Gilderoy Lockhart

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Gilderoy Lockhart

Post by entershikari on Tue Feb 24, 2015 7:59 pm

NAME: Gilderoy Lockhart
NICKNAMES: Roy, Gil, Rory
BIRTHDAY: January 26th, 1964
PATRONUS: Non-corporeal
WAND: Cherry with a Dragon heartstring core, 9” and slightly bendy.
ORIENTATION: Panromatic; Demisexual; In love with himself
EYES: Piercing blue
HAIR: Blonde and wavy
HEIGHT: ~1.80m
WEIGHT: ~57k
BIOGRAPHY
     「♕」                          It was never meant to be this way.
                                He was meant to be king of everything he saw.

Born to Florin Lockhart and Helixa Lockhart nee Hyslop, Gilderoy had always been told that he was special. And indeed he was– for while his father was as non-magical as his two elder sisters ( Fabienne and Fantasia Lockhart ), it was his mother who took him aside one day and excitedly told him that he was no ordinary little boy. No, Gilderoy was magic. Gilderoy was a wizard.

From as early as the age of six, the blonde boy had been showing signs of his ability– little accidental bursts of magic that grew back his luxurious golden curls whenever Mr. Lockhart had it shorn, that conjured up the toy he’d wanted more than anything but had been refused of. Eventually, his mother began to take him aside more and more, completely ignoring his elder sisters in favor of spending more time with ‘her little prince’. He grew up groomed for perfection, aurulent praises and promises of glory shrouding him and settling around his head of wavy blonde locks in something of a circlet. 

He’d remember driving home from the grocery store with his mother in the family car, a plastic bag of cherries in his lap. He’d eat them one by one, savoring the sweet fruit and saccharine chatter of his mother as he discarded each little pit and doubt out of the window. Of course he was special. Of course he was the most beautiful boy there ever was; how could that be anything but the truth, when he’d seen his own reflection countless times? His skin was far smoother than his sister’s, his cobalt eyes framed in thicker lashes that matched flaxen waves, his nose vainly arranged above full lips that curved into an almost permanent complacent smile.

Alas, how the mighty fall. In their excitement, Helixa and Gilderoy had forgotten that he may have been outstanding among muggles, but among wizards he was.. commonplace. The mortification the new Ravenclaw felt his first night at Hogwarts was arguably the most tumultuous emotion he’d ever felt. How could he be ordinary? Him, Gilderoy Lockhart? He found the castle and it’s classes dull; he had no interest for anything he wasn’t the best at. Gilderoy had entered the school fully expecting to be welcomed by a flood of murmurs and stares, for in his mind he was already a full fledged genius at eleven, with an exceptional skill for magic. ( Little was it known that he did have tremendous ability, and was more clever than most of his classmates. His flaw of not trying unless he was assuredly the very best stunted those good qualities, however. )

The Lockhart heir, after all of his disappointment, managed to cling onto his vanity and arrogance. He used it as a crutch, basking in any scrap of awe that he could produce. He valued learning in his classes for the attention he would get, rather than education. He begged the Headmaster to start a school newspaper solely so that he could see his own name in print– when these sort of things failed, Gilderoy often resorted to grander means of gaining attention. He’d challenge upperclassmen to ridiculous duels, carve his name into the quidditch pitch, shoot a hologram of his own face into the sky ( much like the Dark Mark ), and on one occasion, sent himself eight-hundred Valentines; causing breakfast to be cancelled due to the sheer number of droppings and feathers in the porridge.

After graduating Hogwarts, Gilderoy was at a loss of what to do. Though he was loathe to admit it out loud, or even to himself, he wasn’t very good at anything. He’d never put effort into anything, and so was unskilled in everything save for the subject he’d always loved the most, Charms. Imploring his mother for advice only brought him to two conclusions: He could either pursue the study of Charms further ( and only hope that he was as fantastic at it as he thought ), or he could take a year off to travel abroad. A year to find himself.

After coming back from around a decade of travel, Gilderoy finally settled back in England for good. He’d discovered within the first few months of his journey his true skill– memory charms. Guilt was something the handsome man never had to deal with, and so it was with a clear-conscience that Gilderoy persuaded great heroes from all over the world to tell him their deeds; only to wipe their memory and steal the stories for his own. He wrote book upon book of those stolen adventures, gaining more fame and glory with every inked sentence. Though he was reluctant to accept Headmaster Dumbledore’s invitation to teach at Hogwarts ( many of his old teachers were still there, and they would remember his school-boy foolishness, no doubt ) He eventually accepted for the sole reason that he believed teaching and getting closer to The Boy Who Lived would garner even more stardom for himself.
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