Lockhart's attitude was absolutely outrageous!
The short, stout, crooked-faced wizard was so furious his swollen face looked ready to burst. He jabbed his wand at the young wizard Derian Pucey, shrieking, "I told you to drop your wand! Or I'll kill him!"
Lockhart merely rubbed his own wand, staying silent.
The wand was whispering to him.
His awareness seemed to extend through the wand into the world, clearly picking up information that had been there all along.
It felt much like the "Darling of the Forest" state he'd experienced as a Forest Witch, but this time, it wasn't the forest's favor—it was a conversation with his wand.
He could sense a thick, malevolent presence.
It was wild, unrestrained, radiating an intense, electric tension.
This evil presence stung and burned instinctively.
It could cause harm! —That's what the wand told him.
Someone was being harmed!
The wand spoke again.
Yes, his student, Derian Pucey, was suffering under the excruciating pain of the Cruciatus Curse, one of the Unforgivable Curses.
Then the wand, probing the world's secrets, whispered that this harm would soon be stopped!
Vines were about to burst from the soil, summoned by a Banshee, sprouting from a seed of a Venomous Tentacula that had fallen nearby long ago.
A wand was about to be stolen, stirred by the Snallygaster in the wizard's robe pocket, sensing his anger and itching to act.
A body was about to freeze in terror, as Fluffy, the powerful dark creature, sought to assert dominance over its peers by swiftly dealing with this evil wizard.
A head was about to be chopped off by a Boggart, which seemed fond of its "Hanged Corpse" form, ready to swing a massive axe at the immobilized wizard's neck.
But Lockhart stopped them.
No verbal commands were needed. Through his wand, his will reached the dark creatures, conveying his intent.
Because…
The young wizards he'd painstakingly trained had now snapped out of their panic.
Fighting an evil dark wizard!
What better real-world practice could there be?
Unlike the original Lockhart in the books, who clumsily had students reenact scenes from his stories, this Lockhart genuinely wanted his students to immerse themselves in their own fairy-tale adventures.
He'd tried everything to make it happen.
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The results were impressive—his young wizards slipped into the moment effortlessly.
Right now, this fairy-tale adventure was coming to life before their eyes!
"*Expelliarmus!*"
"*Serpensortia!*"
"*Incendio!*"
"*Densaugeo!*"
"*Derian Pucey, Accio!*"
"*Impedimenta!*"
A barrage of spells erupted from countless wands, overwhelming the dark wizard in a dazzling flood.
The Slytherin students had clearly learned the importance of priorities. They left the danger to the powerful Professor Lockhart, focusing instead on saving their classmate, Derian Pucey.
The Gryffindors, burning with battle lust, unleashed their strongest spells at this unknown dark wizard.
The Hufflepuffs were the most cautious, all casting Protego. Though some shields were shaky, together they formed a shimmering golden barrier, protecting their classmates from potential harm.
The Ravenclaws got creative.
Flashing spells, hair-tangling curses, tap-dancing jinxes, and even a shampoo spell dousing the middle-aged wizard's face—spells burst forth in a vibrant, colorful flurry.
The dark wizard panicked, no longer focused on the young wizard at his feet or Lockhart nearby. He hastily cast Protego on himself and deftly deflected a few unblockable spells.
But there were just too many young wizards.
Despite his skill, a spell hit him, and his right leg swelled grotesquely, like a massive loaf of bread, longer than his torso. It propped him up high before he crashed to the ground.
Then the summoned creatures—bats, pythons, buffalo, and birds—swarmed him, tearing and biting.
"Aaahhh!"
He screamed in agony.
The young wizards erupted in excitement.
They'd done it!
They'd taken down a villain lurking in the school. This was sure to make them the talk of Hogwarts!
No, this was an achievement they'd brag about for the rest of their lives!
Lockhart sighed and shook his head.
These young wizards lacked experience. Not one thought to fully restrain the dark wizard.
After all, a fairy-tale adventure drill wasn't a true fairy-tale adventure—it wasn't the blood and fire of real battle.
BOOM!
A massive gust of air surged.
It shredded the animals attacking the wizard and sent several nearby students flying.
The dark wizard struggled to stand, but his leg, now thicker than his waist, wouldn't support him. In a rage, his anger consumed him. He waved his wand at the Weasley twins, who were mocking his screams and entertaining their classmates. "*Avada Kedavra!*"
A green flash of the Killing Curse shot toward them.
George, facing the wizard, yelled in terror, trying to pull Fred away as the other students froze in shock.
But then, a gray wolf, lying in wait in the bushes, leapt out, intercepting the curse and vanishing.
"Counterattack!" Cedric Diggory shouted.
Unlike before, when the wizard had underestimated the kids and been caught off guard, he was now in full combat mode.
Killing mode.
Unable to stand, he still swung his wand fiercely, slamming it into the ground.
BOOM!
It was as if thunder roared from deep within the earth. The ground shook, and everyone stumbled, falling in panic. Cracks tore open, swallowing several screaming students.
It was a simple spell.
The Tarantallegra Curse, or Dancing Curse.
Once, a wizard illegally cast it on a volcano, nearly destroying a Muggle city.
Magic depends on who wields it.
Having dealt with the students, the dark wizard seized his chance to breathe, hurriedly casting counter-spells.
General Counter-Spell!
No effect.
Poison Curse Reversal!
No effect.
Curse-Breaking Charm!
Finally, his massive bread-like leg deflated, shaking like a punctured balloon, and returned to normal.
But the delay gave the stronger students—Cedric Diggory, George Weasley, Fred Weasley, Cassius Warrington, and others—time to regroup.
A dozen young wizards renewed their assault.
But their attacks couldn't faze the powerful dark wizard. With vicious dark magic, he felled several students.
The tide was turning.
The dark wizard grinned wickedly, his laugh like a screeching owl. "I'll kill you all! You're all dead!"
He waved his wand rapidly, preparing a complex spell.
Then, a wave of paralyzing fear swept the battlefield.
The chaotic scene fell deathly silent.
Even Fang, barking frantically in the distance, froze.
Everyone stood motionless, eyes wide but unseeing, senses warped by terror, hearing only their own pounding heartbeats.
"Sigh…"
A sigh broke the silence.
Lockhart strolled into the fray, helping a student who'd fallen backward to her feet, then approaching the dark wizard.
He shook his head, disappointed with the outcome.
Some of these students were exceptionally gifted—especially Cedric and the Weasley twins, his top hopes for fourth-years.
But their performance was lackluster.
They weren't driven by malice… or, more politely, they lacked a strong fighting instinct.
Not every wizard was Harry Potter, Lockhart thought regretfully.
The Ministry's Auror Office had only recruited Nymphadora Tonks last year for a reason.
He'd have to focus on Harry Potter.
Lockhart only planned to teach for a year. He needed a standout student to prove his skill, to cement his reputation as a master wizard, so no random upstart would challenge him later.
Tap, tap.
His footsteps echoed like heavy drums in everyone's hearts, stirring waves of dread.
The dark wizard, not fully gripped by fear, glared at Lockhart, neck straining, gasping, his magic roiling.
But he couldn't resist the influence of the three-handed dark creature.
He tried to fight back, but a blue flash had already whipped his wand away, stripping him of his last defense.
He could only watch as Lockhart approached, stopping before him and pulling a cloud of black smoke from his pocket.
The smoke morphed into a terrifying two-meter-long centipede-like creature, crawling over the wizard. Its sharp legs pierced his body, overloading his nerves, paralyzing him completely.