In Lockhart's mind, there were two extreme paths for a wizard's magic: the Academic and the Spiritual.
The Academic path produced masters—wizards who never stopped pushing the boundaries of advanced magic. Think Dumbledore, Nicolas Flamel, or even Professor Pomona Sprout, the Herbology expert.
The Spiritual path, on the other hand, was all about going with the flow of nature. These wizards lived like they were straight out of a fairy tale, and magic just seemed to choose them.
It's kind of funny, but Spiritual wizards often feel like true wizards—not just magicians. They've got this vibe that screams "storybook magic."
Take Newt Scamander, the Magizoologist, or Professor Sybill Trelawney, the Divination teacher, or the girl coming to Lockhart's office today: Luna Lovegood.
Luna's the total opposite of Hermione Granger. Hermione's all about logic and reason, while Luna runs on pure intuition.
Wizards who lean Spiritual often come off as quirky—maybe even a little nuts. People might call them eccentric witches or loony wizards, but once you get past their oddball style, they're surprisingly easy to talk to.
Ginny Weasley, coming from the old wizarding Weasley family, had no trouble vibing with someone like Luna.
The two girls got along great.
Maybe growing up in the same village, they'd had tons of run-ins as kids—who knows? Lockhart wasn't privy to that backstory.
He just stood in the corner outside his office door, watching quietly as Luna comforted a nervous Ginny. The two girls gave each other pep talks as they stepped into his office.
What they didn't notice was the massive book overlapping the office. As they walked in, its pages snapped shut, pulling them into the world inside the book.
Lockhart rubbed his wand, his expression flickering with thought. With a flick of his wrist, he strode toward the office door.
"What are you up to?" a voice suddenly called from the corner of the hallway.
Lockhart nearly jumped out of his skin. He whipped around to see Dumbledore, then let out a relieved sigh. "Professor Dumbledore, do you always have to sneak up like that?"
Dumbledore gave a small smile, tinged with a knowing, slightly无奈 look. "I've been keeping a closer eye on things around the school lately. I felt a powerful magical disturbance and came to check it out."
Carroll's Bedtime Storybook, that potent magical artifact, had been triggered again as a trap. It clearly had Dumbledore's nerves on edge.
Lockhart nodded, playing it cool. "My 'Duelling Club' is looking to recruit some promising new members. This is just a test."
He flashed a grin, but inside, he was cursing up a storm.
Ginny was tied to the secret of Voldemort's Horcrux diary, and the last thing Lockhart wanted was Dumbledore poking his nose in. If this triggered Voldemort's curse again, Lockhart would be left with nowhere to cry.
He was shocked to realize that, when it came to avoiding getting cursed again, the biggest obstacle was Dumbledore.
What's your deal, old man? You and Voldemort on the same team or something?
Just here to mess with me, huh?
Lockhart was a master at hiding his emotions. His face stayed calm and confident, giving nothing away—unless Dumbledore decided to use Legilimens, in which case he'd be toast.
Dumbledore just nodded, not pressing further.
He had a lot of faith in Lockhart's teaching skills and sense of responsibility. In his eyes, Lockhart was a solid professor.
Lockhart waited until Dumbledore was gone before striding into the office.
Or rather, into the storybook.
The scene inside the storybook was a perfect replica of his office, down to the cracks in the walls and the Cornish Pixies hanging in front of them.
The two young witches were talking to "Professor Lockhart," who was guiding them with words that eased their nerves. They started sharing their thoughts on magic.
At the doorway, the real Lockhart had been ready to make his move but got caught up listening. He couldn't help but be impressed.
Ginny Weasley was a classic "warrior" wizard. She had a sharp instinct for battle timing and a natural knack for fighting.
Luna, though, was something else entirely—a rare kind of witch, like a "forest witch" or Professor Trelawney, with a unique spiritual sensitivity.
In mystical terms, spiritual sensitivity picks up on things that aren't real but are rooted in reality.
Take Nargles, for example. They're a manifestation of a wizard's mental state, not something you can point to and say, "There it is."
A liar could never be Luna's life partner—she'd see right through them, literally seeing their true state.
In the books, Luna warns Harry not to stand under mistletoe because "it's often infested with Nargles."
Nargles are another one of those spiritual-only creatures. They're tied to parasitic plants that drain water and nutrients from their host, eventually withering together.
Funnily enough, in wizarding culture, kissing under mistletoe is a romantic tradition.
The meaning behind that? Well, ahem…
Let's just say Harry and Cho Chang's relationship was… complicated.
Some wizards are just born with dazzling gifts, and these two girls were prime examples.
Teaching one would be a job. Teaching both? Why not? Lockhart started seriously considering pulling Ginny and Luna into his Duelling Club.
But mentorship aside, there was work to do.
The "Professor Lockhart" in the room grabbed a crystal ball from a rickety shelf, squeezed crooked by a tree trunk. He tapped it with his wand, all theatrical, and told the girls to stare into it for inspiration.
As an internationally famous bestselling author and magical master, his words didn't raise a single suspicion.
Ginny and Luna peered curiously at the mysterious crystal ball, wondering what kind of wonder was coming next.
Then, they froze. Overwhelming fear flooded their minds, and the office seemed to dim, as if the only thing left was the glowing crystal ball.
Lockhart's gentle voice echoed, sounding both close and distant. "Relax. Let yourself completely relax. The best way to face dark forces is to think of the happiest, most joyful things. Trust that it'll give you endless strength."
It worked!
Luna started feeling better almost instantly.
Ginny, though, was struggling. She had plenty of happy memories, but when she thought about them, they didn't feel that happy.
Guided by the professor's words, she dug deeper, searching her soul for her brightest memories.
Perfect.
Sweetheart.
In the pitch-black darkness, Lockhart stood behind her with a sly grin, his wand quietly aimed at her, watching as she sank deeper into a vulnerable, open state.
He knew exactly how far to push her—Tom Riddle had shown him how it's done.
With a subtle wave of his wand, silvery threads of memory drifted from Ginny's head, invisible in the darkness.
This was to keep Tom, the Horcrux in the diary, in the dark. Even if he had a Pensieve-like ability to snoop through memories, he wouldn't spot Lockhart lurking in the shadows.
Setting up this scene wasn't complicated—just a tweak of the lighting in the environment, courtesy of Carroll's Bedtime Storybook.
Lockhart knew memory like the back of his hand. Some gaps just don't leave traces.
He could nail this balance effortlessly.
The Obliviate spell he cast was for copying.
He duplicated every single memory of Ginny's interactions with the diary Horcrux, capturing every detail.
Gathering thorough intel was critical before going to war.
The chess game is often won off the board, and Lockhart, ready to go all out, had plenty of ways to influence Ginny.
As for tweaking her memories? Not yet.
Memories tampered with by Obliviate wouldn't fool Tom—not at this stage. Lockhart needed to craft a believable story to keep Tom from getting suspicious.
At the end of the day, Lockhart's real target wasn't Tom—it was the Voldemort out there, beyond the school.
It might seem like splitting hairs, but the difference was huge, and it gave him tons of wiggle room.
"Heh heh~"
"Plenty of time to play~"
"Let's take it slow."
First, he wanted to see what dear Mr. Riddle had been sneaking around doing to this poor little witch.
In the gloom, a smile crept across across Lockhart's face.
He watched a memory of the Basilisk, starving and slithering through the sewers, gobbling up rats. His eyes gleamed with fascination.
Hagrid's roosters had all been wiped out.
The Chamber…
It was time to open it.