Chapter 129: How Did You Do That?
In the early morning, Professor Kettleburn, having slept exceptionally well, woke up early.
He carefully listened to the various animal calls from the forest, quickly determined the current time, and promptly woke up the Weasley twins. He then cast a spell to clean the dirt and smell from them, urging them to hurry back to the school castle.
Professors usually turned a blind eye to late-night escapades, as long as they weren't caught.
They had to get back as quickly as possible before everyone woke up, to avoid being caught red-handed.
This commotion obviously disturbed the baby Hippogriff, causing it to let out a clear cry, which then woke Hagrid.
He rubbed his eyes groggily and stood up, looking around with some confusion. After a moment, he registered his current situation and couldn't help but ask, "Where's Professor Lockhart?"
"There, look." Professor Kettleburn pointed to the enclosure fence at the corner of the paddock, where Professor Lockhart was standing, gazing up at the sky.
"I'll go see."
He thought for a moment, moving his prosthetic limbs, and slowly approached. "Professor Lockhart, what are you doing?"
Lockhart turned around, a brilliant smile on his face. "Look, there's both the moon and the sun in the sky at the same time."
Heh.
Professor Kettleburn chuckled. "What's so rare about that? It's the same in the evening."
Seeing the sun and moon together wasn't uncommon; if you observed carefully, you could see it every day.
"Really? I never noticed that before." In his previous life, Lockhart never had a good opportunity to observe nature. As a child, he was busy with studies and odd jobs, and after graduation, he became a corporate slave working overtime every other day. Immersed in the mire of society, he had long forgotten his natural attributes.
He smiled faintly, his eyes a little distant. "Do you know? The earth told me that destruction and vitality exist simultaneously…"
In fact, in the magical notebook "Controlling Lightning," Dumbledore had also said something similar, believing that lightning was a combination of vital resurgence and destructive darkness.
"???" Professor Kettleburn looked bewildered. "What are you pondering about so early in the morning?"
Lockhart didn't answer, merely muttering, "Wilbert Slinkhard, author of Defensive Magical Theory, mentioned in his book that curse-breaking charms, whether the general counter-charm or specific counter-curses, are essentially curses themselves."
"I used to think that magic and its corresponding counter-charm were like a pencil and an eraser."
"Only now do I understand, they are two sides of the same coin."
He should have understood this truth long ago. The Patronus Charm was not merely magic to protect the soul, but magic to protect the soul from being eroded by negative emotions and harmed by dark forces.
It seemed similar.
But in fact, it was vastly different.
Because, essentially, excessive positive force corroding the mind wasn't a good thing either, as it would make it difficult for a wizard to integrate into society.
Regarding this, Dumbledore had once told him that old Dumbledore believed he shouldn't be affected by Dark magic, nor by positive magic; he was himself, possessing his own will, and shouldn't be corrupted in the slightest.
"What are you trying to say?" Professor Kettleburn declared he was an old man and his mind wasn't as sharp as a youngster's.
"Nothing much, just had a breakthrough in a small magical technique."
Lockhart said with a brilliant smile, stepping forward and slowly drifting down from the top of the fence.
Professor Kettleburn's eyes widened. He had seen this magic before; this scene was far too familiar. He'd seen it performed by a student he once taught. It was simply incredible that someone so young had invented such powerful magic.
Tom Riddle's Flying Charm!
At that time, everyone believed that child would be the next Dumbledore.
No!
Professor Kettleburn quickly realized that Lockhart's light, airy movements were different from Tom's Flying Charm. Tom's charm was incredibly swift, faster than a broomstick, while Lockhart's movements were more elegant and light, like leaves fluttering in the sky.
"By casting magic with the mindset of a counter-charm, it becomes more controllable."
Lockhart provided the answer. "A counter-charm isn't the eraser for the pencil of magic; it's the other side of magic. It's not control, it's not breaking, it's a mutual cycle."
Professor Kettleburn pursed his lips. "That magical theory sounds a bit like Transfiguration."
Lockhart nodded. "Mm, I've drawn a lot from Dumbledore's wisdom."
"Self-wrestling, self-contention—it's so awkward! I dislike Dumbledore's magical path the most; it's too exhausting," Professor Kettleburn grumbled. "What's the use of pondering such things?"
"Of course, it's useful!" A voice suddenly came from above the fence.
Professor Kettleburn's eyes widened sharply, and he looked up at the fence in alarm, finding Lockhart still standing there, smiling down at him.
"!!!"
He blinked. He was absolutely certain he had just seen Lockhart float down!
"Merlin's tattered pants and hat!" he couldn't help but exclaim. "How did you do that?"
This was Hogwarts!
Hogwarts, protected by powerful magic!
No one! No one could perform Apparition within these grounds without the approval of the school castle's protective magic or the Headmaster's permission, no one!
But Lockhart's change in position had just occurred right before his eyes!
"I just said, by casting magic in the manner of a counter-charm, it becomes controllable." Lockhart explained, now standing before Professor Kettleburn again. "You can think of it as me casting a counter-charm to a floating spell, it's that simple."
"Ha!" Professor Kettleburn, watching Lockhart flicker in and out of sight, was utterly bewildered. "You can do that?"
