Chapter 1

First, Dumbledore knew that Gilderoy Lockhart was a fraud. Second, Loha also knew that Lockhart was a fraud, because he had transmigrated into Lockhart's body. Now the problem was that Dumbledore intended to invite him to Hogwarts as a negative example, while Loha—a fraud who couldn't even cast the simplest magic—only wanted to lie flat and enjoy the vast family fortune accumulated by the original owner. But in the end, Loha still went to Hogwarts to serve as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Weren't the magical mansion and the gold vaults piled high with Galleons appealing enough? Or couldn't the achievement of a dozen bestselling books providing a continuous stream of royalties satisfy him? Or were Snape and Voldemort—who were constantly eyeing his position—not terrifying? No, none of that was why. It was because Dumbledore had frog-marched Loha to the school! So... he just had to find a way to muddle through this one-year term, and in a year, this lord would be free!

"Hurry up, won't you~"

A werewolf! A terrifying werewolf! In the Białowieża Forest, at the Crabbe family's Flobberworm farm, the moonlight was like water.

Ron, who was all alone here at this moment, didn't feel lonely at all. Although the professor and his little friends were as motionless as statues, he was 100% sure they were right there! This lack of loneliness also came from his Patronus Charm; he cast his Patronus toward the sky, faintly able to sense the other guys...

Commander Liu didn't reply to him, instead observing carefully. If those Japanese devils in the woods had already made their deployments, there was only two or three hundred meters of flat ground ahead. Once they charged over, if no one resisted, it would be a matter of just a minute or two. Huang Feng didn't have many troops left here now. The Flying Tigers had already left, and the other two regular battalions had also gone off to do bandit-suppression work.

As for the so-called "Single Leaf Pursuing Soul Maple," it was just something he had chanted on the spur of the moment to act mysterious and scare them. Didn't the protagonists in those martial arts novels always do that before taking revenge? He might as well put on a mysterious front and give them a psychological blow right away.

The plane took off and gradually leveled out. Shi Fan learned from Zhuo Sini that this trip to Yanjing was to attend the International Exhibition Center's cosmetics trade show, where they would introduce the company's products to domestic and foreign clients and sign intended orders.

Qiao Jingya had the servants withdraw first, then thought about greeting Fang Hua: "Fang..." She said one word, but suddenly didn't know what to call Fang Hua anymore. Calling him Lord Fang seemed overly distant, while calling him directly by name lacked decorum, leaving Qiao Jingya rather conflicted.

But the sudden appearance of Xuan Cang was different, and his strength was even more unexpected than anticipated. No one present could match him; unless the sect master of the Senluo Mountains arrived in person, he would inevitably take whatever he wanted.

Would there be some late night without his company when she recalled scenes from her childhood and wept silently in the dark, just like now?

Estimating the time, only two days had passed. Shi Fan began to figure out how to handle the aftermath. Once other people on the boat found out that he had killed Hang Wenmao, it would inevitably stir up a commotion, which would be detrimental to his journey to Feiye City. The best way was to keep everyone from knowing that Hang Wenmao was already dead.

"I'm afraid there is no safer place in this world than here!" Having assumed the mantle of Hokage, Uzumaki Naruto's solemn face rarely revealed a trace of a smile.

Qīng Dānzi fiercely threw away the Condensation Pill in his hand. Today, he finally learned that there was always someone better, and a heaven beyond the heavens.

Meiqi still hadn't called me, and I had no idea how the driver's investigation was going. I was truly anxious, but too embarrassed to call her back, so I simply had to endure it. As soon as I reached my front door, a message notification popped up from the Death Live Broadcast Station app. I hurriedly opened it, and a smile immediately broke out on my face.

Zhang Mingyu's gaze swept over those seven or eight still rather youthful faces, finally landing on Han Jinlong's face, and he said disdainfully, "White Hair, is it? Very good, truly very good!" As he spoke, a trace of a sinister, eerie sneer appeared on his face.

Yet when it came to some rather mysterious and confidential information, Ji Changfeng couldn't see through a single piece of it, concluding only that detection data wasn't omnipotent—though knowing this much was already quite enough.

"Is that your house ahead?" she lifted the side curtain of the bridal sedan chair, looked outside, and said.

After the banquet started, everyone chatted and laughed. Originally, after dinner, I had wanted to let Yang Yi and Mei'er apologize to Fang Xi in private. As for Yu Cheng's business, he would just have to figure it out himself; I didn't have the stomach to deal with it anyway.

