Written For:

Quidditch Leagues Round 7/Chaser 2: Write about an encounter with a wild beast, animal, etc. Extra Prompts: (word) enlighten, (emotion) hopeful, (colour) teal

Word Count: 1,195

Pondering with Picnic Blankets (by Gilderoy Lockhart)

oOo

Rita rolled her eyes goodnaturedly as Gilderoy flapped out the teal picnic blanket flamboyantly, making a show of laying it out neatly on the clipped grass and smoothing out the edges. "After you, my lady," he purred, gesturing onto the mat for Rita to sit down. "I'll pour you a drink."

As Rita bunched up her skirt to sit with her legs folded under her demurely, Gilderoy conjured up a long-stemmed champagne glass seemingly out of nowhere, and tapped his wand on the rim. Bubbling wine poured from his wand and into the glass, and he handed it to Rita. She took a grateful swig, smiling over the frames of her rose-rimmed spectacles as she did.

It had been Gilderoy's idea to go on a picnic date. The pair had finished Hogwarts several years ago now, and Rita hadn't heard much from her old classmate since. She had been busy at the Daily Prophet, trying to prove to her seniors how much of a budding journalist she was, and Gilderoy was swanning off around the planet, defeating monsters and writing up the tales in his growing collection of books.

When he shook his curtain of wavy, dark blonde hair over his face and beamed at her with that award-winning smile, Rita felt like a silly, hopeful teenager again. Back then, it had been only a dream that he would ask her out on a date—as well as the dream of many of her classmates—but he hadn't shown the slightest bit of interest in her, or anyone else for that matter. Rita didn't know what had changed now that he was growing older, but she didn't really mind.

Frankly, she was just glad for the attention.

"May I offer you a croquette?" Gilderoy asked silkily, holding out a plate. Rita was just about to take one, when the ground below them seemed to rumble.

"What on earth was that?" she gasped, snatching her hand back and reaching into the sleeve of her cardigan for her wand. The ground shook and warbled again, and Gilderoy dropped the plate of croquettes.

Rita jumped to her feet and away from the picnic blanket, leaving Gilderoy sitting cross-legged, looking bewildered. From her new position, she could see that it wasn't the ground that was shaking at all, but the picnic blanket. The frayed edges were fluttering in a non-existent breeze, threatening to almost lift Gilderoy off the ground.

"Gilderoy," she breathed, tightening her grip on her wand. "Get off the blanket."

"Rita, my dear," Gilderoy stretched out his legs lazily. "It's just a bit of wind. Don't be frightened—"

Gilderoy didn't get to finish his sentence, as the blue-green picnic blanket shot into the air, causing Gilderoy to roll off the fabric and land in a heap on the grass. He struggled to his feet and lunged to Rita's side, gaping at the blanket, which now hovered in the air a few feet above them.

"Where did you get that blanket from, Gilderoy?" Rita whispered, her eyes following it as it rocked ominously in the air. It no longer looked innocent and comfortable—it's edges were ripped and there were ragged holes across the fabric. How had she not noticed the state of it before now?

"Oh, some fellow down at the Leaky sold it to me. He was a travelling merchant of some sort. Had a whole bunch of junk in his cloak."

Rita turned to face Gilderoy so quickly that she almost sprained her neck, glaring at him with the wrath of a thousand cornish pixies. "You took me out on a picnic on a mangy old blanket that some rat in the Leaky Cauldron sold you?" she hissed.

Gilderoy took a step back, but he was facing the blanket, not Rita. "D-don't think it's just a blanket anymore, Rita," he laughed nervously. "Is it a Dementor?"

"It's not a Dementor, you fool," she snapped, raising her wand. "Enlighten me, have you ever folded up a Dementor and put it in your handbag?"

As she spoke, the blanket ducked and lunged towards her, and she swore she could see the menacing glint of teeth somewhere in the folds of fabric, and smell the coppery tang of blood.

"Bombarda maxima!" Rita shrieked, flicking her wand and directing it at the blanket. A jet of blinding white light burst from the tip of her wand and hit the blanket squarely in the centre. There was a fraction of a moment where nothing happened; the blanket hung awkwardly in the air, before bursting into flames, the embers flickering into dust on the grass.

oOo

It was a week after the incident, and Rita still hadn't heard from her date. He hadn't even sent an owl to see how she was, which she thought was downright rude, seeing as she had saved his life from one of the most deadly non-beings on the planet.

She since learned that the 'blanket' Gilderoy had brought on the picnic was no harmless piece of fabric at all, but a Lethifold. A violent, carnivorous creature that would have liked nothing more than to feast on her or Gilderoy's flesh. Normally, Lethifolds were disguised as black cloaks or curtains, but the one that had found its way into Gildeory's possession was only young.

Which hadn't made it any more deadly. They had been lucky that Rita had been quick enough on her feet to deflect it. The exploding charm wouldn't have worked on an older Lethifold, either. That had been another lucky fluke.

She knocked on the door to Gilderoy's office impatiently. The Ministry had been kind enough to offer Gilderoy an office while he worked on his books in England, so he was only a few floors away from her office at the Prophet.

When he didn't answer, Rita gave the door a shove and let herself in. He wasn't at his desk, which was unsurprising, but something else was.

On top of all his paperwork was a thick wad of parchment, bound together with twine. On the front page a title was printed: 'Larking with Lethifolds, by Gilderoy Lockhart'.

Rita raised an eyebrow and snatched up the manuscript, flicking through the pages and picking up on various phrases.

"...I felt an ominous thudding below my thighs as the creature sprang to life…"

"...I jumped in front of Ruth as the Lethifold flew towards her, its rows of razor-sharp teeth glimmering menacingly…"

"...I had the good foresight to use Bombarda Maxima, which wouldn't have worked against a full-grown Lethifold, but I recognised it as an infant…"

Rita felt her face swell with heat, and anger pooled in her stomach like bile. She threw the manuscript down on the desk. She was seething.

He couldn't even remember her name!

She suddenly caught sight of another scrap of parchment in the far corner of his desk, ripped haphazardly from another sheet. The tiniest message was scrawled: 'deal with your date.'

"Deal with your date," muttered Rita menacingly, grinding her teeth together. "I'll give you something to deal with, Lockhart."

She reached into her pocket and gripped the handle of her wand. Gilderoy Lockhart was going to pay for this!

End