There were only a few days left of summer break. As a teacher—and wary of a possible ambush from Barty Crouch Jr.—Lockhart packed up his tent after leaving the Quidditch World Cup and Apparated to the outskirts of Hogwarts. From there, he alternated between flying and walking until he entered the castle.
No sooner had he stepped into his office than he received a message from the headmaster, asking him to come to the office.
Albus Dumbledore's office always seemed frozen in time.
The roaring fireplace gave off a warm, drowsy comfort. Portraits of past headmasters dozed off in their frames. Tables were cluttered with all sorts of strange trinkets whose purposes were unclear… Standing here again, Lockhart felt just as ignorant as he had eighteen years ago on his first visit.
"Gilderoy," Dumbledore came out from behind his desk. "I heard you encountered a real Death Eater at the World Cup. Are you alright? Even Crouch has been suspended for investigation."
Instead of sitting behind his desk, Dumbledore warmly invited Lockhart to sit on the sofa by the coffee table and poured him a cup of tea.
"Would you like some sugar or snacks, Gilderoy?"
Lockhart waved it off, took a sip of the tea, and wondered why Dumbledore seemed so attentive.
"Gilderoy," Dumbledore said again when Lockhart remained silent. "Time passes quickly. I still remember what you were like twelve years ago. And now—you've become someone capable of bearing great responsibility."
Puzzled by the sudden familiarity, Lockhart looked into Dumbledore's eyes. The pale blue gaze seemed almost transparent—Dumbledore had aged. Twelve years had left their mark on even this pillar of strength.
"Gilderoy, what happened after the match?" Dumbledore asked casually.
Lockhart felt a strange impulse to tell him everything—but years of caution made him choose only less important details.
"At the time, to avoid the chaos, I hid in the forest with some students," Lockhart said, carefully avoiding the truth about his attempt to kill Barty. "Then Barty Crouch Jr. cast the Dark Mark nearby. I went after him and fought him, but he escaped."
Dumbledore studied him over his glasses. "He escaped?"
Suddenly, Lockhart couldn't suppress his anger. "Headmaster! Are you suspecting me of being on the Death Eaters' side? If your 'Chosen One' and his friends hadn't interfered, I would have killed him—"
Mid-sentence, Lockhart realized something was wrong. He was usually composed—never this emotional.
"Gilderoy, calm down. Not my chosen one—our students," Dumbledore said quickly, reassuring him.
Dumbledore seemed deliberately trying to make him talk—exactly what Lockhart was trying to avoid.
Then it hit him.
There was something wrong with the tea.
Veritaserum.
Dumbledore continued gently, "Gilderoy, Voldemort may return soon. What are your plans?"
Lockhart's anger flared again, uncontrollable now:
"Dumbledore, I have no interest in joining Voldemort or siding with you against him! I despise his views on Muggles and half-bloods—but all I want is to stop his resurrection. If I fail, I'll resign immediately and leave. I value this job—but I value my life more! With my abilities, I can always go back to writing books and make a living!"
He raised his voice: "And I don't understand—what have I done to deserve being treated like this? Using Veritaserum on me?!"
…
"I'm sorry for the offense," Dumbledore said, meeting his gaze steadily. "But which side you stand on is important—especially at a time like this."
"I stand on no one's side! Satisfied now, Headmaster?" Lockhart leaned back, sneering. "Do you want me to drop my Occlumency too and show you everything?"
"I must apologize again, Gilderoy. These methods are… inelegant, but they come from trust," Dumbledore said calmly. "I've formed a small group—a place for like-minded wizards to share knowledge and help one another. To preserve its integrity, every member undergoes a small test. It's not just you."
He paused, then added, "In fact, everyone tested has already earned my trust beforehand."
Lockhart laughed sharply. "So those without Occlumency sit in your office and unknowingly get their minds read, then feel honored to be invited. And those who do know Occlumency get a dose of Veritaserum, spill everything, and join your little club?"
He stood up. "I'm not that desperate. And frankly, your personal charm isn't as overwhelming as you think."
Dumbledore remained unshaken, following his own rhythm. "Then, Gilderoy—may I have the honor of inviting you to join my small club?"
"Not a chance! I haven't forgiven you. And I won't take orders from someone who insults my dignity!"
"No, you misunderstand," Dumbledore said. "There is no hierarchy—just mutual support and discussion. Sometimes, small conveniences are offered. Nothing more."
The implication was clear: join, and Dumbledore would overlook certain actions.
"If you ever wish to leave, you won't be forced to stay."
He took out a small slip of paper and handed it to Lockhart. "This is where members gather. I hope you'll attend the next meeting."
"I haven't agreed!" Lockhart said, exasperated.
"Yes, yes—but I believe you've already made your decision," Dumbledore replied, still holding out the paper.
Lockhart snatched it, stormed to the door, then turned back. "Headmaster—if my life is threatened, I'll resign immediately and leave Hogwarts. Then you can go back to replacing Defense professors every year."
With that, he left without looking back.
Behind him, Dumbledore called out, "Gilderoy, I look forward to forging a steadfast camaraderie with you!"
Once out of sight, Lockhart dropped his angry expression and examined the paper.
A phoenix shimmered across it: 12 Grimmauld Place.
It radiated faint magic. Lockhart understood—through Dumbledore, he had been entrusted with one of the Order of the Phoenix's secrets. The note itself likely served as a communication tool, like a written two-way mirror.
He let out a quiet laugh.
A clever way to maintain internal loyalty. No wonder the Order never produces traitors. To fight Voldemort, they really have no shame.
At first, Lockhart thought Dumbledore suspected his unusual foresight. Now he realized—it was about choosing sides.
Fortunately, he had played the part well—feigning anger and grievance to cut off further questioning. Otherwise, who knew how much he might have revealed under Veritaserum.
The potion's effects hadn't fully worn off yet. He just wanted to find somewhere quiet and wait it out—he didn't even greet Professor McGonagall when he passed her.
"Nothing came out of him, and you just let him go?"
"Severus, we only need him on our side—and contributing. Some secrets are acceptable," Dumbledore said, seated behind his desk. "I sincerely hope you can get along with him. Since Lily… you haven't made any friends."
"Just take care of your precious Chosen One!" the man in black snapped before storming out.