"Harry?"
Harry, who had looked troubled by my question, spotted me and broke into a huge grin.
"S— no, Aisen!"
I asked him, a note of bewilderment in my voice, "You came for an author's signing, so why are you the one up there getting your picture taken?"
It wasn't Harry who answered my question, but a smarmy-looking, blonde-haired man standing behind him.
"Haha, why, it's to let everyone know that Harry and I have had a historic meeting!"
And who are you?
As I stood there with a puzzled look on my face, Hermione smacked my back repeatedly from behind.
"Aisen, that's Lockhart! Gilderoy Lockhart!"
Only then did I realize the identity of the blond man, and my eyes widened in surprise.
*That* man is the literary giant of the 20th-century magical world?
As if he'd heard Hermione's cry, Lockhart flashed a brilliant white smile and said, "That's right! I am Gilderoy Lockhart, winner of *Witch Weekly's* 'Most Charming Smile' award."
…How should I put this? To be honest, it felt like my illusions were shattering. It was jarring how different he was from the image of the author I had imagined based on his works. I had assumed that a writer capable of such prose would be a more serious, profound individual. I never imagined he would be the type to introduce himself with his looks rather than his accomplishments.
Regardless of my unimpressed attitude, Hermione was squealing, her eyes glued to Lockhart. Then, as if sensing my gaze, she blushed and added, "He's the author of our textbooks! He's an incredible academic!"
Even if his books were chosen as textbooks, I believed fiction was still just fiction. But with the author standing right in front of me, I decided to keep that thought to myself.
That is, at least until Lockhart spoke his next words.
"Everyone, I am here to announce that Harry, along with all the other students of Hogwarts, is about to receive a very big gift! That is, me—magical, magnificent me! Not my books, but Gilderoy Lockhart himself! Yes, that's right. As of this September, I will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts."
…What? Am I dreaming? The author is really going to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor?
I blinked slowly and began to seriously wonder about Albus's dementia.
…But on second thought, he seemed like a slightly better fit than Quirrell. At the very least, he probably wouldn't be casting dark magic at the students. Perhaps he possessed considerable magical talent in addition to his literary skills. It wasn't good to judge someone based on their profession alone.
In any case, though I was filled with a lingering sense of doubt, I decided I might as well get an autograph since I was already here. As it happened, I had one of Lockhart's novels in my bag, since it was going to be used as a textbook.
I took *Voyages with Vampires* out of my bag and approached Lockhart. Still with an arm slung around Harry's shoulders, he grinned and said, "Aha, another one of Harry's friends is a fan of mine, I see!"
"To be precise, I'm his brother."
Ignoring Harry's correction completely, Lockhart wielded his pen with practiced ease, signing his name with a single, fluid stroke. He must have signed for over fifty people before me, yet his form was flawless.
Frankly, I was quite impressed. As someone from the 19th century, when modern media hadn't yet developed, this level of image management was difficult to even imagine.
I nodded and said, "Mr. Lockhart, I enjoyed your novel. The plot construction was very interesting."
At that, Lockhart raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Hm? Oh, there seems to have been a misunderstanding! My books aren't novels at all, but autobiographical essays chronicling my life! That's how I was able to become a Hogwarts professor, you see."
…?
For a moment, I couldn't believe my ears. They weren't novels, but essays? Did this man seriously think that made any sense? A man with such a meager amount of magical power?
At least, the Lockhart I assessed with my 'eyes' was by no means capable of handling the adventures described in those books.
Still, just in case.
I decided to play a small 'prank' on Lockhart. A simple hallucination that anyone who had experienced even half of what was written in his books would never fall for.
*Snap.*
"I see. Well then, I'll see you at Hogwarts."
With a light flick of my fingers, I cast the spell on Lockhart and casually led Harry away to the side.
Hermione, who had been standing behind me, moved forward with a flushed face, holding her copy of Lockhart's book.
"Lockhart—I mean, Professor Lockhart! It's such an honor to meet you…"
But before Hermione could finish her sentence, Lockhart suddenly leaped into the air and landed on his butt with a thud. Then, making a series of comical gestures, he stared into empty space and said, "Haha, that's quite a surprising turn of events!"
"…Professor?"
No matter how many times Hermione tried to speak to him, Lockhart just kept staring at nothing and spouting nonsense. A few moments later, Lockhart—presumed to have collapsed from heatstroke after holding a book signing in the sweltering weather—was carried away on a stretcher, headed for St. Mungo's.
As an added bonus, Hermione was on the verge of tears that such a thing had happened right on her turn.
Watching the farce, I let out a deep sigh.
"Harry."
"Yes."
"It seems our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor is either a Dark Wizard or a con man."
"It's a fine school, isn't it?"
Harry and I shook our heads in unison.
***
After Lockhart was carried away, the only benefit we gained from the incident was the complete collection of his books—which he insisted were essays—that Harry had received while having his picture taken.
Lockhart's books were generally ornately decorated and expensive, so the whole set was worth a considerable sum. Of course, for me, who could literally create gold whenever I wanted, the amount wasn't a burden in the slightest, making it a rather useless gain.
Beside me, Hermione, lost in a sense of disappointment, said dejectedly, "To think the professor would collapse right in front of me."
I considered revealing Lockhart's true nature but decided against it, feeling like an adult preserving a child's innocence. More importantly, I had a feeling that the longer this misunderstanding continued, the more fun it would be to tease her about it later. I couldn't imagine Lockhart managing to maintain his image and teach effectively all the way at Hogwarts.
