Gilderoy shook her hand. "Look, I need your help."
She tilted her head. "With what?"
"Ancient Runes. I didn't take it seriously. I coasted through, barely passed, and now I'm realising how much I don't know." He met her gaze, forcing himself to be honest. "I need to start from the basics of what we learned this year. And I need someone who actually understands it."
Bathsheda studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she laughed.
"You're a seventh year," she said. "You should be way past basics."
"I know." He ran a hand through his hair. "I made some poor choices earlier. I coasted. I was more interested in appearances than substance."
"Interesting way to put it."
"Truthful way to put it."
She was quiet for a moment, her eyes searching his face. Then: "Why now? Why not before?"
He paused, considering his answer carefully. The truth was complicated, too complicated to explain in a classroom doorway.
"Let's just say I realised I can't afford to be ignorant," he said simply. "There are things I need to understand."
Bathsheda was silent for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly, a glint of interest appearing in her dark eyes.
"I can help," she said. "But it won't be easy. Ancient Runes isn't something you can cram. It's a whole system of thought. It takes time to understand how the symbols work together."
"I have time. I have determination." He paused, then added wryly, "I don't have much else."
She laughed again. "Alright, Lockhart. I'll give you a chance." She turned to leave, then paused, glancing back at him. "But I should warn you. I'm not cheap."
That was all the opening Gilderoy needed.
Reaching into his robes, he withdrew a bar of Honeydukes chocolate, the good kind, rich dark chocolate with a subtle hint of caramel. He held it out with an expression that was equal parts hope and mischief.
"I'll pay you," he said. "In chocolate."
Bathsheda stared at the bar. "Chocolate?"
"The good kind. Honeydukes. I have more where that came from."
She tried not to smile. She really did. But the corners of her mouth twitched despite her best efforts.
"You're trying to bribe me with sweets."
"Is it working?"
She took the chocolate from his hand, turning it over before tearing it open. Then she broke off a piece and took a bite, closing her eyes and savouring it.
"...Maybe."
Gilderoy grinned, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "I'll take that as a yes."
She held up the chocolate. "This was the introductory offer. I'm not cheap."
"How much do you need?"
"Two large bars per session. Minimum."
"Done." He extended his hand. "Do we have a deal?"
She took his hand, her grip firm and businesslike. "We have a deal. Library tomorrow at seven. Bring more chocolate."
"I'll be there."
She tucked the chocolate into her robes and disappeared through the doorway, leaving Gilderoy standing alone in the corridor.
Amelia appeared at his side, her expression one of barely contained amusement.
"You just bribed her with chocolate."
"It worked, didn't it?"
She shook her head slowly. "You're impossible, Gil."
"I prefer 'resourceful.'"
"That's not the word I'd use."
"What word would you use?"
She considered for a moment, her eyes glinting with humour. "Determined. Stubborn. Ridiculously charming when you want to be."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"It was meant as one."
-
The library was quiet at seven in the evening, the kind of deep, settled silence that seemed to absorb sound rather than reflect it. Enchanted candles floated near the ceiling, casting pools of warm light across the rows of towering bookshelves, their flames flickering gently as if in time with some unseen rhythm. The air smelled of old parchment, dust, and the faint hint of beeswax from the candles, a combination that had become synonymous with Hogwarts itself.
Gilderoy had arrived early, claiming a corner table near the Restricted Section. It was close enough to feel private and far enough from the main aisles to avoid Madam Pince's watchful eye. He had spread his materials across the worn wooden surface with careful precision: a fresh roll of parchment, three sharpened quills, a bottle of ink, and three large bars of Honeydukes chocolate placed conspicuously at the corner of the table like a peace offering.
Bathsheda appeared between the bookshelves, a stack of notebooks tucked under her arm and her dark hair escaping from its usual loose knot. She moved with the quiet confidence of someone who belonged in this space, her ink-stained fingers already reaching for a chair.
She sat across from him, her eyes immediately landing on the chocolate bars. A small smile played at the corners of her mouth.
"You brought them."
"I always keep my promises."
"Good." She set her notebooks on the table, flipping one open to reveal pages of meticulous notes, annotated runic symbols, translations, and historical context written in small, precise handwriting. "Let's see what we're working with."
Gilderoy straightened in his chair, trying to project confidence he didn't feel. "I'm ready."
Bathsheda studied him for a moment, her dark eyes sharp and assessing. "Translate 'protection.'"
