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Chapter Three: The Start of School
Lockhart sat in the Great Hall, attending the Start-of-Term Feast.
All around him, students whispered excitedly. Most of their eyes drifted towards him—curious, speculative. A new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor… and the famous Gilderoy Lockhart at that. They all seemed to wonder how long he would survive the so-called curse on the position.
To Lockhart's left sat Snape, who—as in the original timeline—was frowning deeply and looked rather distracted. To his right was Professor Flitwick. The tiny Charms professor, part-goblin by ancestry, had boosted his height by sitting on several thick books, a trick that left Lockhart genuinely puzzled. Why not just raise the chair instead?
Just then, the doors of the Hall swung open. Professor McGonagall strode in with the line of new first-years trailing behind her. The sight reminded Lockhart of a mother hen shepherding her chicks. The children looked around with wide eyes, brimming with curiosity; a few of the Muggle-borns seemed slightly overwhelmed by the castle's grandeur.
Then the Sorting Hat began its song—and Lockhart finally understood why Snape had silently cast a Muffliato Charm on himself when they'd met at the entrance. But now that the first-years were all assembled, Lockhart had to maintain the dignity of a professor. He had no choice but to endure the Hat's warbling.
"Welcome," said Dumbledore, candlelight glinting in his silver beard. "Welcome to a new school year at Hogwarts. I have a few words to say."
He cleared his throat. "We are very pleased to welcome a new member of staff."
"Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, is an exceptional wizard, and I am delighted to see him return to Hogwarts ten years after graduating."
Lockhart rose and gave a polished wave. A chorus of cheers broke out from groups of girls and enthusiastic fans of his books.
Then the Sorting began. One by one, each child stepped forward, placed the Hat on their head, and waited while it declared their House. Watching them, Lockhart found himself recalling his own first night at Hogwarts.
He had been born into a mixed family: his mother a witch, his father a Muggle, and himself the youngest of three. He was the only magical child—and being bright, handsome, and talented had earned him his mother's unreserved adoration. The knowledge that he alone possessed magic, unlike his sisters, fed his vanity like a weed sprouting thorns.
Young Lockhart had imagined that entering Hogwarts would be exactly like the films—walking down corridors while other students whispered excitedly about his extraordinary magical abilities. But Hogwarts was full of witches and wizards just like him… many far more capable. His imagined grand entrance never came. Every first-year had displayed magic long before arriving; there was nothing unusual about him.
This is not to say he was mediocre. His teachers agreed he had remarkable potential—intelligence, aptitude, and the capacity to achieve great things if he applied himself. Even if he did fall short of his boastful claims of becoming the youngest Minister for Magic in British history.
Sorted into Ravenclaw, Lockhart quickly earned high marks, but his ingrained arrogance—"achieve perfection or it isn't worth doing at all"—tormented him. He became increasingly dissatisfied with himself, and gradually he used his talents for shortcuts, laziness, and attention-seeking. He didn't study to grow—he studied to be admired. He longed for awards, recognition, applause.
He petitioned the Headmaster to start a school newspaper; nothing delighted him more than seeing his own name and picture in print. Although he wasn't very well-liked, he still achieved his goal: the whole school knew who he was, thanks to his constant attempts to draw attention.
When he finally left Hogwarts, the teachers and caretakers breathed a collective sigh of relief.
But it wasn't long before rumours of his "exploits" abroad began to spread. Tales of his bravery, his defeats of dangerous creatures and dark forces, grew more astonishing with every new story. To the public, it proved his courage and resilience.
The truth, however, was simple: Lockhart had discovered his true calling. He wasn't an evil wizard—just a lazy one. He focused his talents on a single area: memory magic. He perfected the complex Memory Charm, then sought out a dozen heroic witches and wizards, erased their recollections, and stole their stories. After each "adventure," he returned home and published a new book, complete with richly embellished details.
Then came the dream—a dream that wasn't merely a dream—and he awakened with memories of two lives intertwined.
The Sorting Ceremony was still underway when a wizard approached Snape and handed him a newspaper. Snape's eyes skimmed the headlines, and he immediately stood up and left the Hall. A short while later, the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall also departed.
Lockhart picked up the discarded newspaper. The headline read:
"Flying Car Baffles Muggles"
Below it was a moving photograph of a Ford Anglia merrily soaring through the sky.
Oh dear… poor Harry.
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