"These are models of the large flying secret treasures from our Weapon Forging Tower. I wonder which kind the young hero would like?" Ling Shangfeng's eyes narrowed; these items were merely at the airship level.

With that, he hung up the phone and continued browsing the internet to check tomorrow's schedule for the superstar Zhao Yumeng in Jincheng. Today, he had already figured out that Zhao Yumeng's movie meet-and-greet would be at North River University tomorrow, and then he planned to check which hotel Zhao Yumeng would be staying at in Jincheng tomorrow night.

Swimsuit Beauties and Dumbledore

"Whoa—"

Just how thrilling moving photos in the magical world were, and how fanatical witch fans in the magical world were, Loha finally witnessed it firsthand.

At this moment, holding that extremely incongruous photo in his hand, he couldn't help swallowing hard. Even though he lived all alone in a massive magical mansion, he still couldn't resist checking his left and right to make sure no one was around.

Clearly, there wouldn't be anyone else.

A house protected by powerful defensive magic—even if certain wizards could turn into bugs—couldn't fly in.

"I hope you can instruct me on how to deal with the pests in my house. That thing crawls onto my body and itches so, so much..."

Reading the contents of a fan letter, he pinched the bridge of his nose, doing his best to look solemn, while rapidly searching through the memories of the original Lockhart for a way to deal with such vermin.

Yes. Loha had translocated! He had translocated into Gilderoy Lockhart. Completely different from his image in the movies, in the year Harry Potter was in his second year at Hogwarts, Lockhart was only twenty-seven years old this year, having graduated from Hogwarts just nine years ago.

In these short nine years, Lockhart—who came from a humble half-blood wizard family—had traveled all over the world, personally dealt with more than a dozen powerful wizards, stolen their experiences, organized, compiled, and marketed over a dozen bestselling books, and become an internationally renowned author.

*Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests*, *The Gilderoy Lockhart Series*, *Break with a Banshee*, *Ghouls with Ghibli*, *Holidays with Hags*, *Trolls with Trolls*, *Voyages with Vampires*, *Wanderings with Werewolves*, *Magical Me*, etc.

Every single book had brought him a massive amount of royalties, and such perfectly combined professional and entertaining works could be expected to continuously earn him Galleons for the rest of his life.

Not only that, but Lockhart was also adept at socializing and managing his network—from Rita Skeeter, the renowned senior journalist for the British wizarding newspaper *The Daily Prophet*, all the way to chieftains of distant African tribes, the good karma he had cultivated was simply too vast to count.

Recipient of the Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, five-time winner of *Witch Weekly*'s Most-Charm-Smile Award...

He was even running a luxury-grade shampoo brand.

Hiss~ Such a figure. If he were allowed to live another few decades, what kind of scene would that be? Headmaster of a magic school? Minister for Magic? Or even Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards?

Loha didn't know. Because right now, he *was* Lockhart. He only knew that even if he intended to spend the rest of his life doing nothing and lying flat to enjoy everything managed by his predecessor, the secret of him being a fake must absolute never be let out to anyone!

His mind was currently a tangled mess of chaotic memories; the most basic concentration required for casting spells was completely beyond him, and he couldn't even perform the most fundamental spells like the Unlocking Charm. He was even more useless than the original Lockhart, who only knew the Memory Charm.

After pondering for a moment, Loha picked up a gilded quill, dipped it in ink, and let the muscle memory of his predecessor guide him as he imitated the original's handwriting to reply to this intensely passionate fan on stationery.

This fan came from a pure-blood wizard family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and wielded enormous influence within her own circles.

"...I am determined to compile a monumental masterpiece unlike anything in the history of the wizarding world, even if it requires consuming vast amounts of energy and time—perhaps ten years? Twenty years? I do not care; I believe this is the mission due to me as the most learned and knowledgeable person in the magical world..."

"...Such a long period of silence may cause many people to forget me, but it is worth it! For I know that history will permanently remember my name because of my great enterprise..."

With that, he would have an excuse to hole up and do nothing. My obsessive fan. Help me spread the word.

Loha's lips curled up slightly, very satisfied. He folded the stationery, selected a hormone-packed handsome photo from the large pile of promotional pictures prepared by his predecessor, tucked it into the envelope, fed the owl a little, and entrusted it with delivering his reply.

