June 7, 1993, Monday
Today was the day.
The world had decided, quite unanimously at that, that Gilderoy Lockhart deserved an Order of Merlin, First Class, and I, ever the gracious recipient, had agreed to show up and collect it.
I awoke to the soft, steady breathing of two witches beside me, Rosmerta curled on one side, Aurora on the other. For a brief, perfect moment, I simply lay there, staring at the ceiling and allowing myself the luxury of feeling it all.
Warm sheets. Warm bodies. A warm future.
Yes. Life had improved significantly.
"Morning, hero," Rosmerta murmured sleepily, her eyes still closed.
"Morning, legend," Aurora added, one corner of her mouth lifting.
"I do prefer honey, actually, or daddy if you're feeling particularly kinky" I replied.
They both laughed, and that was that. The day had officially begun.
We rose together, and soon I was standing before the mirror with my "defective" applewood wand in hand. Troll whisker core, my foot. The thing behaved even better than my previous one.
"Leave the charms to me," I said confidently, rolling my shoulders. "You're in the presence of the finest cosmetic spellcaster in Britain."
I began with their hair, Aurora's usually tight braids came undone, then her curls were straightened and carefully shaped into an elegant, flowing style that framed her face like a portrait, Rosmerta's falling in soft, enchanted waves that captured the light with every movement.
Then the robes: a careful flick, a polished swirl, and not a single crease dared remain. Fabric shimmered. Colours deepened. The gold accents warmed as if touched by sunlight.
Teeth sparkled. Skin glowed. Even I had to admire the artistry when I was finished.
When they looked in the mirror, both of them gasped.
"We look…" Rosmerta started.
"…impossibly beautiful," Aurora finished.
"You're welcome," I said. "You may thank me in galleons or physical affection."
They chose the latter of course.
One kissed my left cheek. The other kissed my right.
"Thank you, Gilderoy," Aurora murmured.
"Yes, thank you, truly," Rosmerta agreed. "We'd be hopeless without you."
"You'd manage," I replied, smiling at our reflections. "But you'd be less fabulous."
We kept breakfast light; fruit, toast, and a bit of tea. No one wanted a heavy stomach on a historic day like this.
And as I ate, my thoughts slipped backwards over the past week… everything that had happened since the Chamber.
After returning from Diagon Alley, the very next day, the restorative draught had finally been completed. The basilisk's victims, well, victim, really, had been cured.
Colin Creevey had woken up confused but otherwise perfectly fine. I remembered standing there as he squinted up at us from his infirmary bed.
"I lo-lost months of schoolwork, didn't I?" he'd asked anxiously.
"Yes," I'd told him. "But you gained a story that will make you popular for the rest of your natural life."
That seemed to cheer him up tremendously.
When Madam Pomfrey asked what had happened, he'd explained that he'd seen Ginny acting strangely and followed her out of concern. When she entered the second-floor girls' bathroom, he waited, then heard something move. Out of instinct, he raised his camera and looked through it.
Through the lens, he'd seen a massive, yellow eye. And that was the last thing he remembered.
Naturally, Mrs Norris had also recovered. It was the first time I'd ever witnessed Filch smile. I believe the moment disturbed several nearby students.
Truly miraculous times.
Then, four days later, on Friday, it had been time to collect my staff.
I still felt a nearly religious shiver when I thought of it. The moment I stepped into Ollivander's, I could already sense it waiting for me. He presented it with great ceremony: long, elegant, polished to a flawless sheen, covered in runic designs that shimmered just beneath the surface of the spruce wood.
It looked less like a weapon and more like a refined walking cane fit for a king.
At its crown sat a diamond the size of a clenched fist, glowing faintly with internal fire. And sealed within the staff, just beneath the crystal's surface, the phoenix feather glimmered, alive with silent power.
The two dragon heartstrings, I was told, were woven invisibly through the length of the wood.
The moment I touched it, the entire shop had been swallowed in golden light.
Shelves rattled. Dust sparkled like stardust. Even the air vibrated.
Poor Ollivander had staggered back, squinting and shielding his eyes. "I can't see a thing!" he gasped. "What brilliance, what magic!"
But strangely, I had been able to see perfectly.
The light had parted for me, shaped itself around me, like an old friend reuniting with a long-lost companion.
It felt… right.
Like I was finally holding the physical manifestation of my own destiny.
"This," I had whispered, "is beyond exquisite."
Back in the present, I blinked myself from the memory and glanced between Aurora and Rosmerta at the table.
Only an hour remained until the ceremony.
Only a few steps between me and legend.
And for the first time in my life, the attention I was about to receive didn't feel stolen or exaggerated.
It was mine.
Earned in fire, blood, and courage.
I smiled into my tea.
"…Gilderoy?" Rosmerta's voice pulled me back.
I blinked, returning to the present. "Yes, my dear?"
"You were smiling again," Aurora said with a teasing grin. "That particular smile only shows up when you're thinking about yourself."
"When else would I possibly deserve to smile?" I replied smoothly, lifting my teacup.
They laughed, and I leaned back in my chair, gazing at the morning light.
This was it.
Today, the world would honor Gilderoy Lockhart.
"Ready, ladies?" I asked softly.
"Always," Aurora replied.
Rosmerta squeezed my hand. "Let history be made."
And, as usual…
I had every intention of dazzling it.
…
The moment we stepped into the Ministry Atrium, I knew they had gone overboard.
