o(*≧▽≦)ツ💫Support & read up to 12+ chapters ahead on P@treon/DarkDevil1👉 Join to get early access and exclusive content!✨

__________

Meanwhile, Lockhart lounged on the pink-gold sofa in his office. After modifying his signature style for the 101st time, he idly opened the black diary.

He clearly remembered the dedication he had written on the flyleaf: To my loyal reader—Gilderoy Lockhart. Below the flourish of his script was a playful heart.

But strangely, after flipping through the entire diary, he found no writing, which puzzled him. So, he took out his quill and rewrote the sentence on the flyleaf.

To my loyal reader—Gilderoy Lockhart.

As soon as the quill left the page, the ink suddenly spread like a living thing:

Hello, dear Gilderoy, your signature is so ingenious, every stroke reveals extraordinary taste!

Lockhart sat bolt upright. "Merlin's saggy balls! A talking diary!" He glanced left and right, confirming no one had seen, then grinned and continued to write:

Of course, my signature style is meticulously designed. I must say—you have good taste!

New handwriting immediately appeared, elegantly worded and brimming with "sincere admiration" for Lockhart:

Esteemed Mr. Lockhart, it is my great honor to leave my presence beside your ink. Your signature is full of power and charm, just as you displayed fearless bravery in 'Traveling with Trolls.'

Lockhart was startled, then immensely proud. "Ha! This must be a surprise gift from some devoted admirer. Gilderoy Lockhart, your charm truly is irresistible!"

Then he eagerly dipped his quill again, and the quill danced merrily across the page: Allow me to formally introduce myself: Gilderoy Lockhart, Hogwarts' most popular Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Anti-Dark Arts League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award…

As he wrote, he thought: a talking diary—and a fanatic admirer of his! This was simply a brilliant source of material bestowed by Merlin himself.

Perhaps it could serve as an easter egg chapter in his next autobiography? At the very least, it was the perfect listener for his secrets.

It's just… this diary belonged to that red-haired Weasley girl. Should he use Obliviate on her to avoid future trouble?

His slender fingers gently tapped the page, and finally, he shook his head.

The blond Professor slyly winked to himself, deciding to thoroughly explore what other surprises this magical little book held before making any further decisions.

...

...

Life at Hogwarts gradually settled down again.

Sagres took Harry Potter around the Castle every day after class, tirelessly searching for the entrance.

Meanwhile, Lockhart—after several persistent efforts—finally convinced Dumbledore to approve his perfect proposal for a "Duelling Club."

He proudly nailed a gilded parchment to the bulletin board, on which the time, location, and participant list—all students—of the Duelling Club were written in ornate script.

Whether the Basilisk would duel or not didn't matter. What mattered was that he had another opportunity to show off in front of the young witches and wizards, and he had already rehearsed countless times in his mind the scene of his dashing victory.

He was certain this event would earn him even more fans and push his popularity to new heights.

...

That afternoon, Harry—uncharacteristically—requested a "leave of absence" from Sagres.

His two friends would be attending the Duelling Club, and he didn't want to miss this rare group activity.

Even more surprisingly, Malfoy—who was still serving detention—made the same request. Although Sagres was reluctant, he ultimately didn't refuse.

In Sagres's view, Lockhart—this outwardly impressive but otherwise incompetent fucker.. ehm.. fellow—always liked to introduce new things at Hogwarts.

A Duelling Club, huh? Just wait—he would go teach these Young Wizards a lesson tonight, and Lockhart too, for that matter.

...

The Duelling Club was set up in the Great Hall, scheduled to begin precisely at eight o'clock in the evening.

When the students arrived, they found that the area where the long tables usually stood had been transformed into a gilded stage.

Hundreds of floating candles lit the entire space as bright as day, and a deep starry river flowed across the ceiling.

All the teachers and students of the school were present, and the massive Great Hall was packed.

The Young Wizards, wands in hand, were eager and excited.

"Who do you think will be teaching us tonight?" Hermione asked, standing on tiptoe, her voice trembling slightly with anticipation.

"It must be Professor Flitwick!" she answered herself. "He was a duelling champion in his youth; there's no one more suitable."

Ron scratched his red hair, puzzled. "But don't you need two people for a duel? How can one person demonstrate? Are they going to duel against their own shadow?"

"Anyone but Snape!" Harry shrugged, his tone full of disdain.

Ron suddenly grinned mischievously. "Hey, you didn't forget Lockhart, did you? I remember you saying he was your latest nightmare?"

Harry's face fell immediately. "Alright, alright, I'll correct myself—anyone but Snape and Lockhart will do!"

He paused, then lowered his voice and added, "Actually, I'd most like it to be Professor Greengrass. He's definitely a good duelist, but he's been busy with other things lately, so it's unlikely he'll be here..."

"Speaking of that," Ron suddenly leaned in and asked mysteriously, "Is he really learning Parseltongue from you? Why would a Professor want to learn that?"

Harry shook his head blankly. "He said it was to 'be prepared,' but what exactly he means, I don't..."

Mid-sentence, his gaze was drawn to the exaggerated decorations on the stage—gilded railings, floating ribbons, and magical firework effects.

A sense of foreboding surged through him.

"Ha! Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!"

Lockhart, dressed in a scarlet robe embroidered with gold thread, strutted onto the stage like a peacock in full display.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione groaned in unison, their faces filled with despair.

Even worse, they saw a gloomy figure following behind Lockhart—that distinctive greasy black hair and hooked nose could only belong to Snape.

The Great Hall instantly erupted into a buzz of whispers.

Lockhart attempted to amplify his voice with Sonorus, but the first try failed, producing a sound like a duck being strangled.

After two clumsy attempts, the spell finally took effect.

"Quiet! Please be quiet!"

He dramatically waved his arms, announcing solemnly in what he believed to be a charming, enthusiastic voice: "Although you already know me, I still want to give a brief self-introduction. I—Gilderoy Lockhart, your Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Anti-Dark Arts League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award—but I never boast about that, because I don't rely on smiles to drive away the Ghouls of Warlen. And as the author of Traveling with Ghouls, I am also..."

The young witches and wizards exchanged knowing glances.

After spending over half a semester with him, anyone who wasn't a troll could see through the Professor's true abilities.

Yet Lockhart remained smug on stage, mistaking the students' whispering for admiration.