"I know your superior... no, I should say a major figure in the wizarding world, Tver Fawley!"
Lockhart was so anxious he could not even spare a thought for his disheveled hair.
After he had reported Karkaroff's situation to Tver, his contribution had earned him quite a comfortable period under the Aurors' close protection.
But that comfortable life had vanished once Voldemort was defeated, the Dark wizards were arrested, and the trials began.
Not only that, but as an Azkaban fugitive, even if his escape had not been voluntary, all that meant was that his jailbreak would be overlooked.
He still had sixteen years left in prison.
"Sorry." The Auror sitting across from him, who was in charge of handling Lockhart's case, glanced at his file. "I don't have the authority to contact Professor Fawley..."
"You can write to him!" Lockhart suggested urgently.
"Please. Every wizard in the world wants to write to Professor Fawley right now. No, not just wizards, muggles too. Do you really think my letter would make it into his hands?!"
With that, the Auror rolled his eyes in irritation.
He would have loved to exchange letters with Professor Fawley regularly, but who in the Ministry did not know that the professor had blocked all means of locating him?
Supposedly, the UK Joint Operations Office had even set up a dedicated correspondence room just to deal with the mountains of letters pouring in from all over the world.
Lockhart's eyes, however, shone with envy.
He had watched the livestream of that battle dozens of times. Every small movement Tver had made that day, every shift in his tone when he spoke, had been carved into Lockhart's mind.
As long as he was still breathing, his brain would keep replacing the protagonist of that battle with himself.
Now, hearing that Tver's fans were spread across the globe and even included muggles, the envy in his heart was about to burst.
To exaggerate a little, if envy could be converted into magical power, he would have had full confidence in going another round with Voldemort.
Heh, Voldemort was already dead anyway...
"Hey, wake up!" The Auror smacked Lockhart out of his beautiful fantasy.
"According to your original sentence, you'll have to return to Azkaban until 2013 before you're officially released..."
Seeing Lockhart's devastated expression, his tone softened a little.
"You don't need to worry too much. Azkaban has been rebuilt by certain people, and the Dementors have been driven out as well. It looks much better than before."
"Really? Is there truly no other way?" Lockhart asked miserably.
No matter how good Azkaban's conditions were, they certainly could not compare to living freely outside.
"There is."
A figure like a savior suddenly walked into the interrogation room. In Lockhart's eyes, it was no less than Merlin himself appearing in the flesh.
"Tver, I knew you wouldn't abandon me!" Lockhart sprang forward in one long stride, pouncing over like he was flying, and grabbed Tver's arm with perfect accuracy.
Tver shook his hand in disgust, only to find that he could not shake him off at once.
"If you keep disgusting me like this, I'll turn around and leave right now..."
Before he could finish, Lockhart swiftly let go, stood up straight, and smoothed out his clothes in one seamless motion, as if his earlier pitiful state had been an illusion.
"How may I be of service?" Lockhart asked with an elegant bow.
He had already realized that Tver must need him for something. But no matter what it was, even if it meant selling his backside, as long as it got him out of that damned Azkaban, he would absolutely...
He sized Tver up, went through a brief internal struggle, and decided that... actually, perhaps it was not entirely impossible.
Fortunately, Tver was not paying attention to Lockhart. Otherwise, he would have been too disgusted to stay.
"Professor Fawley, according to regulations, Lockhart still has sixteen years of prison time left..." the Auror said hesitantly.
"I know." Tver gently patted his shoulder, not intending to make things difficult for a diligent Auror.
"But Lockhart has another use now. I'll personally take custody of him. Dawlish won't make trouble for you."
"Another use?"
Realizing he did not have to sell his backside after all, Lockhart's eyes lit up. He eagerly followed Tver out of the interrogation room, then swaggered out of the Ministry of Magic.
...
London, inside a luxurious film studio.
"Director, does Mr. Fawley dislike us?" a production assistant asked, pouting in disappointment.
She had been thrilled to see her idol, only for that idol to appear briefly, chat with the director for a while, and then vanish with a whoosh.
If not for the footprint still left on the floor, she might have thought she had hallucinated because she liked Mr. Fawley too much.
"Don't say that. Mr. Fawley is only..."
Chris Columbus blinked, only then confirming that the person who had suddenly appeared was indeed Professor Fawley, who had just disappeared.
"Er... and this gentleman is?"
He looked in confusion at Tver, who had returned, and at Lockhart behind him, who wore a flawless smile despite clearly knowing nothing about the situation.
In that respect, this man was more professional than most people in the entertainment industry.
"Gilderoy Lockhart. This is the very... suitable person I mentioned earlier."
Chris immediately understood and looked Lockhart over with great satisfaction.
In preparation for the film, he had also met a few wizards who were permitted to make contact with them.
But even the wizards carefully selected by the British Ministry of Magic either did not understand how to put on a show and make the protagonist's image more compelling, or they carried deep-rooted arrogance and disdained offering them guidance on magical knowledge.
Lockhart, at least in the first respect, had already satisfied him.
"Don't worry. Lockhart... won't show you any arrogance. He'll be very happy to cooperate with your filming," Tver explained briefly.
In truth, the wizards the Ministry had sent before had not actually looked down on muggles. They simply could not understand why even a Lighting Charm needed every principle and mechanism explained.
Lockhart did not have that problem. His theoretical knowledge was extremely abundant, and he did not mind giving muggles long, detailed explanations of various Charms and magical stories. He could even make them sound very convincing.
"Film? What is film?" Lockhart asked with great interest.
For him right now, aside from Azkaban, anything could spark his curiosity.
Tver glanced around the studio, then pointed at the various filming equipment placed on the floor.
"It means using these cameras to record your story, then showing it to hundreds of millions of viewers."
"Hundreds of millions?!"
Lockhart felt all the blood in his body rush straight to his head. If not for how thick-skinned he was, his face might have exploded.