The slacker professor at Hogwarts

Chapter 286 Professor Lockhart, What About Me?

Chapter 286 Professor Lockhart, What About Me?

Thick black smoke billowed out and quickly passed through the portal on the ghost ship, appearing directly in the hall of Lockhart's hut in Hogsmeade Village.

It circled rapidly in mid-air before crashing to the ground, transforming into a two-meter-tall, upside-down divine corpse that looked down at the thief on the ground.

Perception is a strength for Bogut.

"He's dead."

Boggart said.

Behind him, Lockhart and his friends appeared, surveying the thief on the ground.

"Is he a Muggle?" the wronged fairy asked curiously.

As a creature endowed with the dark magic of reversing life and death by the earth, she is extremely capable of clearly distinguishing the differences in the states of different life forms.

Lohat nodded, stepped forward, drew his wand, and gently waved it at the Muggle on the ground. Instantly, streaks of silver spread out from the Muggle's head, swaying and wriggling in the air.

"Many people overlook the biggest difference between wizards and Muggles, which is their vibrant vitality."

The first-year wizards began to try to ride flying broomsticks into the sky, completely unprotected, with acceleration stronger than motorcycles in the city at night, freely rotating 360 degrees.

If you're not careful, you could fall in any position.

The reason such danger was permitted, besides Madam Pomfrey's extraordinary healing abilities, was primarily because the young wizard was likely to live long enough to be treated.

For ordinary Muggles, let alone falling from a great height, even a ten-meter-high rooftop would result in instant death.

This is not because wizards are physically better than Muggles; in fact, they are all the same. Harry's nearsightedness, Goyle's obesity, Dumbledore's nose, and so on, all demonstrate that everyone has the same physical characteristics.

The only difference is vitality; strong vitality sustains the continuation of life.

But the Muggle lying on the ground was different. He didn't have that exaggerated vitality. After being struck by high voltage, death came instantly.

There is absolutely no chance.

Lockhart immediately cast a spell to maintain the other person's life, then began to probe the other person's memories to determine whether to revive the other person and save their life.

With a gentle wave of the wand, the silver threads rapidly liquefied, transforming into a sheet of silver liquid resembling that in a meditation basin, floating vertically in mid-air like a mirror.

The mirror was a blurry mess, with only ripples on its surface.

Lockhart looked in the mirror and asked, "Why is this Muggle in a wizarding village?"

Soon, images began to appear in the mirror.

"We are the masters of this world!" The scene shows what appears to be an auditorium, with a group of people waving their fists and shouting the same phrase.

As the words fell, a man with graying hair but an exceptionally refined appearance, dressed in a white suit, stood before the crowd, microphone in hand. "Find out where these monsters are! Get their stuff for research! Capture their people, whether they're old, children, or women!"

"Catch him and study him!"

"Only by understanding them can we truly defeat them, send them to hell, and return them to where they belong!"

"You have to trust your tranquilizer guns; they're powerless to resist. You have to trust your weapons; our firearms are enough to blow their heads off!"

"Wizards aren't anything special; they can die too!"

"Please remember who we are?"

The crowd raised their fists again, chanting wildly, "Purgers! Purgers! Purgers!"

Lockhart looked indifferently at himself in the mirror, shook his head, and asked again, "Why did this person come to my house? Was he specifically targeting me?"

The image in the mirror changed again.

A group of Muggle climbing enthusiasts were holding an event on a mountain near Hogsmeade Village. At night, some of them rode motorcycles toward Hogsmeade Village, which is completely invisible to normal Muggles.

They parked their motorcycles in a corner near the screaming shack that no villager would ever approach, and, enduring the biting cold, changed into thin wizard robes. Dressed as dark wizards, they mingled among the crowd and sneaked into the village.

"Don't worry, we're duds, they won't find us," the leader reassured everyone. "We have three days."

Meet here in three days!

"Remember, don't take any action for the first two days. Carefully observe every house. The intelligence mentioned that many houses here are vacant!"

The Muggle who was electrocuted in his home was attracted to Lockhart's small house because of its dusty windows, lack of snow removal from the doorway, and the fact that the house had been dark for two consecutive nights.

......

