"Corban Yaxley..." Professor Lockhart's usually languid expression tightened, his gaze sharp as a Basilisk's. "He tried to kill me!"
"Tom!" He stood up, looking directly at the figure. "Tell me, if someone tried to kill you, would you let them off the hook?"
"Don't call me Tom!" Voldemort snarled, a wave of intense irritation radiating from him for reasons unknown. Perhaps it was a vague, unidentifiable image from the depths of his soul's memory, brimming with strong, heartfelt regret, that made him so resistant. Or perhaps it was the anxious frustration of losing control over his future; prophecies, time, fate—these bewildering magical realms left the "most terrifying Dark Wizard in history" feeling rather out of his depth. Of course, it could also be the Trouble-Making Tentaculus (a Dark creature, much like a bothersome Bowtruckle), which had once again sprouted in the corner of the room, silently burrowing into the brain of his rather unfortunate, transfigured body.
He tried his utmost to suppress the chaotic thoughts in his mind, attempting to empty his head and shake off their influence. But such efforts were clearly futile. No sooner had a thought left his brow than it entered his heart. As his thoughts retreated from his conscious mind into his subconscious, he didn't even react. Normally, if anyone dared to call him by his given name, he would instinctively draw his wand and launch an attack.
He didn't. He simply stared coldly at Lockhart.
Lockhart spread his hands. "Alright, Voldemort, let's try to get back to a calm, communicative atmosphere, shall we? I think it would be quite helpful for both of us."
Voldemort remained silent.
"You mentioned a bargain earlier..." Lockhart's tone was sincere. In truth, Corban was no longer of much use to him. The only way he could be put to any further use was to research Wolfsbane Potion through him, but it would be far better to seek out Lyall Lupin for that. Lockhart had placed a backdoor in Corban's soul, actually hoping the fellow would return to Voldemort's side. Corban wasn't truly terrifying; Voldemort, however, was genuinely dangerous. Lockhart, living in this wizarding world, needed to have a few extra tricks up his sleeve to guard against the Dark Lord's insidious methods.
"What do you propose to offer in exchange?"
"I must remind you, Corban attempted to kill me. You can't just offer me some trifle; I won't agree to that."
Voldemort slowly raised a hand. Eerie, emerald-green flames surged from the fireplace behind him, accompanied by a strange, swirling flow and electric sparks reminiscent of thought patterns, rapidly filling the room. The copy of "Where Are the Dark Creatures Now?" on the small round table floated upwards, rapidly transfiguring within the flames, then gently drifted towards Lockhart.
"Whoa!"
The Dark Lord wreathed in flames was a terrifying sight, but at that moment, Lockhart paid no mind to the aura of power emanating from him. He simply stared, wide-eyed, at the scene before him. He had seen this image before! In his previous life, when watching the Muggle films, the witch Queenie from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them made an apple pie for the Muggle Jacob Kowalski. That magical moment was, in Lockhart's eyes, the most magical piece of magic in the entire Harry Potter series.
"Kitchen charms?!" Lockhart exclaimed, almost involuntarily. "Household spells can be used like that?"
Voldemort's mouth twitched. He really didn't want to admit it, but the Fiendfyre spell, which even his Death Eaters would fearfully kneel before, actually incorporated some principles of kitchen magic in its internal workings. Curse it, how did this fellow see through it at a glance?
"Gilderoy Lockhart," Voldemort's voice was low, his bandage-wrapped face showing no expression, "I understand wizards like you. You crave magic, you pursue magic. So, the part of the bargain I offer is also magic."
"A spell you cannot refuse!"
The book floated before him. Lockhart looked closer, clearly seeing the title on the cover: "The Everlasting Flame of Life."
"It cannot extend your life, but it can grant you eternal youth, maintaining your body's vigour at its peak until you die of old age," Voldemort's voice was laced with temptation. "Think of Dumbledore, growing increasingly frail and slow in his old age. Think of Nicolas Flamel, who worries about breaking a bone just from sneezing. You should know how precious this magic truly is."
Lockhart swallowed, his expression incredibly serious. "If what you say is true, then Corban is not worth such a magical exchange. Yes, he's utterly worthless compared to magic like this."
Voldemort chuckled softly. "This spell, since I invented it, has always had a flaw, but I won't tell you what that flaw is. So, do you still dare..."
