It was three days later, on a Friday evening, when Fudge showed up at Lockhart's door once again.
The two of them used the Floo Network to travel to Yorkshire in northeastern England. They were headed there to secure formal approval for Lockhart's appointment as an Unspeakable and as the Head of the Hall of Bloodlines.
Here's an interesting question: if even the Minister for Magic can't control the Department of Mysteries, one of the seven departments of the Ministry of Magic, then who decides the appointments of its members, and whose authority do its leaders follow?
The answer is right there in plain sight—the Wizards' Council, the very body that founded the Department of Mysteries in the first place.
"There's a big misconception," Fudge said as they stepped out of the fireplace. He gestured toward the club's bar counter to check in, where they'd wait for a special carriage to take them to their destination. "A lot of people think the Wizards' Council was just the predecessor to the Ministry of Magic, but that's not true."
"The Ministry was established under the guidance of the International Confederation of Wizards, based on the International Statute of Secrecy. It took over the Council's functions, but it didn't transform the Council into the Ministry."
Fudge ordered two low-alcohol drinks from the bartender, handed one to Lockhart, and took a sip before continuing. "The Statute of Secrecy was a game-changer back then. It mandated that wizards couldn't live alongside Muggles anymore, had to steer clear of them, and basically go underground."
He went on, "The Ministry's main job was to enforce the Statute, which is why its jurisdiction aligns with Muggle national borders. That's the whole reason behind it."
Lockhart was genuinely amazed. He'd had questions about this before, but he never realized this was the explanation.
"Back when the Wizards' Council was formed, things were different," Fudge continued. "Their boundaries were vague. The full name of the Council we're visiting is the *Wizards' Council of the English Alliance*. It oversees wizards across Europe, Asia, Africa, the Americas, Oceania, and even a wizarding tribe up in the Arctic."
Fudge shrugged. "The Council could never fully merge with the Ministry, and that's the core issue. No matter how powerful the International Confederation of Wizards is, it can't dismantle an organization built around the core idea of magic itself."
"But don't overhype them either," he added. "The Ministry's the one with real power—legislative, executive, and judicial authority."
This didn't quite line up with what Madam Marchbanks had told Lockhart. She'd always insisted the Ministry was just a middleman in wizarding society. Of course, when it came to the International Confederation of Wizards, even she had nothing to say—that organization was unmatched, looming over the global wizarding community.
Before long, an old man wearing a pointed, slightly crooked wizard's hat approached and led them to a dark, windowless carriage.
Once inside, Fudge picked up the thread of the conversation. "The Wizards' Council is in a tough spot these days. A lot of people see it's on its way out, destined to fade with time."
Seeing Lockhart's interest, Fudge leaned into the topic. "Back in the day, wizards lived side by side with Muggles. You'd even hear stories of witches becoming queens."
"But once the Statute of Secrecy was set in stone, Ministries of Magic set up Auror offices and prisons like Azkaban. Wizards had to adapt, forming their own communities and villages."
"If you're curious about this stuff, check out *A History of Magic* by Bathilda Bagshot," Fudge suggested. "It's got all the details."
Lockhart knew of Bathilda Bagshot. She lived in Godric's Hollow, was a neighbor to the Dumbledore family, and had a good relationship with Albus Dumbledore. She was also Gellert Grindelwald's great-aunt and had introduced the two young men when Grindelwald stayed with her.
Lockhart's attention snapped back to Fudge's words. "Before the Statute, wizards and Muggles mingled freely. After it, wizards built their own communities. Most people can't even imagine the kind of upheaval that hit institutions like the Wizards' Council."
Fudge gave a sly chuckle. "The Malfoy family was dead-set against the Statute at first. Wizards having to cluster together meant the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families lost their shot at being wizarding nobility. They had no choice but to work within the Ministry's system. No matter how much influence they have, they're stuck in that framework."
"The old pure-blood families, even the so-called Sacred Twenty-Eight, used to represent the pinnacle of wizarding power. Now? They're just a small, exclusive club."
"Can you see what that means?" Fudge asked. "The Wizards' Council went from representing all wizards to being a last bastion for ancient pure-blood families. Over time, it's become a little clique that no longer speaks for the collective will of wizarding society."
"The wheels of progress keep turning," he said. "The Ministry will eventually swallow up organizations like the Council completely."
Fudge glanced at Lockhart's shadowy figure in the dark carriage. "From everything I've just told you, can you spot the big problem our world's facing right now?"
Lockhart fell into thought, and Fudge didn't press him for an answer.
He was waiting, testing whether Lockhart could rise to a higher level of influence or if he'd need more resources to pave his way to the halls of magical power.
"Muggle-borns?" Lockhart ventured, a bit uncertain. "More and more Muggle-born wizards are showing up. Their families—those Muggles—know about the wizarding world. In a way, we're slipping back into the pre-Statute days of living side by side."
"And the Ministry can't exactly force Muggle-borns to cut ties with their families and move to wizarding communities or villages."
"Exactly!" Fudge exclaimed, clearly impressed. "That's it!"
Lockhart had another answer in mind—Voldemort. The Dark Lord's ideas would no doubt find strong support in the Wizards' Council, with its focus on restoring pure-blood glory. But saying that in front of the Minister for Magic? That was a slide he wasn't about to slip down.
