Lockhart truly seemed to have become a responsible professor. Even with his pallid complexion, he insisted on continuing to teach.
Though his lessons remained the same ridiculous theatrics, people had grown surprisingly forgiving—figuring that, in his current condition, just showing up was already commendable.
Harold suspected this "new" Lockhart had something to do with the escaped Riddle.
Aside from the strange fact that Lockhart had returned to Hogwarts at all, there was something else. Riddle had once mentioned that the diary first appeared at Hogwarts in Lockhart's office. He just hadn't had a chance to communicate with Lockhart before Malfoy stole it.
It was likely that part about Malfoy stealing the diary was true—but whether Riddle and Lockhart had actually talked? That was less certain.
Harold had initially believed it. He'd even tested Lockhart a few times, and his reactions had seemed normal—completely unaware of the diary's true nature.
But now… that assumption seemed careless.
Maybe Lockhart had been pretending all along.
After all, if he'd managed to fool so many experienced witches and wizards for years, then faking ignorance would be child's play.
So Harold borrowed the Marauder's Map again from the Weasley twins and spent a long time in his dormitory tracking Lockhart's movements.
Lockhart's schedule was ridiculously normal. He taught class, made his presence known around the castle as usual, and after dinner would go back to his office to write replies to fan letters—often into the early hours of the morning before heading to bed.
Day after day, the pattern stayed the same.
He didn't sneak off to the Chamber of Secrets. In fact, he barely even went to the second floor. Most of his time was spent in the more populated areas like the third floor and the Great Hall.
But far from easing Harold's suspicions, the normalcy only made him more certain something was wrong.
Because the library and hospital wing—both on the second floor—were also places Lockhart used to frequent before the attack. He'd chat endlessly with Madam Pince about imaginary rare books or try to "teach" Madam Pomfrey how to properly brew hair-regrowth potions.
At first, Madam Pomfrey had actually believed him—Lockhart's own thick, golden locks made a convincing case. But the moment she followed one of his "recipes," her favorite cauldron exploded, shattering every glass window in the hospital wing. Before that, she'd never had a single mishap in her brewing.
What she didn't know was that Lockhart had no idea how to make a hair potion. He'd simply wanted to slap Hogwarts' seal of approval on his own line of shampoo.
That whole disaster was soon followed by Lockhart accidentally vanishing Malfoy's leg bones, and Pomfrey had since barred him from even approaching the infirmary.
But now, since his return, Lockhart hadn't tried to go back—not even once. He'd also been avoiding the second floor entirely.
In fact, his behavior was the exact opposite of Malfoy's, who had lurked on the second floor seven times in one day. Lockhart seemed to be deliberately keeping his distance.
Was it just because he'd just returned and was laying low?
Or was he avoiding someone?
Harold suspected it might be himself. After all, that's how Malfoy had gotten caught. Then again, it could also be Dumbledore.
Because lately, Dumbledore had been showing up in the castle far more frequently.
Previously, he would only occasionally appear in the Great Hall. But now, every time Harold sat down to eat, Dumbledore was there at the staff table.
Last week, he'd even attended a Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.
Harold hadn't gone—he'd only heard about it from Harry. Harry had come back pretty pleased, saying both teams were pretty weak, and the only real excitement had come when Cedric Diggory finally caught the Snitch.
Cedric Diggory—Hufflepuff's fourth-year Seeker—handsome, popular, and arguably more talented than Harry. A bit of a school celebrity.
But that wasn't the important part.
The important part was that Dumbledore almost never attended matches. Even if he liked Quidditch, his office window overlooked the pitch—it wasn't like he needed to come down in person.
The last time he'd been at a match in person, it had been to keep an eye on Quirrell, who was cursing Harry's broom. So what was his reason this time?
Only one name came to mind: Gilderoy Lockhart.
Add to that the fact that Snape had been talking to Lockhart more often lately—Harold had noticed them conversing in private multiple times.
And Snape hated talking to Lockhart. Back when Lockhart used to seek him out, Snape's scowl would go darker than the bottom of Neville's cauldron.
So if they were voluntarily chatting now, something had definitely changed—probably Snape's opinion, and that alone was enough to raise red flags.
Which all meant that, even if Lockhart was involved with Riddle, he likely wouldn't make a move anytime soon.
And if Dumbledore and Snape were already on high alert, then maybe Harold didn't need to get involved—at least not right away.
The next day, Harold sought out Fred and George to return the Marauder's Map.
But they didn't take it.
"After careful consideration," Fred said cheerfully, "we've decided to give it to you."
"Give it to me?" Harold was genuinely surprised. "Aren't you attached to it?"
"Oh, very much so," George said, clutching his chest dramatically. "But we think you'll make better use of it now."
"You're planning something, aren't you?"
"Something big, I bet."
"Don't worry, we won't ask." Fred pulled a face and winked. "Every generation of mischief-makers has their secrets."
"As part of the old generation," George said, adopting a solemn tone, "it's our duty to help the new ones. Just like Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs did before us."
They sounded like ghosts from a bygone era—never mind that they were only two years older than Harold.
"Well then," Harold said, tucking the map back into his pocket without hesitation, "thank you for your generous donation."
A flicker of pain crossed both twins' faces.
"We've already memorized all the secret passages anyway," George said with a deep breath. "We now officially pass it on to you."
"Use it well," Fred added, mimicking Percy's serious tone. "Make us proud."
"And don't get caught," George said with a grin and a wink.
With that, they laughed and left the common room.
Harold pulled the map out once more, though he didn't really need it right now. He'd planned to return it just because he had no use for it at the moment. Constantly staring at it was boring and a waste of time.
Originally, he'd thought he could just borrow it again from Fred and George if the need arose. He hadn't expected them to hand it over permanently.
"Well, I guess I don't have to borrow it anymore," Harold muttered with a smirk as he turned and headed back to his dorm.
… ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅✦𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾✦𝗇𝖾𝗍