August 31, 1993, Tuesday.
Not much had happened in the past month, at least, nothing worth splashing across a front page. I'd finally completed my apprenticeship under Nicolas Flamel, which still felt surreal whenever I allowed myself to think too long about it. And, of course, there was Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban, that one did make the front page, and the Daily Prophet was still milking dry despite it being weeks old.
For the longest time, I'd purposely ignored the entire Black situation. A year ago I'd been stubbornly fixated on keeping to canon, following the "script," as it were. And, well… I'd been far too self-absorbed to bother with messy real-world complications. But things weren't the same anymore. Canon had long since been shattered into glittering dust, and I like to believe I've matured at least a little. Enough, at least, to admit that perhaps I should help the old dog catch the rat, literally, in this case.
And if my fame climbs again because of it?
Well… that would simply be a pleasant side effect. Fame for good deeds is the healthiest kind, after all.
But that, I told myself, was a problem for later. Right now, I had far more pressing matters to handle.
I lifted my hand mirror and checked myself one last time.
Hair: glossy, expertly wavy, obedient.
Eyes: a soft twinkle, subtle, but intentional, just enough to attract attention.
Teeth: radiant enough to make a niffler squint.
Robes: emerald with silver trim, Slytherin colours for the occasion, utterly wrinkle-free.
Perfect.
I nodded to myself, slid the mirror back into my inner pocket, and stepped out of the back room of Flourish and Blotts.
Today was the book signing of my latest bestseller, Slythering With Basilisks. I'd deliberately scheduled it for the very last day of break; there had been far more important things to focus on this summer, and fame can wait when one is juggling Flamel, Grindelwald, and the small matter of not dying in rituals.
Still… a little adoration to close the month sounded rather nice.
…
I was halfway through signing a stack of Slythering With Basilisks; flourish, wink, personalized note, when the door chime rang and the atmosphere in Flourish and Blotts shifted ever so slightly. Old money has a particular aura to it, and the Malfoys practically tracked it in with their shoes.
"Lucius! Draco! And the ever-radiant Narcissa," I exclaimed, rising from my chair as if greeting dear friends rather than people who would gladly stab me in the back with a monogrammed letter opener. I took Narcissa's gloved hand and brushed a chaste kiss across her knuckles. She inclined her head with perfect pure-blood grace, though her eyes flicked, not subtly, to the wanted poster of Sirius Black hanging near the back shelves.
"Dreadful business, that, isn't it?" I commented lightly.
"Indeed," Narcissa replied, a little too quickly, smoothing an invisible wrinkle in her sleeve.
I cast a subtle Muffliato, the faint buzzing sealing us off from curious ears. My bright smile didn't waver.
"He's your cousin, isn't he? And tell me, Narcissa… What does it say about our justice system when an innocent man must escape an unlawful imprisonment? Even one who happens to be the rightful lord of an ancient house."
Lucius and Narcissa froze, matching expressions of aristocratic stone. Draco blinked between us, clearly missing the adults-only subtext.
I turned to Lucius, clasping his arm companionably. "Lucius, my friend, I must thank you. Truly. Without your little… contribution last year, I wouldn't have had half the material for this bestseller. Without that basilisk, the entire year might've been terribly dull, don't you think?"
Lucius's eyes went sharp. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, but you do," I said cheerfully. "The diary you slipped into Miss Weasley's cauldron got up to all sorts of mischief. And between you and me, young Tom Riddle is still out there. You wouldn't happen to know where his shade scampered off to, hmm?"
His expression told me everything. Denial followed, of course, thin and brittle.
Before he could drag his family toward the exit, I dropped my final lure.
"Lucius, really, I can keep quiet about the diary. For the right price, of course."
There it was: the change in posture, the tiny exhale. Money, to Lucius, was the language of solutions.
"And what," he said slowly, "do you want in exchange?"
I tapped my chin thoughtfully. "Well… I've been meaning to hire an assistant. A house-elf would be perfect, but I keep forgetting to acquire one. You wouldn't happen to have a spare, would you? One you'd be willing to part with? What do you say, do we have a deal?"
I extended my hand.
Lucius looked at it with disgust so pure it was almost admirable, then shook it.
"Very well," he said stiffly.
Narcissa's spine was rigid as she turned toward the door. Draco looked between us, clearly dying to know what he'd just witnessed but too prideful to ask.
I flashed them a dazzling grin as they retreated.
And with that, I saved Dobby from his abusive masters, another neat little line on the ever-growing list of Gilderoy Lockhart's Good Deeds. Honestly, at this rate, they really ought to consider adding a holiday in my honor. Lockhart Day. It has such a nice ring to it.
I resumed signing books for the next hour, smiling until my cheeks almost cramped. Hands shaken, photos taken, autographs signed with my flawless penmanship. A handful of overly eager witches tried to get handsy, as always, but fame comes with sacrifices, so I bore it with my usual heroic dignity.
Then the Weasleys bustled in, followed closely by Hermione Granger and, of course, Harry Potter. I straightened automatically; Arthur's grin was warm, Molly looked emotional already, the twins seemed to be plotting something, Ginny hovered withdrawn, Hermione looked like she'd memorized the entire book already, and Harry… well, he looked much lighter.
Molly placed her copy of Slythering With Basilisks in front of me.
"Thank you again, Professor," she said, voice thick with emotion, "for everything you've done for our family… especially saving Ginny."
"Oh, it was nothing," I said breezily, giving her my most reassuring smile as I signed the page with a flourish. "Just doing my duty as their teacher."
But then her voice wavered as she added, "If only she didn't have so little time…"
The entire family looked down, Arthur's hand tightening on Ginny's shoulder, the girl shrinking into herself. The weight in the air was suffocating.
I brightened immediately. "Ah, that! You can stop worrying, I've got a solution for that particular issue."
All of them froze.
Molly's voice trembled. "R-really?"
"Yes," I said warmly. "I've just finished my apprenticeship with Nicolas Flamel. With what he taught me, Ginny isn't going anywhere, although I will need a year to finish preparations."
Molly nearly burst into tears right there. Arthur shook my hand so hard I worried for my wrist. The twins looked like they wanted to declare me their new deity. Ginny actually smiled, a small, fragile thing, but full of relief.
It took me several minutes to convince Molly to stop thanking me. I was beginning to fear she'd knit me a commemorative jumper on the spot.
Hermione stepped forward next, her copy clutched like it was a sacred artifact.
"I absolutely loved the book, Professor! And thank you for not mentioning the Polyjuice incident. I was terrified you'd put it in."
"Of course not," I said kindly. "I didn't want to cause you three any trouble. Best to leave that little event in your own memories."
Finally, Harry approached.
"How have you been feeling, Harry?" I asked.
"Better, professor" I noticed the way his hand drifted to his forehead out of habit, but there was no scar there anymore. "A lot better. I can focus more, and my memory's… well, it's never been this good. I think losing the connection helped."
"That's marvelous news," I said, patting his shoulder lightly.
They said their goodbyes, Molly still teary, Arthur still grateful, Hermione still starstruck, the twins already whispering plans, and Harry looking healthier than he had in years. They swept out of the shop in a ginger-colored wave of relief and hope.
And just like that, the book signing continued.
…
(Support with power stones or comments. You can subscribe to my Patreon /mysterion901 to read about 30 advanced chapters 🐢 🎶)