Lockhart was ready to turn up the heat on Voldemort.
He was human, after all, and this was the second time the Dark Lord had tried to curse him to death. Whatever the reason, surviving two near-death experiences since crossing into this world wasn't exactly a walk in the park.
It was time to fight back!
He'd stick to the same approach he used to teach young witches and wizards: target the enemy's key traits and find a solution. Voldemort's greatest strength was his immense influence.
And Lockhart had plenty of ways to undermine that.
Using the opening of the Chamber of Secrets to spread fear about "the Dark Lord purging traitors" was just the appetizer, aimed at shaking a few Death Eaters and their supporters. Now, he was ready to drive a wedge between Voldemort and his entire follower base!
It was time to lean into his greatest talent—writing a book and turning it into a bestseller!
Quill, come to me!
A writer's pen is a killer's blade!
Time to show Voldemort what a Ravenclaw could do!
He barely slept, his quill dancing across the parchment as inspiration flowed like a gushing spring.
It was exhilarating!
Before he knew it, dawn was breaking.
"Gilderoy, we need to talk!" The office door slammed open, and in stormed Snape, eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night, clutching a piece of parchment tightly in his hand.
Snape had already been on edge about Harry getting tangled up in dangerous adventures. He'd stayed up all night, convinced that Lockhart's talk at the Duelling Club about a Christmas holiday adventure was absurd—Harry mastering the Patronus Charm? Pure fantasy.
But then Lockhart somehow convinced Dumbledore to make it happen.
Now, Snape was truly panicking.
It wasn't just about Harry. Truth be told, his feelings for the boy were complicated. The son of his lost love, Lily, and the man who'd bullied him—Snape could hardly treat Harry like his own.
What mattered more was avenging Lily by defeating Voldemort. Harry, the prophesied "Chosen One," was key to that, and Snape wouldn't let anything jeopardize it.
But then, another bombshell hit.
Early that morning, he'd spotted Filch carrying a roll of parchment to the notice board. Curiosity got the better of him, and when he asked about it, he nearly lost it.
Gilderoy Lockhart!
This man was always up to something! Snape's long-held stereotype of his flashy, peacock-like junior was proving all too accurate.
A grand adventure into the Chamber of Secrets?
Inviting the entire school to sign up?
Good grief!
Snape had actually laughed when he saw it—he didn't know why, but the absurdity made his breath hitch.
He had no doubt the Chamber's opening was tied to Voldemort. And Lockhart had the audacity to pull this stunt?
But he'd still underestimated him.
Seeing Lockhart nervously try to hide his manuscript as Snape barged in, a bad feeling crept over him. What was this guy cooking up now?
"Gilderoy, tell me," Snape said, his voice low. "What are you writing?"
Lockhart flashed a dazzling grin, brighter than the morning sun streaming through the window. "Morning, senior! Looking chipper as ever!"
"I'm not chipper at all," Snape snapped, glaring at the papers in Lockhart's hand. "Can I see that?"
This wasn't normal. If Lockhart was working on a new book, he'd usually be shouting it from the rooftops. Why the secrecy?
"You don't want to know," Lockhart said cryptically.
Snape just stared, unblinking.
"Alright, alright," Lockhart sighed, flipping through his papers and pulling out a single sheet—the cover of his book. He handed it over.
Snape glanced down and sucked in a sharp breath.
"The Mysterious Voldemort: A Pure-Blood Supremacist with a Muggle Father?"
"!!!"
His mouth opened, but no words came out. His lips trembled, and his eyes widened, staring at the bold title. It was utterly absurd.
"Is this… true?" His voice was hoarse.
Lockhart nodded with a sly grin. "Oh, he's the Half-Blood Prince, alright."
"!!!" Snape's heart lurched, his grip tightening until he nearly tore the parchment.
Say what you will about Snape—he was reliable. Within minutes, he'd dragged Dumbledore into the fray.
When Dumbledore arrived at Lockhart's office, he waved his wand, casting a flurry of spells to shield the room from prying eyes or ears.
"Tom…" Dumbledore murmured, studying the book title with a distant look. He nodded at Snape. "Yes, he's a half-blood."
Snape's voice rose, sharp with agitation, nothing like his usual composed self. He jabbed a finger at Lockhart. "Even if that's true, Dumbledore, this fool plans to publish it and tell the whole world?"
"Why not?" Lockhart said calmly, gesturing for them to sit. His ghostly companion floated over, offering three cups of… blood water.
Dumbledore, momentarily distracted, eyed the strange drink warily. "Professor Lockhart, I must say, your taste in cuisine may have veered a bit off course."
Lockhart rolled his eyes. "It's the Fountain of Life, as I call it. Trust me, it's leagues better than Cockroach Clusters."
Dumbledore clearly disagreed. "Cockroach Clusters are a wizarding classic, sold for centuries. Your—"
"Gilderoy Lockhart!" Snape interrupted, shaking the parchment furiously. "Do you have any idea what'll happen if this book gets published?"
Lockhart gave him a look that screamed, Oh, I know exactly what I'm doing. "Of course I do. This bombshell's going to keep me at the top of the bestseller lists for the next three years! Ugh, what a headache—my Galleons are piling up faster than I can spend them."
"You'll enrage him completely!" Snape growled, each word deliberate.
Lockhart nodded earnestly, then spread his hands. "And? He'll try to kill me? He's already gunning for me—twice now. I don't think skipping this book would make him go easy on me."
Dumbledore, meanwhile, was thinking deeper.
He recalled how Lockhart had spooked Lucius and his crew with tales of Voldemort purging traitors. At the time, he'd thought it was just playful taunting born of their rivalry. But now, seeing this book, he understood Lockhart's game plan.
What would happen if this book came out?
The biggest fallout would be Tom losing the unwavering support of the pure-blood community.
They might still bow to Voldemort's power or his ruthless willingness to kill, and some might even take a gamble on him. But the days of pure-bloods throwing their full weight—and their heirs—behind him with fanatical devotion? Those were over.
There's a difference between hedging your bets and going all-in.
And let's not forget: the most influential wizard in the world today wasn't Voldemort—it was Albus Dumbledore!
Not only did he hold sway over the British Ministry of Magic, but he was also the Chief Warlock of the International Confederation of Wizards.
He had more than enough clout to fracture the pure-bloods' allegiance and keep opportunistic fence-sitters in check.
In the end, Dumbledore wouldn't be facing a Voldemort backed by a loyal army of followers—just a lone, reviled dark wizard everyone wanted gone.
A final nail in the coffin!
Yes, they needed to bury Tom's influence in the court of public opinion!
Dumbledore smiled at Lockhart. "Perhaps I could write a foreword for your book?"
Whoa!
What a treat!
Lockhart's eyes lit up. "I'd be honored!"
Snape, meanwhile, felt like he'd stepped into a madhouse. The absurdity of it all was overwhelming. He watched as the two started bonding over their shared love of publishing, only to pivot to bickering about their wildly different tastes in food. His gaze fell back to the parchment in his hand.
The Half-Blood Prince?
The childhood idol he'd once worshipped was a lie.
Voldemort had deceived them all. He was just like Snape—a half-blood, the very thing the Death Eaters sneered at?
Ha!
What could be more absurd?
And yet, there was Lockhart, smugly pointing at him and grinning at Dumbledore. "See? I told you this book's going to be a hit!"
"!!!"