The summer sun poured through the enchanted windows of Diagon Alley, turning the cobblestones into ribbons of gold and bronze. The street bustled with the familiar chaos that came before the Hogwarts term: owls hooting from cages, children tugging excitedly at their parents' sleeves, shopkeepers calling out advertisements, and the scent of parchment, ink, broom polish, and fresh cauldron metal hanging thick in the air. Mira Silverthorne walked between Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom, trying to focus on her book list rather than the growing knot of anxiety in her stomach. She knew exactly who was waiting for them at Hogwarts this year. Gilderoy Lockhart. The man had not yet become a disaster in the eyes of the wizarding world, but Mira knew enough from history to understand that trouble followed him like a shadow. The moment she spotted a familiar flash of blond curls through the crowd near Flourish and Blotts, her eyes widened. Without missing a step, she quietly concentrated on her Metamorphmagus gift. Her silver-white hair darkened into a rich chestnut brown, and her bright teal eyes shifted into an ordinary blue. Draco blinked in surprise before recognizing what she had done. Neville nearly walked into a display of self-stirring quills before realizing his friend suddenly looked like a completely different girl.
"That bad?" Draco asked under his breath as they approached the bookstore.
"That bad," Mira replied immediately.
Draco followed her gaze and finally noticed the crowd gathering around the smiling blond wizard signing books at a table overflowing with photographs of himself. Lockhart's grin gleamed so brightly it looked almost unnatural beneath the enchanted lights of the shop. Cameras flashed. Witches giggled. Several young witches looked moments away from fainting. Neville stared in confusion, having never paid much attention to celebrity authors before. Mira, however, could practically feel her future headache forming already. She watched Lockhart wave dramatically at his admirers and felt an overwhelming urge to stay as far away from him as possible. Draco seemed to reach the same conclusion. Even Lucius Malfoy looked faintly unimpressed, which was saying something. Nearby, Narcissa was hiding a smile behind one elegant hand. Elarisse and Alice Longbottom exchanged knowing glances that suggested neither woman was particularly enchanted by the famous author.
Inside Flourish and Blotts, the atmosphere somehow became even more crowded. Bookshelves stretched toward the ceiling, enchanted ladders gliding along rails as employees scrambled to restock volumes before the Hogwarts rush stripped entire sections bare. Students weaved through narrow aisles carrying towering stacks of textbooks. Mira found herself relaxing slightly once they disappeared deeper into the store and away from Lockhart's autograph table. She began gathering second-year books alongside Draco and Neville. Draco occasionally complained about textbook prices despite knowing perfectly well his father could buy the entire shop if he wanted. Neville carefully checked every title against his list twice before placing it into his basket. Mira smiled at the familiar habit. For a few precious minutes, the outing felt normal. Then she heard shouting from the front of the store. Curious, she glanced through a gap in the shelves and immediately froze.
Harry Potter was being dragged through the crowd.
The boy looked utterly miserable.
Lockhart had one hand wrapped around Harry's arm while enthusiastically pulling him toward the front display.
Harry was resisting.
Actually resisting.
Mira's eyes narrowed.
Draco's expression darkened.
Neville looked alarmed.
And then another figure appeared.
Alaric Silverthorne stepped between them.
The change in the atmosphere was immediate.
Alaric wasn't shouting. He wasn't threatening. He simply moved into Harry's path like a mountain deciding where the road ended. Harry nearly stumbled into him before stopping. Lockhart halted a second later, clearly not expecting an obstacle. For a brief moment, nobody spoke. Then Alaric looked from Harry's uncomfortable expression to the hand still gripping the boy's arm. His blue eyes became very cold. Harry felt an immediate surge of relief. He had met Alaric before and knew the man was one of the few adults who consistently treated children as actual people rather than opportunities. Lockhart, meanwhile, suddenly looked uncertain. The magizoologist's calm demeanor somehow felt far more intimidating than outright anger.
"Mr. Lockhart," Alaric said pleasantly, "kidnapping is a crime."
The words landed like a cannon blast.
Several nearby customers turned immediately.
Lockhart released Harry's arm so quickly one might have thought it was on fire.
