"Gilderoy, go ahead! You will be the best student in Hogwarts history!"
Lockhart's mother kissed him lightly on the head and waved goodbye. He smiled, dragging his suitcase onto the steaming train, finding an empty compartment, and placing his belongings on a chair. As the train filled with students and began to move, he leaned against the window, watching the passing scenery. A thought crossed his mind.
Are they ready for my ceremony?
His eyelids grew heavy, and he dozed off.
The train finally arrived, bringing Lockhart to the magical castle of Hogwarts. However, much to his dismay, there was no grand welcome awaiting him. Instead, a simple wizard guided the first-years through the procedure, leading them into the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony.
"Gilderoy Lockhart!"
As his name was called, Lockhart stepped forward, feeling the weight of every gaze upon him. He savored the attention, grinning as he approached the Sorting Hat.
"Oh, another special one," the Hat mused in his ear. "Smart, ambitious, eager to prove himself. Should it be Ravenclaw? Or perhaps Slytherin?"
Lockhart's heart swelled with pride. My mother was right. I am different! he thought gleefully.
"I've decided!" the Hat announced loudly. "Ravenclaw!"
Applause erupted from the Ravenclaw table as a senior student made space for him. Lockhart accepted it all with a confident smile. He was destined for greatness, just as his mother had said. He would win the House Cup and become a legend at Hogwarts.
But soon, reality set in.
No one knew his name. No one discussed his magical prowess. In fact, many students were just as skilled as he was—some even more so. This was unacceptable.
Determined, Lockhart threw himself into his studies, eagerly raising his hand in every class. His name slowly became familiar among professors and peers. But that wasn't enough. He didn't just want recognition—he wanted admiration.
Either be the best, or don't bother at all.
But how? He wasn't from a prestigious magical family. He didn't have natural talent beyond his peers. The awards he could win, others could claim as well.
He needed a plan.
His first step was visibility. Lockhart lobbied the headmaster to allow him to run a Hogwarts school newspaper. His true intention, of course, was to print his name and photo in every issue. But the newspaper gained little traction—his self-promotion was too blatant.
Undeterred, Lockhart hatched another scheme. On the eve of the Quidditch season, he sneaked onto the pitch and magically inscribed his signature in twenty-foot-tall letters. Though he was punished with a week's worth of detention, the cheers from the stands were enough to make it worthwhile.
His next stunt was even more extravagant. One afternoon, he conjured a massive illusion of his own face in the sky, mimicking the Dark Mark. Though he received another stern warning, the students cheered. The thrill of attention was intoxicating.
But his most infamous act came on Valentine's Day.
Lockhart ordered 800 greeting cards, each filled with messages of love for himself. At breakfast, the Great Hall was filled with the sound of wings flapping as hundreds of owls descended, carrying the cards. Feathers and owl droppings rained down upon students and staff alike.
"Sorry! Sorry! My fans are just too enthusiastic!" Lockhart proclaimed, covered in owl dung, waving grandly.
The students fled the hall, abandoning their meals. Though his stunt earned him notoriety rather than admiration, Lockhart had achieved his goal—everyone at Hogwarts knew his name.
But still, he wanted more.
The next step was admiration. But how? He wasn't truly exceptional. So, he devised a solution—boasting.
Lockhart declared to anyone who would listen that he would create the Philosopher's Stone before graduation, become the captain of the English Quidditch team, win the World Cup, and eventually rise to Minister of Magic.
But no one believed him.
His professors sighed in relief when he finally graduated. Some even joked about holding a banquet in celebration of his departure.
Life after Hogwarts proved disappointing.
Lockhart struggled to gain recognition. He had no Quidditch talent, and the Ministry of Magic rejected his job applications. Eventually, he took an editing job at a newspaper, but no one cared about the byline. He remained invisible.
Until one day, during an interview, he heard a wizard recount a thrilling adventure.
An idea struck him—what if he was the hero in these stories?
The temptation was too great. He resigned, dedicated himself to mastering memory charms, then returned to that wizard, wiping his memory clean. The story now belonged to him.
His first book, Break with a Banshee, was an instant success. Readers adored him. Lockhart basked in the admiration, his deception fueling his rise to fame. He sought out unknown heroes, stole their stories, and erased their pasts.
His career skyrocketed. He won the Merlin Third Class Medal, became an honorary member of the Anti-Dark Magic League, and was crowned Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award winner five times.
Yet, behind his fame lay the shattered lives of those he had erased.
Lockhart sat in his office at Hogwarts, lost in thought. Vanity and laziness—these were the demons that had consumed him the moment he boarded the train to Hogwarts all those years ago.
A knock at the door startled him.
"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore's voice called.
Harry entered hesitantly, glancing between Lockhart and Dumbledore. He had been practicing Parseltongue in his dormitory when a small enchanted plane had flown in, summoning him here.
Lockhart turned to Dumbledore. "You knew about my deception all along, didn't you?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. Two of my friends had experiences remarkably similar to those in your books. I paid them a visit."
Lockhart clenched his jaw. "Then why hire me?"
Dumbledore didn't answer immediately. Instead, he gestured toward Harry. "Professor Lockhart, would you like to share your story with Harry?"
Lockhart hesitated. His past was no grand heroic tale, but rather a shameful deception.
After a moment, he sighed and began recounting everything.
When he finished, Harry gawked, overwhelmed. Professor Lockhart… a fraud? And Dumbledore knew?
Lockhart turned to Dumbledore. "So, what now? Will you hand me over to the Ministry?"
Dumbledore met his gaze. "Not yet. Before we consider Azkaban, you must undo the harm you've caused. Restore their memories. Only then will we decide your fate."
Hope flickered in Lockhart's eyes. If I escape Hogwarts, I can disappear forever.
Feigning sincerity, he bowed. "I'll do my best to heal them, Professor."
Dumbledore nodded. "Now, about that diary?"
Lockhart retrieved a small black box. "I was planning to leave it behind, but…"
He handed it over. Dumbledore opened it and smiled. "Harry, you may go. David and I have something to discuss."
Still dazed, Harry hesitated before turning to leave. He glanced at David, seeking reassurance.
Dumbledore waved him along. "David may return later."
As Harry stepped out, the door shut behind him, leaving the past and its ghosts within the room.