After one and a half hour with him, Albus knew he should have tried to delegate somehow this task to Minerva. With so many students at Hogwarts, he vaguely remembered Lockhart as a Ravenclaw youngster who had one day tried to create a school newspaper. His academic record was best characterised as unremarkable: seven OWLS and four NEWTS. After his graduation, he had travelled outside the country like many wizards and witches today and had not garnered any attention before publishing his first book Break with A Banshee, which had quickly become a bestseller.
Albus had not personally read any of the nine books Lockhart had published so far, his numerous positions leaving him too little time for sensational reading. In his mind, he freely admitted he had been completely unprepared for the monster of narcissism and arrogance that had passed the gates of Hogwarts. As Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Dumbledore had met a lot of politicians in love with their own image, but Lockhart was beating all their efforts of self-magnification without much effort. He had greeted Dumbledore like he was doing him a favour by the simple act of being in his presence, and thorough the meeting had literally bombarded Albus with pointed suggestions how he would be able to do a more efficient job than him, if the fight against the forces of evil didn't take all his time.
What had happened to you, Gilderoy, thought Dumbledore. You were sorted in Ravenclaw, when did you develop this thirst of power and fame which are the priced qualities of Slytherin House?
Albus didn't know the answers to these questions, but he had ended this meeting with the knowledge Gilderoy Lockhart had to be stopped. No need to read any of his books to know they would be utter and complete nonsense, a fertile material to poison the minds of the young and the old of the British Isles. As Grand Sorcerer, it was his duty to act before it was too late, and Gilderoy had provided him the stick to beat him.
Albus was realist enough to know Lockhart had demanded an appointment in order to glorify himself in his next interview with the Daily Prophet, not because he wanted the Defence job. But he had officially made the demand, and Albus was going to grant him his wish. It would be the perfect means to demolish his fraudulent reputation and this extra-dimensioned ego. Moreover, it would provide to young Neville Longbottom the perfect example of how fame and celebrity could destroy someone. Kill two owls bearing bad the news with the same stone, to use a popular expression. Perhaps, even a third, as the Houses typically aligned with Ravenclaw at the Wizengamot had been far from pleased with him when their children had reported to their parents he had awarded unilaterally the House Cup to Gryffindor. Dirtying the name of Lockhart by revealing how far the rot had spread, one alumni of their own House, would force them back into far more pleasing dispositions.
Yes, concluded Albus. This plan was good, and would place his pieces in good position for the future events he had planned in the years to come. With Arthur Weasley about to pass with his faction several pro-Muggle laws, Albus was going to strike down a heavy blow to the pureblood cause. Defeat by defeat, the Dark and Grey factions were going to lose ground, until they had no choice but to stop their ridiculous attachment to obsolete traditions.
"The things I do for the Greater Good," smiled Albus. "Lemon drop, Fawkes?" The phoenix trilled in alarm, agitating vigorously his beak in a negative manner.
"Phoenixes not liking lemon are one of the things I will never understand." Sighed the Headmaster of Hogwarts.
After the last school year, Albus had hoped he would soon have sorbets of Elixir of Life instead of lemon, but the Philosopher Stone secret requirements had proven too Dark to handle it safely. Too bad. It was only a temporary reverse anyway, soon the men in his employ in the Netherlands would find a way to create one in service of the Light.
Standing up, Albus Dumbledore decided to communicate his decision to Minerva McGonagall as soon as he came back from this extraordinary ICW summit at Geneva. It seemed the French had a breach of the Statute of Secrecy on their hand, courtesy of the Exchequer, and Dumbledore was salivating at the idea of fuelling the flames against his most tenacious political opponents. The French, not the Exchequer.
The Chief Warlock was not worried about the latter for completely logical reasons. While individually skilled, after such an open action, the Dark Organisation would go back to the shadows and not move for the next decades. They always operated the same way. In time, they would pay for the death of Nicholas and his wife, of course. But it was a problem that would be dealt in due time. The French and quite a few other political enemies came first.
Rubbing his hands together in anticipation of the one-sided political match that was about to occur, Dumbledore took his wand and promptly made disappear the remnants of Lockhart books under the inquisitive eye of the former headmasters and headmistresses.
Then Fawkes flew over his head and Dumbledore seized him by the leg. Both phoenix and Headmaster disappeared in a column of fire.
14 July 1992, Gringotts Bank, London
"Gringotts is as silent as a tomb, these days." Affirmed Senior Accountant Grimjaw, posing his cup of ale after having gulped a sip of it.
"Can you blame our colleagues, Grimjaw?" Asked Senior Accountant Toughclaw. "After what happened at Brise-Roc, every clan we have in Europe fears he is next on the list!"
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