Mardi Gras With Muggles

"Please don’t do that," I said, rather scared. The bus driver punched me in my face. I kicked his shin, and the driver fell to the ground. The seemingly insane man jumped to his feet as I hobbled up.

"Don’t make fun of my education again." He punched me in the stomach, sending me back a few steps. Archie shoved me aside and nailed him in the face.

"I don’t need this," he said to the driver. "Clean up your act." The driver shook his head and showed him the finger for an instant. Then it changed to a fist that was in his face.

Archie fell to the ground, clutching his face. I launched a roundhouse kick at the driver, who twisted it. I flipped and fell to the floor. With my concealed wand, I healed the ankle and threw myself back up.

"How? What?" said the bus driver as I punched him in the stomach before pushing him to the front of the bus.

"It’s been almost fifteen minutes," I told the man as I lifted him up and stared at him. "Don’t kick me."

Immediately, the crazy bus driver tried to kick me in my groin. I turned around and threw him to the back of the bus.

"Do you," I asked as I walked up to him, "have a criminal record?" The bus driver looked at me rather blankly.

"No," he said. "I got away with my crimes." I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Well, you haven’t anymore. Archie, call the police." Archie immediately ran to a pay phone as the bus driver tackled me. I was on the floor as he jumped on top of me.

"Freeze!" said a voice with high authority. The driver kept punching me, cursing at me. I turned my head around, seeing the police officer. The officer’s gun was between the driver and me.

"Sir, whoever you are, you’ve found the most dangerous criminal in the city," the officer said. "Top of our Most Wanted List." I seem to have a strange thing about running into deadly criminals. Don’t get me started on my experiences.

"That’s great," I said, scared out of my wits. The police officer picked the driver up. The driver showed us his lovely middle fingers as he was taken off the bus.

"My partner will drive you to the parking lot," the police officer said as he took the driver off the bus. A large man eating a donut stepped onto the bus.

"Get in your seats; I’ve never driven one of these before." Suddenly, we were out of the covered area, into the roads out of the airport. The bus swerved as an oncoming taxi nearly ran into us.

Horns were honked as curses flew as our driver struggled to keep the bus in control. He made a wide turn onto the street.

"Okay, where’s this parking lot?" he asked, holding his hat as he looked back.

"Behind you!" shouted a man in the back.

"No!" The car made a U-turn and headed the other way. We dodged a police car in the middle of the road and a man on a bike.

The man on the bike then cursed us out. I wonder if all of New Orleans is like this. It must be Louisianan.

Or French.

Or Spanish.

Either way, I figured it must be rooted in the roots of New Orleans’s past. Perhaps it was American.

We turned into the parking lot the way regular cars do and not the bus. There was some trouble at the gate, caused by our driver’s stupidity and his fondness for donuts; he dropped one on the guard.

"There’s my car!" Archie said almost the moment we turned into the lot. I saw a red pickup truck covered with dried mud.

"Is that–"

"Old Maria? Yeah. Still have her after those long nine years. Best truck in the world," Archie said as we got off the bus.

"Sorry for the trouble," said the police officer.

"I’ve seen worse," I said.

"Yeah, right." The bus drove off, spraying water in our faces.

"Nice of them, don’t you think?" Archie asked me as we got into the car. He wiped the water of his face and turned the truck on, then backed it up.

"Don’t run into anything," I said. I was expecting him to immediately run into some kind of car, but he just ran over a stick.

"Here we go!" Archie said as he turned on the radio. It was an oldies station.

"Surrender to the void..." Archie began to sing in his horrible singing voice, no doubt caused by his odd accent. "Come on, sing along!"

"I hate this song," I said to Archie as he continued singing.

"Is it not right? Is it not right? Come on, Gilderoy, sing along!"

"No," I answered once more.

"Thanks for listening to WOLD, home of the Oldies in New Orleans. Keep listening, we’ve got more Beatles songs coming up! And more coming up on the hour; we’ve got contests galore. Now first for an announcement..."

