According to his plan, Lockhart spent two days visiting the Muggle families of the twelve future young wizards, and he won them all over, not missing a single one.
His good image, excellent eloquence, and the charisma Lockhart painstakingly maintained all added points in his favor with these parents.
The wealthy cared about their children's 'potential' to enter the magical world, the middle class cared about the connections their children might make, and the poor only cared if 'this skill' could help their children earn a living—Lockhart had mastered all these angles.
Colin Creevey, in particular, had a father who stubbornly demanded Lockhart'show some magic.' After witnessing it firsthand, he was overjoyed, hugged his son, and began inquiring about Hogwarts scholarships.
"Anyway, it's better than delivering milk," he told Lockhart.
This kind of 'a penny can stump a hero' remark made Lockhart sigh, realizing that class distinctions exist in every world.
"Come find me when you get to Hogwarts," he told Colin Creevey. "I'll teach you how to brew magical photo potion so the people in your camera can move too."
"Mhm, mhm!" Colin stared wide-eyed at the moving photos in *Magical Me*.
Having met twelve people and given out twelve autobiographies, Lockhart had taken another solid, small step on his path to expanding his influence.
As for the'small change' of various gifts he handed out, Lockhart didn't care at all.
Based on the estimated sizes of various magical towns, St. Mungo's Hospital, and the Ministry of Magic, the number of registered wizards in England and Scotland was not large, perhaps only a few thousand, and even with Wales and Ireland, it was less than ten thousand.
A population of less than ten thousand wizards was truly like a tiny pinch of pepper sprinkled into a barrel of noodle soup compared to Britain's 65 million people—it couldn't even add much flavor.
Lockhart had published several books in total, with combined sales barely reaching fifty thousand, and that was with international sales. The royalties he received, converted to pounds, were not substantial. To earn more money, he had to rely on selling products he endorsed, like Occamy egg yolk shampoo.
Although this money might only be enough for a well-off Muggle family, compared to many in the wizarding world, especially families like the Weasleys, it was already considered immense wealth.
Considering that Voldemort's family heirloom locket was only sold for ten Galleons by his mother... Lockhart could even tell Voldemort that he could buy 365 of them and use a different locket each day to wipe his backside, then discard it.
The reason wizards were so poor could only point to one thing—their population was simply too small. Although their individual productivity was extremely high, the severe lack of economic aggregate meant that no production could achieve economies of scale, thus failing to drive an increase in productivity.
For example, if the potions Lockhart gave as gifts had been discovered by Muggles, they would have long since started mass-producing Wiggenweld Potion and Draught of Peace on assembly lines.
They would extensively cultivate and breed medicinal herbs and magical creatures, research a complete set of highly efficient extraction methods for active ingredients, then use computers to control stirring, temperature, and feeding, and simply hire wizards to inject the magic.
But wizards... spend months collecting ingredients? Only make one cauldron at a time?! Take a month to brew a potion? Are you kidding me! Do you even want to make money?
Wizards knew this situation couldn't continue, but they were helpless, so they had to seek solutions by any means necessary.
They were very worried that if Muggles gained more power, they would hunt witches and wizards everywhere, just like in the Middle Ages. This fear reached its peak after Muggles invented the atomic bomb and landed on the moon.
No wizard had ever been able to land on the moon!
This is why Grindelwald and Voldemort emerged, as they catered to the prevalent wizarding mindset—to strike first.
While Dumbledore was great and brave, he indeed offered no solutions. Though refusing readily available power was noble, in another sense, it was also a form of shirking responsibility, which he himself admitted.
Simply defeating 'evil' doesn't solve everything; as long as the wizard-Muggle relationship isn't addressed, who knows if a new Dark Lord will emerge in the future?
Sure enough, this kind of thing still needs to be solved by the 'true savior'—that is, by me. Lockhart thought to himself with considerable narcissism.
But one must eat one bite at a time. He first had to prove his ability to Dumbledore before he could get Dumbledore to support his political aspirations, and then acquiesce to him developing influence at Hogwarts; otherwise, it would all be out of the question.
Lockhart called for his owl and began writing a letter.
"Dear Headmaster:
The parents of all 12 Muggle-born students have agreed for their children to attend Hogwarts. I will take them and their parents to Diagon Alley in mid-August to purchase necessary items.
Additionally, please reimburse the following expenses incurred: petrol £150, gifts 50 Galleons, labor free. Please reimburse these at that time.
Respectfully yours, Gilderoy Lockhart"
After writing, he called for his owl.
