at it blearily. It reminded her of the Cup given to her by her Dark Lord, but this cup was much larger and more ornate, with a series of small emeralds decorating the base. She looked back at him, her eyes narrowed. She had fulfilled her part of the bargain, now it was his turn.

Knowing what she was thinking, he took her arm and they walked back down to the gates. Friday night would be a full moon, so there was more than sufficient light tonight for them to see path even though it was almost midnight. She never looked back to notice the Entry Hall was bare before the door closed behind them. Neither did she notice the lack of curtains at the windows. As far as she knew, the Manor was as it had been when they arrived.

"Never fear, Bell. I will keep my part of the bargain. After a month has passed, I will not stop you from leaving my Manor. You know how to disguise yourself without magic, you have a new wand, and, when you leave, you will have a purse with a thousand galleons in it. You can return here to plan your next moves."

Their trip back to Grimmauld Place was as quick as their leaving. He had adjusted the protective enchantments to allow them to return directly to the sitting-room, so Bell never realized she was returning home to Twelve Grimmauld Place and not a non-descript flat somewhere in London.

Once they were back in her suite, which a mild confundo ensured that she thought was on the second floor and not under the kitchen, Harry bade the Witch good night. He then hit her with another imperio and handed her a potion bottle of the Draught of Sleeping Death with the orders to drink it. That removed her from being a possible problem in the short term.

"Kreacher!"

"Kreacher is here, Master Black."

"Take good care of our little Bell, here."

"Kreacher will take care of Pureblood daughter of House Black."

"Excellent!"

Harry headed back upstairs.

"Dobby!" he called from the kitchen.

"Dobby is here, Master Lockhart.

"Excellent! Can you still access the Lestrange Manor?"

Dobby Popped away and returned almost immediately. He was bouncing on his heels in happiness. "Yes, Master Lockhart, yes! Dobby's can still go to wicked Wizard's Manor!"

"Excellent!" He looked down on the diminutive house-elf. "Dobby," he said gravely, "the Lestrange brothers are as evil and cruel to house-elves as your previous master. They would kill Harry Potter without pause if they could."

Dobby's face grew dark in anger and he opened and closed his hands repeatedly.

"So, I want you to burn the place to the ground. If there are any other buildings there on their property, loot them as you did the Manor itself, and then burn them. If they are occupied, come back and we'll do something different."

Dobby declared angrily, "Dobby does as Master Lockhart says!"

He POPed away again.

Harry/Gilderoy rubbed his hands together happily. On Saturday, he would visit Gringotts and loot the Lestrange Vault after retrieving Hufflepuff's Cup. Dobby could move everything without touching anything, thus escaping the burning and duplication charms Bellatrix had set on everything. Then Gilderoy could pay the Goblins to remove the curses on everything. That meant three major sources of Death Eater funds — Houses Malfoy, Black, and Lestrange — were forever gone.

And Gilderoy was that much richer.

(⊙_◎)

"Good day, Ragnurk!" Gilderoy called out cheerily as he entered his account manager's office lounge. The Goblin grunted, clearly unimpressed with the Wizards greeting.

The blonde-haired dandy pulled a cloth bag from his pocket, opened it, and proceeded to set out, one at a time, the Goblin-made items he had "liberated" from the Lestrange Manor. "These," he said jauntily, "Rightfully belong to your people, I believe." He stepped back and put his hands dashingly on his hips, awaiting the Goblin's reaction.

Ragnurk stared at the assorted knives, bracelets, earrings, and necklaces. He carefully picked up each one, inspected it, smelled it, licked it, and placed it back on the desk. He leaned back in his chair and stared at Gilderoy. "Why?"

Harry/Gilderoy pretended to be puzzled, "Because they are yours? I know that Wizards only rent Goblin made items with the understanding that when the renter dies the items are to be returned. I found these and know that the current owners are not the renters, so I thought to return them." He sighed, and made as if to retrieve the items from the desk, "Well, if you don't want them I'm sure I can find a use for them."

Ragnurk lunged forward, "NO!"

Harry looked at him grinning. After a long moment, Ragnurk slowly smiled a generous showing of teeth that would intimidate most Wizards and Witches. He nodded. "The Goblin Nation thanks you for the return of these long lost items."

Harry/Gilderoy sat in the chair provided, and said, "It occurs to me that the House Black vaults probably contain a few such items as well. I would like you to initiate a search through the vaults for Goblin-made blades, armour, or jewellery and remove them. After all, as your largest Vault Holder it wouldn't do for me to abuse your trust by withholding things that properly belong to the Goblin Nation, now would it?"

Without taking his eyes off of Harry, Ragnurk opened a drawer in the desk beside them and pulled out a parchment and quill. He quickly wrote out an agreement. "Sign at the bottom giving us your permission as Lord of House Black to enter your vault and remove any Goblin-made blades, armour, or jewellery."

