Truth, my dear readers, is a fickle thing; every story changes when it is told, and in time even the most heroic and grand tales become unrecognizable. Indeed, as my colleagues in the scholarly world are acutely aware of, it is not an uncommon practice amongst authors to present altered or completely fictitious stories as indisputably genuine!
In contemporary wizarding society, one such account is often used as the prime example: The biography of my close, personal friend Harry Potter – the Boy Who Lived - by the squib Joanne Rowling. As most of my readers will know, the scandalous misrepresentation of our dear Minister's marital status covered the frontpage of every newspaper. For the sake of discussion, I believe it pertinent to quote the delectable Mrs. Potter: "There is no truth to the allegations of Mrs. Rowling – my husband and I have always been and will always be faithful to each other."
It is perfectly understandable that the frontpage is reserved for discussion of the allegations brought against Mr. and Mrs. Potter – after all, it is not every day that the marriage of a minister and a national hero is brought into question. Furthermore, as the Prophet's brilliant reporter Miss Skeeter points out, the claims may well be construed as an attack upon the progressive administration of muggleborn Mrs. Potter (née Granger).
The works of Mrs. Rowling, however, are far more sinister than mere political machination. Indeed, below the surface of the second volume in the series lies a vicious attack upon my person; a deliberate attempt at defamation, which – although partially based upon true circumstances – I cannot in good conscience refrain from answering. Before further explanation can be presented, I believe it necessary to state an indisputable fact: I am not now and have never been a patient in the permanent spelldamage ward of St. Mungo's. A few of you may doubt my academic trustworthiness. I urge those of you to investigate for yourself – I have opened my record at St. Mungo's to the public, in the hope of convincing you of my mental well-being.
On the topic of facetious literature, I have a confession to make. My previously published work is – although presented as true – completely fictitious. The only award I have ever received is Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, of which my faithful readers know I am a five-time recipient. My perfect smile was of little assistance in the subjugation of the adversary with which I was faced during my short tenure as a professor at Hogwarts; sadly, I was faced with a dark lord, not a dark lady. As such, I had to rely upon another talent of mine: The magics of the mind.
When I graduated Hogwarts in '84, my head of house and later colleague and friend, Professor Filius Flitwick, told me that – should I choose to apply myself in the area of research – my prodigious understanding of the memory charm could one day revolutionize the field. What Filius failed to understand is that my perfect grasp of such magic stems from an intuitive understanding of the workings of a human mind. I am a natural Occlumens. By the time I arrived at Hogwarts, I had perfected it to the degree that not even the sorting hat could penetrate my defenses. Indeed, when the hat was placed upon my golden locks, it merely asked me which house I wanted to belong to. As I recall, its exact words were, and I quote, "Well fuck a duck, I got nothing. Where do you want to go?"
Throughout my first four years at Hogwarts, I developed an affinity for Legilimency. I quickly found that the easiest way to pass the classes was to simply pluck the answers directly from the mind of the teacher. In retrospect, I would probably have a wider repertoire of spells if I had not used this method. It was, however, a necessity were I to learn everything there was to know about fashion and more importantly hairstyling – after all, what is the point of casting advanced spells if your hair looks anything less than perfect? The only teacher with whom this method did not lead to success was Severus Snape, himself an accomplished Occlumens. This worked out fine, as potions was a secondary passion of mine. Some of you may wonder why I did not consider a career in that field. When I received my NEWTs (outstanding in potions) I had similar interests. However, I became disillusioned when my first invention - the improved Sleakeazy Hair Potion - received only little acclaim. Indeed, the lukewarm reception of a potion that would allow everyone the perfect hair with which I am naturally gifted made the dark leanings of most potion masters apparent. But I digress!
When I in fifth year was introduced to the memory charm, I was hooked. Here was a way to not only read the mind of another, but alter their memories and thus their actual perception of reality! The possibilities seemed endless, and I devoted the remaining two years of my time at Hogwarts – except from the aforementioned potions class - to the study of this spell. I must confess to a certain degree of experimentation. In fact, I once switched the memory of the cheering charm with a memory of the Tarantellegra-jinx in the mind of a particularly vicious Slytherin student, much to the chagrin of his partner in the next charms class.
After the aforementioned demoralizing reception of my world-changing potion, I resolved to attempt the greatest memory experiment in the history of the wizarding world: An alteration of not just one mind, but of the wizarding world's collective perception of reality. As such, the student who failed his Defense OWL with an abysmal T became a member of the Dark Force Defense League, an Order of Merlin recipient, and one of the country's foremost defense experts. As my experiment played out, it slowly became a way of life – my writings provided the profits I needed to travel all the world, using memory charms and Legilimency to ensure the belief that my quite obviously fictitious books were true. As the reader may surmise, a great deal of acting talent was required as well – and often, I had to travel to certain parts of the world merely to maintain my image. It is this necessity that lead to the predicament so ungallantly portrayed in the books of Mrs. Rowling.
My name is Gilderoy Lockhart, and this is the true story of how I through charm and cunning overcame the possession of Lord Voldemort.