Jamie Evans and the Lonely Queen
Disclaimer: I own what I own, and that doesn't include Harry Potter.
Gilderoy Lockhart lives in a nice, opulent mansion, hidden away from prying eyes, with the location known only to his editor, his solicitor, his publicist, and possibly his house-elf. Given how the man acted, I doubt he remembered it himself. Contained within the mansion are two floo addresses. One is his public address, which is nominally locked down and leads into a special anteroom and ballroom. The other is his private address, again known only to his editor, his solicitor, and his publicist, and locked down to only allow those people, and obviously himself.
He also screams like a girl.
He's screaming because he's convinced there's a dementor hovering over his bed, holding his wand. I doubt he can actually get any patronus mist from his wand, let alone cast a full patronus, but it's a wizarding thing to actually hold the stick.
Sadly, it wasn't on his night table when he leapt for it.
I turn to face him, still hovering in mid-air, a selection of charms making the room near-freezing and terrifying to be in. Which is when he realizes I'm holding his wand. This is, of course, when I snap his wand and start laughing.
Dementors can laugh. Ask any auror whose worked at Azkaban. It sounds like the creaking of ice on a newly frozen pond. Their sense of humor is, apparently, on the level of the Three Stooges, or maybe Benny Hill. Nobody ever said Dementors were intelligent.
Gilderoy runs for it, throwing open his bedroom door and making it maybe ten steps down the hall before he realizes the hall is blocked. I float out the door, blocking his escape back into the bedroom. He sees me, and then turns back down the hall.
He wets himself.
Down the hallway is a big, bulbous green sphere of leathery flesh resting on a few dozen tentacles. More tentacles sprout from the top, and some of them end in eyes. Across the entire front is a gigantic mouth filled with dozens of fangs the size of human hands. A giant drooling tongue licks its non-existent lips, and I think I went overboard with the smell.
Gilderoy turns back to me, whimpers, and then faints.
I dispel the Marlboro, letting it turn back into the hideous neon-lime shag carpeting in the hallway, and levitate Gilderoy Lockhart.
It's not like I'm going to touch the bastard, after all.
With a few confundous charms and a bit of forged paperwork, he'll wake up in a muggle sanitarium in America, labeled a delusional pathological liar. I'm sure he'll get someone's paychecks signed when they pick apart his insanities.
I left Barty Crouch Junior's head on a silver platter. I taped a note to his forehead which read "Just because your wife tells you to do something, doesn't mean you should be a blithering idiot."
It's a week before I return to my 2nd year at Hogwarts, when I hear a knock at the door before I start making breakfast.
"Can I help you?" I ask. He's obviously from the Ministry. Likely from the new Minister's office. Some undersecretary or something.
"Miss Evans, you are required to report to the next Wizengamot Hearing to take the position of Chief Warlock-"
I silence him before he can complete that sentence.
"Piss off," I tell him.
Most muggleborns think the Chief Warlock position somehow means that the Chief Warlock dictates what the Wizengamot does. This is a lie. The Chief Warlock is the Wizengamot's Big Stick. As in "speak softly and carry a big stick." It's the steel fist wrapped in the velvet of the title.
Chief Warlocks aren't people. They're implements of the state. It was only Dumbledore's massive political power outside of being Chief Warlock that prevented him from being outright arrested for going against the wishes of the Wizengamot, and it was a massive blow to the credibility of all of United Kingdom when Dumbledore was kicked from the position.
The Ministry Minion comes back two days later with two aurors in tow. They aren't actually dressed as aurors, but I can tell based on how they carry themselves. That, and one of them is John Dawlish, one of the Minister's favored minions.
"Miss Evans, I am–"
I silence him, again. The aurors reach for their wands, and I barely even glance at them to petrify them.
"Now, since you're a useless dunderhead, I'll state my response in simplier terms. I don't care about what you want. I don't care about what the Wizengamot wants. I've made my opinions of the Wizengamot quite clear. My response remains quite simple. Piss off."
I'm radiating power, and all three of them look terrified because of it.
"Once you're done with the slime in the suit, can you make breakfast? Sally-Anne's threatening to make it."
"Sure," I reply. I conjure a piece of string, enchant it as a portkey, and tie it around his wrist. "I'd recommend keeping the string, as it'll take you to the Ministry in an hour. Just so you're aware, if you come back a third time, it'll be twenty-four hours in Northern Canada. Bye-bye."
The portkey's first destination is a rather empty island in the Carribean. In an hour, it'll drop him in the Fountain of Magical Brethren, right behind the centaur. I doubt he'll get the joke, but maybe someone will.
I look at the two Aurors. The other auror, I don't recognize.
"You can join him, or you can leave under your own power. Your choice."
Dawlish and the other auror look at each other, before walking away as quickly as their dignity allows.
"You know, I'm probably going to get in trouble for all the headaches you cause the Ministry," comments Tonks.
She rolls her eyes, kisses me, and then lets me make breakfast before either of them light the kitchen on fire.
Author's Note: So... this thing. This one will cover 2nd and 3rd year. The third installment will cover 4th 5th year, although I haven't quite nailed that down yet. It may turn out that this will cover 4th year as well. So far, though, it doesn't look like it.
This was slowed down due to me working on original work. As in, stuff I can't post on FFN. That I might, eventually, post on some site that will net me extra cash. Or that I might submit to a publisher and watch as I get a rejection notice. Not really sure. Depends on how quickly I write it (read: not quickly at all). So expect updates to this story to be glacially slow, even though I'm already working on Chapter 5. Why? I want the ability to go back and make edits to the story as I progress, and I'd like four chapters to do that with.
Lonely Queen and the 3rd installment (which is named, and depending on your knowledge of things, contains a spoiler, therefore I will not state it here) will include my personal inclinations towards the North and South American Continent, as well as the Statute of Secrecy, and will once more tread the ground of Muggle v. Magic. This will, of course, incite debate about how I'm wrong, how I should write the story, and how I should do things according to whatever whims the readership has. For those of you who will wish for me to change the very structure of the story, I'll have lots of fun saying "No."
Next Chapter: A howler and the Weasleys!