[See note regarding source FILOFAX.]
PL: What did Pollox brief you?
FILOFAX: Oh, you know. This and that. The details are awfully boring.
PL: Could you share some of the details of the briefing?
FILOFAX: I suppose. In many ways, it was an awfully simple operation. I was to assist in the development of a new piece of Artifice. And I was to go out to merry old Hogwarts, keep an eye on sweet Dumbly, and do whatever he asked me to do. Whatever. They were quite emphatic on that point, though I don’t think they realized . . . but I’m being imprudent.
PL: Did Dumbledore see through it?
FILOFAX: I’m sorry, I don’t understand the question.
PL: Did Dumbledore know that you were working for the DoM?
FILOFAX: I think you’ve confused something. Dumbledore hired me, love. I wasn’t seeking the job. It was he who hand-picked me.
PL: Hand-picked you for what?
FILOFAX: For the position as his principle interlocutor. Handler, as it were. The man wanted to be handled. And it was only my paws that could do it.
PL: Weren’t you selected by Crane for the job?
FILOFAX: Who ties the robe in that relationship, darling? You really think it’s Old Duchess Crane? I was Dumbledore’s man, through and through.
PL: Back to the briefing – what exactly did Pollox tell you?
FILOFAX: Very little. He gave me context, a bit of a history lesson. And, he told me what I was to do.
PL: What context did he offer?
FILOFAX: Only that Dumbledore was a collaborator in a long-term scheme cooked up by the Duchess that involved preparation for some innovation in muggle weapons technology. He didn’t give me more than that, and I didn’t ask.
PL: Why not?
FILOFAX: Because – and little would you know, dear pen friend who only writes in questions – the way we sustain a safe and productive world is by letting the tidy men keep their mouths shut. Notice what I don’t do back to you.
PL: Did Pollox mention Bode?
FILOFAX: Yes, come to think of it. He said Bode had been Dumbledore’s prior handler, but that he’d been called back in from the cold. I was sliding into his place. The replacement, as it were.
PL: And what did Pollox tell you that you were to do?
FILOFAX: He told me I was to do Dumbledore’s bidding. Anything he asked. Within reason. And without.
PL: And?
FILOFAX: And to report every word of it back to Level 9.
PL: Did you have any questions about that?
FILOFAX: No, I did not.
PL: Were you given a cover?
FILOFAX: No. A breathtakingly simple operation it was in the end. Laughable even. The only additive appellation was Professor before my family name and the dropping of my Christian.
PL: You were present, at Hogwarts, under the employ of the Department of Mysteries, and using your real name?
FILOFAX: Oh yes. Can’t really fool anyone with these cheekbones, can I? Seemed a shoo-in for the position anyway; I’ve built a bit of a reputation in the field of public bogie-combat and such, and Dumbledore always had a touch of the promoter in his hiring. He loves the celebrities, doesn’t he, the old queen? Of course I couldn’t stand to defend the veracity of any of it. My famed exploits, I mean. I wouldn’t be able to hold up a convincing façade to the Hogwarts staff, at least. Rather inquisitive lot they are, noses in naughty places all of them. No, I affected the role of buffoon: over-promoted, over-bloated, ignorant of the Dark Arts, much less the Defence Against them. It wasn’t work, really, to make the part. I don’t know the damnedest about teaching, any more than I know about grindylows or ghouls or whatever else with which I’m supposed to have gadded. But that was the limit of my role. The rest was authentic. The genuine article, acting what the masses wanted of it, presenting what the intelligentsia thought of it, concealing only the true nature of the artifice. All layers, tied up in lavender. Magical me.
PL: Are you Gilderoy Lockhart?
FILOFAX: I am not Gilderoy Lockhart. *Wink*.
PL: But you are the assembled memories of Gilderoy Lockhart?
FILOFAX: I stand accused.
next file: FOLDER 2.2 (30 Apr. 2024)
THE PENSIEVE PAPERS 