He didn't hesitate. "Algiz."
She nodded, a flicker of approval in her expression. "Good. You know the translation."
That wasn't so hard.
Then she asked: "And what does Algiz mean beyond just 'protection'? What does it represent?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it. The answer wasn't there.
"I... I don't know."
She didn't look surprised. "You memorised the translations."
"Yes."
"But you never understood what they actually represent."
He felt his ears warm. "No."
Bathsheda leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful rather than judgmental. "Most people do the same," she said. "They memorise and move on. It's enough to pass, but it's not enough to actually understand."
"I know. That's why I came to you to learn."
"Algiz represents the shield," she said continuing. "The defensive barrier that stands between you and harm."
She pushed her notebook toward him, the pages open to a section filled with runic inscriptions, and turned it to face him fully, her finger tapping a line of symbols.
ᚪᛚᚷᛁᛉ · ᚦᚩᚱᚾ · ᛞᛖᛋᛈᚪᛁᚱ
"Translate that," she said.
He leaned forward, his eyes tracing the symbols. The first two were familiar from Lockhart's memories, but the third was completely new to him.
"Algiz, Thorn, and..." He paused, frowning. "I don't know the last one."
"Despair," she said."Now what happens when you put them together?"
"Shield against despair?"
"Shield and warning against despair," she corrected. "That's the inscription. It is a warning message."
Gilderoy leaned back in his chair, processing. "So where are these used or found?"
Bathsheda's expression remained neutral. "It's inscribed at the entrance of Azkaban."
"Oh." The realisation hit him. "Ohhhhh."
"Show me another," he said.
Bathsheda smiled, a small approving smile, and turned the page.
ᚹ · ᛗ
He stared at the inscription. Two runes. Simple, but the combination was unfamiliar.
"Work through it," she said. "Take your time."
He focused, letting his eyes trace each symbol. "Wunjo. Mannaz."
"And together?"
"Wunjo is harmony, joy, fellowship. Mannaz is man, humanity. Together, they formed a single idea."
"Harmony among men," he said slowly. "Friendship."
Bathsheda nodded. "That's exactly right."
"Yes! I actually figured it out!" Gilderoy celebrated, shaking his fist in triumph.
"You did." She pulled the notebook back, her expression pleased. "You understand the logic. That's what matters."
She turned to a fresh page, her quill moving quickly as she began to write. "In the NEWTs, they give you an inscription, and you translate it and explain the context."
"Right," he said, his eyes fixed on her notes. "I've seen examples in the textbooks."
"The essay section is also part of the written exam." She looked up at him, her expression serious. "The essay asks how runes shaped British magic."
He leaned forward, his attention fully on her.
"Key points," she continued, ticking them off on her ink-stained fingers. "Hogwarts itself is protected by ancient runes. The Unplottable charm is runic in origin. The walls, the stairs, the moving architecture, all anchored by runic spells."
"Right. I remember reading that somewhere."
"Gringotts," she continued. "The vaults are lined with runes. Every single one. The deeper you go, the older the runes get. Some of them predate the founding of the bank itself."
He nodded, making a mental note.
"And pureblood estates," she said. "Old families use runes to protect their secrets. Their homes are covered in them, layer upon layer, some so old that the original meanings have been lost to time."
Bathsheda glanced at her watch and closed her book. "It's nearly dinner. We'll pick this up next time."
He glanced at his notes, then at her. "Thank you. For this. For your help."
She shrugged, but there was a hint of pleasure in her expression. "You're welcome. Just don't expect me to do the work for you. I'm here to explain, not to write your essays."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
She reached across the table and took the chocolate bars, unwrapping one with deliberate slowness. "Same time next week," she said, breaking off a piece and popping it into her mouth. "Bring more."
"I'll be there."
She stood, tucking her notebooks under her arm, the chocolate already half-gone. "Don't forget."
"I won't."
She walked away, disappearing between the towering bookshelves. Gilderoy watched her go, then glanced down at his notes.
Ancient Runes is indeed interesting. They must be written in different languages in different parts of the world.
___
Drop your powerstones.
Congratulations to our NEW Gilderoy Lockhart!!!!! Nicholas Hoult! ❤️
I felt like announcing this here since the MC of my HP fic is Gilderoy Lockhart.
Finally, a young and hot Lockhart! They really seem to be going for age accuracy with everyone this time.
📖Advanced Chapters on Patreon- we are ahead by 12 chapters
https://patreon.com/A_Peverel