Mardi Gras With Muggles

You know me. You know me very well. My name, as you know it, is Gilderoy Lockhart. I write these books, not only to entertain, but to warn you of the dangers of this world. There are many dangers in this world: hags, trolls, giants, You-Know-Who, bankers, Death Eaters, criminals, Basilisks, zombies, Muggle children, government-employed accountants, dragons, and many others. (For more information on Death Eaters, a grave threat in our world, see Dances with Death Eaters, the winner of the Ministry Literature Award for Best Non-Fiction Novel.)

My publishers, the wonderful folks at Cornish Pixie Publishing called me into their main office one day, November 3^rd, 1988. I was extremely shocked and surprised. Why would they call me in? I am, after all, a man whose name alone sells thousands of hardcover books. I was not exactly scared, rather confused. It occurred to me that perhaps these wonderful folks at Cornish Pixie Publishing could perhaps begin to doubt me. Why would they do that? Why would they doubt me?

Fears aside, I stepped into the office, which was decorated with the cover pictures of many different books, most of them mine. The room was eerily lit. The covers seemed to glow. I saw my self doing many different things: wrestling a troll (Travels with Trolls), looking under a bed (Mondays with Monsters), capturing a fairy in a bottle (Flirting with Fairies), standing in front of a shelf of all my books (Magical Me), and many other things.

There was a huge desk amongst these covers. It was in the back of the room, and behind it sat my boss, R. M. M. Klerk. He was a large man, with huge shoulders, smoking a Muggle cigar imported from Havana. Behind him was the largest of the cover pictures, taking up the entire back wall, Dances with Death Eaters, the scariest thing I’ve ever been in. I was forced to go undercover in England and join a group of Death Eaters. Even faking you’re a follower of You-Know-Who is an experience that will change your life forever. But enough with that. I am here to inform and entertain, not to depress.

"Lockhart, sit," said Klerk as I continued into the room. Klerk is one of those men that’s always in charge, that never takes "no" for an answer. It’s a slightly scary thing, but I took my mind off that as I sat in the large leather chair in front of his desk and an even larger leather chair. "I have a new assignment for you."

R. M. M. Klerk stopped there. It was as if he expected me to say something, protest this new assignment or something like that. So I said something:

"What is it, Sir?" I asked Klerk, who smiled. I have always had a feeling Klerk does not like me. Klerk puffed his cigar before answering.

"Lockhart, you’re half the reason Cornish Pixie Publishing is in business; but we can’t always let you choose your own assignment. No, we can’t. Your books are usually huge bestsellers; but we’ve just learned with the failure of your last book, which only sold a million copies, that you need to write a book that will be something the public responds to better," he said, smiling.

"Run that by me again," I replied. Klerk laughed and took another puff.

"We’ve got an assignment we know you’ll love. You’re going to New Orleans," he said. I frowned. Why would I be going to New Orleans?

"Is this the long-awaited voodoo book?" I asked, referring to the underground form of magic practiced in the area where New Orleans was.

"No, definitely not. Voodoo’s not something the public’s interested in. The public wants something else. As I said, they–"

"Want something fun," I continued. "Look, I know my books have been depressing, but you’re gonna have to deal with that. The past few years have been a giant party." Klerk took a puff on his cigar before putting it out. He sat back in his chair, his face staring into mine.

"I have a backup for this, Gilderoy. I can call for her," he said. I nodded. I am not used to receiving assignments from my boss.

"Who?" I inquired. Klerk’s expression straightened even more. It was a strange thing, seeing my boss confront me with this weird face of his.

"Don’t get smart with me, Lockhart. I can call Rita Skeeter any time, you–"

"Okay, I’ll take it!" I yelled. R. M. M. Klerk smiled, proud that he was able to manipulate me with his evil ways of the corporate world. "What is it exactly? Hopefully nothing to do with Death Eaters..."

" ’Course not. You think I’d send you to New Orleans to deal with Death Eaters? But you thought of Dances with Death Eaters, so I mean...well, I hope you’ll have some fun on this trip, too," he said. I wondered what was wrong with this man. Corporate bosses are not usually nice unless they’re either firing you or transferring you.

"What?" I asked.

"Let me put it this way: you’re going to New Orleans to learn about the Muggle tradition of Mardi Gras. You’ll leave January 31^st of next year. You’ll spend about a week studying Muggles and Mardi Gras, then come back and have your book published in December," R. M. M. Klerk said. "I hope you learn a lot, Lockhart," he added with a slight grin I would associate with that of a mischievous child.