"W-What? Kidnapping?" he sputtered. "Certainly not! I wasn't kidnapping Harry!"
Alaric tilted his head.
The motion was subtle.
The silence that followed was not.
"Then perhaps you can explain," Alaric said, "why Harry was resisting while you dragged him toward the front of the shop."
Harry looked vindicated.
Lockhart looked trapped.
The famous author laughed nervously and adjusted his robes. "I merely thought the boy might enjoy a photograph. A publicity opportunity, you understand. The Boy Who Lived and Gilderoy Lockhart together. Quite historic."
Alaric glanced at Harry.
Harry immediately shook his head, "No."
One word.
Very clear.
Very firm.
Alaric nodded.
"Interesting," he said. "Because Harry clearly doesn't want one."
The surrounding crowd suddenly became fascinated by nearby bookshelves.
Nobody wanted to appear as though they were eavesdropping.
Everyone was eavesdropping.
Lockhart's smile began to tremble at the edges.
For the first time in years, he found himself wishing a conversation would end quickly.
Instead, Alaric smiled.
That somehow made everything worse.
"From what I've heard," Alaric said conversationally, "you're the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, right?"
Relief immediately flooded Lockhart's face.
Finally.
A topic he liked.
He straightened proudly.
"You're correct!" he announced. "I can't wait to show off my skills to the young generation!"
His grin returned.
Briefly.
Then he noticed Alaric's smile hadn't changed.
Something about it felt wrong.
Predatory.
The kind of smile a very large creature might wear moments before deciding whether something was edible.
Lockhart's confidence began to evaporate.
Alaric casually placed one hand on the author's shoulder.
The gesture looked friendly.
It was not.
"My daughter," Alaric said softly, "is also going to be in your class."
Lockhart swallowed.
The bookstore suddenly felt very warm.
"If anything happens to her," Alaric continued, his tone never changing, "you'll be my Zouwu's new chew toy. Got that?"
For a moment, Lockhart forgot how to breathe.
Every story he'd ever heard about Alaric Silverthorne flashed through his mind at once. International Auror. Magizoologist. Dragon handler. The man who regularly worked with creatures that considered manticores a light snack. Most importantly, owner of a Zouwu large enough to flatten a house. Lockhart's imagination supplied several horrifying images. None were pleasant.
"O-Of course," he squeaked.
Alaric smiled warmly, "Good."
Then his grip tightened.
Crack.
Lockhart's eyes widened.
Crack.
Several bones in his shoulder protested their existence.
The famous author somehow maintained a smile while making a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper. Tears threatened to form in his eyes. Alaric released him a second later and patted his shoulder as though nothing unusual had happened. Lockhart remained standing through what appeared to be sheer force of terror.
Across the bookstore, Mira watched everything unfold from behind a shelf and felt a mixture of relief and amusement. Draco looked moments away from laughing aloud. Neville stared with wide eyes. Lucius Malfoy had witnessed the entire exchange and appeared deeply satisfied by the outcome. Narcissa was outright smirking now. Elarisse looked entirely unsurprised, while Alice Longbottom was trying very hard not to laugh. Harry quietly slipped away while Lockhart remained frozen in place, desperately trying to preserve his dignity. The crowd gradually resumed moving, though many customers would later tell the story of the day someone made Gilderoy Lockhart afraid of smiling.
A few minutes later, Alaric rejoined the group carrying a stack of books under one arm as though he had merely gone to retrieve a shopping list. Mira's brown hair and blue eyes shifted back to their natural colors once Lockhart was safely out of sight. Draco immediately asked whether the shoulder crack had been intentional. Alaric simply smiled and refused to answer. Neville laughed nervously before deciding he probably did not want to know. Around them, Diagon Alley continued its bustling rhythm, unaware that one future Hogwarts professor had just received the most terrifying parent-teacher warning of his life. The families finished gathering books, exchanged stories, and prepared for the coming school year. Yet somewhere behind them, Gilderoy Lockhart was still rubbing his shoulder and wondering whether teaching at Hogwarts was truly worth the risk of becoming lunch for a Zouwu.
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