Lockhart silently watched the scenes in the mirror, and finally flicked his wand, stripping away all the memories of the Muggle from the moment he began spying on his house, and throwing them to the Winged Demon.

Then the wand was waved again, and the silver liquid in mid-air began to collapse rapidly, coalescing and condensing, eventually turning into a silver mirror the size of a basketball.

The mirror floated down and landed in the hands of three people.

"Take this to Dumbledore, and he'll know what to do."

The three-handed man nodded, then turned to look at the curled-winged demon. "Gurgle!"

The winged demon quickly spread its wings, expanding completely from a small ball, and flew into the ghost ship portal behind it, carrying three hands. It then flew out through the door in the Forbidden Forest of Hogwarts and headed towards Dumbledore's office.

The winged demons fly very fast, but unfortunately, Dumbledore is not at Hogwarts.

Yes, Dumbledore is often not at school.

If it were the previous three-armed creature, it would probably just be rigidly guarding the door or window of Dumbledore's office.

But at this moment, it seemed to have a certain cleverness and thought for a moment, then commanded the winged demon to fly towards Professor McGonagall's office.

Arriving at Professor McGonagall's office door, it jumped off the winged demon, holding the silver mirror in one hand and raising the other to knock on the door.

dong dong dong.

Professor McGonagall quickly came to open the door. She looked around in confusion, but when she didn't see anyone, she suddenly felt something touch her feet and was almost startled.

"Merlin's beard!"

She exclaimed, "Three hands? You were looking for me? Where's Lockhart?"

"Goo-gig!" the little golden retriever barked, but unfortunately Professor McGonagall couldn't understand it.

So the little golden retriever got anxious and gestured with its two fluffy little hands. Seeing that the other party still couldn't understand, it finally gave up. After thinking for a moment, it reached out and took a piece off the silver mirror.

The piece that was peeled off quickly turned into a mouth, or rather, the piece that was peeled off was itself a mouth.

His mouth opened and closed, as if he were saying in a series of syllables, "Something has happened in Hogsmeade, the Purifiers."

Professor McGonagall's expression changed. Seeing the little golden retriever's gesture, she took the silver mirror from its hand, and it began to play the scene that Lockhart had just seen at the beginning.

"Where's Professor Lockhart? Why isn't he here?"

Professor McGonagall asked quickly.

The golden retriever shrugged, indicating it didn't know.

In fact, Lockhart really had some things to do.

The instant the little golden retriever left, a ghost ship, seemingly nonexistent, appeared. A long chain swung, and a heavy anchor at its stern hooked toward the Muggle body on the ground.

At the same time, a silver body began to float out of the Muggle, looking up in fear at the huge curtain that was faintly swaying in the sky.

"I'm dead?" the Muggle asked in disbelief. "Is that the other side?"

Unfortunately, he never reached the other side.

A massive anchor crashed down on him, passing right through him and wedging his translucent body firmly into the chains.

The chains pulled back, and he was lifted up in terror as he floated.

"No! No! Where are you taking me?"

Lockhart watched curiously for a while, not really wanting the ghost ship to bring such a person, who harbored deep hatred and resentment towards wizards, to his home.

He waved his wand, and the chains snapped shut, flinging the Muggle's body away as it drifted towards the other side.

"And what about me?" A voice came from the deck of the ghost ship.

Lockhart looked up and saw another figure, pierced by the anchor chain, standing silently on the deck.

"Tom—"

Tom flew off the deck, the chains extending from his body onto the ship rattling loudly.

Finally, he stood before her, pursing his lips as he looked at the figure before him. "Professor Lockhart, what about me?"

"What are you planning to do with me now?"

Lockhart shrugged. "I don't know either."

Tom panicked and exclaimed incredulously, "You don't know?"

Lockhart smirked. "I can't let you go and allow you to re-enter human society and start wars that only serve your own interests. That would be too terrible."

"But I feel a little guilty about killing you, after all, you've helped me a lot."

As he spoke, he pointed to the huge curtain, "If you can go there, I might let you go."

Tom was furious. "You know I can't go. Voldemort is alive, and I'm one with him!"

So Lockhart shrugged helplessly once again.

