By Luke_Morris
Last March, I was out in the beautiful continent of Europe, spending as much money as I could, since it wasn't my own. This year, though, I decided to simply relax, take it easy, and count my slowly amassing fortune. After holding down a job for so long, and being able to claim all expenses back from my wonderful boss, it wasn't exactly a surprise, but, regardless, I wanted to see just how many Galleons I had pocketed, or, rather, vaulted.
The folks at Gringotts were as charming as always, and after sneering through the initial discussion at the entrance, a goblin was assigned to take me down to my vault, via one of their delightful carts. And that was where things went terribly wrong.
There was a blaze of fire, somewhere off to the left, and the cart was suddenly not traveling along its original course, thrown to one side as it burst into flames. I, thankfully, fell from the cart and landed in front of some vaults, but the goblin, and the cart itself, were quickly consumed by the flames. For those who didn't believe before that there were dragons in the pits of Gringotts, think again.
“Luke! Long time no see!”
My day definitely wasn't getting better. I recognized that voice a little too well, and suddenly the attack of the dragon was a little more understandable. Out of everyone in the world to run into in the depths of Gringotts, I would find myself looking up at Cedric Diggory for the second time in a year.
“Aren't you supposed to be enjoying seclusion in the Alps, Cedric? Or did the snow lose its appeal?”
“After you published your article, a lot of tourists decided to come looking for me. A lot of girls, too, calling me Edward and asking me to take my shirt off. Something about sparkly skin... I have no clue what was going on, honestly. But then Gringotts offered me a job as a dragon trainer, and here I am.”
“Wouldn't the goblins be a little annoyed if they found out that you were incinerating their staff?”
“They won't notice. But that doesn't matter right now. I've got something to show you. Something you'll love.”
“Is it another famous figure who should be dead and is really just hiding out of sight for no apparent reason?”
Cedric considered for a moment, mulling over the words very slowly before another of his trademark grins settled into place. The kid was far too happy for his own good, but since he was still sitting atop a dragon, I decided not to point that out. After all, I didn't want to spend the day on fire, fun though it may have sounded.
“Better. Get on, he's not far from here.”
Climb on board the extremely angry dragon who burnt down my lodge last year? I've done stupider things in my life, and more suicidal ones, too. Safer on the dragon, though, than standing in front of him and begging not to be burnt to a crisp.
Ten minutes later, and Cedric pulled up the reigns of the dragon, leaping from its back and landing softly on a stone walk way. I, on the other hand, slid with very little grace from the dragon's back and nearly fell into the abyss beneath us. Elegant, I know.
“Who is this you're showing me, anyway? A friend of yours come to live with you?”
“No, just another person who got lost down here. I think his guide left him behind or something, as a joke, and just never came back for him. That, or they got distracted with something else, and they've yet to remember that he's here.”
Sitting against a wall, with a rather blank expression on his face, was Gilderoy Lockhart, his robes torn and filthy, his hair in complete disarray. If he had regained any of his memory, he probably would have been throwing a fit right about now, rather than sitting and being so calm.
“Mister Lockhart, sir? What are you doing here?”
Usually I wouldn't be so polite, but hey, this was a guy with no memory whatsoever, last I heard, anyway, and had been stuck in Gringotts for much too long. Some sort of kindness was required in these sorts of situations.
“Hello. Do I know you? People keep approaching me and acting as if I should know them. Should I know you? Were we friends?”
“No, sir, we weren't, but you are a recognizable face. I don't think there's anyone in the wizarding world who wouldn't see you and know who you were.”
“Oh, I remember now! Yes, the people at the hospital mentioned something about me being famous. That's why I'm here; to see if all my gold is where I left it.”
Whoever had let him out of the hospital was going to be fired, and then some, but that was a matter for a later day, when they didn't need to get Gilderoy out of here, and back into the light. And into a fresh change of clothes and a bath, considering the amount of ash and soot on his face and skin.
“Come on Gilderoy, let's go. You need to get back into the sunlight, and back to the hospital, where they can take care of you.”
Cedric had finally decided to help out, attempting to pull Lockhart to his feet, but the ex-professor refused to move, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring up at the dragon trainer.
“I can't leave. I have to wait here, for the men. They said they'd come back, with all my gold, and I'd be able to buy a quill that would sign my autographs for me!”
The false hope was pitiful, and Cedric and I shared a look before we took a seat next to the man. The three men were obviously opportunists who had found a way to cash in on Gilderoy's lack of sense, and had bribed their way into St. Mungo's wards. Already, they were probably on a cruise somewhere in the south Pacific, catching some rays and ordering drinks.
“What number is your vault, Gilderoy? Might as well check it out while we're here, and see if there's anything left.”
“Number... number four hundred and... number seventy... eight hundred and... forty three? No, that's not right. What does that number say? Because this is the vault.”
Cedric had been busy tossing small dead rats to his dragon when Lockhart spoke, and instantly leapt to his feet, observing the door with a wicked smile.
“Can only be opened by a goblin. Anyone else-”
“-gets sucked inside. I remember the explanation. You think they're still in there?”
Gilderoy hadn't moved, because he was waiting for his companions to return, and if they hadn't emerged from the vault, then it was pretty likely that they weren't going to. A goblin would be needed if they were going to get inside, but suddenly, I remembered how little I cared about all of this, even though my duty to the greater good was crying out for me to actually help Gilderoy out.
“We can break into this thing. I mean, we're qualified wizards, we can do this.”
I hate Cedric for saying that, since it means that this particular article was written while sitting with another three very disgruntled men, in amongst several piles of gold. Some of which I was not too proud to stuff into my pocket. After all, I deserved to be paid for my services to Gilderoy Lockhart.
Last time I help anyone ever again.