Lockhart's Version

I was sitting in my little chair doing autographs when I noticed that my healer left the door unlocked. I snuck out and went to look out the window. I love doing that. When I got to the window I found out it wasn't a window at all but a door with a window in it! I looked out only to see some people coming up stairs onto a landing. They all looked shocked to see me. I opened the door and said, "Hello," with an extra large smile.

"Professor Lockhart!" the boys with red and black hair whispered.

Me? A professor? Really now, I must have been brilliant, judging from all those books they say I wrote. I told them so.

The healer came and pulled us into my room. I started doing all the autographs they wanted, (They really wanted a lot, huge fans I must say). They were standing there looking around seeming very uncomfortable in my presence, (I think they really admired me, I am a bit of a hero I must say, what with saving all those people from those horrible things like yetis, and goblins, and werewolves).

The healer came in and gave a plant to the man across from me. How come I never get plants? That just annoys me. Do people think I don't like plants? I love plants. Anyway back to the story.

The dark haired boy heard something and a weird look was on his face. He seemed to not want the others to notice something. He was trying to make a distraction when the red haired boy turned around. An older woman and a young, pleasantly-stout man were coming out from behind the curtains at the other side of the room.

"Neville!" the red haired boy gasped.

The young boy looked surprised to see them and not happily so. The dark haired boy gave a sort of involuntary shudder and the two girls turned. They all forgot me. I was trying to be polite but that got me a little mad. After all, they did come to see me. Not this Neville person, but I patiently sat there, alone and forgotten, as always. The only person who hadn't forgotten me was dear old Gladys.

"You must be Harry Potter, Neville talks of you all the time. Oh and you two must be Weasleys, Ron and Ginny, if I am not mistaking. I know you parents, not closely but wonderful people. And you must be Hermione Granger, helped dear Neville out of quite a few tight spots," said the older woman shaking all their hands in turn. "Doesn't have his father's talent sadly," she said jerking her thumb over her shoulder towards the other side of the room that was sectioned off.

The red haired boy, whose name I think was Ron, was trying to sneak a look at the people who were being covered, threw a weird look at the older lady. The two girls looked like they had no clue what she meant and the boy with dark hair looked like he didn't want what they didn't know to be told to them. The plump boy was looking up at the ceiling, clearly trying to ignore the situation.

"Neville, have you not told them?" the older woman asked, looking appalled.

"Nope," said the plump boy, (Neville I think, they say my memory is coming back, I sure hope so, I'm practicing by trying to remember names), still looking at the ceiling.

"Why, Neville, it is nothing to be ashamed of!"

"I'm not ashamed," he replied quietly.

"Well, you have a funny way of showing it, not telling your friends. Neville's parents, were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who's followers," she said boldly.

The red haired boy, Ron, stopped trying to get a look at the occupants of the beds, the two girls clapped their hands over their mouths, and the dark haired boy winced and looked both defeated and sorry.

A woman who looked like a deflated form of the pleasantly-plump boy came out from behind holding out something and pointed to him.

"Hold out your hand Neville," the older woman said with a sigh. The instruction was completely unnecessary because he already had taken the Drooble's Best Blowing Gum wrapper and given the woman a hug. The woman walked back humming a song.

The plump boy looked around at the people as though daring them to laugh. No one did, even me.

"Another one? She has given you enough to paper your room by now. Throw that away and come along. Good day to you all," she smiled and walked out.

I saw the boy put the wrapper in his pocket. It struck me as odd, why would he want that? I was finally fed up and found myself yelling, "HEY, DO YOU WANT MY AUTOGRAPH OR NOT." I think that caused my guests to leave. I wish I had more guests, but hey, I'll always have Gladys! Maybe I'll write to her and tell her to come see me!