Exploring another person's memories is undeniably a uniquely fairy-tale-like adventure.
Happy times always fly by.
A few days later, Professor McGonagall received another reply from her nephew, young Urquhart, confirming that the Dark magic creature haunting the castle was indeed a "banshee."
Knowing what it was, however, was one thing; finding a wizard in this day and age who actually knew how to deal with such a Dark creature was quite another.
So Professor McGonagall approached Lockhart once more, hoping for his assistance.
Young Urquhart was extremely sincere, stating earnestly in his letter that if Professor Lockhart could help with this matter, he would earn the lifelong friendship of the Urquhart family.
This would undoubtedly be of immense benefit for future endeavors.
The influence of the Urquhart family spanned the entire European magical world, and there would always be times when such connections were needed.
There were also more practical promises; he assured Lockhart that he could freely choose one item as a reward from their family's collection of treasured magical artifacts or precious books of spells.
Such treasures and books could never be found on the open market.
This was simply the most cost-effective deal imaginable.
What do you think?
Of course, they couldn't just rush off to Urquhart Castle immediately; the professors' duties made it virtually impossible for them to find free time outside of weekends.
Time rolled around to Friday evening, right after dinner.
At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, by the Hippogriff paddock.
As the Seekers for their respective house Quidditch teams, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy should have been at the pitch training at this hour, but here they were instead.
They were undergoing a milestone performance review administered by Professor Lockhart, the founder of the Dueling Club.
The Heads of both houses, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, had come over to observe. Hagrid, drawn by the commotion, had also walked out from his cabin to stand nearby. Flanked by his towering frame were Ron, Hermione, Neville, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy. Everyone anxiously tilted their heads back to watch the figures darting rapidly through the high altitude.
This was far more nerve-wracking and thrilling than Quidditch.
The two Seekers, both exceptionally talented at Quidditch, each controlled a flying broomstick, pushing their speed to the absolute limit as they wove rapidly and charged back and forth high up in the sky amid the complex terrain of the Forbidden Forest.
At times, they would dive steeply from the heights, skimming the ground at almost a ninety-degree angle to dart through the gap between two tall trees not far away.
Before they had even cleared the edge of the trees, a spell would rip through the gloom of the forest, brushing past their hurriedly dodging foreheads and soaring into the sky, leaving dazzling trails of light in its wake.
"Counterattack!" Professor Lockhart shouted loudly. "Don't get bogged down in a tit-for-tat children's game! This isn't turn-based combat!"
"The moment you prepare to dodge, you should already be thinking about how to immediately strike back!"
"Combine your dodging movements with your counterattacks!"
"Stay sharp! Don't just stare at the other person's wand waiting to cast a Disarming Charm—who told you a Disarming Charm could only be used for disarming?"
"Aim at the flying broomstick!"
"If all else fails, aim at their body!"
"You need to know how to make flexible use of your broomsticks! These things aren't just for gaining speed and getting airborne; otherwise, they're completely meaningless in a fight!"
"Where are the high-difficulty maneuvers you practice with your Quidditch teams?!"
"Where is your agility?!!"
"Instant elevation! Lateral shift! Rapid barrel rolls and loops! Flat turns! You need to know how to use these moves!"
"Evasion! Be mobile and flexible!"
"That is the essence of Quidditch, not just stupidly knowing that faster is better!"
"I genuinely have no idea how you two ever became Seekers!"
Lockhart had every right to criticize their broom-handling techniques, because back when he was at school, he had also been a Ravenclaw Seeker.
Although the most glorious moment of that experience was merely managing to "stumble upon" a Golden Snitch by sheer coincidence during a practice match, he truly did understand how to use a broom flexibly; he just wasn't very good at putting that wisdom into practice himself.
Beside them, Professor McGonagall watched with a touch of excitement, her tightly clenched hands trembling slightly, her expression full of eager anticipation.
She really wanted to join in, too.
Oh, of course, a powerful witch like her wasn't really suited to bullying children; perhaps Professor Lockhart, who had experienced a wealth of adventures after graduation, could become a worthy opponent for her.
Hmm...
Lockhart had no idea Professor McGonagall was entertaining such dangerous thoughts. Gripping his wand—which was only a tiny bit better than a firewood stick as far as he was concerned—he waved it like an orchestra conductor, shouting out instructions and guidance.
At times, he even came dangerously close to accidentally poking Professor Snape, who was standing nearby.
Snape didn't mind, merely looking on with a mixture of astonishment as Harry and Draco battled while darting swiftly through the woods.
