Ethan's eyes locked onto Lockhart once more. The man no longer held the pretense of charm. His blonde hair was slightly mussed, and his once-dazzling smile had disappeared, replaced by a subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth. He looked evem smaller somehow, diminished not by magic, but by the cold light of truth.
The chief interrogator stepped forward again, voice calm but ironclad.
"We shall now proceed with the second set of charges brought against Mr. Lockhart: namely, the fraudulent use of magical testimony, false claims of Ministry recognition, and the publication of deliberately falsified magical events, presented as nonfiction, without proper verification or disclosure."
He let that hang in the air, then unrolled another scroll.
"By law, all public claims of magical achievement that involve classified spellwork, dangerous creature encounters, or interactions with foreign magical governments must be either personally witnessed by a certified Ministry observer or declared as fiction. Mr. Lockhart has, in seven separate publications, claimed to have defeated threats that fall under Class C and above, without any Ministry verification."
Another wave of murmurs rippled through the courtroom.
Ethan leaned slightly forward, watching as documents were summoned midair and enlarged for the audience. Floating pages of Lockhart's books, Gadding with Ghouls, Travels with Trolls, Magical Me, they all spun slowly, sentences highlighted in glowing red.
"In Wanderings with Werewolves," the interrogator said coolly, "Mr. Lockhart claimed to have bested a werewolf alpha during a full moon with only a wand and a silver comb. Our records, however, show no werewolf attacks in the Carpathians during the dates described. Furthermore, that particular pack was under diplomatic observation at the time. A violation of magical neutrality."
He raised his wand and called forward another illusion, this time, a wizened wizard in diplomatic robes, who appeared via enchanted memory.
"This man is Benedek Ferenc, a Hungarian liaison to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," the interrogator explained. "In his official statement, he confirmed that the leader of the werewolf pack was not only unharmed, but had met briefly with Gilderoy Lockhart at a book signing hosted in Budapest three months after the supposed duel."
The illusion of Ferenc chuckled dryly. "He bought a signed copy of Magical Me. I remember thinking how strange it was that he never mentioned any previous dealings with werewolves."
The illusion faded.
Lockhart shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"And Gadding with Ghouls?" the interrogator continued. "The infamous scene with the six-armed banshee in a haunted opera house in Vienna. A stunning tale. Unfortunately, the opera house in question has been under preservation enchantments for over a century. No banshees. No magical signatures of any kind."
Lockhart looked up with a weak smile. "Well, I might have… embellished. Just a touch. For drama. You know how dull the truth can be-"
"You took credit for events that never occurred," the interrogator snapped. "You declared those stories as personal triumphs. You fabricated spellwork and magical theory that young witches and wizards have since attempted to replicate, dangerously."
He turned and gestured toward a young witch in bright green robes, seated near the front of the chamber. She rose with quiet confidence.
"I'm Dr. Lyris Abbot, spell-reconstruction specialist," she said, her voice steady. "After an inquiry into the spells described in Lockhart's books, I compiled a list of forty-two incantations and magical effects that do not exist. Of those, eight are dangerously unstable mimicries of real spells. One caused temporary paralysis in a second-year student attempting to copy Lockhart's so-called 'Spectacular Specter Snare.'"
Lockhart somehow paled further.
"And yet," she continued, "he marketed them to young readers as practical tools. As truth."
She sat down, leaving a heavy pause behind her.
Ethan's gaze drifted toward the journalists seated along the far wall. Quills scratched feverishly. A few flashbulbs went off, capturing Lockhart's expression, an expression that now wavered between bewilderment and resentment.
Lady Wright leaned toward her son. "It's not the lies that have him worried," she murmured. "It's that they're unraveling so easily. He built a tower out of parchment and now it's catching fire."
Ethan nodded as the interrogator called the next person to come forward with their evidence.
A tall, spare wizard stepped forward, one of the senior archivists of the Ministry's Department of International Magical Cooperation. He spoke with clipped precision.
"We found numerous forged letters of recognition," he said. "Purported to be from magical authorities in Egypt, Greece, and Romania. The signatures were copies. One of the signatories had been dead for fifteen years."
The wizard waved his wand and summoned the falsified parchments into the air. Each glowed red at the points where magical forgery had been confirmed.
Lockhart looked like he might be ill.
The interrogator addressed him directly now.
"Do you contest these findings, Mr. Lockhart?"
There was a beat of silence.
Then Lockhart leaned forward and spoke, quieter than before.
"I—I didn't mean for things to go this far. It was supposed to be harmless. Just—stories. Something to… inspire the public. Sell a few books. People wanted heroes. I gave them that."
"And what of the lives you damaged in the process?" came the interrogator's cold reply. "What of the trust you shattered? You did not simply write fiction, Mr. Lockhart. You marketed yourself as the most accomplished wizard of your generation. You built a fortune and a reputation atop the suffering of others."
Lockhart opened his mouth, but then closed it.
There was nothing left to say.
The court fell silent once more as the interrogator turned to address the gallery.
"We have now reviewed the second primary set of charges. All claims of magical accomplishment presented by Mr. Lockhart in his works have been found unverifiable, falsified, or entirely fabricated. The forged documentation has been formally entered into evidence."
He raised his wand and let the scroll curl closed with a soft rustle.
"We will recess for a quarter of an hour before we proceed any further. Plesse remeber that everyone present has signed to not speak of anything which has transpored here until after the trial is officially over. I suggest no one try and test what happens if you do speak of it."