"Grey, come here! Take this letter to Hogwarts, remember to avoid lampposts and power lines, and don't let your guard down when you see a young girl. You're so fat, be careful you don't get eaten like a Scottish short-faced fat chicken!" Lockhart instructed.
Grey grumbled twice in dissatisfaction, likely implying he wasn't that foolish.
He was indeed not foolish, but like his master, he loved to show off and be in the limelight. Every time he caught a mouse, he would proudly stop on a branch, sing a song, and then eat it.
There's a rumor that pets grow more and more like their owners, and it must be clarified here—that's not a rumor.
After stuffing the letter into the leather pouch on Grey's leg, Lockhart casually gave him a piece of lamb before sending off the well-fed, sleek Great Grey Owl.
Tomorrow, he was meeting Ragnok, and yesterday Lockhart had finally received a call from his sister, saying that her husband believed it was 'negotiable.'
Lockhart had to prepare well... Kelleher's husband, William, was a trader in a bank's securities department. Although not immensely wealthy, his conservative approach and steady operations had earned him the trust of some stable clients, allowing him to successfully make a living.
In his impression, his brother-in-law seemed to be a boastful fellow. Although he did know some strange things, overall, he and William were from two different worlds. So when he heard Lockhart wanted to introduce him to a 'big client,' he was quite surprised.
In the bustling Three Broomsticks pub, William felt very uncomfortable.
The passing patrons were all wearing various wizarding robes, and he didn't need to look closely to know the fact that 'he was an outsider here.'
But who could have predicted that he would arrive at such a strange place less than thirty minutes after sitting in that ridiculously spacious car?
"When exactly will Mr. Ragnok the Goblin arrive?" He couldn't remember how many times he had asked that question.
"Exactly ten o'clock," Lockhart replied patiently. "Don't worry, goblins are very punctual... Also, Ragnok's last name isn't Goblin; he *is* a goblin."
"...What do you mean 'is a goblin'?"
"Literally. Of course, when you go back, you can't tell your boss that. You have to say it was a 'mysterious client.' Can you manage that?"
William swallowed: "It should be fine. While they care a lot about business, they never care where the money comes from."
As they spoke, the clock struck ten.
Suddenly, a loud bang erupted from the empty seat in front of Lockhart and William, and an ugly face, as if emerging from a hidden pipe in the air, abruptly appeared before them.
William was startled, nearly falling off his seat.
The goblin was unmoved by William's reaction. After dropping from the air to the ground, he merely brushed off some dust from his clothes before standing before the two men.
"Ah, you must be Mr. Lockhart! Griphook told me you are our major client. I hung your picture on the VIP wall, so I recognized you right away."
To steady William's nerves, Lockhart grasped his hand, urging him to calm down.
Then he extended his right hand to the goblin, intending to shake hands.
"Hello, I presume you are Mr. Ragnok."
But Ragnok impatiently 'brushed' Lockhart's hand and immediately got down to business.
"Time is Galleons, so spare me the needless pleasantries; there's no respect between us anyway... Rosmerta told me you have a business concerning gold for me, is that right? And you brought a Muggle?"
"As long as we all respect gold, then we are all friends of gold, and naturally, we are friends," Lockhart winked at his brother-in-law, signaling him to follow the plan.
"I like the sound of that. So, what method will you use to turn these worthless, purely deceitful Muggle paper scraps in my hands into more gleaming, lovely gold Galleons?" Ragnok complained as he spoke, "If it weren't for the contract with the Wizengamot, I wouldn't let those Muggle parents exchange their stuff for our gold."
Lockhart glanced at his brother-in-law and nodded to him.
William finally recovered from the shock of seeing an alien creature.
Seeing Lockhart's reminder, he, driven by his professional spirit, composed himself and diligently began to answer his client's question.
"Mr. Ragnok, due to the recent Falklands War consuming a massive amount of Great Britain's foreign exchange reserves, the pound is finding it very difficult to maintain its value. We estimate its value will fall by over 20% in the second half of this year..."
"Don't tell me that! I don't care!" Ragnok shouted. "I no longer trust your Muggle currency. Those damned Americans originally said their printed paper was linked to gold, but it didn't even take 30 years to tear up that agreement, and I lost a fortune in gold!"
"The collapse of Bretton Woods wasn't entirely without warning... Uh, well, now isn't the time to talk about that." Seeing Lockhart's incessant winks, William finally realized that was inappropriate to say. "I have a method that allows you to acquire a huge amount of gold by only trading in banknotes, and this relates to the depreciation of the pound I just mentioned."
"Tell me," Ragnok said noncommittally.
"Have you ever heard of 'binary options trading'?" William asked.