Even setting aside the inherent value of The Complete Art of the Pensieve, the fact that this book contains Voldemort's study notes from his youth is enough to prove its worth.
No one can deny Voldemort's genius in the magical arts.
Lockhart could only imagine how much it must have pained Lucius Malfoy to part with this book. But he had no choice. If Arthur Weasley ever found out he'd kept it, Lucius' old excuse of being bewitched into serving the Dark Lord during his Wizengamot trials would fall apart. He'd be on a one-way trip to Azkaban.
"Heh," Lockhart chuckled with a teasing smirk, flipping through the pages.
A flash of golden light zipped by, and Little Goldie, clutching a peach, leapt into his lap. The creature wiggled its tiny backside to find a comfy spot, hesitated, then broke the peach in half and offered him a piece.
"Good little guy, but I'm reading right now. You eat it," Lockhart said, ruffling Goldie's fluffy head.
Just then, pink tendrils sprouted from his body, coalescing into a translucent, pink figure draped across his back. Long golden hair cascaded over his left shoulder as the figure curiously peered at Goldie.
"Guji!" Goldie's golden eyes widened. Annoyed that this newcomer showed no fear, it stretched out a third fluffy paw, nudged Lockhart, and pointed at the Wailing Wraith. "Guji?"
—Who's this flashy floozy?
—When did you bring another woman home?
—Am I still your little sweetie or what?
"Shh," Lockhart held up a finger, signaling the two dark creatures to quiet down. "No drama—you don't even have genders. Reading takes focus if you want to soak up the wisdom."
His tone was firm, and both Goldie and the Wraith didn't dare push further. They just glared at each other.
Goldie was clearly the fiercer one. Its golden eyes seemed to glow, and a wave of fear and despair rippled through the room. In the corner by the fireplace, a Boggart hiding in a peach tree hollow trembled, banging its head in panic.
Under Lockhart's guidance, Goldie—now nearing maturity—had learned to control its magical aura and even amplify it when needed. Knowing its fear-inducing magic wouldn't affect its master, it unleashed it without hesitation.
The Wraith, however, wasn't prepared.
Terrified, her pink, translucent form detached from Lockhart's back and floated into the air, turning deathly pale. Her body split into jagged, toothy maws, and her head morphed into a rabbit's.
The moment she panicked, the earth granted her guardian powers to break free. Blood-like water began seeping from every corner of the office's small grove.
A palm-sized blob shot out of Lockhart's pocket, rapidly expanding as it burst through the Undetectable Extension Charm on its tiny sack. A crystal Occamy skull Pensieve tumbled out, clattering to the ground.
It was a Demiguise, its wings unfurling midair—green on the back, ghostly blue on the front—like a massive butterfly. With lightning speed, it streaked toward Goldie, who'd startled the Wraith.
"Whoa!" Lockhart exclaimed. Calling for backup? Anyone could play that game.
"GUJI!" Goldie reacted just as fast, letting out a sharp cry. A blue bolt shot from the peach tree hollow—a Boggart, transformed into another Demiguise.
"QUIET!" Lockhart barked, unimpressed.
Instantly, Goldie's fear aura and the Wraith's blood-water surge vanished. Goldie shrank back into Lockhart's lap, looking innocent, while the Wraith's toothy maws disappeared. She floated back down, resuming her pink, translucent witch form on his back.
The two Demiguises, however, kept brawling midair, ignoring him completely.
Great. My minions' minions aren't my minions, Lockhart thought dryly. Very Western.
Sighing, he pinned Goldie with one hand and tugged at the Wraith's cheek with the other. "Get them to calm down, alright? This book is important, and I need a quiet space to focus."
Goldie, who'd been with him longer, sensed his irritation and quickly shooed the Boggart away. Grumbling, the Boggart dissolved into black mist and zipped back to the tree hollow.
The Wraith, snapping out of her daze, called her Demiguise back. In a flash of blue, it perched on a branch in front of Lockhart, eyeing his head with interest.
Goldie stood, hands on hips, glaring at the bold creature. No one hurts my master while I'm around! Its fear aura surged again, and the Demiguise froze, dropping like a plank to the ground, its blue-and-green skin twitching.
The Wraith hesitated, glanced at Lockhart, and decided to stay quiet.
"Perfect. Everyone's calm. Let's enjoy a nice, relaxing weekend," Lockhart said, picking up the crystal Occamy skull Pensieve and the torn sack. He set them on the desk, pulled out a row of chocolates from a drawer, and unwrapped them. Breaking them in half, he handed pieces to Goldie and the Wraith. "Here, try these. They're good."
Goldie's eyes lit up as it eagerly took the chocolate, snuggling back into Lockhart's lap. The Wraith, curious but hesitant, watched Goldie munch happily before taking a small bite. Her eyes sparkled, and she gave Lockhart a sweet smile.
He patted her cheek, letting her nuzzle his hand like a cat, then ruffled Goldie's head before picking up the book again.
The study of Pensieve crafting touched on memory, souls, personality, and even time—knowledge too crucial to ignore. Cross-referencing it with his own expertise in Memory Charms sparked all sorts of fascinating ideas.
And then there were Voldemort's notes. His annotations were a goldmine of creative tangents, inspiring Lockhart at every turn.
This guy had written a lot.
On sections where experts shared their insights, he'd scribbled, "Foolish opinions!"
In the margins of the chapter "Personality, Memory, and the Mind," he wrote, "This could be used to preprocess vessels for Horcrux creation. This is the most valuable chapter in the book…"
Next to a passage on optimizing Pensieve use, he'd scrawled a passionate rant littered with exclamation marks: "Building on memory reconstruction, verifying connections between memories and ensuring their integrity touches on personality itself. I wish the inventor of Horcruxes understood this—it's a massive gap! But I'll fill it! I'll perfect it!"
Later notes, in different ink, suggested a different time:
"In practice, Pensieves are too cumbersome for sorting and constructing memory integrity. No wonder so few master this skill."
"I'm determined to improve it—and I did!"
"Organizing memories along a timeline is the best approach! With this, I know the perfect vessel to replace the Pensieve—a diary!"
"It works. Memory integrity creates a complete personality. The diary is becoming more like me. Once I fully understand Horcruxes, I could give it true life!"
A diary? A Pensieve? Lockhart hadn't expected the two to connect, but following Voldemort's logic, it made perfect sense.
He stared at the words in awe, double-checking he hadn't missed anything, then flipped to the next page. At the top, in Voldemort's handwriting:
"I did it!"
"A magical diary, crafted with Pensieve and Horcrux techniques—it's alive!"-European Affairs!
"Reliving the past? Sorting memories? No! That's not its greatest power! It can communicate!"
"A 'person' who knows you completely, understands you fully—you can speak to it without reservation!"
The text grew larger:
["The strong are always alone, forced to face their inner selves! I've created a tool to make that tangible, reachable!—Tom Riddle"]
"Holy crap!" Lockhart slapped his thigh in amazement.
His eyes burned with admiration. To think, Voldemort was only sixteen when he wrote these notes!