Gilderoy Lockhart (Seeking Votes, Seeking Investment)

Gilderoy Lockhart stood outside the wooden door, a suitcase in hand.

His face wore his trademark charming smile, one he would display for the media at any moment.

Before arriving, Lockhart had confirmed that the owner of the wooden house was a wizard.

A powerful wizard!

Lockhart recalled the pillar of magical light he had seen—that was no ordinary wizard's power.

So Lockhart put on a friendly demeanor.

He believed no wizard could resist his smile, including the owner of this wooden house.

Of course, if it were a hostess, that would be even better. It was getting late, and Lockhart wouldn't mind having some fun with a charming witch.

The howling wind cut Lockhart's fantasy short. Though his wizard robes had warming charms, it still left him feeling a bit awkward.

The door did not open.

Lockhart was shut out!

"Hello? I'm..." Lockhart repeated his earlier words, knocking on the door as if to remind the other person, "Is anyone home?"

A long time passed again, with no sound coming from inside.

Just as Lockhart's smile could no longer hold, the door creaked open.

Lockhart hurriedly forced a smile, but it quickly turned into shock: "You? A child?"

Lockhart stared in surprise at Moriarty, who had opened the door.

Moriarty was wrapped in a thick woolen blanket, leaning on a staff.

The moment his eyes landed on the staff, Lockhart couldn't look away—it was absolutely the most unique and noble staff he had ever seen!

Moriarty watched Lockhart's expression change completely; it had to be said, it was utterly ridiculous.

Looking at Lockhart's gold-and-red wizard robes, they made him look just like a rooster, vivid and lifelike.

Moriarty said warmly, "Everything is as you see, Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart! Welcome to my home."

"Your home? You?"

Lockhart was stunned. Did that mean the magic earlier was also cast by him?

But Lockhart didn't ask outright; instead, he probed indirectly: "You mean, you live here alone?"

Of course not, but how could Moriarty admit that?

He took a few steps outside, clearing a path for Lockhart to enter.

"Haven't you noticed? I'm just like you—a Briton!"

"I've always lived in this little wooden house. I call it the 'Snow House'!"

This was, of course, a name Moriarty made up on the spot to further confuse Lockhart.

"Come in and take a look, Mr. Lockhart. I bet you'll love it here!"

"Ah, ah! Yes, thank you."

Lockhart only then noticed that Moriarty had gray hair and spoke fluent English.

To cover his embarrassment, he smiled and stepped inside.

Watching Lockhart enter, Moriarty's eyes sparkled with excitement.

He had been thinking about Gilderoy Lockhart, and the man himself suddenly appeared before him.

Oh, Merlin's beard.

Praise Slytherin!

A smile also crept onto Moriarty's face as he walked inside and closed the wooden door.

Hearing the door shut, Lockhart felt a bit uneasy. For some reason, unpleasant thoughts crossed his mind.

To probe Moriarty's background, Lockhart put on a familiar air.

"This is my first time in East Tibet. It's freezing cold. Have you always lived here?"

"Yes, aside from the cold weather, everything is great here. For example, you can avoid disasters."

Moriarty spoke with hidden meaning, deliberately steering Lockhart off track.

Sure enough, at the mention of disasters, Lockhart thought of Voldemort, and his body gave a violent shudder.

Then he forced a smile: "That's right, you're not wrong. European wizards rarely set foot in China, especially here in East Tibet."

"So, Mr. Lockhart, what brings you to East Tibet?"

"Speaking of that, I have to mention the novels I've written."

Lockhart pulled a stack of newspapers from his suitcase.

"Look at what The Daily Prophet says about me! There's a report on me here. Oh, my boy, you know The Daily Prophet, right?"

Moriarty waved his staff, and a copy of The Daily Prophet flew right before his eyes.

"Excellent Levitation Charm!" Lockhart exclaimed, now somewhat curious about Moriarty's identity.

Moriarty made a show of glancing at the Daily Prophet, and even though he knew Lockhart well, he still put on a puzzled expression.

"My apologies, I can't make out what this says."

"Well then," Lockhart said regretfully, gathering up all the newspapers. He explained, "As I mentioned before, I'm a writer, and of course, a wizard—we all are. I've come to the East Tibet for the yetis here! You see, every year I travel the world, getting up close and personal with dangerous magical creatures. I call it the Great Adventure..."

Lockhart's trademark smile returned to his face, and he launched into a grand speech with Moriarty, treating him like a fan.

Moriarty put on an interested expression, chiming in from time to time, but inwardly he understood—so it was because of the East Tibetan yeti that Lockhart had shown up.

