The Ministry's main courtroom, Courtroom Ten, with tiered seating encircling a sunken floor where the accused stood. The mood had shifted. There was less curiosity now, and more certainty, the kind that carried its own quiet gravity.
Ethan returned to his seat beside his mother. The gallery around them buzzed faintly as witches and wizards whispered to one another. Even the press had grown quieter. The evidence thus far had been damning. There wasn't much left to dispute.
Now came the part Ethan had been anticipating, the defense. Lockhart hasn't had much time to speak on his own defense.
From the floor of the courtroom, the Chief Interrogator addressed the accused with deliberate neutrality. "As is your right under Ministry Law, Mr. Lockhart, you may now offer a defense for yourself. You may contest the charges, provide explanation, or request leniency. This is your time to speak."
All eyes turned to the man in the chair.
Gilderoy Lockhart, clad in slightly wrinkled navy-blue robes that were clearly not self-tailored, looked up. His smile, once legendary, was strained, the edges twitching like a poorly maintained glamour. The usual spark in his eye was absent. No charm. No polish. Just the gaunt look of a man being swallowed by consequences.
He stood slowly, his chains clinking faintly. The room stilled.
"I-" he began, voice cracking ever so slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I know how this looks."
A few quiet scoffs rippled through the gallery.
"I understand that… the facts seem against me. But what I want everyone to understand is that… it wasn't malicious. It was never meant to be malicious."
His voice was soft, less theatrical than anyone in the room had ever heard it.
"Yes, I told stories. Embellished, maybe, but they were meant to be inspiring. Wizards today, especially the young ones, they don't grow up with enough heroes. I gave them something to believe in."
He glanced toward the crowd, eyes seeking sympathy. There was little to none.
"I may have... exaggerated my role in certain events," he continued, "but the magic in those stories was real. Maybe not mine, maybe not quite as written, but the threats were real. There were ghouls, banshees, even a hag or two. I just… stepped in after the fact, tidied things up. Told the tale in a way that would make people feel brave."
A quiet murmur rippled through the room, one part disbelief, two parts contempt.
"And the spells?" came the sharp voice of one of the legal observers. "The Obliviations, Mr. Lockhart?"
Lockhart faltered. "I-I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I never forced anyone. They were, willing participants. Most of them were just… just happy to be rid of the memories. Traumatic experiences, you know? I thought I was doing them a favor."
The Interrogator's voice rang out again. "Several of those individuals never recovered their full memory. One remained in a permanent fugue state until last year."
Lockhart's hands tightened, his voice dipped into desperation.
"I didn't know it would have lasting effects. You have to believe me. I thought... I thought it would be fine."
From where Ethan sat, it was obvious, Lockhart wasn't defending himself, he was flailing. He repeated himself, doubled back, contradicted earlier testimony. It was the performance of a man trying to convince even himself that he hadn't done wrong.
"It was the publishers," Lockhart offered next, and the room tensed with a fresh ripple of disbelief. "They wanted marketable stories. They wanted flair. I gave it to them. If you want to point fingers-"
"You forged documents," the Interrogator cut in coldly. "You stole identities. You profited off of lies. There is no publisher in the world who can make you do that."
"I had no choice!" Lockhart nearly shouted. "You think it's easy? Being mediocre in a world full of brilliance? I wasn't special. I had to make myself special."
And there it was. The silence that followed was dense.
"You see?" Lockhart whispered now, a trace of manic laughter in his tone. "No one cares about the truth. They only care about stories. That's all they ever wanted from me."
He looked around. "And I gave it to them. I was what they wanted. You all cheered for me."
His voice echoed slightly.
The Interrogator didn't respond to the outburst. He merely raised one hand.
"We have allowed Mr. Lockhart to speak in his own defense. Let the record show he has offered no verifiable counter-evidence, no witness in support, and no magical justification for the acts in question."
The court scribe scratched it all down in precise magical shorthand.
A second observer spoke now, an older witch with silver-streaked hair and a voice like polished glass.
"Mr. Lockhart's statement is noted. We remind the court that his actions have violated the Decree for Ethical Spell Usage, the Magical Authorship Integrity Act, and Section 3 of the Memory Charm Code. We will proceed shortly with testimonies from those affected by his actions."
Lockhart slumped back in his chair.
Ethan exhaled through his nose. "He's broken," he muttered.
His mother didn't answer at first. She simply watched the man below.
Then, softly: "He always was."
The glamour had been peeled away. There were no fans left in the crowd. No sympathizers. Only silence where adoration would have once lived.
