So, after Leon dropped a worldview-shattering bomb on Harry, Ron, and Hermione—those innocent little souls—he irresponsibly ditched them and bolted.
And then, karma came knocking.
The second Leon stepped into the castle, he got nabbed by Professor McGonagall.
"Green, there you are," she said, standing in the entrance hall with her stern face on.
Leon flashed his most charming, lively grin. "Happy Saturday, Professor McGonagall! No rest for you? That's rough!"
Her expression didn't budge, and her tone stayed flat. "Green, eight o'clock tonight, report to Professor Lockhart for detention. He specifically asked for you to assist him. Don't be late."
Leon had been holed up in the Chamber of Secrets, practicing his magic and skills until nearly eight.
His magic control was coming along slowly—his power kept growing, and his control training couldn't quite keep up. His Petrificus Totalus skill was getting solid, though; he could now petrify a small rat for almost half a minute.
As for the other Basilisk abilities, Leon hadn't cracked them yet. He was especially keen on developing a venom ability, but his saliva was about as toxic as tap water. He briefly considered grafting a venom gland onto himself before nixing the idea—poisonous spit would mean wearing a mask for life, and that was a hard no.
So, venom skills were shelved for now.
At eight sharp, Leon knocked on Lockhart's office door.
"Hey, Leon, you're here! Come in, come on in!"
Lockhart seemed in high spirits, apparently over the trauma of Snape's thrashing. His office was peak Lockhart—every surface, except the floor and ceiling, was plastered with photos and portraits of his grinning face.
"Have a seat, Leon," Lockhart said, his expression oddly nervous, almost awkward.
Leon stayed quiet, sitting down and watching him closely.
He'd assumed Lockhart singled him out for detention to get revenge for Leon's teasing, ready to dish out some punishment. But now? Something felt off.
"Leon, here's the deal," Lockhart started. "The plan to get Professor Snape as our test subject didn't work out. Can we switch to someone else? I've already talked to Hagrid—Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper. He didn't flat-out refuse, and I'm sure I can convince him in a few days. Hagrid fits all the criteria you mentioned, and I—"
"Hold up," Leon cut in, eyeing Lockhart suspiciously. "After what happened on Wednesday, you're not even a little skeptical of me? You still want to work together? I don't buy that you're too dense to see through me, and I definitely don't believe you, Gilderoy Lockhart, don't care about your precious public image taking a hit."
Lockhart gave an awkward chuckle, dodging the jab, and rambled on about his haircare brand's promotional progress. Go ahead, slap my face all you want—just keep the partnership going.
"Gilderoy Lockhart, cut the nonsense," Leon said sharply. "What's your deal? Are you after something from me, or are you just desperate for cash?"
From the start, Leon had found Lockhart's behavior bizarre. The man was a wildly successful bestselling author, but his career relied on stealing other wizards' thrilling adventures. Being stuck at Hogwarts for a year wasn't exactly a goldmine for new material.
Sure, Lockhart claimed he was here to live at Hogwarts for a year and write a book about it. But what was he going to write? A chapter on how a Cornish Pixie snatched his wand and shoved it up his nose during class? Or maybe a shameless cash-grab like Hanging Out with Harry Potter?
He'd end up in Azkaban before finishing that book.
Hogwarts was a safe, peaceful place—unless you counted Harry Potter, the chaos magnet. Safe and peaceful meant no twisty, thrilling plots to captivate readers. Lockhart couldn't predict the future, so he had no way of knowing if this year would bring anything worth writing about.
On one hand, spending a year at Hogwarts was a career stall, bad for making money. On the other, Lockhart was weirdly desperate to get his haircare brand off the ground, like he needed cash now.
It didn't add up.
Unless…
"You're hiding from debt, aren't you?"
Leon's eyes lit up, suddenly connecting the dots. Lockhart's behavior screamed of someone on the run, scrambling for quick Galleons.
The words hit like a Stinging Hex, deflating Lockhart completely. He slumped back in his chair, his hair and mouth drooping, his usually sparkling blue eyes filled with fear.
In a low, shaky voice, he spilled the truth.
"Leon, I won't lie to you. You're my only hope now. If it was just regular debt, I wouldn't be hiding at Hogwarts.
"It started six months ago. I went to South America for… well, an 'adventure.' You can probably guess what I was really doing—scouting for material. At a wizarding black market bar, I met a goblin named Paru.
"Paru was chatty. He told me about two regulars at the bar, bounty hunters who tracked down wanted dark wizards for rewards. I was intrigued and asked Paru to introduce me. Their codenames were Hyena and Crow—no real names, obviously.
"They were wary of me, which is normal in a place like that. Strangers mean danger. So, I did what I always do: wined and dined them, took them out for some fun. A few days later, they loosened up, even felt a bit guilty for spending my money. They offered to take me somewhere 'exciting.'
"They brought me to a private casino. I didn't realize it was a setup—thought we were just mates having a laugh. Before I knew it, I'd lost everything. When I tried to leave, crushed, Hyena and Crow played the good guys, offering to loan me money to win it back.
"I was in too deep, so I took their money and went back in. This happened a few times, and my debt to them kept piling up. Then they showed their true colors. They knew who I was and threatened to expose my secrets—ruin me—if I didn't pay back the principal and interest immediately.
"I tried to run, but then Paru showed up, pretending to mediate, negotiating to lower the debt. Hyena and Crow, 'for Paru's sake,' agreed, and we signed a massive contract—dozens of pages. I was so shaken I didn't read it properly. Paru nodded, so I signed.
"But Paru was in on it. Not long after I fled back to Britain, he showed up with a Gringotts goblin manager. They'd frozen my Gringotts account. All my money, including future book royalties, was being funneled to them.
"I messed up, got played—I'll own that. I can always earn more money. But Paru? He's ruthless. The interest keeps snowballing, and if my monthly Galleon deposits are too low or late, he sends Hyena and Crow to my doorstep in the middle of the night to intimidate me. And once…"
Lockhart's voice, steady until now, started trembling.
"I was… enjoying a moonlit evening with a lovely lady who was quite fond of me, discussing poetry and literature.
"And those two barged in! They—they interrupted my spell-casting! My—my…"
Lockhart's voice rose, and he shot to his feet, fists clenched, eyes brimming with tears, letting out a wail of anguish:
"My wand's gone completely useless!"
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