The Man Who Knew Almost Nothing

Chapter Seventeen

A game of Quidditch and a talk with a hat

The players were just taking to the field when Harry, Gilderoy, Sirius, and Remus reached their seats. Harry stood, scanning the field for friends and classmates that he had just left the year before, until Gilderoy tugged at his sleeve, causing him to take a seat. Gilderoy was grinning as he watched the players on their brooms. Harry smiled too as he watched seventh year Ginny Weasley take the Quaffle. She was the most experienced chaser on the team, having two full seasons under her belt compared to the pair of second years who were the other chasers for the Gryffindor team.

Half the team at least had left school the previous year, Harry realized, and he didn’t know half of the current team as well as he would have liked. That, of course, excluded Allbright, the team’s seeker. He had trained her himself. Jill was in her fifth year and quite good, though incorrigible. Her crush on Harry had been unrelenting. The only thing that had finally stopped her constant flirting was that fateful day when the team had walked in on Fred and Harry during a pre-game snogging session. And even then she had still looked at him with dark brown eyes filled with a certain wistful longing.

“Say, Harry, isn’t this sport a bit dangerous?” asked Gilderoy as a Bludger grazed the shoulder of a Hufflepuff chaser, nearly knocking the girl from her broom..

“No one’s died in years,” Harry shrugged.

The commentator, Andrew Jordan, who was a Gryffindor fourth year and the younger brother of Lee Jordan, was giving excellent commentary as the game progressed: “Branstone just got nicked by a Bludger, but she keeps the Quaffle. Branstone to Whitby, but no, Weasley’s got it.”

Harry winced as Ginny turned over in the air to avoid a Bludger sent her way by Madley, a Hufflepuff beater. She just managed to get the Quaffle by the extremely young Keeper as she righted herself.

“Gryffindor scores!”

Harry raised his eyes above the pitch, where the Quaffle was being thrown from chaser to chaser in an excellent show of Hufflepuff team work, to watch Allbright and Dana Coldbath, the Hufflepuff seeker, in their search for the Golden Snitch. Allbright was scanning the field below as well as keeping an eye on her yellow clad counterpart, just as Harry had taught her, as she circled the pitch at a reasonable speed.

“Weasley intercepts the Quaffle! Weasley to Goode to ... back to Weasley. And denied! Sherry Franks blocks the Quaffle. And it’s caught by Whitby. ”

It had been close, Harry thought, returning his eyes to the action on the field, watching graceful Ginny Weasley zip after the Hufflepuff that had claimed the ball. The other two Gryffindor chasers were right behind her, narrowly dodging a Bludger from the larger of the Hufflepuff beaters.

“Hufflepuff scores!”

The game was tied. Harry glanced at his companion and was pleased to see the excitement in his eyes. Gilderoy was enjoying the match and cheering for both sides, which made the two former Gryffindors next to him grin.

“Look, Harry! They’re diving after something!” said Gilderoy, pointing toward Allbright and Coldbath.

The two seekers had spotted the Snitch. Harry squinted and managed to see a little flash of gold near the ground at the Hufflepuff end of the field. Proceeding toward the Snitch at a sharp vertical angle were Jill and Dana. They were hurtling toward the ground at breakneck speed.

“The seekers have spotted the Snitch!”

“Oh, I can’t watch!” moaned Gilderoy, latching onto Harry’s arm.

Harry put his arm around Gilderoy, but he couldn’t take his eyes of the seekers and their pursuit of the Snitch. Coldbath was leading by an arm’s length, straining forward dangerously on her broom as she gripped it with only one hand. Allbright was just behind her, desperately trying to get more speed out of her three-year-old Firebolt.

“Don’t be stupid,” Harry muttered, watching Allbright edge forward on her broom, holding on with just her knees.

A streak of darkness swept toward Allbright, narrowly missing the end of Coldbath’s broom. Harry wasn’t even sure which team had sent the Bludger rocketing toward them. It was a dangerous move. The Bludger collided with Allbright’s side just as Coldbath lurched forward to swipe at the Snitch. A frightened gasp went up from the crowd as Allbright was thrown.