Ethan leaned back, watching as Lockhart rubbed his wrists against the magical shackles. There was no struggle. No outrage. Only the heavy quiet of a man who knew the story was over. His story was over.
"All witness testimonies have been recorded and reviewed. The evidence has been presented. The accused has exercised his right to speak in defense. This court will now move to deliberation and final verdict."
The audience held its collective breath.
Chief Interrogator Valen Avery, an older wizard with a hawkish nose and deep voice, stood, hands clasped behind his back.
"Gilderoy Lockhart," he began, voice steady, "you have been tried under full Ministry review for multiple violations of magical law. These include-"
He held up a length of parchment and read clearly.
"-the unauthorized use of memory-altering charms on at least thirteen individuals, misrepresentation of identity under the Magical Authorship Integrity Act, falsification of events for commercial gain, unlawful practice of Obliviation magic without certification or consent, and willful endangerment of the magical public through fraudulent publications."
Avery's eyes met Lockhart's. "You have made no formal denial of these charges."
Lockhart swallowed, but said nothing.
"You have offered no counter-evidence to dispute the presented findings."
Still silence.
"In accordance with Ministry law, this court finds you guilty on all counts."
The air cracked faintly as magical bindings around the courtroom pulsed in response to the verdict. A low murmur rippled through the gallery. Some nodded grimly, as though this was inevitable, others excitedly whispering to another.
Ethan sat still. He felt satisfaction. A long awaited moment has come to fruition perfectly.
The Interrogator wasn't finished.
"For your crimes, and the lasting magical damage you have inflicted upon your victims, the Ministry sentences you to ten years in Azkaban prison. You will be escorted by Aurors immediately following the conclusion of this session."
That broke the last of Lockhart's composure.
"No-no, no, you can't-!"
His voice was shrill, high-pitched and shaking.
"You can't do this to me!" he wailed. "I'm an Order of Merlin, Third Class! Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League! Five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile-!"
His voice cracked and broke as he lurched forward, only to be yanked back by the enchanted shackles now anchoring him to the chair.
"Please, listen! I didn't mean to hurt anyone, I helped people! I inspired thousands, children love me, I wrote books!"
His pleading turned desperate, fingers clawing at the air. "I can fix it! I'll do anything, anything! You can't send me there, you can't, I won't last a week!"
Two Aurors stepped forward from either side of the courtroom. Neither of them looked amused. The crowd was silent, the kind of silence that echoed louder than any protest. No one moved to stop them.
No one looked moved by his cries.
Ethan watched as Lockhart began to sob, real tears now pouring freely down his cheeks, his voice raw and cracking.
"Please, someone, anyone, please believe me!"
The chains unlocked with a sharp click, and Lockhart collapsed onto his knees. The Aurors grabbed his arms and began pulling him upright.
"I was just trying to be special," he choked out. "I just... I just wanted to be someone!"
No one responded.
Not the Chief Interrogator.
Not the crowd.
Not even the reporters, who simply kept scribbling.
The Aurors began leading him out of the courtroom. His cries echoed behind him, pathetic and haunting.
"Please, please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
The doors shut.
Silence.
Ethan exhaled.
And that was it.
The court began to disperse in the following moments. Murmured conversation filled the air again, like water trickling back into a riverbed that had been dammed for hours. Some shook their heads. Others looked away. A few even looked a little haunted.
But none objected.
Ethan turned to look at his mother. She hadn't moved during the entire sentencing. Her face was still composed, still unreadable.
She stood slowly, gathering her robes around her with practiced elegance.
"Well," she said quietly. "That's done."
Ethan nodded. "Do you think Azkaban is too much?"
She glanced down at him. "For an innocent man? Yes. For Lockhart? It may be the first time he's forced to live with something real."
He thought about that as they walked out of the courtroom. The echo of Lockhart's final words still danced faintly in his ears.
I was just trying to be someone.
Ethan didn't pity him. He couldn't. Not after seeing the faces of those he had hurt, not after watching him twist the truth again and again, even when there was nothing left to gain.
Perhaps if it was himself nearly a year ago, who only had knowledge from the books, he might have some empathy for Lockhart. The man wanted to popular, and seen as an amazing wizard just like Dumbledore and other well-known people.
But he cheated, and not all to well. This moment where everything he had done becomes seen and unraveled, it was inevitable.
Ethan didnt think he was the one who had uncovered Lockhart's lies, he had just accelerated. Ethan saw a tucking time bomb and had set it off early. That's all.