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On the last day of the Christmas holiday.

Gilderoy Lockhart sat in his study, looking at the repeatedly revised draft of his new book on the table. He frowned, crumpled the parchment into a ball, and tossed it aside, feeling inexplicably uneasy.

Ever since encountering several suspiciously behaving old wizards at a book signing at Flourish and Blotts a few days ago, who claimed to be his devoted fans wanting to get close, take pictures, and have heart-to-heart talks, Lockhart had been quite vigilant these past few days.

As an idol novelist, Gilderoy Lockhart was keenly aware of his fan base. His handsome appearance combined with exciting and practical magical adventure experiences were all crafted to satisfy the fantasies of housewives and naive young witches.

Perhaps there might occasionally be individual male book fans, but a group of proficient old wizards generally over fifty or sixty years old was clearly problematic – if he hadn't reacted quickly, he would almost have been kidnapped by those wizards of unknown origin.

"Could it be that some fellow's memory has returned, and he's hired people to take revenge?"

Gilderoy Lockhart stood up and looked at his works on the bookshelf, his fingers gliding over the spines one by one.

Although he was omnipotent in his "autobiographical novels" and had done many remarkable things, in reality, most of them were experiences that happened to other wizards. Lockhart had simply applied these stories to himself.

Of course, this wasn't ordinary plagiarism.

To ensure his books sold well, the stories were vivid and detailed as if he had personally experienced them, and to avoid troublesome copyright disputes, Gilderoy Lockhart's work was quite laborious.

Besides collecting folk tales everywhere, he also needed to track down wizards with exciting adventure stories, find their residences, and try to get close to them, understand how they did those things, and then use spells to quickly subdue those fellows and carefully erase their memories with a Memory Charm.

However…

If he wasn't mistaken, he was now being targeted by the same kind of people. The hunter had finally become the prey.

"It seems I need to lie low for a while…"

Thinking of this, Lockhart's gaze lingered on the "Order of Merlin, Third Class" placed in the most prominent position in the study.

"If I have the opportunity to return to Hogwarts to teach, it would be a good choice. My resume and experience are more than enough to teach some clueless little tykes – and no one would dare to act under Albus Dumbledore's nose. A brief teaching experience would also be very helpful for my future development."

"Come to think of it, if I could become the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, I would only need to designate my entire set of books as the only required textbook. Even if I don't release new books for the time being, perhaps the sales would be even higher and more stable…"

Gilderoy Lockhart's eyes grew brighter, and he finally found a safe way out.

If he continued to plagiarize other people's experiences, he would inevitably risk failure – retiring from writing and teaching was undoubtedly his best chance to go straight, earning both fame and Galleons.

From then on, he could finally live openly in the sunlight, no longer walking in the shadows of the world.

Just then…

Knock, knock, knock.

A rhythmic knock came from the front door of the downstairs living room.

Along with it, the voice of an old gentleman, somewhat hoarse.

"Hello, esteemed Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart, I am the editor of *The Quibbler*…"

!?

This voice seemed somewhat familiar…

Gilderoy Lockhart's pupils suddenly contracted, and he quickly drew his wand and went to the door.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember submitting anything to *The Quibbler*!"

"Please open the door, we are here to discuss commissioning articles – our editor-in-chief admires your talent very much."

"Sorry, I've decided to retire from writing for the time being!"

"Then at least let us do a brief interview, which can also give you a special report."

"I-I'm not very convenient right now… how about we make an appointment for tomorrow?"

Gilderoy Lockhart's breathing gradually became rapid, his wand held high, trying to remain calm.

He had made up his mind that as soon as these people left, he would immediately pack his bags and travel abroad – he would definitely not return here in the short term, it was too dangerous.

"…"

With the wizard's reply, the voice outside the door temporarily quieted down.

Just as Lockhart relaxed slightly, thinking that his delaying tactic had finally worked, and the other party was considering giving up temporarily and preparing to come for an interview tomorrow, he suddenly heard a helpless chuckle from outside the door.

"Then, I'll confirm one last time."

Unlike the previous gentleness, this time the tone vaguely carried a bit of proficiency and dangerous aura.

"Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart, are you really not going to open the door and chat?"

"Sorry, today is really not suitable…" Lockhart swallowed and replied nervously.

"Understood, please stand back a little, Mr. Lockhart."

"…W-Wait, what are you going to do?!"

"Bombarda Maxima!"

Bang!

Before Gilderoy Lockhart could finish speaking, he heard a hurried spell from outside the door. The next moment, the door of his house shattered into several pieces like a piece of foam board, flying through the living room and landing heavily on the floor.

Behind the dust and wood chips, stood a middle-aged wizard cloaked in a black turtleneck coat.

"I-Is it really necessary? I'm just an ordinary novelist…"

Gilderoy Lockhart looked at the old wizard at the door, sighed helplessly, spread his hands, and tried to squeeze out his hearty smile that had won the *Witch Weekly*'s Most Charming Smile Award five times.

"Actually, we can have a more friendly… Obliviate!"

As a master of the Memory Charm, Lockhart was most proud of his ability to cast spells quickly between smiles and words, and to accurately hit his opponent in small-scale wizard duels.

However…

"Expelliarmus!"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Protego!"

"Silver Shield Guardian!"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

As the beam of light from Gilderoy Lockhart's wand flew out, he heard at least five loud shouts from different directions around him. Three powerful spells accurately hit him, and Lockhart flew backward, hitting the armrest of the sofa in the living room, sliding down and curling up on the floor.

As for the wand in his hand, it had long flown high under the spell and landed in the corner by the stairs.