September 29, 1992.
Tuesday evening descended upon Hogwarts, and while students dreaded detention, I, as an educator, looked forward to it. After all, what better chance to mold impressionable young minds, and possibly improve their sense of presentation, than during a quiet evening in my company?
The classroom gleamed under candlelight. I'd ensured the desks were cleared away and replaced with a single full-length mirror. A polished plaque on my desk read: Professor Gilderoy Lockhart - Detention Facilitator & Personal Development Consultant.
The Weasley twins arrived together, already grinning like foxes who'd found the henhouse unlocked.
"Evening, Professor," said Fred.
"Lovely to see you again," added George, both looking entirely too pleased with themselves.
"Ah, the Weasley entrepreneurs," I said smoothly, clasping my hands. "Do come in. Tonight's lesson is a little different, consider it a special opportunity."
"Opportunity?" George repeated warily.
Fred raised a brow. "You mean this isn't scrubbing cauldrons or sorting flobberworms?"
"Perish the thought!" I exclaimed, aghast. "Manual labor? For visionaries like you two? No, no, boys, this detention is about refinement. You're not here to be punished. You're here to be polished."
They exchanged skeptical looks.
"Right," Fred said. "And why would we want to do that?"
"Yeah," George added, crossing his arms. "We're already perfect."
"Perfect?" I asked, stepping closer with an indulgent smile. "Hardly. Talented? Absolutely. Brilliant? Potentially. But you lack one critical component, presentation."
I let the word hang in the air like a prophecy. "You see, I happen to know about your… extracurricular ventures."
Their eyes snapped toward me, guilty for the first time that evening.
"Oh, don't look so alarmed," I continued cheerfully. "Your experimental fireworks, trick sweets, your, ah, explosive creativity? Hardly a secret. Quite impressive, actually."
Fred squinted. "You're not going to tell McGonagall, are you?"
"Of course not!" I said, offended. "On the contrary, I admire enterprise. But tell me, boys, when the time comes to sell your marvelous inventions, who will buy them? Children? Adults? Shopkeepers? Investors?"
"Anyone with money," George said immediately.
"Preferably lots of it," Fred added.
"Exactly!" I said, pointing dramatically. "And that, gentlemen, is why you need polish. If you wish to sell something, you must first sell yourself. The key to business is confidence, and confidence begins with presentation. You must be your own best advertisement!"
They looked unconvinced.
"You want us to… what, strut around like you?" Fred asked.
"Smile until our faces ache?" George added.
I clapped my hands once, delighted. "Now you're catching on! It's about posture, tone, and image. Look at me, people buy anything from me, even when they don't know what it is! Why? Because I radiate reliability."
Fred muttered under his breath, "And blinding levels of ego."
I ignored that comment practicedly.
"Lesson one," I said, sweeping to the mirror. "Presence. The Weasley brand must enter a room like a firework: dazzling, unforgettable, slightly dangerous, but never messy. Watch carefully."
I turned dramatically, letting my cloak flare, chin tilted just so.
"See the control, the confidence, the sparkle? Now, your turn."
Fred tried first, nearly tripping on his robe.
George laughed so hard he had to lean on the desk.
"Confidence, Mr. Weasley!" I said. "Not chaos. Try again, but this time, imagine you're introducing your latest invention to a crowd of admiring investors."
They exchanged a look, straightened up, and tried again. This time, there was real poise, and even a spark of charm.
"Better!" I said, pleased. "Lesson two, grooming. Presentation begins before the first word is spoken."
I produced a familiar bottle with a flourish: Lockhart's Lustrous Locks.
Fred blinked. "Is that… hair gel?"
"Hair enhancement elixir," I corrected. "Just one drop is enough. Go on."
George sighed. "If this turns my hair purple…"
"Purple is daring," I said solemnly. "But trust me."
They dabbed it on. Instantly, their fiery red hair shimmered brighter, catching the candlelight like twin halos.
Fred stared at his reflection. "Well, that's… actually not bad."
George smirked. "We look like proper businessmen now."
"Exactly!" I said, delighted. "Lesson three: confidence. If you don't believe in your brilliance, no one else will. Repeat after me: 'I am dazzling.'"
They groaned.
"Come now," I urged. "With passion!"
Fred rolled his eyes. "I am dazzling."
"Louder!"
George sighed. "I am dazzling!"
"Yes!" I declared, clapping my hands. "Now you understand! This is the essence of the Lockhart Method: charm, confidence, and marketability. You'll thank me when your products are flying off the shelves."
