Without realizing it, the dreaded period of final examinations had finally descended upon Hogwarts.
Despite not having revised a single page of material, Maurise remained entirely confident in his ability to achieve top marks. Such was the unshakable confidence of an academic genius.
And naturally, he was proven entirely correct. He breezed through every single exam paper without encountering the slightest hurdle.
However, one particular exam did manage to catch him slightly off guard: Defense Against the Dark Arts. The exam paper was shockingly legitimate and completely devoid of any questions regarding Gilderoy Lockhart's "heroic exploits" or personal grooming habits.
Maurise logically deduced that Lockhart had almost certainly paid a competent third party to draft the exam for him.
Another notable anomaly occurred during the Potions exam. Just like last year, Professor Snape casually handed Maurise an advanced-level O.W.L. paper instead of the standard second-year exam. This time, Maurise was absolutely certain it was intentional.
As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the very last exam, the student body immediately shifted into full vacation mode. Hundreds of students eagerly flooded out of the gloomy castle doors, desperate to breathe the fresh spring air and bask in the warm sunlight.
Maurise strolled out of his final exam room. Pausing by a large corridor window, he gazed out at the Black Lake, its surface sparkling like scattered diamonds under the sun. He fell into deep thought.
'What exactly should the layout of my secret base look like?'
---
In stark contrast to the joyous, relaxing atmosphere currently sweeping the castle, Gilderoy Lockhart was sitting behind his office desk, his face grim and pale.
Just moments ago, he had received a highly urgent, coded message from an "associate" working within the Ministry of Magic. The message was brief but terrifying: certain high-ranking officials within the Ministry were quietly launching a formal investigation into his background, though the exact reason remained unknown.
Lockhart abruptly stood up, pacing frantically across the office floor.
'A secret investigation?'
What possible reason could they have to investigate him?
The answer was painfully obvious. While his Memory Charms were undeniably powerful and flawlessly executed, completely covering the tracks of dozens of stolen lives was an impossible task. There were bound to be minor inconsistencies and loose ends.
In the past, whenever similar suspicions had arisen, he had always managed to smoothly resolve the crisis utilizing his vast network of influential connections or by simply throwing enough Galleons at the problem.
But this time felt entirely different. The Ministry itself was officially involved... he needed to take immediate action!
Suddenly, a sharp, excruciating spike of pain violently pierced his temples.
Lockhart stumbled, grabbing the edge of his heavy oak desk to steady himself.
"Not again..." he hissed through gritted teeth. Yanking a drawer open, his trembling hands grabbed a small vial of Pain-Relieving Potion. He frantically downed the entire contents.
Recently, these debilitating, agonizing headaches had been occurring with alarming frequency. They always seemed to strike when his stress levels were at their highest.
During every single episode, his mind felt incredibly sluggish, clouded, and utterly blank. Even his most potent, expensive potions offered absolutely zero relief.
What on earth was causing this?
(Maurise: Take a wild guess.)
Fortunately, the intense agony faded almost as rapidly as it arrived. Ten seconds later, the pain had completely vanished, leaving him drenched in a cold, clammy sweat.
Knock, knock!
Someone was at his office door.
"Enter!"
Lockhart hastily wiped his sweaty face with his sleeve and instantly plastered on his trademark, meticulously practiced, dazzling smile.
The brass doorknob turned, and a young female student stepped inside.
Lockhart vaguely recognized her. Hermione Granger. A highly inquisitive, overachieving Gryffindor student. More importantly, she was a remarkably devoted fan who had scored perfectly on his narcissistic pop quiz at the very beginning of the year.
Lockhart always maintained his absolute best, most charming demeanor when dealing with his devoted fans. It was a crucial component of maintaining his carefully cultivated public image.
"Ah, Miss Granger. How may I assist you?" he asked, his smile radiant.
Hermione quickly explained the purpose of her visit. "Professor Lockhart, would it be possible for you to provide me with the official grading rubric for the final exam? I consulted several reference texts, but I am still slightly uncertain regarding a few of my answers. For instance, the final question regarding the various methods of counteracting invisible dark creatures..."
Lockhart maintained his brilliant smile, but his mind raced frantically.
'How on earth am I supposed to know the answers to the exam?'
He had literally paid an impoverished magical theorist in Knockturn Alley to write the entire paper for him! He hadn't even bothered to read the questions, let alone the answer key.
