[So... does that mean you're my... senior?]
Lockhart held his quill and wrote this question on the book's page.
[Yes, I enrolled in 1938. Based on the timeline, I really am your senior.]
Lockhart used the feather of his quill to scratch his nose. He still had one question that Dumbledore had deliberately avoided answering, even trying to use both the Forgetfulness Charm and the Confundus Charm to make him disregard it.
But no matter how much Dumbledore calculated, he failed to account for one thing—Lockhart was not entirely useless. In fact, in some ways, he was too clever.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have managed to steal other people's achievements in the wizarding world for so many years before getting... well, caught just this once.
After leaving the Headmaster's office and realizing he'd been Confunded, Lockhart immediately hit himself with an Obliviate. By erasing the memory of being Confunded, he effectively removed its influence—one of the more advanced applications of the Forgetfulness Charm.
However, this also had an unintended consequence: it completely restored his fear of the terrifying Hogwarts urban legend.
And so, he picked up his quill again and wrote directly to the senior wizard from a distant time:
[There's a rumor about Hogwarts—that the Professors of Defense Against the Dark Arts and Alchemy clash, and that by the end of the term, only one of them can walk away unharmed. Is this true?]
[Why do you think that?]
[Because I'm the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and since my time at Hogwarts, I've never seen one last more than a year... Also... last year's professor died before we even got to final exams. He didn't even make it.]
The Tom Riddle inside the diary was utterly baffled.
In short, he did not understand, but he was deeply shaken.
The fact that someone could actually believe such an absurd rumor only proved one thing—this so-called Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was nothing more than a complete idiot.
Simply put... he could be used!
[What I'm about to tell you—you must not be afraid.]
The moment Lockhart saw this sentence appear on the page, his heart leaped to his throat.
Lockhart sank back into his chair, completely drained of strength, his mind racing for a solution.
Like a spring, he snapped back up, his eyes glued to the page.
[When I was a student, I had a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—he was my mentor. We were incredibly close. He had mastered a method to resist that curse. In the end, he left Hogwarts not because of the curse, but because he simply grew old and retired.]
[You know how?!] Lockhart scribbled frantically.
[I told you, he was my mentor. We were incredibly close. What he knew, I knew.]
[Senior, can you (crossed out) could you tell me this method?]
[It's very simple—before that Alchemy professor defeats you, strike first and take him down. Then, perform a ritual magic...]
The Tom Riddle inside the diary had already planned out exactly how he was going to deceive this bumbling idiot of a professor.
Trick Lockhart into ambushing the Alchemy professor in the dead of night!
After all, based on what this fool had said, the Alchemy professor was younger, stronger in magic, and—judging by the little bits of truth hidden in Lockhart's endless lies—he seemed to possess charisma and influence.
Much better suited to be Lord Voldemort's host than the useless buffoon currently writing in this diary.
All he had to do now was forcefully seize the Alchemy professor's body through a ritual, inheriting his power...
Then, he would drain the life force of this pitiful excuse for a Defense professor, ensuring that Lord Voldemort would return in his full glory—right inside his beloved Hogwarts.
[When you say "defeat," you mean...] Lockhart wrote expectantly.
[Use the Killing Curse. His body must not be damaged in the slightest—it must be fresh.]
Lockhart's forehead broke into a cold sweat.
Eh..? Did I judge wrongly?
Inside the diary, little Tom was speechless.
This cowardly excuse for a professor had the intent but lacked the guts.
[Then what will you do? Wait until the so-called "curse" breaks your limbs or leaves you dead on the podium by the end of term?]
[I... I can't... I can't kill anyone... No, I won't listen to you.] Lockhart, with his trembling hands, tried to slam the book shut.
But just as the pages were about to close, a new line of text slowly surfaced.
[You don't have to kill. There are other ways.]
Lockhart's hands froze mid-action.
His cowardice said: Close the book.
His ego said: Keep reading.
[... First, I need you to trust me completely.]
[Good... First, place both hands on the book.]
Lockhart followed the instructions, waiting for the next step.
[Now, channel your magic into the book.]
Lockhart hesitated for a brief second before doing as he was told.
Meanwhile, in the Alchemy professor's office...
"Oh, Merlin's soggy pants… is this still an office?"
The moment Neville stepped into the Alchemy professor's office, he froze in place, staring wide-eyed at the towering, glass-encased machines humming around him.
"Yep," Kasenhis' voice echoed from the far end of the room, near the massive floor-to-ceiling window. "Didn't I mention last Christmas that I was renovating my office? Well, this is the result."
Neville took off running.
By the time he finally reached the very distant desk, he was gasping for air.
"Professor… do you… do you walk this much every time you leave your office?"
"I mostly teleport. But a little cardio never hurts, right?" Kasenhis shrugged. "Over the holidays, Lupin and I even played ice hockey in here."
Neville blinked. "Ice hockey? Here?"
"Yep. Just a casual game. Oh, right—wasn't that you in Flourish and Blotts over the break? Why aren't you with your friends today?"
Neville hesitated. "I… well…" He fidgeted.
"Professor, I came here because… I want to learn Alchemy."
Kasenhis leaned back slightly. "Huh. Saw that coming. But honestly? I still recommend waiting until your third year before taking my class.
"Alchemy is not like Potions. It demands a strong magical foundation. Second-years… well, your magic reserves are just too low.
"Take Cedric Diggory, for example. He's a fourth-year now, but back in third year, he insisted on taking Alchemy with the fourth-years… Guess what happened?"
"He did great?" Neville guessed, hopeful.
"He passed out. Face-first. On the worktable."
"So yeah," Kasenhis continued, "Trying to learn my kind of Alchemy without enough magic? Dangerous. Especially since I specialize in Enchanted Alchemy."
Neville hesitated. "Uh… Professor, I don't think I completely understand."
"That's fine. Let's start with the basics."
With a flick of his hand, Kasenhis summoned a steam-filled kettle, already heated to a rolling boil by Shining Radiance.
A moment later, two cups of freshly brewed tea floated over to them.
___________ Content orıginally comes from 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝✦𝘧𝙞𝙧𝙚✦𝕟𝕖𝕥
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