And this was just after the start of their second year.
Many upper-year students probably couldn't achieve this level of proficiency!
He cast a thoughtful glance at Professor Lockhart beside him, suddenly seeing the man in a somewhat different light.
If Lucius—Draco's father—knew that his son had become this formidable, he would probably be overflowing with gratitude toward Lockhart.
The match quickly came to an end.
No one could maintain such high-intensity broom-handling and heavy spellcasting for very long, and the two young wizards soon dropped out of their peak states.
Spotting an opening, Harry's Disarming Charm struck Draco dead center.
Draco had indeed learned a thing or two from Lockhart's coaching; gripping his broom tightly, he allowed the force of the Disarming Charm to knock him backward, then used that momentum to swing his body off the broom, hurling himself straight at Harry Potter.
Amid gasps from everyone present, the broom—carrying the two wrestling boys—crashed toward the ground in a wobbling, tail-spinning dive that looked precisely like a plane crash.
"Cushioning Charm!"
Before Lockhart even needed to act, Professor Snape—who had been watching closely the entire time—cast a spell in an instant. The effect of the Slowing Charm was immediate, allowing the two young wizards, plummeting rapidly from the heights, to land softly on the ground.
Professor McGonagall acted as well.
Waving her wand, she caused the bushes on the ground to suddenly morph into wooden hands, which pulled apart the two boys who were still attempting to beat each other up.
Everyone hurried forward to check on them.
It was obvious that in such an intense battle, both boys had gotten completely carried away, ending up with a whole host of scratches from trading blows in the final moments.
Draco even had a dark, bruised patch over his right eye, and tears were involuntarily streaming down his face.
"Merlin's beard!" Professor McGonagall gasped. "I must get you both to Madam Pomfrey's immediately for treatment."
"Make way, make way!"
Lockhart pushed aside the cluster of anxious young wizards, looked Harry and the others up and down, and shook his head. "It's fine, just minor issues."
With that, he held up a freshly picked, vibrant green twig in one hand while tapping it lightly with his wand.
Two purple flowers instantly sprouted from the twig, their petals delicate and fragrant, with nectar-like honey seemingly dripping from their stamens right down onto the heads of the two boys.
The effect was remarkable.
Harry and Draco had only sustained minor scrapes to begin with, and now every single scratch vanished entirely.
After a moment of astonished gasps, Hermione and the other young wizards broke into cheers.
Professor Lockhart!
You are simply amazing!
The innocent eyes of the young wizards were filled with undisguised adoration.
Oh~~~
Basking in the gazes of the young wizards, Lockhart felt wonderful all over.
Of course, he was accustomed to receiving such looks, but this time the magic had been cast by his own hand, representing his genuine ability—how could that not make him feel happy?
Fantastic!
After the match concluded, Draco and Harry walked back toward Hogwarts Castle, surrounded by their respective groups of friends, each excitedly recounting the thrilling moments that had just transpired.
Lockhart watched the backs of the young wizards with a beaming smile, then turned to Professor McGonagall. "What do you think?"
This was far more than a simple test of teaching results.
Professor Lockhart intended to take these two well-trained protégés with him to Urquhart Castle, hoping the young wizards would seize the opportunity to grow further.
Naturally, Professor McGonagall could not allow such a thing; it was simply too dangerous.
Even if Professor Lockhart looked entirely confident about this adventure.
Lockhart didn't argue; he had simply invited Professor McGonagall to observe a practical demonstration of their progress, hoping to sway her with it.
He wanted his apprentices to learn a thing or two from the experience—Professor McGonagall could feel the earnest expectations that the remarkably responsible Professor Lockhart held for the two boys, but she still had to be cautious.
For a moment, she hesitated.
Lockhart was in no rush, waiting quietly for her answer.
Naturally, he hoped Professor McGonagall would agree. To be frank, the level of combat strength Harry and Draco currently possessed was far superior to his own abilities.
While he was confident about this adventure, his actual combat capability was on par with a Muggle; if they ran into any sudden emergencies, he simply didn't have the power to resolve them. Naturally, the more help he had, the better.
Yes.
Lockhart was treating Harry and Draco as his muscle.
Having poured his heart and soul into training them thoroughly and without reservation, he naturally hoped they would pull their weight when the time came.
Teaching young wizards wasn't meant to be an inconvenience—when it was time to use them, you had to put them to work!
"Perhaps..."