By the way, what on earth was Albus thinking?
I decided I would send a letter telling Albus to get over here the moment we returned to the hotel.
As I was lost in thought, Ron and his family approached us. The Grangers were with them as well. I had wondered why Harry, who was supposed to be waiting at Gringotts, was here. It seemed they had all come to buy books together.
Ron walked over and looked at the collection of Lockhart's books in Harry's hand with disgust. "Ugh, you got the whole collection? I can't stand that guy."
"To be honest, neither can I."
As if overhearing Harry and Ron's conversation, another, more familiar voice chimed in. "That's because you don't have the intelligence or the money to buy books, Weasley."
We turned our heads to see Malfoy approaching, standing crookedly with a sneer on his face. Malfoy soon turned his attention to Harry.
"Potter, I see you can't live without being the center of attention wherever you go, just like a true celebrity."
It was a jab at Harry for getting his picture taken with Lockhart. Harry retorted, "Oh, Malfoy. Is that because you haven't done anything worthy of attention?" *If you'd ever defeated Voldemort, you could get this kind of attention, too.*
Malfoy's face flushed red at the sight of Harry shrugging nonchalantly. He looked like he was about to fire a remark at me next, but before he could, Arthur, who had come over at some point, spoke first. "What's going on here, boys?"
At that, a man with platinum blond hair appeared as if on cue, an adult stepping forward for their side. It was Lucius, who looked at Arthur and said, "Well, well. If it isn't Arthur."
"Lucius."
A faint look of contempt colored Lucius's eyes as he looked at Arthur. Needless to say, it was because his gaze had fallen not only on him but also on the Grangers standing behind him.
Lucius sneered at Arthur. "Things must be tough for you these days, Arthur. Lockhart's books are famously expensive; I'm surprised to see you here. Wouldn't you be better off at a second-hand bookshop? Ah, our board does handle used books for people like you. If you need some, you'd better speak up. It seems there are so many beggars at Hogwarts these days that we're running short on used copies."
Under normal circumstances, it would have been a highly effective provocation, but unfortunately for him, the timing was poor.
Arthur chuckled, his eyes crinkling into a smile. "Ah, Lucius. Thank you for your concern, but I'll just accept the sentiment. Thanks to a certain someone, our family is enjoying a time of great prosperity."
Lucius flinched, as if he had an inkling of what Arthur was referring to. Arthur continued.
"We happened to find evidence that a certain family was in possession of a large number of dark artifacts. Thanks to that, I received a very generous bonus! Which is why I must say, Lucius, perhaps you shouldn't be here. Shouldn't you be heading to Knockturn Alley right about now?"
As if those words had struck a nerve, Lucius fell silent and glared at Arthur. Of course, that changed nothing.
Seeing this, an emboldened Arthur raised one corner of his mouth in a sneer. "My, the Malfoy family isn't what it used to be. Draco, you should be good to your father. Do you have any idea how hard he's working to dress you in fine things despite these difficult times?"
Unable to bear the humiliation any longer, Lucius spun around and grabbed Draco's arm. "Let's go, Draco. It was my mistake to even try to converse with this sort of rabble."
As Lucius turned to leave, his gaze suddenly fixed on something. My eyes.
"Golden… eyes?"
Seeing his father's wavering gaze, Draco tugged on his robes. "What is it, Father?"
"…It's nothing. Let's go."
Tearing his eyes away from me, Lucius shot Arthur one last contemptuous look before turning away.
Watching them retreat, I heard a red-haired girl who had been glancing at Harry from beside Ron whisper, "Serves them right. Don't you think, Ron?"
"You said it."
As if they had heard her, their retreating footsteps seemed to quicken.
***
Meanwhile, the Malfoys walked away.
Lucius quickened his pace, his face flushed red as he seethed.
*'Those flea-like vermin!'*
In the past, something like this would have been unimaginable. Who would dare talk back to the Malfoys, a great pure-blood family with ties to all sorts of influential figures in the Ministry of Magic?
But since that incident, the Malfoy family's prestige had been waning by the day. And this year, thanks to the emergency crackdown on dangerous goods led by that wretch Arthur Weasley, the Malfoy family itself was in a position where it could be investigated at any moment.
Worse, he had failed in his objective today: to slip that object to one of the Weasley children.
Feeling the texture of the thick notebook in his pocket, Lucius clenched his fists and trembled with a humiliation unprecedented in the Malfoy family's history.
Draco flinched as he watched his father. For some reason, seeing his father become more and more impulsive, so different from before, filled him with a profound sense of unease.
Soon, Lucius's gaze fell upon Draco.
His beloved son, the future of the Malfoy family. The child he had to raise well, even if it meant concentrating all the family's resources on him.
…No, that wasn't it.
This child was, simply, the most useful card he had to play at this moment.
Lucius's eyes glinted dangerously. Seeing it, Draco flinched again and took a step back. But Lucius grabbed Draco's shoulder firmly, preventing him from retreating any further.
"Draco."
"Y-yes."
"Did you see how this father of yours was treated by that damn rabble?"
"…Yes."
"Doesn't it make you angry? To see those worms who wouldn't have dared to look us in the eye before crawling all over us?"
"I was… a little angry."
"Good. In that case, Draco, if there is something you must do for the glory of the Malfoy family, would you be willing to obey?"
"O-of course, Father."
For a moment, his father's eyes seemed to glow red. Trembling, Draco nodded his head.
Why was it? It felt as though he could hear mocking laughter coming from inside Lucius's pocket.
***