“Wow…” Louis had finally seen for himself just how vivid the moving photographs of the magical world were, and how fanatical the local witches could be.
He stood holding that highly inappropriate photo, gulping despite himself.
Even though he was alone in a massive, sprawling magical mansion, he couldn’t help but glance left and right to make sure no one was watching.
Clearly, no one could be.
The house was protected by formidable defensive magic; not even a wizard who could transfigure into a bug could sneak in.
“I hope you can instruct me on how to deal with the pests in my home.
The things are crawling on me and it’s so, so itchy…” Reading the fan letter aloud, Louis pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to look as serious as possible while quickly digging through the memories of his predecessor to find a solution for such household vermin.
Yes.
Louis had transmigrated.
He had become Gilderoy Lockhart.
Unlike the version seen in the movies, as Harry Potter entered his second year, Lockhart was only twenty-seven years old—a mere nine years since his graduation from Hogwarts.
In those nine years, Lockhart, born into a modest half-blood wizarding family, had traveled the globe.
He had essentially “appropriated” the experiences of over a dozen powerful wizards, compiling, editing, and marketing them into a series of bestselling books that made him an internationally renowned author.
Magical Me, Break with a Banshee, Gadding with Ghouls, Holiday with Hags, Voyages with Vampires, Wanderings with Werewolves—the list went on.
Each title had earned him a small fortune, and the perfect blend of professional insight and entertaining prose meant they would likely continue to pull in Galleons for a lifetime.
That wasn’t all.
Lockhart was a social butterfly, cultivating connections ranging from his senior, the famous Daily Prophet reporter Rita Skeeter, to tribal chieftains in the depths of Africa.
He had made plenty of useful friends.
He was a recipient of the Order of Merlin, Third Class, an honorary member of the Dark Force Defence League, and a five-time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award.
He even managed a luxury shampoo brand on the side.
Hiss.
What a character.
If he lived for a few more decades, what would he become?
Headmaster of a magical school?
Minister for Magic?
Perhaps even the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards?
Louis didn’t know.
Because right now, he was Lockhart.
He only knew that even if he planned to lay low and enjoy everything his predecessor had built, the secret that he was a fraud could never be discovered by anyone.
His memories were a chaotic mess.
He lacked the fundamental focus needed to cast even the simplest spells; he couldn’t even manage a basic Unlocking Charm.
He was even more useless than the original Lockhart, who at least had his Memory Charm.
Louis pondered for a moment, then picked up his gilt-edged quill.
Dipping it into ink, he allowed the residual muscle memory of his predecessor to guide his hand, mimicking the signature script as he wrote a reply to his fiery fan.
This particular fan was from a family of the “Sacred Twenty-Eight,” possessing immense influence within the wizarding inner circles.
“…I am determined to compile a monumental masterpiece, the likes of which the wizarding world has never seen.
Even if it requires vast amounts of time and energy—perhaps ten years?
Twenty?
I do not care.
I believe this is my mission, as the most erudite wizard in the magical world…” “…Such a long period of silence may lead many to forget me, but it will be worth it!
For I know that history shall remember my name because of this great undertaking…” That should provide a good excuse to hide away and do nothing.
My fanatic fan, please spread the word for me.
Louis curled his lips in satisfaction.
He folded the letter, picked out one of his most testosterone-fueled portraits from the stack his predecessor had prepared, tucked it into the envelope, fed his owl, and entrusted it with the delivery.
“Perfect!” Louis stretched and walked over to the full-length mirror to admire his reflection.
To be the most famous bestselling author in the magical world, aside from having interesting books, one had to credit his own handsome face.
He was handsome enough to be a “heartthrob.” A pair of clear, piercing azure eyes that seemed full of wisdom, coupled with impeccably groomed golden hair and colorful, extravagant wizarding robes…
This image…
It was easy for people to associate him with the most powerful wizard in the world: Albus Dumbledore, who also had blue eyes and a penchant for colorful robes.
People often mused that Dumbledore must have looked like this when he was young.
Yes, this was Lockhart’s cunning scheme.
He had studied Dumbledore’s youth intensely.
“Perfect!” He flashed his signature, heart-stopping smile at the mirror.
Then, he stopped smiling.
He watched in horror as a tall figure appeared in the reflection behind him.
A figure with the same azure eyes, wearing the same purple wizarding robes…
“Dum…” “Dumbledore?” Louis gasped, turning around to face the man, his heart pounding.
I’m done for!
He realized he understood just how terrifying this man was better than the real Lockhart ever could.
The only thought flashing through his mind was—Legilimency!
It was over.
Dumbledore would easily sift through his chaotic mind, discover everything, and realize he was an interloper!
The idea that Dumbledore used Legilimency everywhere and at all times was a deep-seated stereotype from his past life’s reading.
“Gilderoy Lockhart…” Dumbledore’s tone was gentle, yet it carried an indescribable weight.
“I have waited in my office for you all day.
I had hoped you wouldn’t still be at home at this hour.” “Ah?” Louis felt a flicker of panic.
He quickly searched his predecessor’s memories, finally piecing the situation together.
There had long been rumors that the Defense Against the Dark Arts post at Hogwarts was cursed.
A few months ago, the professor who held the position, Quirinus Quirrell, had died under bizarre circumstances, leaving Dumbledore struggling to find anyone willing to take the job.
Lockhart, naturally, hadn’t wanted it.
His life was already successful enough; he didn’t need to be a school teacher.
But Dumbledore was too good at manipulating hearts.
He had hinted that becoming the teacher of the “Boy Who Lived,” Harry Potter, would lay the foundation for even greater fame—a temptation the original Lockhart couldn’t resist.
The original had agreed.
And now, term was about to start!
Hah…
Was it too late to back out?
Louis knew full well what a disaster it would be for a fraud like him—someone who couldn’t cast a single real spell—to end up at Hogwarts, a place Voldemort was clearly eyeing.
He looked at the solemn Dumbledore, his mouth agape, wondering if he would be dealt with by the old man if he confessed the truth.
“Yes, of course.
I was just gathering my things.” He forced his smile to look as sincere as possible.
Dumbledore simply watched him, calm and composed.
“I shall wait for you here.”