"And I have sufficient research materials to prepare me ahead of time?" I asked. R. M. M. nodded.

"We’ve spent more than we should spend," he said. I nodded. "One more thing," he said, "if this book gets as many accolades as Dances with Death Eaters, you’ll be in for the biggest paycheck you’ve gotten since Midnights with Mermaids."

"That was my last book, Sir," I said, clearing that issue up. Of course, I hate to think back to the dreaded book, which only sold a million copies. I nearly got fired. It’s just too depressing to think of.

"Well, then, you’ll get a larger paycheck than when you wrote that book," Klerk said. "But I don’t want to remind you how much money we lost with it. We have ten million copies sitting in a warehouse in . I hope you haven’t lost your touch..."

"Of course not!" I yelled. "This book is gonna be huge! Now, I’m going to go research Mardi Gras. Good day to you, Mister Klerk." I turned and left the room without saying another thing.

That next afternoon, I found myself constantly reading up on the strange Muggle holiday. It’s an amazing one, too. You see, Mardi Gras occurs the day before Ash Wednesday; but the Mardi Gras season starts about two weeks before. It’s French, and you should leave it to the French to create such a holiday. Mardi Gras means "Fat Tuesday" in French, if my research is not mistaken.

The holiday goes back hundreds of years, and it is celebrated all around the world. As you know, many people do not eat meat during the season of Lent. During Mardi Gras, people eat as much meat as possible without killing themselves. (Or just obscene amounts of food.) Organizations called Krewes put on balls and brunches and parades during the Mardi Gras season, among other things. In the off-season, they put on fashion shows, dances, brunches, lunches, and dinners, among other things. (Yes, this is all oddly true. And I’m sorry if this is like a social studies lesson; but I must set everything up before actually traveling to New Orleans, not to mention get my facts straight.)

These parades are huge; there are giant floats pulled by Muggle motor-powered vehicles such as cars, tractors, trucks, and sport utility vehicles. People stand (or sit, kneel, stand on their hands, whatever they want) on these floats and throw various items to the hungry crowd.

And the biggest party in the world is in New Orleans, Louisiana, USA. I would have to travel there and endure the world New Orleans is. It’s a dark, dim place.

On January 18^th, I was called into Klerk’s office. R. M. M. was wearing black robes and sitting at the desk he had been sitting at the previous time I had met him, looking almost exactly the same, except for his robe color. It was an odd contrast to the bright yellow of mine.

"Gilderoy!" he said. "Glad to see my favorite moneymaker in a good mood!"

"Yeah," I said. "What do you need me for?" R. M. M. puffed his cigar, then put it out. His feet seemed to go higher up on his desk.

"Lockhart, we’ve got your travel arrangements taken care of. You’ll have a nonstop flight on International Airlines, which will leave at 3 PM, to New Orleans International Airport. You’ll be met at the gate by Archie Delis, who will escort you to your hotel room at the Holiday Inn at the airport. The next day, you’ll be taken to your first parade, in New Orleans, Bourbon Street," R. M. M. said. I did not respond, rather taking everything he had said into account. I’d have to spend hours surrounded by Muggles. It’s a disturbing thing. My life would be in Muggle hands. They would not know who I am!

I sighed. This was how it was going to have to be done. "Yes, that’ll be great," I said. I thought of Archie Delis, the former Ministry spy now taking residence in New Orleans. I had met him years ago (nine) at a party. We’ve been good friends ever since, keeping in touch by letter nowadays.

"Good, Lockhart, good!" R. M. M. said. "You have everything ready? Know your stuff?"

" ’Course, Sir," I said. "I know more than you know about Mardi Gras." R. M. M. laughed.

"That’s not so tough!" He continued laughing.

"I guess I’ll be leaving, Mister Klerk." R. M. M. abruptly stopped laughing.

"Yeah, go ahead," he said as I walked out. I smelt smoke as I stepped out, indicating he had lit another imported Muggle cigar from Havana.

The next day was a Thursday. It was raining–no, make that pouring–outside. I awoke in my bedroom. I peeked out a window, looking up at the gray sky. The window was covered in rain.

