Lockhart looked at the floating car that had nearly been hit by the train engine—and at Harry Potter, who had almost fallen out of it.
He suddenly understood.
He remembered this scene from the original story.
Harry Potter hadn't been able to get on the Hogwarts Express and had to rely on the Weasley family's flying car.
As a result, they were nearly hit by the train, but fortunately, Ron had reacted quickly and avoided disaster.
Otherwise, they really might've ended up in St. Mungo's Hospital.
However—
Thinking back on the magical car he had just seen, Lockhart felt a spark of interest ignite.
The Weasleys were a pure-blood family.
And most pure-blood families had centuries of heritage and magical knowledge.
It was said that Arthur Weasley loved studying Muggle objects, and now, seeing this enchanted car...
Perhaps—
Their family heritage had something to do with alchemy.
Thinking this, Lockhart paused, his mind racing.
He couldn't do much with the Hogwarts Express right now, but the Weasley family?
Surely he could work with them.
And conveniently, they were all fans of his books.
Tsk tsk tsk, how could Lockhart not take advantage of such an opportunity?
He'd be struck by lightning if he didn't!!!
As for Harry Potter, who had just narrowly escaped danger—
Lockhart didn't give it much thought.
In the end, everything had turned out fine. Besides, he wasn't Harry Potter's nanny.
Why overthink it?
Harry might have decent combat potential—
But in Lockhart's eyes—
Honestly, if it weren't for his connection to Voldemort,
Hermione was far more valuable.
At the very least—
Hermione had the potential to become a research assistant.
Hmm, Harry could also participate in his research—
As a research subject, that is.
Thinking this, Lockhart gave a faint smile.
The Savior born from the clash of Love Magic and Unforgivable Curses—
The research value… was immense!!!
---
That night, in the Great Hall at Hogwarts—
After getting off the Hogwarts Express, Lockhart went to his office and private quarters to settle his luggage and books.
For the foreseeable future, he'd most likely be staying at Hogwarts.
Don't ask why.
If the school allowed it, he'd have moved into the library directly.
Hmm, speaking of which, maybe he could negotiate a side job with Dumbledore—become an assistant librarian.
He could just say Madam Pince seemed overworked and he wanted to help.
Surely that wouldn't be misunderstood, right?
With those thoughts, Lockhart sat at the professors' table in the Great Hall, watching waves of young witches and wizards pour in.
He sighed slightly.
So this was the opening ceremony—same old routine.
In his previous life as a university professor, Lockhart had loathed these kinds of speeches.
They were long-winded, full of empty jargon and grandiose clichés, delivered with exaggerated enthusiasm.
But when it came time to allocate more research funding, that enthusiasm vanished and turned into penny-pinching.
Many of his amazing research projects had to be abandoned because of that.
Thinking about it made Lockhart feel quite regretful.
He turned his attention back to the Hogwarts ceremony.
Looking at the magnificent Great Hall and comparing it to his past life's university halls,
He couldn't help but sigh—
Magic truly was superior.
Scenes like this weren't impossible in his past life, just outrageously expensive.
Here at Hogwarts, a simple wave of a wand made everything look so grand.
The hall was brightly lit by thousands of floating candles.
Some magical chandeliers also hung from above.
Long tables filled the hall, packed with young witches and wizards.
Golden plates and silver goblets gleamed under the candlelight.
But what impressed Lockhart the most—
Was the ceiling.
The entire ceiling had clearly been enchanted. When one looked up,
They could see a brilliant starry sky suspended overhead.
Lockhart loved such cosmic views.
The vastness of the universe versus the smallness of humanity—
It always stirred his thirst for knowledge.
---
Soon, the classic Hogwarts Sorting Ceremony began under Lockhart's watchful gaze.
Professor McGonagall brought out a four-legged stool and placed a patched, worn-looking hat on it.
Seeing the Sorting Hat made Lockhart's research instincts flare again.
It was said that the hat had been enchanted by the four founders of Hogwarts and imbued with their thoughts.
It could determine which house best suited a student.
But in Lockhart's view, that sorting ability was secondary.
What mattered most—was that the hat was sentient.
Even with limitations, it had some form of computing or predictive ability.
Lockhart believed that an advanced magical civilization must possess equally advanced computing or simulation tools.
Only then could magical technologies continue to innovate.
To Lockhart—
The Sorting Hat was clearly a prototype of magical artificial intelligence.
And as a researcher, knowing how to use tools was a basic skill.
The greatest value of a tool—
Was in multiplying a researcher's capabilities a hundredfold, even a thousandfold.
Hmm. Lockhart thought he urgently needed a magical A.I. to prove his professionalism.
Preferably funded with a mountain of Galleons!!!
"You may not think I'm good-looking,
But don't judge by appearances.
If you can find a better-looking hat than me,
I'll eat myself!"
The Sorting Hat loudly sang its unique Sorting Song.
It was a bit hoarse and rather unpleasant, causing Lockhart to frown slightly.
Still, he looked at the hat with great admiration.
After the song, the Sorting Ceremony began.
"When I call your name, put on the Sorting Hat, sit on the stool, and wait to be sorted."
"Jodie Philip."
"…"
With Professor McGonagall's stern voice, one by one the young witches and wizards found their respective houses.
---
After a while, Lockhart got a little bored and looked around, observing the other professors nearby.
Hmm. Headmaster Dumbledore hadn't appeared yet.
Professor Filius Flitwick, who taught Charms, was just as he remembered—tiny, but radiating strong magical energy.
No wonder he was once a dueling champion.
Divination Professor Sybill Trelawney had frizzy hair and wore a deep green witch's robe,
With what appeared to be a bone hanging around her neck—probably a divination tool.
She looked eccentric—fitting for someone who taught Divination.
Speaking of which, how much recognition would it take to extract her prophecy talent?
But—
Looking at Snape, seated three chairs away, Lockhart sighed.
His face was dark and severe, exuding coldness and sarcasm.
He might as well have had "KEEP OUT" written on his forehead.
Snape was a Potions Master, and Lockhart had originally planned to get on his good side—
To obtain potions, or even learn how to brew them.
But judging by that attitude, it was going to be a tough task.