Before he could finish his taunt, Lockhart had already snatched the book floating in mid-air. "It's a deal!"
This didn't mean Lockhart's mind had been clouded by greed, but rather that the flaw made the exchange equitable, so he agreed.
This wizard... he didn't want to owe him? Voldemort's brow furrowed, feeling a strange annoyance towards this inexplicably sudden "old friend." He gazed deeply at Lockhart. "Take Corban back to the Ministry of Magic. Report to your superiors that you no longer require this criminal and have him sent to Azkaban."
The eerie green flames surged, brightening, enveloping his entire body like a mist.
With a whoosh, the flames dissipated. Voldemort had vanished.
"Whoa!" Lockhart exclaimed again. "He even combined it with Floo Network magic?" The ocean of magical knowledge seemed boundless, forever holding places that utterly captivated him. It was truly wondrous.
Lockhart clicked his tongue in amazement. After his companions had secretly checked the house to ensure no strange magic had been placed and that Voldemort had indeed departed, he picked up the book and began to read.
The Everlasting Flame of Life
The book was thin. As a magical notebook, it didn't explain every concept simply like Lockhart's own books. It contained much obscure and difficult-to-understand content and vocabulary. Some parts that were hard to explain directly in English even used ancient Runes and terms from African tribes.
But this wasn't too difficult for Lockhart. Because he had so thoroughly absorbed the wisdom of Tom Riddle from the Diary Horcrux, possessing a part of Voldemort's magical thought processes and foundational understanding, reading this book was akin to an advanced study for him.
This was a collection of old Voldemort's progressive achievements in exploring the realm of life magic. It consisted of three parts:
An exploration of the soul principles of magical portraits and ghosts. The mysterious relationship between soul and body. A study of pure-blood wizards' magical bloodlines.
Every wizard who walks the path of magic has their own unique magical approach, which unifies everything, much like Lockhart's "fairy tales." For Voldemort, it was undoubtedly magical bloodlines.
It was often quite frustrating for wizards with different philosophies to read others' works. Lockhart couldn't help but frown as he read through the entire magical notebook, filled with the concepts and ideas of so-called "pure-blood supremacy." It was rather curious that old Voldemort embraced the idea of "pure-blood supremacy" not just as a slogan to rally his followers. He actually didn't possess that much political acumen. On the contrary, it truly was a belief he held deep in his heart. And this firm belief in pure-blood status stemmed from his own research into the soul and body.
The book contained many conclusions. Boiled down, there were only a few key points:
The soul determines the state of the body. The souls of pure-blood wizards are different from those of Muggle-born wizards and Muggles. They possess an additional, wondrous magical bloodline (like his Parseltongue, a magical ability inherited through ancestral blood). Therefore, he believed that the bodies of pure-blood wizards were fundamentally different from those of Muggles and Muggle-borns. Casting resurrection spells using this magical bloodline as an anchor would make the incredibly difficult act of resurrection effortlessly easy. Furthermore, each resurrection would "purify" the magical bloodline within the body. The idea of the body consistently maintaining its peak vigour was, in fact, a method of continuously refreshing the body using the soul as an anchor. The book described this simple resurrection spell, which "refreshed" oneself, as a pure-blood bloodline purification magic.
That was all. Just those few points.
Lockhart could roughly guess what the so-called flaw was. First, refreshing the body using the soul as an anchor meant that the soul could not have any problems; otherwise, the refreshed body would also have problems. Like having no nose.
Secondly, lacking a nose might not even be a soul problem. It could be that the "magical bloodline" did not truly represent the complete self. Each refresh, leading to a reversion of the bloodline, might cause the wizard to become something non-human.
But there was a solution. Lockhart, thinking with his own magical philosophy, realized that the path from a non-human state or even a magical creature state back to a wizarding state was precisely the concept behind Dark Arts creature breeding. The method was simple: participate more in wizarding life and wizarding adventures. This would re-immerse the wizard in the human state within nature, environment, and society.
Like, perhaps, conquering the world? Lockhart's eyebrow raised. He now somewhat understood the reason why Voldemort had completely turned against Dumbledore. He had to do it. Otherwise, this Voldemort, with his Parseltongue, might truly turn into a "Serpent King."
Heh heh... fascinating.