"Perfect!"

Loha stretched, walked over to the full-length mirror, and admired his own appearance.

To have become the most famous bestselling author in the magical world at present, aside from those substantial and entertaining works, he probably owed a great deal to his own handsome looks.

Handsome enough to reach the level of a universal heartthrob, a pair of clean, crystalline sapphire-blue eyes that seemed full of wisdom, coupled with exquisitely styled golden hair and colorful, luxurious wizard robes...

Such an image... People would easily associate him with the most powerful wizard in the world—Dumbledore, who also had blue eyes and liked to wear colorful wizard robes—and imagine that Dumbledore must have looked just like this when he was young.

Yes, this was Lockhart's cunning scheme. He had deeply studied Dumbledore's image from his youth.

"Perfect!"

He flashed the signature charming smile that could captivate thousands of witches at the mirror.

Then his smile vanished instantly. Because he looked on in horror as a tall figure appeared right behind him in the full-length mirror.

Also with sapphire-blue eyes, also wearing purple wizard robes...

" Dum—" "Dumbledore?"

Loha gasped, turning his head in disbelief to look at the man.

He was royally screwed! He figured he knew far better than Lockhart just how terrifying the person before him was. The only thought flashing through his mind at that moment was—*Legilimency*!

It was over. Dumbledore would effortlessly pluck everything from his scrambled thoughts and discover that he was a transmigrator! Casting Legilimency at any time and in any place—that was practically the stereotypical impression of Dumbledore he had formed from reading web novels in his past life.

"Gilderoy Lockhart..." Dumbledore's expression was gentle, yet carried an indescribable majesty. "I waited for you in the Headmaster's office for a whole day. I should think you wouldn't still be at home at this hour."

"Ah?"

Loha panicked slightly, hurriedly searching through the original's memories, and finally figured out the situation.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts post at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had long been rumored to be cursed, and the professor who had served a few months ago, Quirinus Quirrell, had even died mysteriously, leaving Dumbledore barely able to find any wizard willing to take on the professorship.

Of course, Lockhart hadn't been willing either. His life was already successful enough; there was no need for him to run off to a school to teach. Yet Dumbledore was simply too adept at bewitching minds; he had hinted that becoming the teacher of the "Boy Who Lived," Harry Potter, would lay the foundation for Lockhart's soaring fame—an irresistible temptation for the original Lockhart.

The original Lockhart had agreed. And now school was about to start!

Ha~ Was it still too late to back out now? Loha clearly knew what kind of terrifying plight awaited a good-for-nothing like him—who couldn't cast a single spell—if he ran into a Hogwarts coveted by Voldemort.

He looked at Dumbledore's stern expression and opened his mouth, wondering if this angry old man would kill him if he spoke out.

"Yes, I was just packing my things."

He did his best to make his smile look sincere.

Dumbledore simply looked at him calmly. "I'll wait right here for you."

Loha felt that the process of taking up his post as a Hogwarts professor ought to be described as an armed escort.

With one hand gripping his arm and the other waving his wand to cast Apparition, Dumbledore had brought him directly from his front door into the Hogwarts Headmaster's office.

There was truly no worse experience than this. The frantic dizziness brought on by Apparition, churning together with his already scrambled memories, made him feel so nauseous he wanted to vomit. Fortunately, he held it in, narrowly avoiding throwing up all over Dumbledore. Otherwise, he really would have died young.

The moment his feet touched solid ground, Loha all but collapsed weakly onto the floor, panting heavily as his heart pounded against his ribs as if it wanted to leap out of his throat. His suitcase slipped from his hand and popped open, clothes and items spilling out in a messy heap.

Disheveled. Utterly disheveled.

"I should think that someone who travels the magical world year-round would not present such an unseemly spectacle." Dumbledore's voice seemed to drift from a distant place.

!!! A jolt ran through Loha, instantly clearing his mind. He knew full well how someone without any remaining utility would be treated. Dumbledore was by no means a warm and tender soul—at least, certainly not toward him.

Loha didn't reply to Dumbledore, simply lowering his head to pack his luggage. His brain had never operated at such high speeds before. He didn't know why Dumbledore hadn't cast *Legilimency* on him—perhaps out of contempt, or perhaps because he found his messy thoughts too repulsive to risk contaminating his own mind—but whatever the reason, it was clearly a favorable situation.

