Starlight filtered through the clouds, scattering evenly across the Armenian forest.

Dappled shadows of trees intertwined with silver light, hinting at shimmering movements in the serene depths.

"A letter from Hogwarts! Thank Merlin! Gilderoy, you're a wizard!"

The woman sobbed with excitement. He saw a brimming pride in her eyes, a joy far surpassing any he'd witnessed before, so much so that he forgot to ask what Hogwarts was.

"Not Slytherin? Then... Ravenclaw!" The Hat announced loudly on his head, followed by thunderous applause.

"These spells? Nothing special, I learned them at home long ago..." A Slytherin first-year sneered with arrogance.

"Don't show off your petty cleverness in front of the Eagle Door Knocker, newbie. You can't fool the Eagle Door Knocker."

Several girls pushed the door open from the inside, looking at the curly-haired boy who was showing off in front of the bronze door knocker.

"...How many 'Outstanding' grades do I need to get before you let me join the club?"

"You're very clever," the Potions professor, starting to gain weight, tapped his pipe absentmindedly in his office, "but the 'Outstanding' evaluation is sometimes just a shackle for some wizards. You need to at least reach Evans' level..."

"What exactly are you studying for? Mr. Lockhart... there's more to life than just being number one. No one is a master of everything."

Amidst the Phoenix's melodious song, the old wizard with the crooked nose spoke gently, raising his hand to pat him on the shoulder.

"I founded the school newspaper, take a look... my name! In the school newspaper, look..."

"Lockhart, detention for a week! No graffiti on the Quidditch pitch!"

"Breakfast canceled! Canceled – Lockhart, get you and your pile of letters out of the Great Hall immediately!"

Amid the roars of several professors, a barrage of owls dropped pink letters and gracefully departed.

A small mountain made of love letters appeared at the Ravenclaw table. At the center of the mountain, the handsome boy's silver prefect badge was as radiant as his smile, contrasting sharply with the grim-faced professors at the staff table in the distance.

"Death Eaters attacked the wizarding district of Belfast, and by the time the Aurors arrived..."

"What's the Dark Lord? When I graduate, I'll defeat him and become the youngest Minister for Magic in history."

"The Dark Mark! Why at Hogwart—Where's that bastard Lockhart?!"

Above Hogwarts Castle, an eerie green magical mark bloomed, then... transformed into a huge portrait of a young wizard.

"Mr. Lockhart, ominous—I see ominous! If you want to escape the wings of death, you better stay far away from Hogwarts Castle and the British wizarding world. This is a little piece of advice from Cassandra's great-granddaughter... Ah, I sense something extremely dangerous..."

"That job at the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes is perfect for you. As long as you settle down and work hard for a few years, you're sure to make a career out of it—but traveling the world, writing books, fighting dark magic? These... sigh, well, if you still insist—"

The Ravenclaw Head of House saw the pride in his eyes and sighed softly.

"Dear Mr. Lockhart, we are very sorry, but your manuscript does not meet the requirements of our publishing house."

"Wait, you want to write these as books and publish them?! Put your face on the cover? Don't even think about it, I warn you, you better immediately—"

In the small town on the edge of the Armenian forest, the ugly old wizard angrily drew his wand, but the young man opposite him moved faster.

"Obliviate!"

"The story is quite wonderful, the response is very good, the first edition is all sold out!"

"Do you have any other stories? Flourish and Blotts said they are considering clearing a separate shelf for you."

"Obliviate!"

"Obliviate!"

"Hello, respected Mr. Lockhart, we are the editors of *The Quibbler*..."

The wooden door was blasted into fragments like foam by a spell, shattering the homeowner's past world along with it.

"This child... I entrust her to you, comrades from the magical world—now, erase my memories. If one day she can appear in front of the world openly, please remember to tell everyone that she once had a beautiful Russian name."

In the immense shadow cast by the Hyperion, the old man with the pipe smiled expansively.

Behind him, hundreds of Muggle workers and shipyard technicians gazed greedily at the behemoth at their side, as if wanting to imprint it in their dreams.

"Perhaps there's no need for me to pass the message on. Please, you must live well, sir. Obliviate."

"The commission is over, you are now free—"

"I volunteer to join—"

"Fulfill your promises, demons from Tiamat! Please, help me get these children out alive!"

"Humanity has existed for two hundred and fifty thousand years, but only recently..."