Professor Snape chimed in suddenly from the side, drawing out his words. Seeing both of them look over, he added quickly, in a measured tone, "I agree to let Draco and the others go to Urquhart Castle, provided you let me come along to help keep an eye on them."
Splendid!
Reliable Senior Snape!
Lockhart's eyes lit up, and he quickly turned back to Professor McGonagall.
Professor McGonagall finally nodded. "I just hope this doesn't end in disaster."
Let's go, keep up!
On Saturday morning, Harry set off with the professors under Hermione's envious gaze.
During breakfast in the Great Hall that morning, Professor Lockhart had asked for Harry and the others' opinions; if either Harry or Draco had refused, he intended to find replacements.
How Hermione wished Draco were a coward, so she could tag along with her idol instead.
Unfortunately, Draco looked far too proud; the thought of backing down hadn't even crossed his mind.
And so, it was settled.
Professor Lockhart, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Harry, and Draco traveled via the Floo Network and quickly arrived at the grape orchard cottage near the Urquhart family castle.
Young Urquhart was a tall, thin middle-aged wizard wearing an Auror-style tactical trench coat, carrying the natural dignity of a politician. He reportedly served as the liaison director for the "Ministries of Magic Auror Liaison Office" within the International Confederation of Wizards.
He froze visibly upon seeing Professor Snape, the smile on his face stiffening slightly as he cast a cautious glance toward his aunt, Professor McGonagall.
With a reaction like that, Lockhart didn't need to guess to know what had happened behind the scenes.
The war led by the Dark Lord Voldemort over a decade ago had been fought for the glory of pure-blood families. Even if old-school pure-blood dynasties like the Urquharts hadn't overtly taken a side, how could they possibly have failed to provide secret support behind the scenes?
This had nothing to do with right or wrong; it was purely about interests.
Not even someone as powerful as Dumbledore could force the upper classes to willingly accept a drop in social standing, letting the family advantages painstakingly accumulated over generations—even dozens of generations—vanish into thin air.
As the person in whom Voldemort had placed the greatest hopes, Professor Snape—the only Death Eater able to receive Voldemort's personal instruction in the magical arts—must have had plenty of contact with young Urquhart and other pure-blood elites back then.
But the past was like the wind; Voldemort had fallen, and the Urquhart family certainly wasn't going to keep supporting a loser. Some matters simply didn't need to be dwelled upon excessively.
At least Professor McGonagall, a veteran member of the Order of the Phoenix, didn't hold it against him.
They exchanged polite greetings. Young Urquhart clearly held this "Aunt Minerva" in high regard, and he led everyone toward the castle, flanked by two powerful wizards from his family.
Stepping out of the vineyard, an ancient, austere castle came into view in the distance. Even before getting close, a sense of inexplicable, spine-chilling tension began to breed and spread in their hearts.
Gloomy, dreary, sorrowful.
The biggest difference between Dark magic creatures and magical beasts was just how visibly tangible their malice was, invariably stirring up deeply negative emotions in those around them.
This caused everyone to involuntarily slow their pace.
Even on a bright, sunny summer morning, it still gave the illusion of stepping into a dark, damp, and malevolent cave.
Holding a potted plant of lush, vibrant green saplings in one hand and his wand in the other, Lockhart didn't slow his pace at all. Within a few steps, he had already pulled ahead of the rest of the group.
Fear stems from the unknown.
After the "banshee" haunting this castle had killed a house-elf, it was enough to make anyone shy away from coming near.
But he understood.
He understood completely.
Arriving at the castle gates, he didn't rush inside. Instead, he crouched down by the corner of the wall, inspecting the gap between the stone masonry and the earthen ground.
"Professor Lockhart, is there a problem here?"
Young Urquhart exchanged a puzzled glance with Professor McGonagall. Receiving no answer, he stepped forward somewhat apprehensively to ask.
"Look at these flowers by the corner."
The blossoms were smaller than a pinky fingernail, appearing at first glance to be nothing more than common weeds.
Young Urquhart blinked, failing to see the significance.
Instead of answering, Professor Lockhart beckoned the two young wizards closer to instruct them. "In ancient wizarding cultures that worshipped nature, the reversal of life and death was often connected to the earth. Within the earth's embrace, we frequently perceive the decay of sorrow and the vibrant leap of life all at once."
"Therefore, when we encounter Dark creatures tied to the domain of life and death, the first step is often to observe the state of the earth within their environment. It makes it much easier to discern the creature's current state."
Speaking of this, Lockhart wore a somewhat peculiar expression.