"Love that sation," Archie said as we pulled out of the parking lot. I stared at him blankly.

"You like the Beatles too much," I told him.

"And you’ve got a soft spot for Woody Allen films," he said.

"Your point?" I asked him as Archie said.

"Woody Allen sucks," Archie said quickly.

"You’re screwed up in the head," I told Archie.

"I’ve known that for a long time. Blame it on the Ministry, my friend. It’s not my fault I was a spy," Archie said.

"Yes, it is," I told him.

"I was drafted into the military."

"What?" I asked, not knowing this fact about his live that forever changed my view of him.

"You think I wanted to be in the military? No, I didn’t! I wanted to be a freaking writer! I wanted to write some novels, live the easy life. But I guess I don’t get to now," Archie said.

We turned into the hotel parking lot. Archie stopped the truck at the front.

"You got money?" he asked as I stepped out.

"Yes," I said.

"Need me to help you with anything?" Archie asked. I shook my head.

"I can do this." Archie drove off, and water splashed on my suit. Hope they have a dry cleaner...

I stepped into the giant glass doors (which I consider to be an architectural requirement in large buildings) and found myself in a small lobby.

"Welcome to the Holiday Inn at the Airport. How may I help you, Sir?" asked a woman behind a desk built into the wall.

"I need to get my room," I said as I walked to the desk.

"Do you have a reservation?" she asked as I stepped up to the counter.

"Yes," I said.

"Name please?" she asked.

"Lockhart. Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Thank you," she said as she entered my name in the computer. "How do you spell that?"

"G-I-L-D-E-R-O-Y, space, L-O-C-K-H-A-R-T. Okay?"

"Thank you, Mr. Gilderoy Space Lockhart Okay," she said.

"What?"

"That is your name isn’t it?"

"No, it’s just Gilderoy Lockhart," I said. The woman nodded and entered my name.

"Room number 313. Upstairs, on the third floor." She handed me my key, and I was on my way.

I stepped into my room, putting the key in the lock and unlocking it. I hoped it was nonsmoking.

Immediately, I felt the wrath of air conditioning in my face, blowing back my tie and jacket. I set my bags in the small closet covered by a mirror and turned the air conditioning down. Light flooded in the large windows as I saw the exotic view of a street. I shut the curtains and jumped on the bed after taking off my shoes. I stretched out and relaxed.

Then I turned on the television. There were some news reports, some cartoons, a sitcom rerun...all boring. I flicked the television off and continued reading my book.

That afternoon, at around 4:00, I received a telephone call.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Gilderoy, it’s Archie."

"Oh, hey, Archie. What are you calling me for? I have all my stuff," I said. I could hear Archie’s television in the background.

"Oh, yeah. Anyway, I have an invitation for something I figure you may be interested in..." Archie said. I heard the rustling of some papers on the other end.

"What is it?" I asked.

"An invitation," Archie said once more. "An invitation for a Mardi Gras ball."

"What?" I said, confused. What was a Mardi Gras ball?

"It’s like a formal gathering of a Mardi Gras Krewe as they introduce their theme and members and all. I got an invitation from a friend, and I wasn’t planning to go. But seeing that you’re here, I guess we might as well go there," Archie explained.

"Oh," I said. "When do we leave?"

"It’s tomorrow. You might want to get that suit cleaned up; it’s black tie," Archie said.

"I can take care of that...will you be going to any parades?" I asked Archie.

"Tomorrow...I can’t go. Tomorrow night, I’ll be able to go to the ball though. You can do some research and apparate to a parade if you like, though I suggest you find one in the morning. You’ll want a break between the parade and the ball," Archie said. "There’s probably some kind of schedule of parades in your room. Look around. Call me later when you find one. And it will get crazy out there, Gilderoy, trust me."

