"It's such a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Charles Gold."Gilderoy Lockhart, handsome enough by ordinary standards, was now smiling so fawningly that he resembled an overexcited puppy wagging its tail.
Charles frowned. He was not particularly fond of this flamboyant peacock.
Lockhart, however, seemed entirely oblivious to his displeasure. With a self-satisfied gleam, he began,"My name is Gilderoy Lockhart! I daresay you've seen me on the cover of Witch Weekly? Of course, I am also a recipient of the Order of Merlin—oh, naturally, it can't quite compare to your First Class honor!"
He laughed airily."Your name has been on everyone's lips lately!—well, not just lately; in fact, ever since last July your fame has swept across the entire British wizarding world! But who could have imagined you'd accomplish so much since then?"
Charles silently tuned out the incessant chatter, glancing instead toward Dumbledore with mild irritation.
'Where did you find this overconfident nuisance? Don't tell me this is the "old colleague" you mentioned.'
'Of course not,' Dumbledore's voice resonated directly in his mind. 'My old colleague hasn't arrived yet. The Extraordinary Potioneers' Association is still studying the potion Severus developed—trying to find alternative ingredients suitable for general use.'
The two carried on their conversation freely through Legilimency, so blatantly that even an amateur would have noticed something odd. Even an ordinary onlooker might have found their intense eye contact suspicious.
Lockhart, oblivious, continued rambling proudly about his so-called "adventures."
"I heard that Professor Snape's Wolfsbane cure was inspired by your Pokémon! I must say, what a pity I wasn't there myself! Why, if you'd read my book Wandering with Werewolves, you'd know how I once restored a poor creature to human form using only a strenuous charm!—Mr. Gold? Mr. Gold, are you listening?"
He finally realized no one had been paying attention.
"My apologies, Mr. Lockhart—what were you saying?" Charles asked flatly.
"Oh—please, call me Gilderoy!" Lockhart said eagerly. "As fellow recipients of the Order of Merlin, surely we needn't stand on ceremony!"
Charles's lips twitched. Order of Merlin… should've let it rot in the warehouse.
He still remembered how Cornelius Fudge had all but shoved that medal into his hands. Charles had never cared much for such pomp, and now that Lockhart had one too, the medal's worth seemed to plummet even further.
If Lockhart was using it as a badge of pride, then the Order truly had lost its shine.
The only real mark of distinction in the wizarding world, Charles mused, was having your face on a Chocolate Frog Card.
Those wizards were the true legends—brilliant, powerful, or at least memorable in spectacularly disastrous ways. Take Archibald Alderton, for instance, who tried to magically bake a birthday cake and ended up blowing up the entire village of Little Dropping in Hampshire. Or Beatrix Bloxam, whose children's book made kids vomit the instant they read it. Or Cyprian Youdle—the only referee in history to die during a Quidditch match. Or Derwent Shimpling, who once ate an entire Venomous Tentacula on a dare and survived, though his skin had remained purple ever since.
Compared to that lot, the wizards of Florida seemed practically ordinary.
Speaking of Chocolate Frog Cards—after that one-day wizarding war last year, the description on the back of Charles's own card had changed:
Charles Gold, Professor at Hogwarts.Known worldwide for defeating the Dark Lord Voldemort on July 1, 1992, and driving him from Britain. Regarded as one of the most powerful wizards of all time—surpassing even Albus Dumbledore—and the first Pokémon Trainer to bring Pokémon into the wizarding world.Creator of the new curriculum Mastery of Pokémon Studies, and founder of the Office for Pokémon Protection and Regulation.Current head of the Pokémon Battle League Council.
Apparently, the card's magic had deemed defeating a score of pure-blood wizards too trivial compared to his other feats, and had updated itself accordingly. It even declared that many now believed his magical power surpassed Dumbledore's.
Which, in truth, it didn't.
Counting both his own growth and the rewards he'd earned through the mysterious system, his level was only sixty-five. In raw magical strength, he still fell a little short of both Dumbledore and Voldemort—but not by much.
With two extraordinarily powerful wands at his disposal, he could now face either of them evenly.
And without wands?Then there wouldn't even be a contest.
After all, how could wand-dependent old men compare to someone whose left hand wielded a Dragon Claw and whose right hand delivered a Dynamic Punch?
Charles could probably knock both their noses crooked with two swings—What's that?Voldemort doesn't have a nose?And Dumbledore's is already crooked—twice over?…Fair enough.
Meanwhile, Lockhart was still babbling.
'Where did you really find this guy?' Charles pressed.
'Gilderoy recommended himself,' Dumbledore explained mildly. 'He wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, but I'd already chosen someone better suited. I wrote back to decline, but he persisted and came here on his own.'
Dumbledore referred to him warmly as "Gilderoy," treating him almost like a wayward former student.
By now, Dumbledore already knew that all of Lockhart's books were fraudulent. But having seen far worse in his life, he regarded the man's vanity with patient tolerance. At least Lockhart wasn't malicious—merely shallow.
Indeed, Lockhart had always been that way.At school, he'd boasted that he would create a Philosopher's Stone before graduation, lead England's Quidditch team to a World Cup victory, and become the youngest ever Minister for Magic. He'd begged Dumbledore to start a school newspaper so he could see his name in print, carved it in twenty-foot-tall letters on the Quidditch pitch, and once projected his face into the night sky like a Dark Mark. He'd even sent himself eight hundred Valentine's cards one year, which caused breakfast to be cancelled when all the owls' droppings and feathers fell into the porridge.