Harry smiled at the Goblin. "Certainly, as long as we both understand that that doesn't include galleons, sickles, knuts, or other items made by the Goblins for unrestricted use by Wizards, Witches, Muggle-born, Muggles, or other magical creatures."

Ragnurk gave him another enormous smile, added a line to the document, and then handed it to the Wizard.

Harry read the document, which did indeed have a clause exempting Wizard money and selected other items from the list of Goblin-made items for removal. He signed it with a flourish and gave it back to the Goblin. Ragnurk dropped it on the desk and snapped his fingers. The parchment disappeared. "We will begin the sweep immediately."

Harry nodded his understanding. "I'm sure he will agree, but I will have to check with Mr. Potter before authorizing such a sweep in the Potter Vaults."

"Now then, on to the next order of business. I opened a new Vault recently, The Gilderoy Lockhart Investment Fund, here is the key." He brandished a golden key. "Unfortunately, the items I have moved into the vault have spells cast on them that I need broken. Please have some curse-breakers sweep through the vault and remove all dangerous enchantments they might find. I would also like you to check that vault for any Goblin-made items. And produce an inventory."

Two minutes later, those contracts were signed and on their way to the respective teams responsible for those things. Three minutes later, Gilderoy Lockhart was out of the bank and headed to Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour for a reward to himself.

(◎_◎)

Finals were over and everyone was at the Leaving Feast. And once again, Lockhart had a trophy to present. Rita sat at the head of the Hufflepuff, and both Professor Sprout and her House were practically bouncing in their chairs in excitement. They knew this could mean only one thing! The Headmaster had a sour expression, as if he couldn't believe Lockhart had once more succeeded. Or maybe it was because he knew that the day after tomorrow was his last official day as Headmaster?

This time Gilderoy waited until after most students were working on their desserts before standing. "I have an announcement to make," he stated majestically, projecting his voice across the Hall. He walked over to Professor Sprout. "Professor Sprout, if you please," he waved an invitation to the herbologist to join him. She leapt to her feet. He held out his arm and conducted her to the front of the Headmaster's Table. The Witches at the Headmaster's Table, and almost all the students were all eagerly awaiting what new discovery their favourite Professor was about to unveil.

Gilderoy, resplendent in his mauve robe set, conjured a tray and placed something covered in cloth on it. He bent forward slightly as he offered the tray to Professor Sprout.

"Once again, 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, Hogwarts' beloved Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, and slayer of Basilisks, have recovered a priceless treasure long thought to be lost to Hogwarts and Wizardkind.

"It took much effort and long hours, but it is with great joy and pride that I present to you, Professor Sprout, Head of the Hufflepuff House here at Hogwarts, this long lost Founder's Artefact — Lady Hufflepuff's Cup!" He vanished the bag leaving the gleaming golden cup with a Badger design out for all to see. "It can now join its fellows, Ravenclaw's Diadem, Gryffindor's Sword, and Slytherin's Locket in the Founders' Display Case in the Entry Way. For the first time in a thousand years, all Four Founders Treasures are united at Hogwarts for all to see and admire!" With appropriate placards describing how the Great Wizard Gilderoy Lockhart was responsible for finding and returning them, naturally.

After a moment's surprise, wild applause flooded the Great Hall, punctuated periodically by Bozo's non-stop photography. Professor Sprout was grinning like a madwoman, and holding the tray up so that all could see the priceless treasure on it. Good thing he had put a sticking charm on the tray earlier!

It was, Harry/Gilderoy thought, a magnificent way to end his year at Hogwarts.

Gilderoy had hit all his goals: the country revered him as an accomplished Wizard of considerable talent, second only to Dumbledore; he was the richest Wizard in the world, according to the Goblins; and Witches everywhere dreamed of being with him. He had an entire generation of young Wizards and Witches extolling his skills and talents. Based on a preliminary look at the OWL and NEWT test scores, he was without a doubt the best D.A.D.A. professor ever to teach at Hogwarts. In short, in England he was as famous as Harry Potter!

Harry had hit his goals, as well: the horcruxes, those that were available to him, had all been destroyed; he had significantly reduced Death Eater funding and eliminated a few of the "inner circle" members; every D.A.D.A. class was up to snuff with the upper years all caught up and the lower years slightly advanced. As bonus, he had unmangled Gilderoy's Homorphus Reparifarge werewolf charm and named it after himself, of course, and delivered the working spell to the ministry. He had also taught it to all the students — now any werewolf could be returned to human immediately after his or her change. It wasn't a cure, that was next, but it was a step in the right direction.

And, most importantly, Harry Potter was safe and considered Hermione his girlfriend. Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott were vying for his second and third wife positions.

For the next year, Lockhart would be out of the lime-light as he sought to find and contain the Dark Lord for once and all. Except, maybe, for a book signing or two, Gilderoy whispered.