I quickly dressed, putting on a pair of purple robes, my newest buy from Wizard Wear. After doing that, I proceeded to my kitchen, eating breakfast. I had bacon, eggs, sausage, and milk. A hearty meal. I then looked through my mail: lots of fan mail, bills, book offers, and some credit card offers. You’d think I would not get offered deals for credit cards such as Pureblood Express, but I do for some reason...it’s insane, I tell you. The fact that you are expecting your paycheck in the mail; but you get credit card offers from Pureblood Express, the Exploratory Card, and Passport just makes your day go by worse. (Even though the opportunity for appearance in ads for Passport around the world at a great salary is an exciting offer...)

I then apparated off to work. I greeted the many colleagues I work with as I made my way to my office. It’s an amazing group of rooms, complete with a private study, secretary, and a personal bathroom. I greeted my secretary, Nina Whitewalls, and stepped into my private office.

My office was decorated with purple wallpaper and framed covers of all of my books. (And that’s a lot of framed covers.) My desk was a large one, made of cypress wood, which ironically is found in Louisiana. My chair was a large, overstuffed leather one. There was a large bookshelf behind me, filled with research information. On my desk sat memos, more mail, things I would never look at, and hopefully a paycheck. I sat down in my overstuffed leather chair and looked through the pile of papers. No paycheck.

It was a disappointment, to say the least. I found my fan mail in the pile, too, along with offers from other publishing companies.

And another offer from Passport. It was addressed to me, marked "URGENT–OPEN NOW OR SUFFER THE DEADLY CONSEQUENCES! OPEN THIS NOW!" I knew I would have to open this, for it would make a loud howling noise (though it wasn’t a howler) and altogether annoy me.

So I opened it.

Dear Mister Lockhart,

I am E. E. Guilin, the head of the advertising department at PASSPORT, the leader in credit of the wizard world. We would like to offer you a spot in our ads, with pay starting at five thousand galleons, though some ads will be more than others. We believe this would provide a great business asset to us and you as well. Please reply if interested.

With respect,

E. E. Guilin

E. E. Guilin

A great business asset? I thought for a moment. I already had advertisement deals up to my nose, but none for credit card corporations. I tried to think of a decent reply.

But before I wrote anything, I realized I had a problem.

I didn’t have a Passport credit card. I believe there should be truth in advertising, so I addressed all of this in my letter.

Dear Mister Guilin,

Thank you for the great offer. I am considering it, but I do not have a PASSPORT card. I believe in truth in advertising and will require one if I am to become your corporate spokesperson. I will have to think about this offer, but please let me experience the PASSPORT card firsthand for myself. We will go from there. If I am not satisfied, I will be forced to decline. I do not know how long it will take me to experience the PASSPORT card.

Sincerely,

Gilderoy Lockhart

Gilderoy Lockhart

I smiled as I put the letter in my "OUT" box. It was magically whisked away to Nina. I then opened up my next letter, which was from one of my biggest fans: Amanda Fiddle. She has been in correspondence with me since my first book, Voyages with Vampires. She is undoubtedly my biggest fan. But I love all my fans, so there’s a special place in my heart for all of you.

Dear Gilderoy,

How have things been going? Things are going just great the Gilderoy Lockhart Fan Club! We have received "insider" information from certain folks at Cornish Pixie that you are slated to write a book entitled Mardi Gras with Muggles.. Is this true? I have been eagerly anticipating your new book, and you how much we loved Midnights with Mermaids. We personally can’t wait if this is true. (We, as in the Gilderoy Lockhart Fan Club.) Is it? It could be your most interesting book to date, if you can pass up the excellent Dances with Death Eaters. Yes, we know how much a toll that took on you and your life. But it was an excellent book, nonetheless. I hope to hear from you soon!

Your biggest fan,

Amanda Fiddle

I smiled after having read Amanda’s letter. Her letters were always straight from the heart. A true fan, she is. But who had told her about the book? This had happened before, and nobody at Cornish Pixie Publishing likes it.

Dear Amanda,

I am afraid I can confirm I have begun a book entitled Mardi Gras with Muggles. I have only recently begun the book and will be going out into the field in a few days. Please try to keep this information secret. R. M. M. Klerk would not like it getting out. He believes it has great potential, and perhaps he will start being nice to me and give me my paycheck. I’m sorry to keep this letter short, but I have millions of papers to sort through with very little time.

With regards,

Gilderoy Lockhart

Gilderoy Lockhart

I then sorted through my numerous papers, clearing everything out, though it was mostly mail sent to my corporate address. I also threw away the things I would never look out.

A few hours later, there was a knock at my door as I began to research the Dark Arts.

