Surrounded by Gerebato magic crystals, Dana leaned against the headboard of his bed, clutching the book How to Bring the Dead Back to Life. The ritual it described was incredibly intricate, calling for numerous rare ingredients. Most of these materials were still available on the market—except for the Gerebato crystal. That in itself was a major obstacle. But there was an even more critical problem Dana couldn't solve quickly: Avalon, the legendary island at the heart of the Sea of the Dead.
According to both the tapestry and the book, the souls of the dead could only manifest on Avalon. Yet Dana had no idea how to get there. This was his second time learning about Avalon. The first was through the tapestry mentioning Merlin's notebook hidden on the island; now, the second time was in this ritual book. Both sources implied that any wizard could reach Avalon—but that made no sense. In this era, most wizards didn't even believe Avalon existed, much less that it was accessible.
Suppressing his frustration, Dana closed How to Bring the Dead Back to Life and pulled out War Magic instead. Since resurrecting his mother would take time, he resolved to focus on revenge first and become as powerful as possible.
At that moment, his Hogwarts dormitory's alarm magic jolted him. Someone was knocking!
Dana flipped out of bed, opened the Spandim Gate, and carried his bed back to his room. Tsk, what a hassle. Tomorrow I'm going to Dentis Castle to bring over a proper bed.
Feigning illness as planned, Dana opened the door to find the Weasley twins standing there. Their worried expressions dropped immediately upon seeing him.
"Dana! We noticed you didn't come to dinner," said Fred.
"Harry said you were sick," added George.
"In case you needed something, we brought food," they said in unison.
"Thank you," Dana replied weakly, accepting their concern. He carefully placed the food on the bedside table.
"Are you planning to go to the hospital wing?" Fred asked.
Dana shook his head. "I rested this afternoon and feel much better. I'll sleep more tonight but should be fine by tomorrow."
George put an arm around Fred's shoulder. "Alright then, we won't bother you. You get some rest!"
They closed the door behind them and headed down the tower.
"George, what shall we do tonight?" Fred whispered.
"How about we explore Lockhart's office?" George suggested.
"Why bother? He's just a fraud who loves to show off in front of the camera."
"Didn't Mokai Moran say during dinner that Lockhart's lesson in Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon was surprisingly excellent?"
"Really?"
"If Lockhart's truly talented, why has he been playing the buffoon all semester? He must be hiding something!"
"That's fascinating! Let's check it out!" Fred exclaimed.
…
The next morning, Gryffindor discovered that a hundred points had vanished from their hourglass.
In the Great Hall, Lockhart sat at the staff table, beaming as he scanned the students.
He waited until the twins entered, then called out with a flourish: "Good morning, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley! After your little adventure last night, I think you've learned not to underestimate your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. If I hadn't noticed you early, you two might've been in Madam Pomfrey's infirmary right now. It was quite dangerous. Please, let's not repeat that."
Fred and George exchanged glances, shrugged, and joined the table without a hint of embarrassment.
Ron, seated nearby, leaned in. "What happened last night?"
Fred chuckled. "Nothing much—just got caught in a few traps in Lockhart's office."
Ron looked stunned. "Magic traps? Is he that good?"
Hermione, whose face had been glowering all morning, slammed her cutlery down. "Is this really the time to talk about whether Lockhart is powerful? The issue is that we lost a hundred points!"
George grinned. "Hermione, you know you lost fifty points last year. I figured you'd be on our side!"
Hermione reddened. "But I made up for them with bonus points!"
Fred shook his head. "Bonus points don't undo lost points. If you hadn't lost that fifty, Gryffindor could've been so far ahead!"
Just then, Dana entered the Great Hall and overheard the tail end of the conversation. He glanced toward Lockhart on the staff table and noticed a faint, almost imperceptible black line of magic tracing from Lockhart's neck to his temple. He'd seen that before—when Ginny Weasley had been under possession. Dana immediately understood the implications: Lockhart was under some kind of external control.
He took his seat, as usual flanked by first-year students. Why wouldn't he be? Dana Emrys—handsome, brilliant, a Quidditch superstar who'd been framed and spent four years in Azkaban—was exactly the kind of senior younger students idolized. Older students, though they'd since come to see he wasn't a criminal, still found themselves awkward around him.
Colin Creevey, who'd earlier been injured by a Killing Curse in Charms class (though he only received non-fatal damages), approached Dana. The professors had downplayed it as a prank to avoid panic but increased vigilance had been significant.
"Senior Dana, I heard you were sick yesterday?"
Dana smiled. "Thanks for asking, Colin. I was just a bit tired. I've been studying hard lately."
Three seats away, Hermione said, "You should pace yourself. You have six years at Hogwarts—you don't need to rush!"
Dana thought to himself: she doesn't know how far ahead I already am.
Suddenly, a pair of large hands rested on Dana's shoulders. He didn't need to turn around; the scent of lavish cologne told him who it was—Gilderoy Lockhart.
"Dana!" Lockhart said brightly. "I'm very much looking forward to this afternoon's class! I heard you missed Professor Flitwick's lesson yesterday—now wouldn't want you to skip mine, right?"
Dana smiled. "Of course not, Professor. I'm eager to attend."
If Riddle's class is so special, why am I so excited for Lockhart's? he wondered. But then he thought of Lockhart's magical manipulation. Perhaps Lockhart was falling apart on his own—and Dana didn't even need to collect evidence of foul play.
Yet he decided to stick to his original plan. If Lockhart were drained by the diary's magic and died, Dana didn't want the trouble of animating a corpse to act as a puppet. It would be far easier if Lockhart sabotaged himself.
But why is the Fire Serpent Party moving so slowly? Dana mused. Finding victims based on the novel's clues shouldn't be this hard.
—End of Chapter 81—
For more chapters
patreon.com/Liamlivingstone