By the time detention ended, the twins were laughing and strutting around the room like seasoned showmen, practicing "heroic poses" in front of the mirror.
As they left, Fred grinned over his shoulder. "You know, Professor, this might actually help with sales."
George added, "And you're right, image is everything."
I smiled, satisfied. "Go forth, my proteges, and remember: the world doesn't just need what you make, it needs who you are."
When the door closed, I caught my reflection in the mirror and winked.
"Well, Gilderoy," I said, "you've just invented a new form of discipline, and possibly two future marketing prodigies."
The mirror, of course, looked back approvingly.
…
By morning, word had already spread that the Weasley twins' detention had been "unusual." Rumors flew through the Great Hall, some claimed they'd been forced to scrub portraits, others whispered that Lockhart had made them reenact one of his books.
But no one guessed the truth.
At precisely eight o'clock, as students trickled toward breakfast, the doors of the Great Hall burst open with a bang worthy of a Quidditch victory.
Fred and George Weasley strode in together, capes billowing, hair gleaming unnaturally radiant, the unmistakable sheen of Lockhart's Lustrous Locks catching every shaft of morning light.
Fred beamed at the assembled crowd. "Good morning, Hogwarts!"
George raised a finger dramatically. "Are you tired of boring breakfasts? Dreary mornings? A dull, unmarketable existence?"
"Then look no further!" they said in perfect unison.
Half the Hall blinked. A few first-years dropped their toast.
McGonagall, midway through her tea, froze.
From somewhere behind them, a soft magical pop sounded, and a small puff of glitter rained over their heads, courtesy of a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes "Mini-Miracle Spark Shower."
Fred spread his arms. "Introducing the Weasley Way, the ultimate lifestyle of laughter, light, and luxury!"
George added, "Inspired by none other than the great Professor Gilderoy Lockhart himself!"
Every eye in the Hall turned to the Head Table. Lockhart, of course, looked delighted.
He gave a modest little wave. "They learn so quickly, don't they?" he murmured to Professor Flitwick, who looked halfway between impressed and horrified.
McGonagall set down her cup. "Oh, they've learned something, all right."
The twins were now walking between tables, handing out parchment flyers charmed to sparkle with phrases like 'Confidence is Contagious!' and 'Buy Smart - Buy with a Smile!'
Fred leaned over a bewildered Ravenclaw and said, "Presentation, my dear, is half the magic."
George tossed his head, his hair shining like a beacon, and grinned. "You never get a second chance to make a dazzling first impression."
"Merlin's beard," muttered Seamus Finnigan. "Did Lockhart infect them?"
"More like cloned himself," said Hermione, watching with horrified fascination.
By now, the twins had produced a tray of "demo products": Skiving Snackboxes, Canary Creams, and a prototype labeled 'Weasley's Radiant Shine Serum' (which looked suspiciously like watered-down hair potion).
Fred announced, "Limited samples available! For future business inquiries, owl Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Diagon Alley branch, opening soonish!"
George grinned. "Terms, conditions, and explosions may apply."
They struck a final synchronized pose at the foot of the Head Table, both winking toward Lockhart, who rose to his feet, clapping enthusiastically. "Splendid! Such confidence! Such showmanship! Why, I daresay you've both got the makings of marketing legends! Fifty points to Gryffindor!"
McGonagall, however, was less enchanted. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed through her teeth. "Mr. Weasley. Mr. Weasley. I don't recall approving a fashion parade before breakfast."
Fred gave her a charming bow. "Not fashion, Professor, branding."
George nodded seriously. "Professor Lockhart said image is everything."
Lockhart smiled innocently. "Ah, yes, well, purely educational, I assure you. Character-building!"
"Character-building," McGonagall repeated, her voice flat enough to freeze butter. "Fourty points from Gryffindor, and another detention this evening. And Professor Lockhart, you may supervise, since you seem so very effective, but you will do so in the Transfiguration classroom this time."
Lockhart's grin faltered just a bit. "Ah. Well. A second session never hurts…"
Fred and George exchanged grins as they sauntered out, their hair still sparkling.
"See you tonight, Professor!"
"Don't be late for your own brand seminar!"
As they disappeared down the corridor in a trail of glitter, Lockhart sighed dreamily. "Brilliant boys. Visionaries. I may have just created my first protégés."
McGonagall gave him a look sharp enough to pierce armor. "You may also have just created my first headache of the day."
Lockhart smiled. "Ah, progress always comes at a price, Minerva."
…
Evening came sooner than expected, and by the time the clock tower struck seven, the Transfiguration classroom had been commandeered by Professor Lockhart.
