Author's note - HI! It's been a while and it felt like forever since I actually had fun writing. My first story in the realm of Harry Potter and I'm finding it so amazing and the words are just flowing out of me.
I want to thank Rebekah for proof reading and showing so much enthusiasm for my writing! You're the reason this is up cousin! Love you!
I also want to thank all those on my FB that have shown interest in this and I hope that it lives up to my hype. Any and all feedback is welcome but please make it constructive if it's critique, I'm a fragile soul and tend to crack under scrutiny.
Legal things: I own no part of Harry Potter, film or book, in which I borrow from both in this story. The only one I lay claim to is Dahlia.
Please as always enjoy, read, and review!
The young girl, no more than 19, sat patiently outside the Headmaster's office. Her hands resting on stocking covered knees as she blew a random chunk of silvery lilac hair out of her face; her round rim glasses gently sloped on her slender nose. The spiral staircase spun slowly making the stationary stones grind as it moved. The Headmaster rounded the moving stairs to greet his niece and the Minister of Magic following closely behind, his lime green bowler in his hands.
The girl stood up into a firm and warm embrace from Dumbledore, "Good news Uncle?"
He pushed out the girl to look at her, "Was there ever any doubt you clever girl."
The light purple haired girl grinned from ear to ear, "So who will I be helping this year?"
Dumbledore and Fudge exchanged looks for a moment, "Defense Against the Dark Arts," her face became positively giddy, "you'll be assisting," there was a deliberate pause, neither one of them wanted to tell Dahlia who was teaching in Professor Quirrell's absence, "Gilderoy Lockhart."
Dahlia's face dropped as well as her mouth, "Gilderoy Lockhart," she asked quietly, "The author, Gilderoy Lockhart, the Gilderoy Lockhart that all the witches young and old are throwing themselves at, that Gilderoy Lockhart?!" Nods came from the two wizards, "You know he's a fraud and a charlatan; not to mention a complete twit?!" her voice grew in volume and annoyance with each utterance of his name.
"Now Dahlia," Fudge stated, "he's more than qualified, if in fact the deeds in his books are truthful."
"I met him over the summer getting my books and supplies; he's awful, conceited, and self centered, and enormously egotistical," she huffed, "he's practically covered in gold coated plastic."
"Dahlia, my dear girl, think of it as a lesson in patience," Dumbledore said with a reassuring arm around her shoulders, "if nothing else he may end up mysteriously disappearing at the end of term like Quirrell did."
She laughed as she corrected her glasses, "Do not give me false hope Uncle."