Dumbledore had lowered his guard, which meant he had to guard this secret even more carefully. Thus: demonstrate self-worth and win the other party's approval. Survive it! Hunker down! The Defense Against the Dark Arts professorship was only for a single year; once he made it through, he could return to his wealthy life.

Taking advantage of the time spent packing, Loha finally entered the zone completely. No, he *was* Gilderoy Lockhart! Yes, he was Gilderoy Lockhart! Whoever asked, he was Lockhart!

He knew all too well what his sole advantage was—the sheer aura of pretension that came with being an "internationally renowned figure and author, recipient of the Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of *Witch Weekly*'s Most-Charm-Smile Award"!

At the same time, he had figured out that this aura was actually composed of "extraordinary self-confidence," "extraordinary insight," and "a confident smile that feared no difficulties whatsoever."

Come on! Meet the first challenge of his post-transmigration life!

Lockhart rapidly gathered the information in his mind, analyzed and cataloged it, and slowly stood up.

"There are always unexpected events in life, aren't there?"

He placed several suitcases neatly by the wall, then flashed his signature brilliant smile and shrugged at Dumbledore. "You have no idea what I've been through these past few days."

Dumbledore clearly had not the slightest interest in what he had been through, simply walking over to sit behind his desk and instructing the moving figures in the past headmasters' portraits on the wall to fetch Deputy Headmistress Professor McGonagall.

"Oh, I haven't slept in days..."

Lockhart did his best to project his persona, casually gesturing toward the high-backed chair opposite the desk. Seeing that Dumbledore didn't object, he swept his purple robes with an elegant flourish and sat down, holding forth eloquently. "You know, I understand Defense Against the Dark Arts so thoroughly; I've dueled with banshees, subdued ghouls, hags, trolls, vampires, werewolves, yetis..."

Dumbledore raised his eyelids to look at him, sighed with a hint of helplessness, crossed his hands on the desk, and finally deigned to look squarely at his lengthy spiel. "What are you trying to convey?"

Lockhart grinned. "I understand too much, to the point where I don't know how to choose which contents to use as teaching examples. You know, my experiences are simply too rich."

"I've been pondering lesson plans all these past days, to the point of losing track of time." He gestured grandly with both hands. "Merlin's beard, no one understands Defense Against the Dark Arts better than me!"

The old man's expression turned peculiar. Although saying such a thing was rather arrogant, well—you're showing off about this in front of *me*? The figures in the headmasters' portraits on the wall were all snickering.

Professor McGonagall arrived very quickly. Upon seeing Lockhart, she wore a stiff face, seemingly none too pleased with this professor Dumbledore had chosen. Of course, Lockhart's identical purple robes to Dumbledore's also made her expression rather difficult to maintain.

As the saying goes, wearing the same outfit isn't scary; whoever is ugly is embarrassed. Well, neither was ugly. It was just that looking at Dumbledore's aged appearance while recalling his glorious youth made it hard not to sigh with emotion.

Dumbledore nodded at her, signaling her to sit down, before looking back at Lockhart with a scrutinizing gaze. "Very well. Since you believe you are the most suitable candidate for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and have spent sufficient time pondering it, I would like to know what wonderful insights you can bring to the young wizards?"

This was clearly something Professor McGonagall also wished to know; after sitting down, she watched him with an intensely probing gaze.

The main event had arrived. Yet Loha wasn't flustered at all. In fact, he felt that sitting in the chair was hindering his delivery, so he stood up with passion.

"Magic with more of its original flavor!" "Magic with a deeper, more enduring history!" "Magic that comes closer to the true life of the magical world!"

Lockhart swung his fist emphatically. "Yes, magic with more everyday relevance, Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall—you both know I graduated from Ravenclaw House, and I experienced the most thorough academic-style education here. Yet when I traveled through the magical world, I discovered that the more traditional and useful magic in this world wasn't what I had studied."

Dumbledore looked at Lockhart in some surprise, nodding slightly as if he had developed a sliver of anticipation.

Professor McGonagall, on the other hand, felt anger rise on her face, thinking that this fellow who had been full of hot air back in his student days actually dared to say such a thing—wasn't this a direct negation of Hogwarts' educational curriculum all along?

"I'll give you a few examples!" Professor McGonagall was just about to speak, but upon hearing this, she pressed her lips together and suppressed the agitation in her heart.

"Sometimes we are forced to face monsters maliciously summoned by certain wizards..."