"Lockhart? Gilderoy Lockhart?" Rufus Scrimgeour's face went blank.
Are you kidding me? Can someone tell me what Gilderoy Lockhart has to do with being a master of Memory Magic?
Do any of you have the slightest idea what it takes to be called a master?
The Wizarding World was unlike the Eastern Xianxia World. There were no rigid levels of power here.
Wizards did not break through realms or level up. The closest thing they had to a Golden Core was probably the Obscurus formed when a young wizard forcibly suppressed their magical instincts.
That was... rather grim.
Adult wizards could not become Obscurials, and young wizards who became Obscurials could not live to adulthood.
If that wasn't a two-way dead end, what was?
And now you're telling me Lockhart, that fraud everyone in our little circle knows about, is a master of Memory Magic? Who are you trying to fool?
Scrimgeour had been busy lately. In Fudge's "war race" with the Goblins, the Aurors had borne the brunt of the work.
They had vicious Dark wizards to catch, and whenever unrest broke out somewhere in the Wizarding World, they had to put it down.
Come to think of it, Scrimgeour was rather grateful to Sirius Black.
For one thing, Sirius Black had recruited quite a few Aurors forced onto administrative leave. Scrimgeour had failed to protect them, and in the quiet of the night, he could not help thinking about them.
Those men had worked for the Auror Office. In the end, they had been working for him. It was a shame he lacked the power to protect them all.
But that was how things went.
After all, Scrimgeour still wanted to get ahead.
And as long as he did, he could not afford to fall out with Fudge.