Not that I minded in the slightest.
The grand hall was already overflowing, witches and wizards packed together in eager clusters, their murmurs echoing up toward the enchanted ceiling. Reporters shoved forward with flashing cameras, Quick-Quotes Quills already scribbling madly in midair. Ministry officials stood in formal lines, robes pristine. Aurors flanked every entrance, their eyes sharp and watchful. Even a few goblins from Gringotts lingered at the edges, pretending not to stare.
And then they saw me.
A ripple passed through the crowd, followed by a wave of gasps, whispers, and delighted squeals. I felt it, the energy, the excitement, the adoration. It washed over me like warm sunlight on a perfect summer day.
"Lockhart… it's him…" "Merlin's beard, he's even more handsome in person…" "That's the man who slew the Basilisk…!"
Naturally.
Before I could even take two more steps, the crowd parted and Madam Amelia Bones herself approached me, rigid posture, austere robes… and the faintest hint of a smile on her normally severe face.
"Mr. Lockhart," she said, voice clear and authoritative. "If you would be so kind as to accompany me to the stage."
An honour, of course. Only fitting that the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would personally escort Britain's newest hero.
"With pleasure, Madam Bones," I replied smoothly.
She gestured, and two Aurors flanked us as we made our way through the parted crowd. I immediately recognized Kingsley Shacklebolt walking at one side, tall and composed as ever. The other Auror's face was familiar as well, sharp features, stiff posture.
"John Dawlish," Madam Bones said as she noticed my brief curiosity.
Ah. Of course it was. An honour to be protected by such decorated men.
Aurora and Rosmerta remained just behind me, looking absolutely radiant, my handiwork, of course. Between the three of us, the entire atrium might as well have been a photoshoot.
We reached the raised stage set along one side of the vast hall. At its center stood Cornelius Fudge, beaming nervously, smoothing his pinstriped wizarding hat as he prepared to address the crowd.
When he saw me approaching beside Madam Bones, his smile widened tenfold.
He stepped forward, lifted his wand to amplify his voice, and the atrium fell silent.
"Witches and wizards of Britain," he proclaimed grandly, his voice echoing off golden walls. "Today, we gather to commemorate a true hero. A man who did not hesitate. A man who did not falter. A man who faced a monster of legend and lived to tell the tale, saving our young in the process."
He turned toward me, gesturing dramatically. "Bestselling author… honorary member of the Dark Force Defence League… Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts… slayer of Slytherin's basilisk… heir of Gryffindor himself… the great-Gilderoy Lockhart!"
The room erupted.
Cheers. Applause. Even a few faint swoons. I saw at least three witches clutching their chests in distress already.
Naturally, I stepped onto the stage with all the grace and poise such a moment required, offering my most brilliant smile to the crowd. The golden accents of my crimson robes gleamed beneath the enchanted lights. My staff rested in my left hand, elegant and dignified, while Gryffindor's sword hung at my side, its ornate scabbard catching the light.
Fudge stepped closer, holding a velvet cushion upon which rested a magnificent medal.
"In the name of Magical Britain," he declared, "I personally award you the highest honor our nation can offer its protectors, The Order of Merlin, First Class!"
He lifted it reverently.
A circular golden medal. At its center, a bold, elegant M, and from its sides, seven sharp rays, like the sun itself.
How appropriate.
I lowered my head with regal dignity, allowing him to place the green ribbon over my neck. When he let go, the medal settled against my chest with a satisfying weight. History, fame, legacy, all hanging in one perfect symbol.
We shook hands firmly, holding it just a moment longer for the photographers. Flash after flash after flash illuminated the atrium like a storm of light.
Then Fudge leaned closer. "Any words you'd like to say, Gilderoy?"
Oh, I had plenty.
I took a few confident steps to the very center of the stage. I felt every gaze locked on me. The moment was mine.
I lifted my staff slightly, bringing it near my throat.
"Sonorus."
My voice boomed out, echoing warmly through the enormous hall. I placed a hand lightly against the medal resting over my heart.
"This… is truly an honour," I began. "I always knew I would one day earn one of these…" a soft ripple of laughter spread through the crowd, "but I never imagined it would be under such extraordinary circumstances."
I let my eyes sweep across the gathered faces. "Honestly, it feels almost undeserved… considering I was simply doing my job, ensuring the safety of my students."
A swell of applause interrupted me. I waited, smiling patiently, allowing them their moment of appreciation before continuing.
"Still, I thank you all, for this recognition, for your support, and for believing in me. You truly have no idea how much it means."
Cameras flashed even faster now, if that was possible.
"I could stand here for hours…" a few eager cheers at that, "and regale you with the full story of how I faced and defeated that dreadful beast in the depths of Hogwarts…"
The crowd leaned in, spellbound.
"But I suspect you may not be in the mood for long-winded speeches today." I paused, my smile growing more mischievous. "So, for those still curious… you can always read the full tale in my upcoming book, Slythering with Basilisks, available in all fine bookstores next month."
It was perfect.
Utterly perfect.
The atrium exploded. Cheers. Whistles. Thunderous applause. One witch actually shrieked my name at the top of her lungs before fainting into her friend's arms.
I bowed slightly, letting the noise wash over me, bathing in the admiration like sunlight on silk.
Order of Merlin, First Class.
Yes.
It did have a rather nice ring to it, much better than Third Class ever did.
…