Based on what Lockhart knew about Alecto, she'd probably go all out right now, throwing a Killing Curse at him, her enemy standing right in front of her.
He was ready to dodge.
But nothing happened. Alecto just bit her lip, gave him a blank stare, and then her figure flickered, starting to collapse into a thick cloud of straw-scented smoke.
Was she… running away?
Why would she react like that?
Clearly, even her brother Amycus, who grew up with her, didn't fully understand his sister.
Lockhart relied on those memories but didn't trust them completely. He had his own judgment. Quick as a flash, he waved his wand, casting a spell different from his original plan—an Obliviate.
Not the fancy, high-level memory extraction he usually pulled off.
Just a standard, textbook Memory Charm.
He'd learned the technique from an old Auror's spellbook, something he'd gotten through some connections. Aurors were pros at this kind of thing.
The spell would make Alecto instantly forget everything about her brother, her master Voldemort, and her reasons for attacking him and Dumbledore.
Dark magic, huh…
Lockhart knew it too well. It needed a ton of malice to work.
But if the dark wizards waving their wands didn't even know why they were attacking, how much malice could they really muster?
Of course, Lockhart knew Voldemort could easily fix this, restoring Alecto's memories.
Or some other powerful wizard could, if they were around.
So this was a test, too—a way to figure out if they were only dealing with Alecto or if other powerful wizards were nearby.
"Aaaahhh!"
Alecto let out a pained scream, fully turning into a cloud of smoke that exploded outward and vanished.
She'd escaped!
Lockhart made the call right away, and his second realization was that the Memory Charm had worked.
Heh.
Standing on a meteor about to crash to the ground, he raised his hand, and a winged demon swooped down, carrying him back into the sky.
"Come on, then!"
Lockhart licked his lips, a little excited, scanning left and right, waiting for Alecto's third attack.
He knew her—she was crazy persistent. She'd never give up until she'd taken him down. That was just how she operated.
He remembered one mission from her past: even knowing it was a bad idea to chase a cornered enemy into a possible ambush, she went for it anyway, determined to finish them off. Her brother Amycus tried to stop her, and they ended up fighting about it for ages.
But this was weird.
He waited for a long time, even until Dumbledore showed up nearby, and still no sign of Alecto.
Was Voldemort here?
Ordering her to stand down?
That fanatical, power-worshipping nutcase would probably follow orders.
Lockhart couldn't help but wonder, his brow furrowing slightly.
That didn't add up. With old Dumbledore around, Voldemort would've bolted ages ago. In his current wraith-like state, he was at his weakest.
But whatever, the fight was over for now.
Dumbledore was like a cheat code, burning through everything with flames, ignoring the rules of Inferi resurrection or the steps laid out by that fairy-tale book's magical artifact. He just torched his way to the goal.
Lockhart helped out, using a conch to guide him.
"The gem of Carrow is guarded by a terrifying demon…" he said, relaying the conch's directions. "We need to find the key Old Man Uriel lost, the withered leaf with a sighing voice from the frost-covered land, and the repentant letter from Anka, the human possessed by the demon, to defeat it and open its lair…"
Dumbledore just asked, "Where's the demon?"
Lockhart lowered the conch, shrugging helplessly, and pointed toward the dim, sinking sun. "Keep heading toward the sunset, and you'll see it."
And then he saw what "steamrolling" really meant.
Old Dumbledore was just too much.
The so-called powerful demon didn't even get to finish its lines before Dumbledore waved his wand, shredded it with magic, grabbed the key, and opened the door out of the fairy-tale scene.
Tch.
No sense of immersion at all.
The guy didn't even bother with the proper steps!
Lockhart felt a bit disappointed, wondering if he'd ever get another chance to really dig into this fascinating magical artifact.
Then he saw the fairy-tale book.
He and Dumbledore walked out through the door, feeling their bodies grow step by step. Once they were fully free of the magic's influence and stable, they looked back to see a thick fairy-tale book open on the ground.
They were back in the Carrow family's ancestral hall.
The place didn't look as rundown as it had before, but it wasn't exactly in great shape either, reeking of decay.
One wall of the hall even had a huge gash torn through it, sunlight spilling in.
Dumbledore tapped his Elder Wand, and a misty light swirled. A witch appeared, holding a book and muttering to herself—it was Alecto Carrow.
She opened the book, placed it on the floor, and walked toward it from a distance. Her body shrank rapidly until she fully stepped into the pages.
