"Idiot! You were deceived!"
"You were completely taken for a fool by that bastard Blake!"
"You really think he'll help you?"
"You think he needs your help?"
"Blake and Dumbledore are working together!"
"If Dumbledore wanted to get rid of you, how could Blake possibly save you?"
Luhart—no, Lockhart—stood there, dazed. Just moments ago, a diary had hit him in the head. Then, a voice echoed in his mind. A voice that had quickly absorbed everything Lockhart had experienced recently.
And it immediately started attacking him.
"But... why wait until now?" Lockhart murmured.
"Don't you get it? If Dumbledore had any solid evidence against you, why would he invite you to Hogwarts as a professor?"
"I... I thought he admired my talents..."
"Lockhart, do the math. You're a fraud! Think about it—since you became a professor, aren't more and more students mocking you?"
"It does seem that way..."
"Of course it does! Because now you can't hide your incompetence. You thought everyone was too stupid to notice? Dumbledore brought you here just to expose you!"
Lockhart felt his stomach drop.
"Then... it's over for me..."
Dumbledore's going to ruin me. Blake set me up.
His reputation—shattered. His career—gone.
And worst of all, he might end up in Azkaban.
"Two one three," Lockhart muttered in despair.
But the voice—Tom—had no intention of sympathizing. Lockhart's fate was irrelevant to him. He only wanted to use him.
So, Tom laid out the bait.
"When I entered your mind, I learned about your past. And I'm sure you've guessed who I am."
Only then did Lockhart realize the voice's true identity. A chill ran down his spine.
Young Voldemort.
This was Tom Riddle.
"You don't need to be afraid, Lockhart. The Dark Lord rewards those who help him."
"Help me, and I'll restore your career. Elevate it even further."
"Blake doesn't need you. But I do. And I believe that with your brilliance, you'll see who's truly on your side."
Hope flickered in Lockhart's eyes. Desperate, he latched onto this final thread like a drowning man grabbing a rope.
He'd thought Blake was his savior. But now it seemed Blake was his downfall.
Tom's offer—no matter how faint—sounded like salvation.
Tentatively, Lockhart asked, "What do you need me to do?"
"Take me out of Hogwarts."
"That's it? Easy," Lockhart sighed in relief.
Just sneak the diary out of Hogwarts. Not hard.
"But..."
That one word made Lockhart's chest tighten.
He knew it couldn't be that simple.
"What else do you want from me?"
"Before I leave, I want to leave Dumbledore and Blake a little 'gift'."
"Gift?"
"Follow my instructions. Go somewhere."
Lockhart made his way to the second floor, pausing outside the girls' bathroom. He checked the hall, saw no one, and slipped inside.
As soon as the door closed behind him, the air shimmered nearby.
Blake removed the cloak of invisibility, stepping into view.
"I really hoped he wouldn't end up here..."
Dumbledore appeared beside him, face lined with sorrow.
Was he pitying Lockhart… or remembering someone else?
Blake glanced at him, voice quiet.
"If only Lockhart had paid for those stories instead of stealing them. I wouldn't have minded if he'd rewritten them with himself as the lead—as long as he didn't harm anyone."
"But he didn't want to pay. He wanted it all, for nothing. And people got hurt."
"Old Rip..." Blake's voice tightened. "If I'd come a little later, he would've frozen to death in that rundown house. Magic forgotten, starving like a Muggle."
Lockhart had to pay. Not for ambition, but for what he did to others.
A mechanical sound came from the bathroom. Lockhart had opened the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.
Dumbledore patted Blake's shoulder. "Let's go. It's time to get justice—for Old Rip and everyone else."
He moved toward the hole in the bathroom floor, but Blake stopped him.
"Too dangerous to jump at your age."
Blake summoned a dimensional door.
They stepped through.
The Chamber looked as it had before—except the basilisk corpse was gone, cleaned away by Blake.
Lockhart stood frozen before the Slytherin statue, staring in awe.
The diary floated from his pocket, falling to the ground. A translucent figure emerged—Tom Riddle's soul, more solid than before, nearly lifelike.
Lockhart flinched.
"I brought you here. Now, how will you help me?" he asked nervously.
"Shut up, Lockhart. We'll talk later. Close your eyes and stand still, or you'll die!"
Despite Tom's youthful appearance, his power radiated like fire. Lockhart obeyed without question.
Tom only wanted him alive so he could leave Hogwarts. If Lockhart died, his plan fell apart.
With Lockhart silenced, Tom turned to the statue, eyes gleaming.
You forced my hand, Dumbledore.
He would unleash the basilisk. Let it tear through the school.
Blake had too many friends here. Even if Blake survived, others wouldn't. That would be enough for revenge.
In Parseltongue, he hissed:
"Speak to me, greatest of the Four!"
The statue's mouth groaned open.
One second passed.
Two seconds.
No basilisk.
Ten seconds.
Nothing.
Even Lockhart sensed something was wrong.
A calm voice rang out.
"Confused?"
Tom spun around.
Blake and Dumbledore stepped into view.
"You... how did you find this place?!" Tom shouted. "You followed me! You let me go on purpose!"
Blake smirked. "Maybe we let you go. Maybe not. Doesn't matter."
He tossed something to the floor—long and curved.
A basilisk fang.
Tom's face paled.
If the fang is gone... the basilisk—
"No... impossible..."
Blake spread his arms. "Tom, I told you—I hit you with the Forgetting Curse."
"Guess when I first used it?"
Tom stared at him, jaw tight.
"You opened the Chamber months ago," Blake said. "But you failed."
"The basilisk is dead. And I made you forget all of it."
"You're just an experiment now."
Tom's fury surged. He hurled the diary aside.
"You... used me?!"
"You figured it out. Good job." Blake clapped.
"But don't worry—your body won't let this go!" Tom sneered.
"About that..." Blake smiled.
"Your body's been dead for ten years."
Tom's expression cracked.
"Lies!"
"You were killed by a one-year-old child."
"A-Ah—" Tom trembled.
"If you'd looked at Lockhart's memories, you'd know that."
"So, those promises you made to Lockhart..." Blake looked over. "They were lies, right?"
Lockhart blinked. "You... lied to me?"
Tom tried to salvage it.
"The Dark Lord never forgets those who help him! If I'd succeeded—"
Blake and Dumbledore exchanged amused glances.
"Still trying to manipulate him? So you must need him for something else..."
Blake narrowed his eyes. "Go ahead, use whatever trump card you've got left."
"You're a cruel man, Blake," Tom growled—then lunged at Lockhart.
His soul merged with the stunned man.
Lockhart's eyes turned blood red.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The Killing Curse blazed toward Blake—
But Blake swung the invisibility cloak like a shield, deflecting the curse.
Lockhart, possessed by Tom, soared toward the statue's open mouth.
=============
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