Gilderoy Lockhart let out a long, quiet breath of relief as he stepped out of the Headmaster's office and began his descent down the spiraling stone staircase.
He was fairly certain Dumbledore hadn't used Legilimency on him, but the old wizard's decades of experience were formidable on their own. Dumbledore could read a person's soul simply by watching their micro-expressions. Fortunately, the Headmaster suspected nothing out of the ordinary, accepting Lockhart's polished explanations without pushing further. Had Dumbledore dug any deeper, explaining away certain discrepancies would have proved nearly impossible.
The truth was, when Lockhart first realized he had transmigrated into the Harry Potter universe—and into the body of the infamous fraud Gilderoy Lockhart—he had been utterly paralyzed by panic.
The original owner of this body had been a total charlatan. Every heroic feat recorded in his bestselling books had been stolen from more capable, modest wizards and witches, whose memories Lockhart had systematically wiped to claim their glory as his own.
To give credit where it was due, perfecting a Memory Charm capable of selectively erasing specific years of a person's life without leaving them brain-damaged took genuine finesse. In that narrow sense, the Sorting Hat placing him in Ravenclaw hadn't been an entire mistake. But beyond that single, sinister talent? The original Gilderoy Lockhart was utterly useless. Take away his neat penmanship and dashing smile, and there was virtually nothing of substance underneath.
He had ridden a wave of stolen triumphs to meteoric fame, amassing thousands of devoted admirers ranging from young Hermione Granger to Molly Weasley. Yet, behind the handsome façade, he possessed zero practical magical skill. In the original timeline, his complete lack of competence was laid bare within weeks of taking the Hogwarts teaching post.
Worse still was his personality. Had he possessed the self-awareness to play it safe, he might have preserved his reputation for years. Instead, his fragile ego drove him to constantly attempt grand spellwork at others' expense, rapidly alienating every student and professor in the castle. By the time his own backfiring spell left him an amnesiac patient in St. Mungo's, the entire school had celebrated his downfall.
Fortunately, the current Lockhart hadn't reached that point of ruin. The assets he inherited were substantial: an impossibly handsome face, fame, mastery over Memory Charms, and a small fortune accumulated from royalties.
Naturally, the transmigrated soul had endured a severe existential crisis upon arrival. But after weeks of deliberation, he made a calculated gamble: he would accept Dumbledore's offer to teach at Hogwarts.
He knew full well that the Defense Against the Dark Arts post was cursed, but remaining on his current path meant guaranteed exposure sooner or later. If he wanted to break free from the trap of fabricating his life, he needed to leverage his current status to build real, lasting power while he still had the chance.
The fundamental issue was his magical capability. The original Lockhart's spellwork was a disaster. Beyond Memory Charms, his proficiency with everyday charms, defensive spells, and counter-curse work was shockingly poor—essentially that of an incompetent squib with a wand. In the past, whenever he attempted practical magic under scrutiny, his illusion crumbled within three days, forcing him to make a humiliating retreat.
Living a normal life in the magical world with that level of skill was impossible. He desperately needed a transition period to rebuild his magical foundation—and even then, he had to accept that his practical magic might lag behind a talented Hogwarts seventh-year for quite some time.
So Lockhart posed a fundamental question to himself: What career path actually fits a man like me?
What role suits someone who lacks deep academic training, possesses a shameless disregard for ethics, craves constant attention, and has nothing to offer beyond a pristine public image and immense fame?
The answer was painfully obvious.
I should become Minister for Magic.
Politics was the only arena where a thick skin and a calculating heart were primary qualifications, and where a lack of practical knowledge was rarely a handicap—in fact, it was often an asset. As Mark Twain famously quipped, "All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence, and then success is sure."
Once he set his sights on the Ministry, Lockhart's anxiety gave way to clear-headed strategy.
The office of the Minister for Magic was an incredible locus of power. In the British wizarding world, the Minister did not merely executive policy; they frequently held immense sway over the Wizengamot, effectively wielding executive, legislative, and judicial influence all at once. Even an incompetent fool like Cornelius Fudge had managed to award himself an Order of Merlin, First Class.
Because the position was so lucrative, the competition was fierce, packed with ambitious political operatives and idealists alike. Lockhart had a head start with his public celebrity, but celebrity alone would not win him the office. He needed political allies, institutional backing, a loyal voting demographic, and credibility within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
That was precisely why he had accepted the dangerous post at Hogwarts, despite knowing the Chamber of Secrets was due to be opened this year.
Hogwarts was the beating heart of British magical society. Nearly every influential wizarding family had children walking its corridors. To build a lasting political base among the next generation, Lockhart needed to project an image of brave leadership. Facing the cursed post head-on was a risk, but it was one he only had to endure for a single academic year.
If he could survive the year unscathed, he could smoothly transition into the Ministry—perhaps starting as an Obliviator in the Department of Magical Accidents and Disasters—and launch his political career from inside the establishment.
As for the inevitable rise of Voldemort... since the war was coming regardless, his best move was to position himself firmly on the side of the Light from the very beginning. The risk was enormous, but so were the rewards.
With his foreknowledge of future events, he could navigate the chaos following Harry Potter's battle against the Dark Lord, maneuver through the political vacuum, and potentially step in to replace Rufus Scrimgeour when the time was right.
Once he consolidated power and extracted everything he needed from the role, he could eventually hand the Ministry over to Hermione Granger—who was already one of his biggest fans—and pull the strings from behind the scenes.
Whether Dumbledore suspected any of this was largely irrelevant. Dumbledore's primary focus was preparing Harry Potter, the Savior, for Voldemort's eventual return. As long as Lockhart didn't derail that central objective, the Headmaster would likely tolerate a few personal ambitions on the side.
Therefore, Lockhart's plan for the upcoming school year boiled down to three core objectives:
Perform adequately as a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and establish real authority among the students.
Protect his own life—specifically avoiding getting killed by a Basilisk.
Rapidly improve his practical magic so he wasn't relying solely on Memory Charms.
He needed to prepare his lesson plans meticulously. Unlike his predecessor, he couldn't afford a single embarrassing blunder in front of the class. He intended to keep his pristine reputation intact all year long.
But first, he needed to return home, put his mother's mind at ease, and prepare for the task Dumbledore had assigned him.
It was his very first official duty for Hogwarts, and Lockhart had no intention of messing it up.