Harry found himself on his feet with Remus and Sirius as Gilderoy remained cowering in his seat. Allbright flipped over twice in midair before landing on the ground with a sickening and audible crunch. She had fallen only fifteen feet or so, but at a terrible speed. Harry had seen some awful Quidditch accidents and had been a part of more than he cared to think about, but Allbright being unseated at full speed by a Bludger beat about half of them.

There was only a smattering of cheers from the Hufflepuff students as Coldbath held up the Snitch with a look of mixed elation and concern on her face as she landed. She dismounted her broom as quickly as possible to check on the condition of her opponent.

“How like Cedric Diggory,” Harry thought dizzily as the referee, Madam Hooch, blew her whistle.

On the pitch Allbright was already trying to pick herself up again with little success. Harry could see that one of her legs was broken and her left arm hung loosely at her side. She looked dazed and remarkably pale as her teammates and Coldbath reached her, arriving seconds before Madams Pomfrey and Hooch. The Gryffindors looked gloomy as they helped their seeker onto a stretcher summoned by Pomfrey. The Hufflepuffs looked a bit chagrined even as they clapped Dana on the back and hoisted her onto the beaters’ shoulders to celebrate their victory. It had been a long time since they had beaten Gryffindor house.

“Oh, Harry, do you think she’ll be all right?” asked Gilderoy, who had gone very pale too.

“Yeah, she’ll be fine,” Harry assured him.

“I don’t think I like this game,” said Gilderoy.

“It isn’t always like this. I played a whole season once without being injured,” Harry reassured him.

“Oh, no! This isn’t what you do, is it?” asked Gilderoy, his eyes widening. Harry nodded. “Wait, and you play the same position ... Oh, no, Harry!”

Sirius, who had been following the conversation, put a hand on Gilderoy’s shoulder and told him, “Harry played six years of Quidditch without breaking his neck. You don’t have to worry about him. Allbright was just careless. Harry’s never careless. Are you, Harry?”

“Of course not,” said Harry absently, watching them remove Allbright from the field.

They all walked back to the castle together and had a light lunch in Remus’s rooms, thanks to the house elves, who were rather fond of the werewolf.

“They think I’m too thin, too frail,” Remus explained as the elves who brought them their meal vanished. “They thought the same thing when I was a student too,” he commented.

Sirius chuckled and added, “All of us. They said that to all of us, even James and Lily. ‘Boys isn’t liking skinny girls’ one of them told Lily. Then the elf looked rather pointedly at James. He turned three different shades of red.”

“But she knew by then,” laughed Remus.

“Because you told her!”

“If you hadn’t mussed that charm, I wouldn’t have had to. Someone had to tell her why James was walking around with letters over his head that read, and I quote, ‘Jater Potmes Veslo Livy Elans’. In letters the size of Quaffles, I might add.”

“I meant for them to say that ‘James Potter loves Lily Evans’. And it seemed like a good idea at the time,” Sirius shrugged.

Harry smiled, listening to them relive the glory days as they ate. It was always wonderful, but the occasions when both were willing to reminisce were rare, very rare indeed.

“Actually,” Sirius said thoughtfully, looking at Harry and Gilderoy, “I could take another go at it.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” said Harry, nearly choking on his pumpkin juice. “I may love Gilderoy, but I think both our heads can do without letters around them.”

“Going to see the headmaster before the grand tour?” asked Remus.

“I ought to, don’t you think?”

“Naturally.”

Harry and Gilderoy stood in front of the Griffin that guarded Dumbledore’s office while Harry recited a list of candy names, hoping to come up with the password. Gilderoy just smiled pleasantly and looked around the hall of the castle.

“I’ve been here before. It seems cheerier somehow though,” Gilderoy commented.

Sunlight was pouring in through the windows, bathing even the proud Griffin statue in warm yellow light.