Of course, he could.
Lockhart smiled sweetly at his side. In Professor Kettleburn's unseen view, the Patronus Horse and the malevolent Werewolf stood guarding him, appearing to stand separately yet seeming to merge into one.
In the realm of magic, sometimes counter-charms held more mystery than the magic itself.
Unleashing a terrifying fire to burn down an entire forest was certainly dangerous and powerful, but casting a spell to make a forest reappear from its ruins—that was the true mystery of wizarding magic.
How interesting.
Of course, theory was theory, and practice was practice.
Controllable magic suited this theory, but what about the uncontrollable parts of himself?
Lockhart needed to conduct some magical experiments to explore whether this theory was one of magic's truths.
Tom, time to work!
"Yes, I am not Ginny Weasley."
Lockhart, having once again been seen through by Tom, chuckled and penned, "Interesting being, hello, I am Albus Dumbledore."
—"!!!"
Tom, in the diary Horcrux, was stunned, letting out three exclamation marks in disbelief.
He hadn't imagined that he would one day communicate with Dumbledore in such a way. He quickly and cautiously chose his words, trying to avoid Dumbledore recognizing him.
At the same time, he felt a slight pang of bitterness, wishing so much that Dumbledore would recognize him by his handwriting, which would prove that the professor truly cared about him.
But sadly, the "professor" did not recognize him.
He was clearly overthinking things. Lockhart deeply cherished students like Luna, Neville, and Ron, whom he had recruited into the Duel Club, and held great hopes for these children. However, he simply didn't have the energy to memorize everyone's handwriting; he had too many things to do.
Remembering was a coincidence; not remembering was the norm.
Don't let your self-importance get the better of you, no one is important. While you are the protagonist of your own life, it also means you are merely background scenery in others' lives.
Did Dumbledore have to like you and love you?
Don't think too much. During your time at school, it was precisely the most intense period of struggle between old Dumbledore and Gellert; he was busy.
Lockhart chuckled inwardly, continuing to explain in detail the topic they had just discussed. "The magic in a wizard's hand is the manifestation of their own desires. We need to curb our desires so that magic doesn't spiral out of control."
"If you let magic influence you, you will eventually become a slave to magic. You won't even be able to control what you do, because often, the decisions you make might just be magic influencing you."
"If this happens, you will find yourself completely dragged into the vortex of 'fate,' the most terrifying magic, unable to escape."
"Only through self-wrestling, self-contention, through such repeated tempering, will we develop the most unwavering self-will."
"It can defy fate!"
Yes!
This was it! Tom felt it—it was Dumbledore's wisdom, words the professor would speak!
The one writing these words now must be Dumbledore!
—"Can wizards truly contend with fate?"
Tom couldn't help but ask his doubt. He prided himself on his intelligence and extraordinary talent, yet he was not without confusion.
—"I've always felt like someone mocked by fate. I should have had a mother who loved me most, the noblest birth, the most carefree childhood, but all of it was mercilessly taken away by fate, and I was powerless."
Tom yearned for Dumbledore's affirmation.
He had secretly researched Dumbledore's past, knowing that he too was someone toyed with by fate. He desperately hoped that this commonality would touch the professor's heart.
"Of course, you can!" Dumbledore gave him a precise answer. "To contend with fate, one should not completely deny the existence of fate's power, nor should one ignore everything fate brings. Instead, one should listen to the call of the adventure it brings, step into it, and child, magic will naturally give you the power to contend with it."
"And what you must do is possess extraordinary courage, extraordinary wisdom, extraordinary ambition, and extraordinary inclusiveness!"
Tom meticulously read every sentence, every word, every character. He couldn't be happier; Dumbledore was personally guiding him. It was pure bliss!
He almost took everything as gospel, earnestly pondering, hoping to come up with his own insights and then say them to impress Dumbledore.
Never!
Dumbledore had never spoken so much to him before.
Waaah...
It was simply too touching.
"Child, remember, love and goodness are not meant to combat malice and cruelty; they are merely another side."
"Missing one side will leave us incomplete."
"It will cause your will to lack its most important strength."
"..."
Outside the door of the Gryffindor girls' dormitory, where "Dumbledore" was located, the scene twisted bizarrely into the Chamber of Secrets. The visual representation there, after repeated adjustments, had become indistinguishable from the actual Chamber of Secrets in the real world.
Even the smallest moss marks in the wall cracks were identical.
There, the Boggart, transformed into a dozen-meter-tall Hanged God's corpse, pressed down firmly on the Basilisk, preventing it from escaping back into the cave of the Slytherin statue's mouth.
Yes, the Basilisk was resisting; it already felt like it was being drained dry, its dangerous and cold serpentine eyes beginning to grow dim and weak.
Waaah...
It's going to die!
Please, just end it quickly!
Truly, as a snake, it had never been so terrified of the call of Parseltongue.
However, its entire serpentine body quickly stiffened, its soul filled with terrible dread, motionless as if carved from wood.
The Little Goldie at the side curled its lip, signaling the Boggart to quickly drag the creature to its designated spot, awaiting Lockhart's return with young Tom as his experimental assistant.
(End of this chapter)
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