A while later, she came flying out, collapsing on the ground, twitching. Struggling to her feet, she downed a healing potion, panting heavily and cursing Lockhart viciously in the hall.
Then she went back in.
A bit later, a puff of smoke shot out of the book, turning into Alecto, who collapsed again, eyes vacant, twitching on the floor.
Then, as if realizing something, she stared at the book in terror, screamed, cast a spell to tear open the wall, and bolted out.
"Alecto Carrow…" Dumbledore's expression was wistful as he sighed, looking at her figure in the vision. "Back in the day, she and her brother were standout Slytherins. Amycus became a prefect, and Alecto was the head girl. I taught them myself."
Speaking of which…
How many Death Eaters were once Dumbledore's students?
That kind of topic was clearly tough for an old man who'd devoted his life to education.
Lockhart just shrugged, cautiously eyeing their surroundings. "You think Voldemort's here?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "He was here, but he's long gone."
His wand flicked lightly, clearly having cast who-knows-how-many spells while Lockhart wasn't paying attention.
"At least I know he's too weak to do anything right now," Dumbledore said, squinting. "Utterly weak."
Lockhart got it.
Digging through his memories of web novels from his past life, he knew Voldemort was possessing Professor Quirrell in the first year, causing trouble, then laying low until he came back in Harry's fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament.
In the books, after failing to steal the Philosopher's Stone, Voldemort didn't do anything major for the next three years.
Lockhart had no interest in facing Voldemort three years from now or letting the story play out like in the books.
"Dumbledore, I've got to come clean," he said, making up his mind. Since he was already on Voldemort's bad side and knee-deep in this mess, he might as well go all in and take him down for good. "I know Voldemort's secret!"
"Voldemort has six Horcruxes right now!"
A glint flashed behind Dumbledore's half-moon glasses, his face turning deadly serious as he fixed Lockhart with a stare. "You'd better be ready to stand by what you're saying."
"Absolutely!"
Lockhart looked at him earnestly. "The Gaunt family's ring—it's actually the Resurrection Stone, one of the three Deathly Hallows. Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's cup, Ravenclaw's diadem, his diary from his student days, and…"
Before he could finish, thick black smoke poured off his body, rising into a massive wizard's figure that loomed over them.
"Gilderoy Lockhart!" the shadow roared, morphing into a giant snake that lunged at him with its jaws wide open.
"Tom!" Dumbledore's face changed, waving the Elder Wand to stop the shadow.
But even with his immense power and the Elder Wand—one of the Deathly Hallows—he couldn't do a thing against it.
This was…
Voldemort's curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position!
He was using its power!
Lockhart felt a bone-chilling cold wash over him, his body trembling as if drained of blood.
Help me, Dumbledore! Save me!
But just like during his long tenure as headmaster, when he'd been powerless against this curse, Dumbledore's spells did nothing now.
He wasn't the invincible legend everyone made him out to be.
The old man couldn't keep up his grand wizard act anymore, looking panicked and helpless as he watched Lockhart. "Child, are you okay…?"
His voice was hoarse, almost breaking.
I'm…
Not…
Okay…
At all!
Lockhart's mind was a chaotic mess, voices from his past life and this one clashing wildly, with sharp words echoing in his head.
It was Professor Trelawney's prophecy:
"You can't escape!"
"This is the price you must pay for your greed!"
"You think you can break free from your doomed fate?"
"You want to be a key figure in Potter's 'heroic epic' fairy tale?"
"You want to keep walking the path of magic?"
"The Dark Lord's curse has already taken hold!"
"It's locked onto you!"
"You'll die! You'll die!!"
The piercing cold swept over everything. Lockhart felt the eerie snake shadow draining his flesh and blood, his body turning pale and translucent.
It was the look of someone clinging to this world, unwilling to face death—turning into a ghost!
Looking at the despairing Dumbledore, he suddenly flashed a bright smile, even as his face glowed deathly pale. "Sometimes, isn't it like this? We have to face death head-on to find a chance to live?"
Dumbledore sighed, closing his eyes in sorrow. He'd seen too many deaths in his life, too many brilliant people fade away before him. What a pity. What a cruelty. "It's always been that way," he murmured.
Credence Dumbledore…
James Potter…
Lily Evans…
Too many.
But before he could wallow in grief, Lockhart's voice rang out again.
"Dumbledore, don't start mourning yet. I think I can still be saved. You've got to help me."
"???"
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