“Butter beer, chocolate frogs ...” Harry sighed. “You know, I think you’re right,” he said before going back to it.

The swish of robes in the corridor behind him caused Harry to turn.

“I’ve switched back to ‘lemon drop’, though I am pleased to hear that you haven’t lost your sweet tooth since you’ve left us, Harry,” said the kindly voice of Headmaster Dumbledore. “I was just in the hospital wing with your young protégé. Miss Allbright will be fine in a few days, certainly by the Gryffindor - Ravenclaw match,” Dumbledore told him, leading them into his office.

“That’s good to hear, sir, although I thought I had trained her better,” said Harry.

“From time to time our pupils may disappoint us, but most of them turn out all right in the end,” said Dumbledore. “And, Gilderoy, how are you this fine afternoon?” he asked.

“Good, sir. Very good,” said Gilderoy, who had been glancing around Dumbledore’s rather impressive office.

“How is your memory?” he questioned. Gilderoy looked at the floor and shook his head. “Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. I’m living with Harry now,” said Gilderoy.

“Yes, I believe there was a picture in The Daily Prophet some days ago. The two of you looked so happy together,” said Dumbledore.

“We are,” chuckled Harry. “I brought Gilderoy with me today to see some of Hogwarts. I wanted to try and jog his memory.”

“I was a student here and a professor, according to Harry and Sirius.”

“You were both,” said Dumbledore with a kindly smile. “I remember your days as a student well. Never a trouble maker, always pleasant and respectful,” he said, leaving out any comments regarding Gilderoy’s ability to teach or the events that ended his employment with the school.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, finally looking up from the floor.

“Your Sorting was one of the most interesting I had seen in ages,” Dumbledore chuckled. “At least before Harry came along.” he added, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“What happened?” asked Gilderoy.

“The Hat laughed.”

“Sir?” asked Harry.

“You heard me. The Sorting Hat laughed.”

“Do you know what it told him, sir?”

“If you want to know what I told young Mister Lockhart, you might as well ask me,” said a voice from a high shelf.

Gilderoy started as he looked up and exclaimed, “By Jove! That hat! It can talk!”

“It sings as well,” said Dumbledore.

“But only once a year,” the Hat said, almost reproachfully.

“Can you tell us why you laughed at Gilderoy?” Harry questioned.

“Does young Mister Lockhart object?”

“No, not at all,” Gilderoy responded quickly.

“I saw that you had a destiny that would touch every house but perhaps Ravenclaw. The ambition of a Slytherin, blunted by your tragic past and the grief that nearly buried your magic. The gentleness of a Hufflepuff, dulled and diluted by laziness that would not be easy to repair. No doubt the finer portions of these traits came originally from your parents, whom I also remember with fondness. The impulsiveness of a Gryffindor, hidden and stifled by your not unfounded fears. And I saw a lover in your distant future, your present now, that would cultivate that spirit of yours and what little courage you have. Truly, you were difficult to place.

“Slytherin house would have been the death of you, or worse. Gryffindor was hardly an option, knowing that you would receive schooling in its values later in life. Hufflepuff values hard work above all else and to that were you unaccustomed. And Ravenclaw would have been an ill-fit indeed. You asked me to put you somewhere that wasn’t ‘scary’ or ‘uncomfortable’, so, Mister Lockhart, I sorted you into Hufflepuff house, for unfortunately the Founders did not conceive of a fifth house for people like you. And because of that, I laughed,” the Hat explained.

“And all this time I suspected that it was his name,” said Dumbledore, shaking his head.

“And if you could sort me again, would you choose the same house?” asked Gilderoy.

“No, I think this time I would give you to Slytherin, though it is difficult to say for sure ... from all the way up here,” said the Hat.

“No one is being resorted today,” said Dumbledore.

“Pity. I would love a second look into that one’s head. Potter’s too really,” sighed the Hat. “Can anyone tell me what rhymes with ‘aggrieve’?” it asked, giving something of a shrug and going about its business of preparing the song for next year.

