Jon tried to open his eyes, and as he struggled to see where he was, he found no light or sound—only himself drifting in a vast, star-filled void.
He wasn't on the street anymore.
He was floating in a vast, silent space filled with countless stars. His body felt weightless, almost non-existent, as if he were nothing more than a drifting thought.
Right… I died.
The realization settled in strangely calmly.
A soft blue radiance blood before him.
The light swirled and rose, forming the outline of a woman. She had no clear features, her face blurred by the glow, but Jon instinctively felt that her gaze was on him.
Then—
She smiled.
It was faint, warm, and gentle… a smile that didn't need a visible face to be understood.
Jon tried to speak, to ask who she was, but no words ca out. The figure simply lifted her hand toward him.
A pulse of blue energy washed over him.
His vision collapsed into darkness—no pain, no sound, just sudden, absolute quiet—
Jon opened his eyes to find himself lying in a bed inside a gothic-looking room. His breath hitched as fragnted mories rushed back. I pushed that girl… then that damned truck… He grimaced, recalling the bone-shattering impact, the way his body had felt like it was folding in on itself.
That hurt like hell. Fck!!*
Jon tried to steady his breathing as the fragnted mories returned in pieces.
He tried to recall being in that strange starry void and the glowing blue woman who had smiled at him… and then everything had gone black again.
What was that? Who the hell was she?
And why did it feel like she was waiting for …?
I should be dead. I was dead.
So how the hell am I here?
Pushing himself upright, he took in the surroundings. Blue-coloured tapestries hung all over the room, each marked with an eagle. Wait… isn't this the Ravenclaw banner? Jon froze.
No way... He recognized it instantly, being the massive Potterhead he was. Excitent welled up inside him. I got reincarnated!!! Jon pumped his fists in celebration. His grin stretched from ear to ear.
The iconic phrase "Yer a wizard, Harry" flashed into his mind. I'm a wizard now! he thought ecstatically. He could almost hear Hagrid saying it.
Wait… I don't even know who I transmigrated into yet.
He strolled toward the mirror and found a handso face staring back at him. Damn, I'm even more handso than before. He struck a pose in front of the mirror. This is Orlando Bloom-level handsoness.
With this face, I won't have any problem charming witches here. Alia Bones, Narcissa—black or is it Malfoy now… the whole list's open for . His grin faded slightly as his eyes scanned lower. The jawline didn't match the body—a pale chest, soft stomach, and faint man boobs.
He groaned. Great. Movie star face slapped on a doughy body. Needs serious fixing. These wizards don't know the concept of exercise. Still… who the hell am I?
Jon's gaze shifted to a suitcase under the bed. He dragged it out, noticing the initials engraved on it: G. Lockhart. His jaw dropped. No way… I'm THAT fraud?
He had transmigrated into Gilderoy Lockhart—the infamous wizard known for stealing others' work through mory charms. Man's end was pathetic, Jon mused. Tried to Obliviate two kids, backfired, and boom—lifeti VIP pass at St. Mungo's ntal ward.
Voldemort's curse on the DADA position and Harry's plot armour worked hand in hand to put him into the ntal ward.
Wait isn't this the part where all mories would co rushing into my head?
Jon tried to recall the mories as excruciating pain stabbed his skull, Lockhart's mories rushing in. Born to a witch mother and a Muggle father, the youngest of three siblings, Gilderoy was spoiled rotten.
Being the only magical child made him his mother's obvious favourite, and it warped him. This guy was a weed—his vanity blood more the mont magic did, Jon thought bitterly.
Instead of grinding at Hogwarts, he wasted his years bragging he'd make a Philosopher's Stone, captain England's Quidditch team, and beco Britain's youngest Minister of Magic. Bro was a walking delusion.
I'm Lockhart now, Jon sighed. His chest ached as he recalled his real parents. I'll miss you, Mom, Dad. Maybe… maybe soday I'll find a way to let you know I'm alive, even if in another world.
System? Panel? Guide? Assistant? ntor? Anyone? Jon's voice echoed through the room, but silence answered. Great. I'm here without any cheats or system to guide .
Map? Quest panel? Companion? Spirit? Sobody… anything? He waved his hands helplessly, pacing the room. Figures. Just , my own wits… and Hogwarts.
Resolve hardened in his chest. I am all alone now. This world is dangerous and if I'm stuck as Lockhart, I have to get stronger.
Sifting through Lockhart's mories, he realized he was in his final year at Hogwarts, and it was 1979. Worse—this was during the First Wizarding War. Voldemort was still active.
Gilderoy's stomach sank. Shit… Lockhart's weak as hell right now. How did this clown even survive in canon?
His eyes fell on a wand lying on the bedside table. He grabbed it, heart racing. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he said, mimicking the wand motions from Lockhart's mories.
He felt a huge rush—magic flowing from inside him to the wand, reaching for the quill on the table. For a brief second, it floated… then plopped back down.
"What the—?" Gilderoy frowned. Then it clicked. Wandlore. Different soul, wrong wand. This stick isn't tuned for .
First chance I get, I'm heading to Diagon Alley. Better ntion this to Flitwick soon. Stripping off his robes, he studied his body in the mirror—pale skin, bloated stomach, even slight man boobs.
Great. Handso face on a dad bod. Nah, step one: get in shape. He dug through Lockhart's suitcase until he found Muggle shorts and a shirt. Good enough for workout clothes. Pulling them on, he headed downstairs.
The Ravenclaw common room was silent—it was still early morning. The towering blue-and-bronze banners hung still, and the only sound was the faint crackle of the dying fire.
Gilderoy's eyes wandered briefly to a discreet side arch, where he knew a small, private library for Ravenclaws was tucked away. A hidden trove of books just for this House? Typical Ravenclaws—always hoarding knowledge. I'll have to raid it later.
He rushed toward the arched windows, rembering reading about the legendary view. Blue dawn light spilled across the grounds, like the opening scene of Interstellar, where Cooper gazes out at the morning sky.
His breath caught. Below stretched the sprawling green grounds, the shimring Black Lake, the looming Forbidden Forest, the towering Quidditch pitch, and the tiny hut of Hagrid. No other house gets a view like this.
He stood there, awestruck. This… this is Hogwarts. I never imagined I'd truly stand here, seeing it all with my own eyes.
Tearing himself away from the window, he moved toward the common room door, intent on starting his workout outside. A smirk tugged at his lips. I'll grind in secret and keep up Lockhart's stupid boasting act.
Gilderoy chuckled darkly. Now I see why the online Sorting Hat put in Slytherin last life.
He clenched his fists, the grin widening. Be it Fa, Power, or Won—I, Lockhart, Will Conquer All.
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Hope you enjoyed the chapter! And if you did… GIVE THE STONES!
P.S. I know many of you might skip this fanfic since there are only two chapters so far, but I promise to post chapters as I write them. I am gonna post extra chapters anyway but I might publish more with power stones😉
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