"Heart of Divined Poison."
When Lucien first saw the name in the records concerning the Magic Weaving Technique, he had also been confused. The magical world contained countless materials, and many ancient terms had either been lost over time or changed in meaning.
Only after consulting his teacher, Nicolas, did he learn that the so-called "Heart of Divined Poison" was actually the heart of a Basilisk.
That heart condensed the Basilisk's deadly venom along with its unique magic of instant death and petrification, making it an irreplaceable catalyst in certain forbidden alchemical techniques related to modifying life essence and magical conductivity.
A Basilisk's heart…
Lucien's gaze returned to Norbert, focusing on the golden patterns whose ends appeared slightly sluggish.
Perfect. He could "borrow" the Basilisk's heart for a while…
Inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.
Lockhart felt his temples throbbing painfully. He set down the ornate peacock-feather quill in his hand, rubbed hard at the space between his brows, and let his gaze fall upon the open diary before him.
"Petrify a… pure-blood?"
Lockhart muttered to himself, his voice filled with confusion and unease.
This had already deviated from the original plan.
According to the idea Tom had initially proposed, the targets should have been Muggle-born students. That aligned with the "tradition" of Slytherin's Heir and was sufficiently safe.
But now, Tom had made such a bold and dangerous request…
Lockhart took a deep breath, picked up the quill again, and carefully wrote down his doubts.
"Tom, I don't understand. Didn't the messages you originally had me write on the walls clearly state the intention to 'purge those unworthy of studying magic' and drive out Muggle-born wizards? Why has the target now become a pure-blood?"
Inside the diary.
Nourished by the constant supply of valuable life-rich materials provided by Lockhart, such as dragon blood, the young Tom's figure was no longer blurry.
His features had become clear and handsome, with black hair and black eyes, carrying a coldness and sharpness far beyond his age.
He could already feel that reconstructing a physical body and escaping the confines of the diary was close at hand.
Watching Lockhart's written question, a faint sneer curled at the corners of Tom's lips.
A stupid and vain fool.
On the pristine pages of the diary, Tom wrote his reply in neat, elegant handwriting, every word filled with temptation.
"Gilderoy, my friend, you must look further ahead. Attacking Muggle-borns will certainly create panic, but the pure-blood families will merely ignore it, or perhaps even approve of it."
"But once a pure-blood student is attacked… think about it. What kind of enormous uproar would that create?"
"All students and parents, regardless of blood status, will fall into genuine panic. Fear will spread throughout Hogwarts like wildfire and even reach the School Governors and the Ministry of Magic."
He paused briefly before continuing to write, dangling bait that Lockhart could never refuse.
"The more chaotic the situation becomes, the deeper the fear will grow. And when you step onto the stage as the hero at the moment everyone has fallen into despair, defeating the monster within the Chamber of Secrets, defeating the Basilisk…"
"The praise and glory you receive will reach unprecedented heights, won't they?"
Of course, Tom had other objectives as well.
Pure-blood parents might ordinarily be pleased to see Muggle-borns purged, but the moment their own precious children were endangered, their attitudes would completely change.
They would inevitably unite to pressure Dumbledore and perhaps even escalate the matter to the Ministry of Magic.
Tom understood Dumbledore very well. Despite possessing immense power, the old man willingly confined himself within the boundaries of "rules."
That old man's attention would be heavily diverted…
And if fortune favored him, Dumbledore might even be temporarily removed from Hogwarts.
The only person Tom truly feared was Dumbledore.
The other professors at the school were certainly powerful as well, but when faced with a Basilisk and sudden attacks, how many people could they really save?
Leaning gently against the broad back of the Headmaster's chair, Tom whispered softly,
"First eliminate the obstacle that is Harry Potter, then orchestrate a massacre worthy of being recorded in history…"
"At that time, Dumbledore, as Headmaster, will bear responsibility for failing to protect the school, leading to the tragic deaths of numerous students…"
"He probably won't even keep his position as Headmaster. It's entirely possible he could be put on trial and sent directly to Azkaban…"
Thinking of this, Tom suppressed the burning excitement in his heart and continued writing in the diary, his tone appearing calm and persuasive.
"As for you, Gilderoy, there is absolutely no need to worry. At the appropriate moment, you can even take the initiative to help analyze the suspicious clues, cleverly guiding everyone toward the legend of the Chamber of Secrets monster. Not only will this temporarily clear you of suspicion, but it will also highlight your wisdom and insight…"
Outside the diary.
Lockhart frowned deeply as he looked at the persuasive words gradually appearing across the pages.
Tom's explanation sounded reasonable. For the sake of fame and glory, taking a certain amount of risk seemed worthwhile.
And the "heroic entrance" Tom described made Lockhart's heart beat even faster.
"Petrify a pure-blood…"
…
Heavy snow blanketed the area around Hagrid's hut in thick white layers.
Hagrid's balaclava-style wool hat was dusted with snowflakes, and his booming voice shook snow from his beard as he spoke.
"Thanks fer castin' the spell fer me, Lucien, or even more o' my roosters would've died."
Beside the chicken coop, Hagrid's enormous figure looked deeply troubled.
Lucien waved his wand, and the final thin strands of magic faded into the air surrounding the coop.
Layer upon layer of intricate trap spells had been set up, more than enough to deal with the "foxes" or "vampires" Hagrid suspected.
Hagrid believed those creatures were responsible for killing the roosters he had been raising.
But Lucien knew perfectly well that the true culprit was currently sitting inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.
The Basilisk.
A monster born from a rooster egg hatched beneath a toad.
Yet at the same time, it was naturally countered by the crowing of a rooster, a sound fatal to it.
Lockhart was clearing obstacles for that monster, and Hagrid's roosters had naturally become the primary targets.
"You're welcome. It was no trouble at all."
Lucien lowered his wand, his tone calm.
"By the way, Hagrid, could I borrow one of your roosters?"
Without the slightest hesitation, Hagrid's bearded face immediately broke into a broad smile.
"Course yeh can! Lucien, are yeh plannin' ter make that delicious chicken an' mushroom stew with it? Speakin' o' which, the mushrooms I picked in the Forbidden Forest this summer've already been dried. D'yeh think yeh might need some…"
"No, it's not for cooking."
Lucien gently interrupted him. Seeing Hagrid enthusiastically preparing to turn around and fetch the dried mushrooms, he briefly explained the situation.
Afterward, Hagrid cheerfully pulled out a spirited rooster with bright red feathers from the coop, placed it into a sturdy cage, and handed it over to Lucien.
Taking the cage, Lucien prepared to head back to the castle.
Just then, Hagrid suddenly called out to him, his voice much lower than before.
"Lucien, the school ain't safe lately. The Chamber o' Secrets, the Chamber o' Secrets… it was opened fifty years ago."
He rubbed his enormous hands together, looking deeply uneasy, as though hesitating over whether he should continue.
"People really… really died back then. But these petrifications now… they make me unsure whether it's the same thing as before."
Lucien saw the fear and confusion flash through Hagrid's eyes.
Hagrid had once been wrongly accused himself, so he understood the terror surrounding the Chamber of Secrets better than most.
Lifting the cage containing the rooster slightly, Lucien reassured him calmly.
"It's alright, Hagrid. The truth will come to light."
Lucien turned and stepped into the wind and snow, while the rooster inside the cage let out a loud, clear crow.
________
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