World Hopping With Gacha

I sat through yet another Defense Against the Dark Arts class, my patience wearing thinner by the minute. Lockhart's pearly white grin flashed across the room like a lighthouse beam, and his voice dripped with self-importance as he rambled about his so-called "heroic" exploits.

The final straw came when he handed out a quiz—not on defensive spells, not even on magical creatures, but on himself.

"Name my favorite color."

"How many times have I won Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award?"

"What is my greatest achievement according to Chapter 12 of Gadding with Ghouls?"

I stared at the parchment in disbelief. My fingers tightened around my quill as I suppressed the urge to hex him into oblivion.

"That's it," I muttered under my breath. "This narcissistic fraud is going down."

---

Later that night in the RoR, I set my plan into motion. Lockhart might have fooled the wizarding world, but he wasn't fooling me. His stories reeked of embellishment—and I know of his theft—and I was going to prove it.

"Alright," I said to myself. "Time to play dirty."

I activated Doppelganger, creating a clone of myself. The clone gave me a nod, awaiting my instructions.

"Alright, buddy, here's the plan," I said, leaning closer. "You're going undercover. We're going to dig up every scrap of dirt we can find on Lockhart, and for that, you'll need to change your appearance."

The clone nodded again and activated Shapeshifter, his body rippling like water as he transformed. His hair turned a shade of striking blonde, his eyes gleamed crimson, and his face sharpened into the refined, aristocratic features of William James Moriarty—the genius mathematician and criminal mastermind from Moriarty the Patriot.

I smirked. "Perfect. You'll blend right in with that face, and it'll lend you some extra credibility. Now, your mission is simple: visit every location mentioned in Lockhart's books, ask around, and find the real heroes behind his stories."

The clone gave me a sly grin and bowed slightly. "Consider it done."

---

The next day, while I attended my usual classes, my clone was hard at work. He started in a Village, questioning shopkeepers and bartenders about any encounters with Gilderoy Lockhart or the supposed events from his books.

Unsurprisingly, the stories didn't add up. The bartender rolled his eyes at the mention of Lockhart.

"That charlatan? Always waltzing in here, buying rounds of drinks, and bragging about how he saved a village from banshees. Funny thing, though—none of the locals ever saw him do it."

My clone jotted down the information and moved on to the next lead.

---

By the time evening rolled around, I was reviewing the intel my clone had gathered. He'd already debunked several of Lockhart's claims. The banshee? Actually defeated by an Aurors stationed there at the time.

The hag in Holidays with Hags? Turned out she'd been banished by a retired Curse-Breaker who lived in a nearby cottage.

"This is gold," I muttered, grinning as I reviewed the notes.

Garuda chimed in. "It seems your plan is working, Arthur. But what will you do with this information?"

"Oh, you'll see," I said, my grin widening. "I'm going to make sure Lockhart's fall from grace is as public and humiliating as possible."

---

The next stage of the plan involved using the Gryffindor common room rumor mill to plant seeds of doubt about Lockhart.

At breakfast the next morning, I casually brought up one of his books during a conversation with Hermione.

"Did you know the banshee story in Gadding with Ghouls isn't even his?" I said, keeping my tone light.

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Just something I heard from some older Students that they heard in Hogsmeade," I replied, shrugging. "Apparently, some Aurors were the ones who dealt with it. Lockhart just took the credit."

Ron snorted. "That doesn't surprise me. The bloke's all talk and no action."

Harry looked thoughtful. "You think he's a fraud?"

"Maybe," I said, pretending to be unsure. "But wouldn't it be interesting if someone looked into it?"

Hermione still looked skeptical, but the seed of doubt had been planted.

---

Meanwhile, my clone continued his investigation, this time venturing outside of Hogwarts. He tracked down locations from Lockhart's books.

In Ireland, he visited the site of the supposed encounter with a kelpie. The villagers there scoffed at the idea of Lockhart saving anyone.

"In fact," one elderly wizard said, "we're the ones who had to save him! The fool nearly got himself drowned trying to 'subdue' the kelpie with his paint-brush of a wand."

---

Back at Hogwarts, I decided to pay a visit to the library. Lockhart's books were front and center in the Defense Against the Dark Arts section, but I wasn't interested in rereading his drivel. Instead, I dug through the archives for any records of the events he'd written about.

It didn't take long to find discrepancies. The timeline of the hag incident didn't match up with Lockhart's claims, and the official report on the kelpie encounter listed a completely different wizard as the hero.

"This is almost too easy," I muttered, adding the notes to my growing pile of evidence.

---

By the end of the week, my clone had gathered enough dirt to bury Lockhart's reputation for good. The real heroes behind his stories had been identified, and their accounts painted a very different picture of the man who claimed to have vanquished monsters and saved lives.

Now came the fun part: exposing him.

---

I decided to start small, leaking bits of information to the Gryffindor common room gossip chain. By the end of the day, rumors were flying around the castle.

"Did you hear about the hag in Holidays with Hags? Apparently, Lockhart didn't even lift his wand."

"Yeah, and the kelpie story? Total fabrication. Some bloke in Ireland said Lockhart almost drowned trying to tame it!"

Even the Ravenclaws, who usually avoided such petty gossip, were starting to doubt their former housemate.

---

I wasn't done yet, though. During the next Defense Against the Dark Arts class, I decided to push Lockhart's buttons a little.

"Professor," I said, raising my hand, "could you tell us more about the hag incident in Holidays with Hags? It's such a fascinating story."

Lockhart beamed, clearly pleased by the attention. He launched into a flamboyant retelling of the tale, complete with exaggerated hand gestures.

"Funny," I said when he finished. "Because I heard a retired Curse-Breaker was the one who dealt with that hag."

The room went silent. Lockhart's smile faltered for a split second before he recovered.

"Ah, well, you must have been misinformed," he said, laughing nervously. "People often try to take credit for my accomplishments."

I didn't press further—yet. But the seed of doubt I had sown has now germinated, and Lockhart's days of basking in unearned glory were numbered.

"Tick tock, Lockhart," I thought to myself. "Your time is running out."

---Note

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