"The black-robed wizards under the Foundation will be under your command—"

"Special Containment Procedure-017, Marvolo Gaunt's Ring, temporarily unsealed—prepare for retrieval!"

A wizard hidden behind a mask tapped the magical watch on his wrist and whispered.

Voldemort's remnant soul withered under the breath of the Cerberus, the surroundings a mess.

The young wizard flashed a charming smile at the reporter, waving his hand modestly.

"A hero? No, I'm just a passing author."

Dumbledore looked a lot older: "Peter, why you?" "Let's cast the spell together, Gilderoy, you lead—"

"Welcome to the O5 Council, this is your Major Arcana, Mr. Hanged Man."

"Hanged Man, Tarot, Tarot... Ah, here it is—sacrifice, redemption, the continuation of justice..."

Hogwarts Library, pages turned, then flipped back.

"This is a multiple-choice question, understand? Lockhart!"

The Russian amazon was in a bad mood, but he suddenly had the urge to kiss her.

"Major Arcana, never do multiple-choice questions—"

"That's right, my book *Wanderings with Werewolves* wasn't my personal experience, the story prototype came from an old Armenian wizard, and I despicably used the Memory Charm on him to make the book sell better..." The blinding flash made it almost impossible for him to open his eyes.

"Lockhart? You little bastard, I don't need you to save me!"

"You don't even have the strength to stand up, yet you audaciously say you want to save werewolves, how ridiculous!"

In the depths of the dark dense forest, the moonlight began to become bright and clear.

Those mists, tree shadows, and moonlight faded away, eventually turning into the conversation from a few minutes ago.

"Miss Fool, think about it, for the past few decades, I've always wanted to try to do something, but the ending is always so unfamiliar."

"When I was studying at Hogwarts, I wanted to be the most dazzling star, but instead, I became a nightmare on campus. After graduation, I wanted to travel the world and become a great wizard, but 'Obliviate' and vanity made me live another way. I finally embarked on a great path, but that's not what I saw myself. Miss Fool, do you understand what I mean?"

"Mm."

"So, I want to... try to do something that only I can do... something correct, but not so worthwhile."

"Mm?"

"I'm clearly not the one who can change the world—I finally understand that now."

Lockhart breathed a sigh of relief, looking like he had a weight lifted off his shoulders. Since seeing Aileen, Grindelwald, and meeting so many great, respectable people who throw themselves into their dreams without hesitation, he finally understood the gap between him and the most dazzling stars, it was really... too far...

"However, I can create the time and opportunity for you to make decisions."

"The werewolves are gathered in this forest, and after they transform, they will unconsciously attack the nearest human."

"My strength is not strong, it is impossible to threaten them in the siege of a group of werewolves, which means they will not run away. Someone must stay here, otherwise all subsequent plans will be useless, I have to help you keep this possibility as much as possible."

"And with the howls of the werewolves, it will continue to summon werewolves hiding nearby. If the Tower, the Pope, plus you, and the Hyperion, can completely gather all the werewolves before dawn... the Hyperion has arrived, right? With the efficiency of the three of you, a conclusion can be drawn before noon today, whether as bait for the general attack, or a gathering place for sheltering people, these..."

"What about you? If I don't come back, or you can't hold on until the scheduled time?"

"Don't worry, I can at least run away before being bitten to death—"

Lockhart smiled easily, "There are still people waiting for me to go back, even if I become a werewolf, I won't commit suicide."

"...Before midnight. Anyway, I will definitely be back."

"Okay."

…………

At one point, the clouds in the sky drifted away.

This forest clearing was bathed in bright moonlight.

Terrible roars sounded all around, and the limbs of those sitting quietly by the tree stumps began to tremble.

Their heads were lengthening, and so were their bodies. Their shoulders arched up, and fur sprouted on their faces and hands, clearly visible in the moonlight. Their hands were twisted and deformed, quickly turning into claws, and between their hideous teeth, a terrifying chill seemed to flicker.

"It's starting—"

Lockhart placed a small hourglass next to his feet, stood up, and looked around at the terrifying scene, as if in a purgatory.

"Gilderoy Lockhart, you can also call me—the Hanged Man. Stand firm, don't get blown away too far."

He raised his wand and pointed it forward.

A powerful hurricane appeared out of thin air, repelling all the werewolves that pounced from the front of the cabin.

Magic is not just about the Stunning Spell.