Tom paced back and forth, somewhat unwilling. He was angry, but he knew he couldn't be. He didn't dare to lash out at Lockhart or force Lockhart to make the choice to simply destroy him.

He felt utterly wronged. "I don't even know what I am anymore. A wandering spirit? A Horcrux? No, I don't think I'm any of those! I don't even know where I stand in this world!"

"It does not exist," Lockhart offered his expert assessment.

"What?!" Tom couldn't hold back any longer, gritting his teeth, "I'm not a dark magic creature!"

No?

Lockhart didn't bother arguing.

Tom also fell silent.

long time.

"Tell me, Professor Lockhart, since I still call you Professor Lockhart, tell me what I should do?" Tom looked down at the chains binding him, filled with despair.

Lockhart still didn't know.

He never demands anything of others, even when teaching clueless young wizards. He tries his best to provide more possibilities and platforms, and then lets them develop their talents.

Or perhaps it was those who swore allegiance to him: Rita Skeeter, Dolores Umbridge, Coban Alex, Mrs. Mary, and Vincent Crabbe and Percy Weasley.

He didn't insist on what the other person should do; he simply said, "Okay, I'll give you a chance."

I'll give you a chance.

Lockhart thought for a moment, then looked at Tom. "There's something I need to clarify. Regarding my reading of your memories, not everything can be 'digested and absorbed.'"

Tom replied with undisguised pride, "I know, and many times we have to admit that it's not that we choose magic, but that magic chooses us. What's not yours, you can't take even if you force it."

Wow, you actually understand this principle.

They're good at talking, but they don't actually do it.

Lockhart was too lazy to criticize Tom, and simply continued, "I can absorb most of the dark magic creature breeding and defense, as well as spells, but the part about potions in your memory is difficult for me to comprehend, even if I have such memories."

This is a state that is difficult to describe.

"It's in my mind, but like a memory buried deep in my heart, I can't recall it unless I deliberately stimulate it or try hard to think about it." He gestured helplessly towards his head. "It's just scattered fragments piled up in the corners of my memory."

It turned into a pile of trash with good intentions.

Based on his current research findings, these memories lack "vitality" and are dead.

These lifeless memories are not just due to the indigestion of external memories; some of one's own memories are also like this.

Without understanding, just memorizing, it all eventually sinks into the depths of memory, utterly meaningless.

"I want you to write it down."

Lockhart gave them the opportunity to "write them in a way that even the dumbest little wizard could understand."

Tom laughed, a mocking laugh, and looked at him sarcastically, saying, "And then you can release a new book again?"

Tom knew about Lockhart's old books because he had read them as textbooks during his time with Ginny, as a way to get to know the professor.

He immediately realized that the information in these books was from a problematic source, and after experiencing Lockhart's repeated memory manipulations, even the most naive person eventually understood.

"That's not the point." Lockhart didn't find it funny, but looked at him seriously. "Tom, it's undeniable that you are Voldemort. You should know how much evil you've committed and how many people you've killed. Even if you don't think you should be held responsible for Voldemort's crimes, you still killed one of your classmates, which is why you were able to use the power of death to create this Horcrux."

Tom pursed his lips and didn't say anything, he just nodded.

He admitted to it.

"So, I'm giving you a chance. Write down all your potion-making achievements, from the simplest to the most advanced, and I'll help you spread them throughout society so that more people can receive treatment."

"you·-"

He looked intently at Tom. "Are you going to do it?"

Tom pursed his lips. "If I do it, will you let me go?"

Lockhart shook his head. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Tom laughed in exasperation.

Lockhart was very sincere, "You haven't done it yet. If you do, and save so many people, my feelings at that time will be completely different. I don't know now whether I will be moved by your sacrifice at that time."

"Don't ask about the result, just do it. Once you do it and see results and changes, everything will come naturally."

Tom was somewhat reluctant, but he still took the manuscript paper and ink quill that Boggart had found at home.

"good!"

"I'll do it!"

He doesn't actually believe other people's promises.

But he trusted his judgment of people; Professor Lockhart was different.

He really should produce results first before he can have the opportunity to discuss his handling of the situation with Lockhart again.

Sometimes life is like this: just do good deeds and don't worry about the future, and the future will come naturally.

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