There had never been a student in Hogwarts history more ridiculous—or more vain.
And yet, he wasn't entirely useless. Lockhart was intelligent, and if he'd ever truly applied himself, he might have achieved something genuine. His fatal flaw was that he never tried—unless he could be the best.
Even so, his Obliviate was extraordinary.Where most Memory Charms would never fool a powerful wizard, Lockhart's could. It was the one thing he had truly mastered—his single, blinding peak of talent.
A sort of wizarding equivalent of Meowth or Zenitsu—brilliant only in one specific skill.
'I was struggling with how to reconcile a few… inconvenient inconsistencies,' Dumbledore's voice murmured in Charles's mind. 'And then Gilderoy arrived. I remembered your detailed prophecy—the vainglorious Lockhart, whose Memory Charm would surpass all others. I decided to test it, and to my surprise, it worked. Don't worry—he remembers nothing.'
Lockhart's Obliviate… worked on Tom Riddle's diary?Charles was incredulous.
Granted, the diary contained only a fifth-year fragment of Tom, but as a Horcrux, it should have resisted any ordinary magic. Even a young Riddle's willpower far exceeded that of most wizards.
Dumbledore simply smiled.It hadn't been Lockhart alone who cast the spell, after all.
'So what do you plan to do now?' Charles asked. 'Don't tell me you're just going to pretend you don't know what kind of fraud he is. And if this guy starts hovering around me every day, I'll lose my mind.'
'Oh, come now,' Dumbledore chuckled. 'I thought you might let him serve as an assistant. Sometimes students learn best from a bad teacher—what mistakes to avoid, what people not to become.'
'Then make him Lupin's assistant. He's a member of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Society, isn't he?'
'Remus already has help.'
'I have seven! What about Snape, then—'
'I fear Severus might accidentally poison him…'
"I'd do it myself," Charles said aloud, refusing without hesitation.
"What—"Lockhart, in the middle of another self-glorifying anecdote, blinked in surprise—then laughed heartily."Of course, of course! Ah, curing a ghoul's chronic venom? Surely that's child's play for you! The greatest wizard of our age—defeater of the Dark—er, the You-Know-Who! Even the International Confederation of Wizards fell to your power! What problem could possibly challenge you?"
The flattery was instant.
Charles realized he'd somehow given Lockhart an opening to segue from Wandering with Werewolves to Travels with Trolls—no, Holidays with Hags—no, wait, Travels with Ghouls. The man changed topics faster than a Dodrio's heads.
Whatever his motive, it was probably just to curry favor—maybe grab a little of Charles's fame by association. Surely, he wasn't foolish enough to try anything more dangerous.
"Enough, Mr. Lockhart. I have other matters to attend to." Charles cut him off coldly, uninterested in letting this overly perfumed Peacock strut any longer. Without so much as glancing at Dumbledore, he turned and walked out.
Lockhart stood frozen."Ah—pardon me, Headmaster, he—?"
"I believe he truly does have business to handle," Dumbledore said kindly. "And I wasn't aware he already had so many assistants. If only you'd come a bit earlier, there might have been a vacancy. Still, perhaps you can assist in Defense Against the Dark Arts? That's certainly your area of expertise, isn't it?"
He smiled warmly."I'm sure, in time, Charles will come to appreciate your… talents." (Useless ones, he thought privately.)
What about Sirius?Perhaps next term.
"You're quite right," Lockhart said, nodding wisely. His eyes gleamed as he looked toward the sanctuary grounds where Pokémon roamed freely. To him, those creatures represented boundless fame. If he could just obtain one—something as dashing and magnificent as himself!—he could write yet another bestseller: Teaching at Hogwarts with Pokémon.
The headlines practically wrote themselves.
Attacking Charles Gold had never crossed his mind—he wasn't suicidal. But the young professor's indifference? That, Lockhart blamed on jealousy. Surely Gold was just too newly famous, too arrogant to appreciate others of his stature.
He shook his head with a self-pitying sigh, smiling like a seasoned celebrity."Ah, the young—they're always like this when fame first finds them. I used to be the same, you know. But I've long since learned to live with the adoration."
As he spoke, his eyes lingered greedily on the lakeside Pokémon. One Slowpoke met his gaze, and Lockhart—misreading the dull stare entirely—beamed."Dumbledore, if this creature volunteers to follow me, that might be… troublesome, eh? How shall I explain it to Mr. Gold?"
He leaned closer.
The Slowpoke blinked, yawned, then lazily spat a stream of water straight into Lockhart's face before sliding back into the lake.
Lockhart stood dripping, speechless.Dumbledore's expression twitched into an odd, knowing smile.
Later, at Hogsmeade StationDumbledore personally came to see Lockhart off.
"Thank you for coming today, Gilderoy—you've been a great help."
"A mere trifle! A little Memory Charm is nothing to me. I may not cast it often, but whatever I learn stays firmly in my head. Though I must say, Headmaster, why cast Obliviate on a diary of all things?" he asked, puzzled.
Lockhart had only been asked to perform the forgetting—the rewriting had been Dumbledore's own work.
The Headmaster merely smiled, offering no explanation. Lockhart, thankfully, didn't pry.
"Well, then! I'll return next week to begin my post—things have been a bit hectic. My new shampoo formula's gone slightly awry, but I'll fix it soon enough. A week at most, and then I'll be at Hogwarts full-time!" he declared, boarding the train.
"Excellent. I look forward to it."
The train began to move.
Lockhart turned to close the compartment door—and froze.
A wand was pressed firmly against the back of his head.
(End of Chapter)