Stealing Thunder {Harry Potter OneShot}

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I just use the characters in different perspectives. Go and find J.K Rowling.

(I wrote this on FanFiction.net under the same username)

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Gilderoy Lockhart, wizard extraordinaire. The man himself thought it too, even though there were quite close calls of smarter beings than him finding out his secret.

Obliviate.

That one simple word, spell really, that changed his life. He'd been in the library one late evening, once again scraping by on one of the Hogwarts subjects. It was charms class, and so he found a large, heavy tome on charms. Flipping idly through the worn pages, he sighed, and was about to close the book when that word popped up.

Obliviate.

And so, it described, it erased ones memory. It was tempting to use it on Harvey Fiddles, who had caught him cheating on the test. Or better yet on Lily Evans to whom he admitted his feelings for, and was bluntly rejected in succession. He pondered for a week, fighting his moral with the pure embarrassment he had every time he walked into Charms. This is why he was flunking this specific class, for the red-haired beauty waved her hand gracefully in the air ever time the professor asked a question. So soon, he approached her in a deserted corridor, and whispered those words staring into her bright green eyes.

Obliviate.

Her eyes went blank, as Gilderoy could see the memories practically leaking out of her mind, forgotten. She fell to the floor, sinking into the stone wall. He slid away, hearing a voice in the distance exclaim her name. It was James Potter. He knelt next to her, messy hair all over his worried face. Gilderoy watched as the other boy slowly shook the red head, waking her up. Gilderoy slipped away, angry at himself for using the spell.

Obliviate.

He had used the spell again, while staying in a distant village. A boastful man, too boastful for Gilderoy's liking, had just slain a vampire. Gilderoy approached the wizard, asking him to explain every method as to how he defeated the vampire (claiming that he had the same problem in his own village). The wizard agreed as the two joyfully went into a celebrating pub and had drinks over vampire tales. Gilderoy, being the wise wizard he was, drank water which the other men had mistaken as vodka, so he was able to preserve the memory. Afterwards, he broke into a wealthy witche's home and stole her pensive. He took a notepad into the memory of the evening and lavishly recorded how the wizard had slain the vampire, instead the wizard he replaced in words such as 'I' or 'my sword' or 'my arm'.

Obliviate.

Obliviate.

Obliviate.

Soon, he had used the spell so often, that it had become second nature. From rags to soon riches, confronting wizards who were weak on their knees and dying in front of his eyes. Sometimes he put his wand to the tip of the side of their head, taking the fresh memories, and then obliviating them, leaving them to die or either to the hands of incompetent healers. They don't remember when and why they are on their deathbed, injured.

And then, he was found out, letting his cowardice show under the watchful eye of Albus Dumbledore. He was going to ask for forgiveness, but then, horrified, realised he would be sent to Azkaban. So he did the only thing he could think of. He ran.

Shuffling trunks, and hiding his pensive, his door received a knock. The Potter boy, son of the man who stole the woman of his affections, the reason for her death. Though he sometimes failed to act upon it, he reluctantly let him in along with a freckle-faced Weasley boy. He had no choice but to tell them the truth after slipping by saying that books can be misleading. Stupidity comes to the man Gilderoy at the worst possible moments of his life.

"Your moment has come at last," The words of Severus Snape echoed in his mind just as the sound of footsteps echoed though the dark chambers in which they were walking. He was forced to stay calm, small animal carcasses making sickening crunching sounds under his footsteps. He felt vulnerable, and the darkness was slowly taking over the already dark tunnel. The ghost which moped in the bathroom spoke of her death, making Gilderoy visibly pale. Her words rung with the words of Snape. "My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away. . . ."

Gilderoy didn't want to die, certainly not. But, there was a conflicting side saying that it would be best to die to rid the world of the monster, which was himself. A little girl would die in this place, Gilderoy thought, if only it had been myself instead, leaving innocence to live. He fell on his knees, seconds after seeing a snakeskin. The glint in his eyes returned, and he knew what he had to do. He snatched the wand of the Weasley boy, claiming that he would you that spell on them. And that he would take snake skin back to the school, with a lie in toe. But, somewhere deep in the back of his mind, he knew his time was up.

Fate had to take him, but Gilderoy plunged on with a mysterious sense of bravery. He took in his hands a wand, but it didn't feel right. He had used many wands in his life, and was lucky enough to be able to use most wands well enough to erase the mind.

He raised the wand, standing still. He felt something, but he wasn't really sure.

Obliviate.

But Gilderoy Lockhart, the man of stealing thunder, wouldn't remember this, for he does not exist. But in the back of his mind, he felt something, a memory, of darkness, of falling rock. The man, who was called Gilderoy, didn't know of this dark, dark life. But one word he did know, but did not know it's uses, of vague pictures of blank eyes, full of lies and excuses.

Obliviate.