Every heroic deed Lockhart had written about was someone else's story.

Lockhart had simply cast Memory Charms on those people, turning their experiences into his own unique adventures.

From the book "A Year with the East Tibetan Yeti," it could be inferred that Lockhart might have come to East Tibet before, or had contact with wizards here.

Since Lockhart was here now, it meant he was preparing to write that novel.

Once the novel was finished, Lockhart would surely promote and sell it in the wizarding world.

This was undoubtedly a good opportunity to enter the British Wizarding World.

A complete plan took shape in Moriarty's mind, and he began to lead the conversation: "Mr. Lockhart, hearing your stories, I'm in awe of your adventurous spirit and formidable strength. You just mentioned the East Tibetan yeti? As it happens, I know a great deal about this magical creature! I think I could offer you some help—I mean, could I go on an adventure with you?"

Moriarty acted excited and enthusiastic, just like a Little Wizard eager for adventure.

Lockhart had clearly seen this type of Little Wizard far too often. He habitually treated Moriarty as a real child, letting down the little guard he'd had.

"Of course, my child," Lockhart said with a wide grin. "If you can be of help, I'll write you into the book! Oh, by the way, I don't even know your name yet?"

"Just call me Moriarty. Now, Mr. Lockhart, may I have your ear? The East Tibetan yeti isn't easy to deal with—we need a detailed plan."

"Alright, you cautious lad," Lockhart said, pulling a set of coffee cups from his suitcase. "Whenever I gather material, I always prepare some coffee to keep me alert. A writer's habit, isn't it? Haha," Lockhart cracked a little joke at his own expense, then said to Moriarty, "A new blend from the Diagon Alley coffee shop! Care for some?"

Moriarty glanced at the suitcase—clearly enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm. Heaven knew what had been added to that cup of coffee meant for him, and besides, Moriarty didn't care for Lockhart's taste.

Declining with a shake of his head, Moriarty waved his wand and, from memory, conjured a light-and-shadow model of an East Tibetan yeti.

This display made Lockhart say with some envy, "Frightful talent, child."

Then, looking at the yeti model, which stood two or three meters tall, he frowned. "Looks like a shrunken-down troll."

"Yetis do share some similarities with trolls. Their thick white skin gives them very high magical resistance, they're incredibly fast, possess unbelievable brute strength, and most importantly: they can sometimes cast ice and snow magic, and they live in groups."

Moriarty had lived incognito in East Tibet for ten years, mastering a wealth of knowledge about yetis.

Even if Lockhart hadn't come, Moriarty would have sought revenge on the yetis sooner or later.

After hearing Moriarty's introduction, Lockhart found his coffee less appealing. He rested his chin on his hand and said, "Little Mr. Moriarty, you must understand that no one can just embark on an adventure at any moment. Er, I mean—are yetis... easy to get along with?"

Lockhart was well aware of his own abilities; he didn't dare fight a yeti.

Maybe after angering a yeti, he could try casting a Memory Charm on it to make it forget him?

Lockhart laughed bitterly to himself, mentally calculating how to end this trip gracefully.

His purpose in coming to East Tibet was simple: to find an East Tibetan yeti. If he could find one, it would be best to have some kind of encounter with it—that would undoubtedly add luster to his adventure stories. If he couldn't find one, he'd just treat it as a trip.

But when he noticed Moriarty staring at him with a strange look, Lockhart blushed a little.

He'd talked himself up to the skies, and now he was getting cold feet.

Then Moriarty said softly, "Get along? Yetis never communicate with humans, but they have one weakness—music!"

This was, of course, another lie from Moriarty. He had to find a way to keep Lockhart steady.

Lockhart took the bait. Sensing a turning point, his eyes went wide. "You mean music can affect or trouble yetis?"

"Oh, Mr. Lockhart, you're so quick-witted!" Moriarty praised. "Beautiful music puts yetis to sleep. You see, music is rare on the plateau, so only the wizards who live here know this weakness."

Lockhart grew excited. "Excellent! Thank Merlin! I happened to bring a violin with me this time!"

Moriarty watched Lockhart pull a brown violin from the suitcase, and the man seemed to ignite with energy.

He too was excited. "I'm amazed by your foresight, Mr. Lockhart! If possible, we should set out right now! A small yeti will appear around dusk—that's undoubtedly the best target to hunt!"

"Let's go," Lockhart said, downing his coffee in one gulp. "I've already thought of the title—I'll call it Playing the Violin with the East Tibetan Yeti!"

The two stepped outside, and Moriarty took the lead, navigating from memory.

The contract has been sent. Please invest with confidence.