Chapter Thirty-Two: Lockhart Resents It —
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Dumbledore looked genuinely furious. His beard and robes rippled as if caught in an invisible wind, a surge of magic radiating from him. For a moment, it felt as though his presence alone could overpower everyone in the room combined.
He said coldly, without the slightest room for argument, "Gilderoy, you have overstepped. Take Harry back. He will participate in the Tournament."
Madame Maxime was struck speechless by the sheer weight of his aura.
Karkaroff managed marginal composure. "Then I will register a formal complaint with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards."
"Do so, Igor," Dumbledore replied evenly. "Harry will still compete. As for whether he chooses to forfeit or truly fight—that is Mr Potter's decision."
Gilderoy seized Harry by the arm and marched him out without another word. A suffocating silence settled behind them.
"Well then," said Bagman brightly, rubbing his hands together, "shall we begin? Scrimgeour, fancy giving the champions their instructions?"
"The first task is—"
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On their way back to Gryffindor Tower, Lockhart demanded, "Harry, do you honestly intend to go through with this? There is a conspiracy here—a deadly one!"
Harry answered stubbornly, "There must be a reason the Goblet chose me. I can't run away from destiny."
Lockhart nearly exploded. "You are beyond saving, Harry."
Harry gave him an infuriating half-smile. "Should I take that as a compliment to my courage, Professor?"
Lockhart: "@#$%&*()"
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Lockhart entered the Gryffindor common room for the first time.
The moment the portrait swung open, he and Harry were nearly knocked backwards by the roar of excitement. In seconds, Harry was swallowed by the crowd—clapped on the back, hoisted up, pulled in every direction.
"You could've told us you were entering!" Fred shouted, half annoyed and half delighted.
"Brilliant! How'd you manage it without growing a long grey beard?" George howled.
"I didn't," Harry protested helplessly. "I don't know how—"
Lockhart, unable to shout over them (and knowing he had no authority here), found a chair and sank into it. The students were jubilant. He sat quietly, wondering for the first time whether he should simply resign, disappear, or continue fighting the plot—and Barty Crouch Junior.
A cluster of girls drifted around him, chattering excitedly. Hermione settled beside him and said, "Professor, I followed your suggestion and changed the organisation's name and mission. It's now called LKE—Loyal and Kind Elves. It encourages people to treat their house-elves with affection. What do you think? Would you buy a badge? You can be our Honorary Patron."
"Not great," Lockhart blurted before his brain returned from its meltdown. He recovered instantly. "Ahem—I mean, excellent work, Hermione. Of course I'll buy a badge."
Beaming, Hermione pulled one out, carefully pinned it to his robe—and then impulsively kissed him on the cheek.
"Thank you, Professor! I'll do my best!"
She darted back upstairs, glowing.
Lockhart: "@@"
Because Lockhart had proven Harry hadn't entered himself, Ron didn't fall out with Harry this time. Watching them laugh and celebrate together, Lockhart felt a sudden, crushing loneliness.
He wasn't from this world.
He couldn't seem to change its story.
He had intervened several times with accidental success, giving him hope… but every setback pushed him closer to despair. Worst of all, there was no one he could speak to—no one who would understand.
Quietly, without anyone noticing, he stood and slipped out of the noisy common room.
A cool night breeze hit his face as he stepped into the corridors. For a moment, he felt the urge to simply abandon resistance and watch the plot unfold like a stage play.
"Professor? Why are you here? What happened? Is Harry alright?"
Lockhart looked up to find Luna and Pandora standing together.
He wondered vaguely how two girls from different years and Houses had ended up side by side at this hour, but he forced a smile. "Good evening. I just stepped out for some fresh air."
"Professor, you look troubled. Is someone really trying to harm Harry?" Pandora asked softly.
"Yes. And there are things I still can't understand. Some events feel… inexplicable. Almost as if they were predetermined."
"My dad always says nothing is truly destined," Luna said dreamily, her voice floating in the air like a drifting feather. "Even prophecies only happen because people believe them and act on them."
"That's right," Pandora agreed sweetly. "If something doesn't make sense yet, don't dwell on the root of it—think about how to solve it."
"You're right," Lockhart sighed. "I've been overthinking. It's late—head back, both of you. I'm returning as well."
"Goodnight, Professor," they chimed.
After sending them on their way, Lockhart returned to his office. At last, in the quiet, he felt his head clear enough to think.
If the Goblet malfunctioned under his watch, then either:
1. the problem wasn't in the Goblet itself,
2. the tampering happened before he took it into custody, or
3. Barty's spellwork was so advanced it bypassed Lockhart entirely.
Of those, the last was the least likely.
So then…
Who is Barty pretending to be now?