The desks were pushed aside, replaced with a long table draped in velvet (where he got it, no one knew), three chairs, and an inexplicable assortment of mirrors. Candles floated in the air, flickering enchantingly, and a faint scent of his cologne hung like an invisible fog.
At the far end, McGonagall stood with her arms crossed, her lips a thin, unyielding line.
"I trust," she said, her tone cutting through the air like a scalpel, "that this detention will not involve glitter, applause, or Merlin forbid, marketing slogans."
Lockhart gave a cheerful smile. "Minerva, my dear colleague, please! This will be a purely educational experience. A masterclass, even! I call it 'The Art of Presentation: Professionalism, Poise, and Persuasion.'"
Fred whispered to George, "Sounds like a sales pitch."
George nodded. "Bet he charges ten Galleons a head for the sequel."
McGonagall's gaze silenced them instantly.
Lockhart cleared his throat, adopting a grand posture before the mirrors. "Now then, gentlemen, as future businessmen, it is crucial that you learn the three P's: Polish, Presence, and Presentation."
Fred raised an eyebrow. "And what about Product?" "Or Profit?" added George.
"Ah!" Lockhart wagged a finger. "Those come after you've captivated your audience! Remember, you can't sell a product if you don't sell yourself first. Image, boys! You must radiate confidence! You are the brand."
The twins exchanged glances that clearly said, He's serious.
Lockhart strutted before the mirror, demonstrating. "See here, shoulders back, chin up, a gleam in the eye that says, 'Trust me, I'm worth every Knut.' Try it!"
The twins imitated him with exaggerated gusto, puffing out their chests and flashing identical toothy grins.
"Splendid!" Lockhart clapped. "Now, remember: your smile is your handshake before you ever extend your hand. People buy charisma before they buy candy!"
George muttered, "Or before they buy into nonsense."
Fred snorted. "Speak for yourself, I'm already sold."
Lockhart ignored the commentary, too busy smoothing his robes and admiring his reflection.
"Now, onto posture and presentation," he continued. "Mr. Weasley, ah, both of you, stand tall. When addressing customers, maintain eye contact, but never stare. Project warmth! You are not tricking them; you are enchanting them."
McGonagall rubbed the bridge of her nose. "This is not a detention. This is a vanity seminar."
"On the contrary!" Lockhart said brightly. "They're learning invaluable life skills. Why, imagine the success of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes if paired with a touch of Lockhartian charisma. Picture it! Every shop window glimmering, every advertisement signed with a smile. 'Buy brilliance, the Weasley way!'"
Fred's eyes lit up. "That's… actually not bad."
George grinned. "We could do that. Posters with our faces, 'Guaranteed to explode with joy!'"
McGonagall cut in sharply, "I believe the point of this detention was discipline, not brand management."
Lockhart nodded earnestly. "Precisely why I'm teaching them professionalism! It's discipline for the modern wizard!"
Fred raised a hand, as though in class. "So, Professor, if image is everything, should we practice our entrance again? You know, the door burst, the sparkle, the dramatic pose."
"Excellent initiative!" Lockhart beamed. "Ten points for enthusiasm!"
"Professor Lockhart," McGonagall interjected, voice dangerously low, "you cannot award points during detention."
"Oh, of course, of course," he said quickly. "Force of habit, you know. Teaching excellence comes naturally."
By the end of the hour, the twins had learned how to pose, wink, and deliver taglines with such Lockhartian precision that it was nearly frightening.
McGonagall finally declared, "That's quite enough. If either of you cause another… public relations event in the Great Hall, I will personally see to it that you scrub every cauldron in the castle."
Fred and George bowed dramatically. "Understood, Professor."
"And thank you for this… illuminating experience."
When they left, still chuckling, McGonagall turned to Lockhart with that look teachers reserve for truly hopeless cases.
"I can't decide," she said dryly, "whether you're encouraging entrepreneurship or chaos."
Lockhart smiled, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve. "Minerva, why not both? Innovation thrives where mischief sparkles."
She gave a long-suffering sigh. "You'll be the end of me, Gilderoy."
Lockhart chuckled softly as he gazed into the mirror. "Oh, my dear Professor McGonagall, you wound me. I'm merely preparing the next generation of geniuses. Confident, charming geniuses."
She gave him one last warning glare before sweeping out.
Lockhart's reflection winked back at him. "Still got it, old boy. Still got it."
…
(Support with power stones or comments. You can subscribe to my Patreon /mysterion901 to read almost 20 advanced chapters 🐢🎶)