"Well, thanks, Archie. I’ll go to a parade tomorrow morning. I think I can see a schedule over there. Talk to you later."

"Bye," Archie said.

"Bye." I hung up the phone and picked up the schedule. There was one parade on the schedule for tomorrow morning...

I woke up the next morning, a Thursday. Mardi Gras was the next Tuesday.

What should I wear? Well, I decided to put on a West Ham football shirt and some khaki shorts. I slipped on a pair of white socks, a cap, and my tennis shoes, then apparated away to the Krewe of Hercules parade.

Apparation is a sickening process. It’s undescribable, but I’m about to attempt to describe it for the uninitiated right now. It starts with the spell, then your stomach turns. The G-forces press against you; you are unable to move any part of your body for the split second you travel across time and space.

Then suddenly, the moment you return to reality, it’s gone. Every pain you went through in the process is gone. You’re back to normal now. Though some claim there is a slight dizzying to the process...personally, my advice is to not apparate long distances. Your definition of long distance may be different then mine, though.

I found myself in a crowded, narrow street. There were some parade goers there. Not many though.

"Here for the parade?" asked a man I had nearly apparated into. He was not someone I wanted to share my DNA with.

"Yes," I said. "Are you?"

"Yeah, I am. Parade’s gonna be here in thirty minutes. Beginning of the parade’s always the best, eh?"

"I wouldn’t know. First time," I said.

"First time...well, it is the best time, depending on whose parade it is. Some Krewes give out the best stuff at different times. But this one...it gives out the best stuff all the time. It’s like they’ve got a freaking unlimited supply. Wouldn’t surprise me if they were practicing voodoo or something..." the man said.

"Yeah," I said smiling. An unlimited supply...perhaps it was magic, then again, it could just be lots of money and lots of stuff.

About thirty minutes later, the parade came. First was a police car (how ironic, considering my previous experiences) followed by a group of soldiers. Then there was a magnificent float, being pulled by a pickup truck. It was dressed to be like a jungle. On the float was a man with a tiger mask. He threw me a silver doubloon. The Krewe’s theme seemed to be "The Mighty Jungle."

Then came a luxury car. In it was an old man and an attractive young woman. What would this woman want from this old geezer?

I saw the side of the car, and noticed the writing on the side:

Miss Jean Thibodaux - Queen 1989

Mr. Billy Bob Boudreaux - King 1989

My question was settled. I wondered how much money it took to be one of these kings or queens. Their clothes seemed very expensive, as did the car.

They threw me another doubloon. I smiled at the young lady, and she smiled back. She also did this to every person in the crowd that smiled at her.

Then came a smaller float with fake exotic trees at every end. The people on it were dressed like various animals that inhabited trees.

"Throw me something, Mister!" yelled some people around me. They received little items. I decided not to put this strategy to use.

"Throw me the goods right now, or I’ll blow your float up!" I yelled to the people on the float. Immediately, I received a beverage holder that fit around a canned drink, a giant toothbrush, some nice beads of various colors, and some cheap plastic beads that broke when I tried to pull the pieces of plastic that made the beads fit me apart. I tried another one, softer this time. I found that it worked, but they really were pathetic. I stuffed them in a bag I had made appear.

The next thing I saw was a large marching band, from Houma, Louisiana. They were incredibly large, and their uniforms made the individual members seem incredibly large as well.

They stopped and began to play for us, putting on a small concert for about twenty seconds before moving on.

Next was an almost endless sea of floats. It seemed to last forever. The temperature was almost eighty degrees according to the bank clock across the street. Occasionally, there was a marching band or a group of people that sponsored the parade with a float of their own–usually some kind of open trailer.

The parade gradually became more of a bore, and I did have to stay the entire time because I have to research this for you.

Thanks a lot.

At the end of the parade was a police car, just like at the beginning. The man I had met at the beginning walked up to me.

