Chapter 82: Gilderoy Lockhart

"Yes, I'm also a fan of Mr. Lockhart—I absolutely love his book *Traveling with Vampires*; I'm so envious of his experiences."

"What, making stickers of Mr. Lockhart? Of course, I've considered it. In fact, I'm planning a series of stickers featuring outstanding wizards, but I've been unable to decide."

"I'm torn between using Headmaster Dumbledore or Mr. Lockhart as the first representative wizard image."

Within a single day, a conversation from Ollivander's Wand Shop spread rapidly throughout Diagon Alley and reached Gilderoy Lockhart in Flourish and Blotts.

During a signing break, he approached the owner of Flourish and Blotts and asked casually, "Silven Ollivander—isn't that a perceptive child? But his name… is it the Ollivander I'm thinking of?"

"Yes, the wandmaker Ollivander."

The owner of Flourish and Blotts was a witch in her forties; upon hearing Silven mentioned, she said, "That boy has lived in Diagon Alley since he was very young—Garrick Ollivander is his grandfather. I never expected he'd be one of your fans."

"I'm equally surprised, though of course, it was predictable." Gilderoy Lockhart flashed his eight bright white teeth. "Another young wizard captivated by my adventures—what a delightful nuisance, wouldn't you say?"

Lockhart flicked his golden hair and, before the owner's breathing quickened, asked curiously, "But what exactly is this wand sticker he mentioned?"

"This one." The owner pulled out her wand and pointed to its tip, where a lifelike sphinx lazily rubbed against the shaft.

"It's just a decoration. Compared to the old plain-colored wands, this change is wonderful—it's like having a pet you carry everywhere, and your mood improves a lot."

"But you have to replace it every so often, or the sticker stops moving."

Lockhart stared at the sticker, lost in thought.

After a long while, he asked, "Are many people buying these?"

"Many," the owner said. "They're only two sickles each—almost everyone can afford them. Lately, there's been a queue outside Ollivander's Wand Shop every day."

"So everyone can see the sticker anytime?" Lockhart's eyes lit up like two bright bulbs as he realized something.

"Yes, I suppose so." The witch nodded, then glanced toward the rest area. "Mr. Lockhart, there are more fans outside—shouldn't we…?"

"Ah, yes, break's over." Lockhart stood, flashed his signature dazzling smile, and strode back into the bookstore hall.

The original bookshelves had been moved aside, replaced by a dozen large posters of Gilderoy Lockhart. Lockhart himself sat on a circular platform in the center of the posters, signing books for every wizard who came by.

Lines formed outside Flourish and Blotts, and lines formed outside Ollivander's Wand Shop. Wizards gathered eagerly, all with bright futures ahead.

At three-thirty in the afternoon, the signing ended.

"Don't worry, there'll be other chances."

Lockhart looked at those who had arrived late and gave his trademark smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, good news: tomorrow I will be signing copies of my autobiography, *The Magical Me*, here, until four-thirty in the afternoon—this is your perfect opportunity to get Gilderoy Lockhart's autograph!"

Cheers erupted from the crowd.

Gilderoy Lockhart retreated into Flourish and Blotts, curled his front golden hair with his fingers in front of the mirror.

"They're so enthusiastic—should I hold more signing events?"

A male wizard who had just entered heard this and his already weary face darkened further.

Three and a half hours of signing with a one-and-a-half-hour break, plus his slow, deliberately elegant signing pace—how could the line outside not be endless?

Yet he'd genuinely shouted "Don't push!" for three hours outside… those mad witches—this job was pure torture; he hoped no more signings would ever be held again.

But Lockhart didn't know what the clerk was thinking; upon seeing him, he was quite pleased and pulled a sealed envelope with gold-embossed cursive script from his pocket.

"Could you please deliver this to the wand shop… Silven Ollivander? I believe that's his name?"

Lockhart left through the back door, leaving the male wizard standing there cursing under his breath—but since Lockhart was now an important customer, the clerk had no choice but to go queue outside the wand shop, even if he dreaded it.

Afternoon.

"I'm truly sorry, Mr. Lockhart," Silven hurried over. "There were too many wizards queuing for the stickers—I couldn't leave, so I couldn't make it right away."

"No problem. I fully understand this kind of happy trouble." Lockhart still wore his warm, sunny smile, as if he'd waited three minutes, not three hours.

"I now have to spend five hours a day replying to letters that come like snowflakes—all from my admirers."

"That's because Mr. Lockhart is outstanding," Silven said. "By the way, I'm going to buy another set of your books."

"Another?" Lockhart sharply noticed this odd phrasing.

"Hogwarts has listed your books as textbooks," Silven said. "I already own a set, but they're all signed—I wouldn't dare take them to the chaotic school environment."

Lockhart's grin widened, barely holding onto his eight-tooth smile.

"No need to buy—I'll give you my complete collection, including tomorrow's release, *The Magical Me*—all signed, of course."

"Wow, really?"

"Of course," Lockhart said. "A small gift from a future professor to an outstanding student."

Silven smiled.

Honestly, pleasing Lockhart was far easier—and far more profitable—than pleasing a young witch; a few words saved him thirty-five Galleons.

As for whether Silven actually owned Lockhart's complete signed set… of course he didn't. Why would he waste Galleons on such nonsense?

But Lockhart didn't know—after all, not everyone had a grandfather who remembered every customer by name.

Still, what he'd just said was quite interesting.

"You just said… professor?" In Lockhart's expectant gaze, Silven asked the question he most wanted to hear.

"It's all those butterbeers—I meant to keep it secret."

Lockhart sighed. "But since you know—yes, this September, I will become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts."

"Oh, really? That's wonderful!" Silven said.

He was genuinely pleased.

Gilderoy Lockhart's value wasn't just thirty-five Galleons—Silven welcomed him as a professor immensely.

"Please keep it secret," Lockhart warned. "I want to surprise everyone at the right moment."

"I understand," Silven smiled. There were no *Daily Prophet* reporters here—this wasn't the right moment for a front-page headline.

(End of Chapter)