"Ah, Miss Granger! Please, relax, relax!" his voice was incredibly smooth and reassuring. "Holding yourself to such a high academic standard is a truly commendable trait! However, one must remember that becoming overly obsessed with trivial details can often lead you astray from the grander picture..."
Lockhart smoothly launched into a long, incredibly eloquent, and utterly meaningless tangent. He spoke for three straight minutes without providing a single useful piece of information.
Hermione was entirely speechless. She simply wanted to double-check her answers.
Even if Professor Lockhart was widely considered to be a bit of an academic lightweight, surely he couldn't be completely ignorant of the material on his own final exam?
It was just... absolutely unbelievable.
Hermione let out a highly disappointed sigh, her tone cooling significantly. "I will be taking my leave now, Professor Lockhart. Goodbye."
Just as she turned to leave, a familiar, agonizing spike of pain violently erupted within Lockhart's brain. However, this time, the intensity was magnified tenfold.
His brilliant, charming smile instantly contorted into a mask of hideous agony.
"Gaaah!"
A raw, suffocated scream of pure agony tore from Lockhart's throat.
"Professor?!" Hermione jumped back, her face a picture of absolute shock and horror.
Lockhart's face drained of all color, becoming a sickly, chalky white. Thick, blue veins bulged dangerously against his temples, and beads of cold sweat poured down his face.
His eyes rolled back into his skull. He pitched backward, hitting the floor with a heavy, sickening thud, out cold.
A suffocating, deathly silence descended upon the office.
Hermione stood frozen in shock for three seconds before her Gryffindor instincts kicked in. "Hold on, Professor! I will find help immediately!" she yelled, sprinting out of the office.
The corridors were entirely deserted, as the vast majority of the student body was outside celebrating the end of exams.
As Hermione sprinted around the corner near the grand staircase, she nearly collided head-on with another student.
"Whoa, slow down. Oh, Hermione, it is you. What has you in such a panic?"
Maurise was strolling leisurely up the staircase, casually tossing a small, smooth black stone in the air. He caught it, looking at Hermione's panicked, pale face with mild amusement.
"It is Professor Lockhart," Hermione gasped, entirely out of breath. "He just collapsed on the floor inside his office!"
'Lockhart?'
Maurise raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. "Take me to him."
"We should really go find Professor McGonagall or... wait, no! Hurry, follow me!"
The two students sprinted back to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.
Maurise stared down at Lockhart's unconscious body, his expression thoughtful.
---
At that exact moment, Gilderoy Lockhart's consciousness was drowning in an ocean of absolute, suffocating darkness.
As the agonizing physical pain finally began to recede, it did not leave behind clarity. Instead, it was replaced by sheer, terrifying chaos.
The impenetrable mental barriers he had so carefully constructed over the years were completely shattered. Every single memory and emotion he had violently suppressed and buried deep within the recesses of his mind suddenly erupted to the surface, dragging him down like a suffocating quagmire.
He vividly remembered the very first time he had raised his wand against an elderly, rambling wizard. He remembered the exact look of profound, hollow confusion that flashed across the old man's eyes as the Obliviate took hold.
He remembered the countless, agonizing nights he spent huddled over a desk under the dim light of a lantern, desperately racking his thoroughly mediocre brain, struggling to weave the stolen, heroic tales of others into a grand, glittering tapestry starring himself.
He remembered the raw, pathetic truth of his own existence. He was a thoroughly untalented, mediocre wizard utterly terrified of failure, desperate for adulation, and deeply, profoundly terrified of being forgotten and despised by the world.
The crushing guilt, the hollow vanity, the paralyzing fear, the profound self-loathing... all of the raw, ugly emotions he had violently suppressed for years using Memory Charms and layers of fabricated lies simultaneously detonated, completely obliterating his fragile mental defenses.
Finally, Lockhart's eyelids fluttered. Slowly, they opened.
His eyes, usually so bright, confident, and full of artificial charm, were now clouded with a thick, hollow, dead grey.
He didn't utter a single word. He mechanically pushed himself off the floor. Completely ignoring the presence of Hermione and Maurise, he walked stiffly past them and straight out of the office door, moving like a soulless puppet whose strings had just been cut.
"Oh ho. Now this is fascinating," Maurise muttered softly, a highly amused smile touching his lips.
Hermione just stared at him. "...?"