"Yes?" I asked to the person that was behind the door.

"It’s Nina. Mister Lockhart, you’ve got some new mail," she said as I closed my book, looking at my desk, which had only recently been cleared off.

"Oh...just send it in to my "IN" box, will you?" I asked.

"Okay, Mister Lockhart," she said. She must have left, because there was a "WHOOSH" sound; and I saw my mail in the "IN" box. It was one large manilla envelope from E. E. Guilin. "OPEN THIS RIGHT NOW!" was stamped on it. So I opened it, and out came a credit card labeled "PASSPORT" with my name on it as well.

Dear Mister Lockhart,

Is it okay if I call you Gilderoy? Yes? Well, Gilderoy, enclosed in the envelope is a PASSPORT credit card. It can be used anywhere in the wizard world. Please try it out and tell us what you think. We would love to have you onboard.

Also, on a personal note, I just read Midnights with Mermaids. Great book, Gilderoy.

Sincerely,

E. E. Guilin

The note looked like it had been scribbled rather quickly. But I was obviously of great importance to the Passport company. The card was plastic, rectangular, almost flat, and black. My name was engraved in gold. It was rather nice. But what’s my credit limit? And thus, I began another letter to E. E. Guilin.

Dear E. E. Guilin,

Thank you for the kind gift! I appreciate it very much. I am not used to having credit cards sent to me. By the way, what is my credit limit? I need to know this, as I believe everyone does. And thank you for the comment on Midnights with Mermaids. I’m glad to see you enjoyed it. I will try out my new card.

Thanks,

Gilderoy Lockhart

Gilderoy Lockhart

I put the letter in my "IN" box, and it left the room for Nina. I yawned, checking my watch. It was 11:49 AM. I stepped out of my office, noticing Nina snoozing at her desk. It was a slow day, as usual. Nina was also snoring. I put an anti-snoring charm on her and left for lunch.

I walked into the cafeteria of the publishing giant. It was a smelly place, full of very smelly food. You’d think, that with magic, people can make good food. I don’t know, but it’s just so annoying...

For lunch, you could have potatoes, pork, steak, fried chicken, many fruits, many vegetables, and bread. I smiled to the server, an ugly woman with a hairnet, as I picked French fries and fried chicken.

"Thanks," I said as I put it on my plate. The woman seemed to stare at me with a monstrous gaze.

"Yeah, sure, whatever, pretty boy. Move on." I grabbed myself some lemonade and paid for my meal, before taking a seat at a table by myself. I ate quickly. The chicken felt like rubber, and the fries were horribly burnt. The lemonade tasted like apple juice. I disposed of my plate and left after eating.

I found my way to my office. Nina was still sleeping, soundly however. I almost immediately darted for my bathroom, throwing up the disgusting chicken, French fries, and the mysterious drink into the toilet. I flushed it and left for my study, where I gave myself some food. It was good, delicious, wholesome, satisfying. I then took a nap until five, at which I apparated home.

It was January 30^th, six in the evening. I found myself in my bedroom, packing. I packed neatly, with ten pairs of shirts, nine pairs of shorts, two pairs of jeans, three pairs of slacks, extra underwear, extra socks, a pair of tennis shoes, and hygiene items.

That’s it, I thought, as I zipped up my first suitcase. Now, I have to pack the bag I’ll carry on the plane. I needed sufficient reading materials, some food (besides peanuts), and a pillow. I do not like to use the pillows other people have previously used. I hate flying on planes. It’s so annoying. There’s no space on them.

I zipped up my briefcase and set it to the side of my bed, next to my suitcase. Then I prepared the Muggle suit I would wear to New Orleans. I then ate dinner, undressed, showered, and went to sleep at nine. My car would pick me up tomorrow morning at eight.

I awoke at six and showered. I put on the annoying Muggle suit. The tie was tight, but thank goodness I could automatically tie it. Then I carried my suitcase and briefcase to the kitchen and found The Daily Prophet. Rita Skeeter had written another front page article again. She is an unstoppable journalism force, I swear. It was an article on the current state of affairs in the Ministry, which looked pretty bad. Of course, it probably wasn’t; but that’s Rita Skeeter for you.

The car came at 8:02. I was ready, almost too ready to make it out of my house. I had my wallet (already outfitted with the currencies I would need), my passport, my wand in my jacket pocket, and my ticket.

I stepped into the car, ready for the adventure ahead.