"God, talk about a disappointment...you’d think that it would have been exciting. I mean, they’re usually good. Oh, well. Maybe I’ll go check out the end of the route. Rip-off..."

I picked up the phone the moment I appeared in my hotel room and dialed Archie’s number.

"Hello?" Archie said on the other line.

"Hi, Archie, it’s Gilderoy."

"Oh, hey! How was the parade?"

"It sucked. Can you believe–" I started to say only to be cut off by Archie on the phone.

"You went to the Hercules parade, didn’t you?"

"Yeah," I said. "The schedule listed it as a spectacular spectacle."

"I heard about it. Usually their parades are really good, but I heard they had a much more limited budget this year," Archie said.

"Well, that’s for sure. I can see what you mean by Mardi Gras being bored," I told Archie. Archie laughed.

"Oh, well, that’s my wife speaking. I actually am pretty fond of it. But of course, that’s just me. Did you pay attention to anything other than the floats, Gilderoy?" Archie asked with a hint of laughter in his tone.

"No, not really...what should I have paid attention to?" I asked, confused.

"Oh, there are things..." Archie said, his voice trailing off.

"What things?" I asked.

Archie laughed on the other end. "There are things..."

"What do you mean?" I asked. The other line went dead.

Apparently, I hadn’t done exhaustive enough research. I sighed and jumped on my bed.

What’s wrong with me? For God’s sake, I can’t research good enough! This is not like me at all. I am all-knowing...I should know about this extra stuff to watch out for! Come on! I mean, this isn’t like me at all! I’ve already said this, haven’t I? Gosh, this is a crisis...what kind of crisis? I’ve lost knowledge of crises...this is bad...very bad...

I got up from my bed and jumped around the room. There was a knock on my door.

I walked up to the door; my face must have looked like a mad dog, drooling on the floor, eyes open and intense.

"What?" The bellhop at the door stared at me with his eyes open.

"Oh my God, I’m sorry, Sir. I apologize for interrupting whatever you’re doing, but your jumping and screaming is disturbing those all around you," the bellhop said.

I shoved the bellhop into the wall. "There’s nothing wrong! Don’t tell me how to run my life!" The bellhop nodded and ran out the way, screaming. A woman peeked her out her door.

"What’s with him?" she asked.

"He just didn’t take his pills for today, that’s all," I said calmly as I walked into my room and closed the door.

"Oh," I heard the woman say.

I picked up the phone and called Archie.

"Hello?" Archie asked.

"Hey, it’s Gilderoy," I said.

"Oh, hi!" Archie said. "What’s wrong?"

"The ball!" I said. "When is the ball?"

"My car broke down," Archie said. "I’ll meet you there. It starts at six."

"How am I supposed to get there?" I asked. "I don’t know the address or anything."

"Apparate. I’m sending you over the ticket and the invitation...the address is on there–you can find where it is on one of those New Orleans maps in your hotel room," Archie said as I saw a white piece of rectangular paper appear on my bed. "Is that good?"

"Yeah, sure..." I said.

"Okay, that’s great. I’ll see you there. Remember, wear–"

"Wear my suit," I said. "I’ll keep that in my head. Bye."

"Bye, Gilderoy."

I hung the phone up and opened up the invitation, read it, and then set it down on the small table next to my desk. I watched some television before taking a short nap.

I woke up at 4:00. I yawned and got up from my bed. There was a message on my phone. I played it.

"Hello, Gilderoy, it’s R. M. M. Klerk. Just checking in on you. Don’t call back; I’ll call you later. Bye." I smiled and began my process of preparing for the ball.

First, I cleaned my suit quickly with a dose of "Madame Mona’s Dry Cleaning in a Tube." It was not half as good as a regular job, so I cleaned it with some magic as well. Still not as good as a dry cleaning job, but that was just too bad. I showered and got dressed. Then I made my hair nice and shiny and brushed me teeth.

It was 5:00. I had a Mardi Gras ball to go to.