Because that exact phenomenon—weeds growing with excessive vitality—had quietly begun appearing in many stone crevices and stair gaps throughout the Hogwarts castle, though the diligent school house-elves cleared them away every day.
Observed from this perspective, it was actually quite easy to deduce that the Basilisk inside the Chamber of Secrets was likely already active within the castle's plumbing.
Of course, ordinary people didn't understand this branch of knowledge.
Especially since the Defense Against the Dark Arts post had been cursed by Voldemort, many accomplished masters in this field gave the place a wide berth, leaving Hogwarts somewhat lacking in recognition of such phenomena.
In the original story, neither Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, nor any of the other professors had the slightest ability to deal with the problems caused by the Basilisk, leaving Dumbledore with no choice but to watch helplessly as the Ministry of Magic dragged Hagrid away to take the fall, while the school governors used the opportunity to directly depose Dumbledore as headmaster.
So, you see.
During a school year plagued by a half-baked Dark creature like a Basilisk, how fortunate Hogwarts was to welcome an expert on Dark creatures like Lockhart.
Well.
Of course, not the version of Lockhart from the original story—the one who lacked both the ability to apply his knowledge and a shred of responsibility.
"Take a look at this."
Lockhart reached into a crack in the wall, pulled out a section of roots from the patch of weeds, and handed it to Professor Snape, who had leaned in to look.
"This kind of weed..." Snape didn't finish his sentence; his gaze suddenly sharpened. He took the root, squeezed it hard to extract the juice, rubbed it between his fingers to test the texture, and then brought it to his nose to sniff. "It has already reached the threshold for potion ingredients?"
Lockhart smiled and nodded. "In wizarding fairy tales, wicked witches use the juice of certain plant stems to make queens look beautiful, manipulating them into doing evil deeds. In reality, those stems are just full of this kind of vitality."
"Dark magic creatures are essentially phenomena. Phenomena alter the environment, and the environment gives rise to associated plants. This is actually an area that mainstream academic Herbology and Potions haven't properly explored yet."
Brushing the dirt off his hands, he stood up. "Fortunately, based on our observation of these stems, we can tell that the 'banshee' inside the castle isn't in a provoked state. Perhaps we can try communicating with it."
Picking up the pot of small saplings, he waved his wand. Mist billowed, and a faint, hazy gray wolf phantom trotted out from the fog.
The gray wolf wagged its tail at him, then turned and trotted into the castle.
"Let's go, keep up!"
Lockhart called out to the others and took the lead, stepping into the castle.
Swooping Evil
Harry and Draco were both feeling quite tense at that moment.
Following Professor Lockhart's instructions, the two boys were already hovering in mid-air aboard their flying brooms, gripping their wands tightly and preparing for combat at a moment's notice.
The magic they knew was limited; their specialty was the "Disarming Charm" the professor had been drilling into them lately.
They had mastered it quite well.
Yet that offered them very little sense of security.
The castle looked terrifying. In the cracks of the stones, the gaps in the wall frames, and along the staircases, sticky blood was everywhere.
Waves of bone-chilling singing drifted from unknown corners, blending with the rustling sounds of slithering venomous snakes and reptiles alongside bizarre bird calls, making their hearts feel scraped raw by anxiety.
Naturally, the tension of the adults was weighing heavily on them as well.
Even figures as formidable as Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, along with young Urquhart—who clearly cut a figure of importance—and his two subordinates, all wore expressions of absolute gravity, treating the situation as if facing a formidable enemy.
Only Professor Lockhart.
He was currently squatting on the ground, poking his head down and actually licking the blood off the floor.
After taking a lick, he seemed unsatisfied, smacked his lips, crawled over to a spot with even more blood, brushed aside a few scorpions and spiders crawling over it, and took a hearty gulp.
"(⊙﹏⊙)!!!" Harry.
"w(ﾟДﾟ)w!!!" Draco.
At last, Professor Lockhart stood up, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and smiled faintly. "Looks like I was right. It's a 'banshee'."
"The blood produced by 'cellar rot' has a putrid stench, whereas a 'banshee' influences the earth. The red substance produced by the earth is actually a bacteria-rich spring water that is beneficial to living tissue."
Young Urquhart looked dumbfounded, pointing a trembling finger at the red blood smeared all over the castle. "This is spring water?"
"That's right," Lockhart nodded. "If you plan on letting this 'banshee' occupy your castle, you might want to arrange for people to collect this spring water. This drink has a decent flavor, revitalizes the skin and body, and should carry quite a bit of economic value."