"Lockhart, You-Know-Who is dead. The entire Wizarding World knows he's dead.
Harry Potter defeated him. He died in that attack."
Fudge raised his head and stared straight at Gilderoy Lockhart. The enemy of his enemy was his friend. If Voldemort really had returned, there was no telling whether his Death Eaters would join forces with the Goblins of Gringotts.
He couldn't allow that.
Besides, Gilderoy Lockhart had nothing but his word. He hadn't even seen Voldemort return with his own eyes. He was making this claim based on a single Werewolf's memory.
Lockhart had worked at the Ministry of Magic for some time now, long enough for Fudge to get to know him thoroughly.
As a master of Memory Magic, Lockhart wasn't all ambition and no ability. But he really did love the spotlight.
Whenever the Obliviator Headquarters finished an assignment, he would switch into "patrol" mode and roam the Ministry building.
He looked like an angler who had caught nothing for ages, then suddenly landed a monster.
Naturally, he had to spend the next three days "getting lost" so everyone could see his catch. Anything less would hardly justify all the bait he had thrown in.
Lockhart liked talking to the Ministry's female employees, mainly because the men barely paid him any attention.
Most of his fans were witches, too.
With fans, stories, and even a freshly minted "triumph" to boast about, Lockhart's following at the Ministry grew remarkably fast.
Few masters of magic were as "approachable" as Lockhart.
They had their own work and magic to study. Who had time to parade around the Ministry like Lockhart, regaling female fans with tales of their "glorious exploits"?
Someone like that was easy to handle. Then again, any Wizard without political instincts was easy to handle.
"Minister, I guarantee that