"The times are handing the Wizards' Council a chance to break through," Fudge said with a mocking tone, a smirk playing on his lips. "If they could solve this issue, they might reclaim their place as the leading force, with the Ministry reduced to their subordinate."
"But we both know that's not happening. They despise Muggle-borns. You'll see when we get there—not a single Muggle-born in sight."
"They barely tolerate half-bloods, and even then, it's grudging. The main seats? All pure-bloods."
Fudge let out a smug chuckle in the darkness. "Give it a few more years, and they might not even have enough pure-bloods to fill those seats."
Lockhart stayed silent. In the society he came from in his past life, people had long moved past obsessing over bloodlines. History was so vast that anyone you met on the street could claim some grand ancestor or another. Bloodlines only mattered when buying a cat or dog.
"Let's circle back to where we started," Fudge said, clearing his throat to sound more serious. "This is why they'll approve my decision to place a Chief Unspeakable in the Hall of Bloodlines."
"They need you, got it? It's not you who needs their approval. They're the ones desperate for someone to restart the research in the Hall of Bloodlines."
It was a fascinating point. No matter an organization's nature, it's made up of individuals, and those individuals' core desires shape what the organization ultimately supports.
The *Wizards' Council of the English Alliance* was shrouded in mystery. Most ordinary wizards hadn't even heard of it. Yet its members were well-known names in the wizarding world.
The carriage soon pulled up to an ancient castle.
The atmosphere wasn't formal. Before the meeting began, it felt more like a club gathering—people stood in small groups, holding drinks or nibbling on snacks, chatting away.
Fudge started introducing Lockhart to the key players. As Minister for Magic, he could easily bypass the less influential members.
To Lockhart's surprise, he already knew most of them.
The current chair of the Wizards' Council, responsible for running the meetings, was old Barty Crouch.
Lockhart had met him before, through Kingsley. He'd found Crouch to be a polished bureaucrat—humble, mild-mannered, and skilled at maintaining mutual respect. Giving people dignity was the greatest form of respect, and people were happy to return the favor to Crouch.
The others were all too familiar.
Lucius Malfoy, Arthur Weasley, Algie Longbottom (Neville's uncle), Garrick Ollivander (the wandmaker and Britain's wizarding weapon monopolist), Mr. Borgin (of Borgin and Burkes, with major clout among Knockturn Alley's dark wizards), Tom Abbott (the Leaky Cauldron's landlord)...
All of them hailed from the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families. They also shared one notable trait—they were parents of Lockhart's students.
Thanks to Lockhart's dedicated teaching and his wildly successful "storybook adventure" approach, which had noticeably boosted the kids' skills, these parents were generally grateful to him.
Then there were pure-bloods outside the Sacred Twenty-Eight, like Mr. Urquhart, a representative of families chasing global influence.
The room was packed with people from all sorts of factions.
The wizarding world wasn't just split between "pro-Muggle" and "pure-blood supremacists." There was also a group obsessed with unraveling the mysteries of magic, led by none other than Madam Marchbanks, one of the Council's most respected figures. To them, blood status was irrelevant—if you couldn't walk the path of magic, you were no different from a Muggle.
In Western culture, there's a saying: *The gifts fate bestows come with a price already marked in the shadows.*
But to Lockhart, shaped by the cultural lens of his past life, the world was always dialectical. There was another side to it: *The gifts you give to others' fates, to the world's fate, have already earned you a reward in the shadows.*
Of course, you still had to go claim that reward.
That process—claiming what you've earned—might be why, even with fate pulling the strings, human life still brimmed with meaning.
Since crossing into this world, Lockhart had gone from blending into wizarding life to standing shoulder-to-shoulder with high society. His efforts at Hogwarts, teaching young witches and wizards, and his connections with all sorts of people had paid off richly.
Still, thinking about everything through the lens of "society" left him a little uneasy.
Lockhart preferred to see things through the lens of magic. Magic was everywhere in a wizard's life. Walk the sacred path of magic, and life would naturally unfold its brighter side.
*Ding, ding, ding!*
The Council's chair, Barty Crouch, tapped his glass, quieting the room. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced loudly, "the topic of tonight's gathering is…"
He waved his arm dramatically toward Lockhart in the crowd. "The Ministry's hero!"
*Boom!*
The massive gilded stone wall behind him erupted in flames from the fireplace below. The fire shot upward, covering the entire wall, and within it, a scene played out like a movie—Lockhart casting *Thunderstorm Wildfire*.
The crowd stared, awestruck.
Even Fudge, who'd seen the footage multiple times, couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as he looked up at the blazing display.
Magic!
Only magic!
This was the eternal heartbeat of wizardkind.
Even the most jaded, power-hungry politicians, their hearts corroded by ambition, couldn't help but feel a spark of longing for the beauty of magic in that moment.
"Let us welcome," Barty Crouch bellowed, "the master of magic, Gilderoy Lockhart!"
*Boom!*
The crowd exploded into applause. A few younger members, starstruck, shouted Lockhart's name like he was their idol. Their enthusiasm spread, and soon the chants merged into a roaring tide.
"Gilderoy Lockhart!"
"Gilderoy Lockhart!"
"Gilderoy Lockhart!"
*(Chapter End)*