“Does the Sorting Hat’s answer disturb you, Gilderoy?” asked Dumbledore.

“No, I suppose not, professor. I know I’m not clever or hard-working or brave,” said Gilderoy. “I don’t have any illusions.”

“You were a caring and decent young man in your day. Most of the students in your house liked you. They understood that your childhood had been difficult and made allowances that perhaps the other houses would not,” said Dumbledore.

“Losing my parents, you mean,” said Gilderoy, hesitating a glance at Harry.

“Yes, that. I’m surprised you’re aware ...”

“Harry found out for me. I wanted to know.”

“They were good people, Celeste Diggory and Godfrey Lockhart. Both were excellent students and tributes to their respective houses. There was never a Badger more fierce than your mother. I was not at all surprised when she became an Auror and a good one.”

“And my father?”

“Godfrey was a marvelous chess player, very orderly and careful, and, of course, quite an advocate for a Slytherin pure-blood who was to the manor born. He was cut from a very different cloth than many of his generation. He was a fine student too, always in the library. I do believe that if you asked, Madam Pince would still remember him, and kindly, which says quite a bit about his character,” answered Dumbledore.

“Professor, you wouldn’t happen to know what became of Gilderoy between the time his parents were killed and enrolling, would you?” asked Harry.

Dumbledore looked over his spectacles and replied, “He lived with his cousins, the Malfoys.”

Harry frowned. He had half suspected that Gilderoy had been raised by the Diggory family. He couldn’t recall seeing the Malfoy connection on the wizarding family tree.

“The Malfoys, sir?”

“Gilderoy is Lucius Malfoy’s first cousin, though strictly speaking, they were not brought up together as Mister Malfoy entered school rather earlier than most and was often away from the manor. At least this is what I have heard,” said Dumbledore.

Harry looked at Gilderoy for a moment and almost laughed. It was finally clear where he had picked up the more negative Slytherin traits that had allowed him to do such disgraceful things in the name of ambition and fame.

“That explains a lot,” said Harry.

“Does it, Harry?”

“I had wondered how Gilderoy, having such wonderful parents and being a Hufflepuff, could have, you know, turned out the way he did,” said Harry, giving Gilderoy an apologetic look. Gilderoy nodded that it wasn’t necessary. “I was almost certain that he had been raised by the Diggorys.”

“If the Ministry had listened to reason, perhaps he would have been, but Hadrian Malfoy was not a man easily crossed and he wanted the child.”

“To what ends?”

“Revenge, of course.”

“Because Gilderoy’s father was on the side of muggles and muggle-born wizards even though he was from a pureblooded family?”

“Exactly,” nodded Dumbledore. “Can you think of better revenge that raising his son to be a true Slytherin, and all that that implies?”

“No, sir, but he still failed, didn’t he?”

Dumbledore chuckled and said, “Yes, he did, Harry. The Sorting Hat should get credit for that, I suppose.”

Gilderoy frowned and asked, “But why go through so much trouble?”

Harry could hear the question Gilderoy really wanted to ask even if he didn’t voice it. The Malfoys had been allies with Dark Wizards and practitioners of the Dark Arts into time long forgotten. Surely they had known something of the attack upon the Lockharts, possibly even having a hand in it themselves. Why not just murder the Lockhart heir and be done with it?

“Before Lord Voldemort truly rose to power, there were codes of honor that dictated the behavior of the oldest wizarding houses. Often these could be used to achieve acceptable ends, political marriages, for instance, but sometimes they did bind the hands of even the worst of wizards. Certainly Hadrian Malfoy had no love for the child of Godfrey and Celeste Lockhart, but he couldn’t simply snuff out another line of powerful, pureblooded wizards. Especially not when there was the chance, Gilderoy, that you would become someone useful to the allies of Darkness,” Dumbledore explained.

“Was I ever useful to them, sir?” asked Gilderoy.

“No,” said Dumbledore with a smile. “In those matters you were always Godfrey and Celeste’s son.”

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