I'm back. Sorry for the delay again — I was preparing for Patreon, hence the delay.
I want to explain the update pattern clearly. I had already written a lot of advanced chapters right from the very beginning. Over the span of two months, I ended up mass-releasing chapters many times, and during that period I posted everything I had. After that, around two weeks ago, I disappeared again to continue working on the advanced chapters.
But from now onwards, I'll try to post advanced chapters on Patreon on the first day of each month, so Webnovel readers will still get a weekly chapter without delay.
Thank you for reading and supporting the story.
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"Finally…", Gilderoy thought, a quiet, satisfied pull in his chest." First girlfriend in this world, and it's Amelia. Smart, Skilled, and hot."
Now that Gilderoy and Amelia were officially a couple, every day was pure fire. Kisses in between morning workouts, holding hands through classes, stolen moments between lessons—everything pulsed with tension and need.
From the day they first met in the Great Hall, tension had built between them, months of stolen glances and small touches. Now it had spilled over. When their lips met, it wasn't sudden or random—it was long, charged, and waiting, a release of everything they'd been holding back.
In the library, the quiet scent of parchment and candle wax grounded them, but it did nothing to diminish the electric closeness. Amelia grinned, pressing her hands against his chest, fingers tracing along his abs.
Gilderoy leaned back slightly, smirk tugging at his lips as Amelia pressed forward, brushing her nose against his. Every teasing glance she threw him was met with a sharp, mischievous look of his own, eyes dark with intent and want.
Gilderoy cupped her waist, thumbs tracing the curve of her hips, letting his hands linger deliberately. Then, without warning, their eyes met—dark, hungry, and unyielding. Gilderoy leaned down, capturing her lips in a rough, demanding kiss.
Amelia didn't pull away. Instead, she pressed closer, matching his intensity. Her hands tangled in his hair while his hands slid lower along her back, tilting her subtly as the kiss deepened.
When they finally parted, foreheads resting together, a slow grin spread across Amelia's face. "We'll have to save the rest for later," she murmured, a shiver of anticipation still threading through her voice.
Amelia straightened, brushing her hands over his abs one last time before pulling herself together. She picked up her quill and parchment, shifting focus back to her studies.
Top grades were essential—she wanted a future in the Auror Office—but her closeness with Gilderoy didn't waver. If anything, it deepened: morning workouts together, meals shared in companionable silence or teasing chatter, and side-by-side classes.
While the other seventh-years hunched over textbooks and quills, Gilderoy leaned back in his chair, tapping his wand against the edge of the table. N.E.W.T.s and perfect scores didn't worry him—he could memorize spells and theory well enough. Being a half-blood, he knew his chances at a good Ministry job were as solid as those of any Muggleborn.
What excited him more were the possibilities beyond Hogwarts: facing curses in the wild, duelling in real battles, exploring wizarding communities outside Britain. "The books barely mention the world beyond these walls. I want to see it, live it, do the things that fake Lockhart claimed in his stories."
Sitting there, Gilderoy realized something. Dueling with Amelia had improved his basic casting, but it wasn't enough.
He needed someone who understood true combat, not flashy duels for points or applause, but real, silent , quick and unforgiving. His mind raced to the one teacher who fit that description: Flitwick. Small, unassuming, but precise as a clockwork spell… if anyone could push him past his limits, it was the duelling master himself.
The thought sparked a grin. Time to see if Master Yoda can turn me into a proper wizard who doesn't just look heroic in stories.
One quiet afternoon, after the last echoes of students had faded from the corridors, Gilderoy found himself standing before Professor Flitwick's door. His heart thumped with a mix of excitement and nerves—asking a teacher to take him on as a personal student was different.
The tiny duelling master looked up from his parchment, spectacles sliding slightly down his nose, eyes bright with curiosity. Gilderoy straightened, cleared his throat, and forced a steady smile.
"Professor Flitwick… sir… may I… ask for your guidance in duelling? I want to train under you," Gilderoy said, determination brimming in his voice.
Flitwick peered at him over his spectacles. "And why, Mr. Lockhart, do you wish to learn?"
"I want to get better… not for points, not for show," Gilderoy replied honestly. "I want to protect myself and others. Someone has to stand up to Voldemort."
I actually have no obligation to fight Voldemort. I just need to get stronger. But he's a homicidal maniac, and eventually he'll make me and Amelia his target. So that's one more reason to fight him.
At the mention of Voldemort, Flitwick's tiny frame stiffened slightly, but he quickly nodded, impressed.
"One more thing," Flitwick continued. "Do you wish to learn duelling, or… fighting?"
Gilderoy's gaze sharpened, unwavering. "Please… teach me to fight, Sir."
Flitwick's eyes flickered with a hint of caution. "It won't be easy, Mr. Lockhart. Fighting is far more serious than duelling. Faster, deadlier, less forgiving."
"I will give it my all," Gilderoy replied confidently.
"Very well, Mr. Lockhart," Flitwick said, straightening on his stool. "We shall begin your training every weekday, evenings, on the seventh floor. Do you think you can manage that schedule?"
"Absolutely, sir," Gilderoy's eyes sparkled. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
"Sir…" he began, leaning slightly forward, a sly smirk tugging at his lips, "you're familiar with the secret room on the seventh floor, yes?"
Flitwick's spectacles slid down his nose as he peered at Gilderoy, a twinkle lighting his eyes. "All teachers know, Mr. Lockhart," he said, voice warm but firm. "And I'm glad to see you've already discovered it for yourself."
Gilderoy smiled. "Miss Amelia Bones… she taught me spells and how to duel in that room these past few months."
Flitwick's expression brightened. "Ah… Miss Bones is a formidable witch. Her brother must have trained her well to make her this skilled."
"Since today is Monday, we can start today itself," Flitwick said. "Come after classes, Mr. Lockhart."
With that, Gilderoy moved on to his next classes, mind buzzing with anticipation. "Strange… I didn't know Flitwick could actually fight. I always thought he was just a duelling champion. Maybe I'm in some alternate universe."
Evening couldn't arrive fast enough.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Gilderoy hurried to the seventh floor to see a large door blended seamlessly into the wall, almost as if it had always been part of it. He opened it to find Flitwick waiting inside, wand in hand, eyes sharp and assessing him.
"Good Evening, sir," Gilderoy greeted respectfully.
"Good Evening, Mr. Lockhart. Call me Master from now on. Now… I need you to duel me first. I need to see your current level."
Gilderoy took a deep breath, taking his stance across the empty room, Wand at the ready. At Flitwick's subtle nod, he cast Stupefy with speed and precision.
For a moment, Flitwick's eyes flickered with approval—but then, with a wave of his hand, he dissipated the spell wandlessly.
Before Gilderoy could react, Flitwick struck again: a chain of spells manipulated the ground beneath him, slowly sinking him into the floor. Lumos Maxima flashed, blinding him. Expelliarmus and Stupefy came in quick succession, and suddenly Gilderoy was disarmed and stunned, vision plunging to black.
When he stirred awake, Flitwick's small voice chimed, "Excellent Reflexes, Mr. Lockhart. But did you notice how I defeated you?"
Gilderoy blinked, recollecting. "You… used the surroundings…, chained your spells together, and brushed my spell aside with wandless magic."
"Correct. That is fighting, Mr. Lockhart," Flitwick said, a glint of pride in his eye. "Quick, relentless, and strategic. Unlike duelling, which is slower and often more theatrical, fighting demands speed, precision, and use of your environment. That is what I will teach you: wandless casting, chain casting, spatial awareness, and the art of turning your surroundings into advantage."
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