"This is the forty-sixth time, no matter which path we take, as long as we move a certain distance, we get sent back here."
Distress, worry, and irritation showed clearly on Hermione Granger's face as she tried to think through the problem.
Unable to suppress his frustration any longer, Harry Potter raised his right hand and fired the black gun at the wall ahead.
A flash of black light appeared and vanished instantly.
Nothing happened.
The bullet was like a stone dropped into the ocean, leaving no trace.
Harry stared at the untouched wall, then slowly looked down at the gun in his hand.
Could this gun be fake?
He had many thoughts, but in the end, only that one remained.
Hearing the gunshot, Hermione was startled and quickly turned toward him. When she saw Harry standing there, staring blankly at the gun, she let out a small sigh of relief.
"Didn't I tell you not to use that casually because if You-Know-Who notices us, things will get worse, and once I figure this out, we can leave."
"The gun feels wrong, like it is fake."
Harry hesitated before finally saying it under Hermione's puzzled gaze.
"That does not make sense, it has always been in your hand, so trust yourself."
Hermione assumed the stress was getting to him.
If it was not his gun, then where else in Hogwarts would something like that even exist?
"No, Hermione, this feels different because normally the gun absorbs one-tenth of my magic when I use it, and I feel weaker right after, but now I feel nothing."
As Harry spoke, his gaze shifted from the gun to Hermione.
This time, she froze.
She had the sudden feeling that something important had been overlooked.
And now that Harry mentioned it, that feeling became even stronger.
But what exactly had she forgotten?
"Oh right, Harry, why did you call me just now?"
"I do not know, did I call you, I thought you were still thinking about how we could escape."
"That is right, I almost forgot, why does it feel like my memory is getting worse since we came here."
It was as if something was interfering with their minds.
They could not remember clearly what they were doing, only a vague determination kept them moving.
Not far away, Gilderoy Lockhart stood with his wand raised, looking at the two who remained motionless with their eyes closed.
A white streak of magic shaped like a small snake shot toward them.
Tom Riddle immediately noticed his intention.
He understood that Lockhart wanted to wake them first, then use Harry's weapons to interfere and buy time until Albus Dumbledore or the other professors arrived.
Tom raised his wand as well, sending a similar snake-like strand of magic that wrapped around Harry and Hermione, reinforcing the illusion.
"It is not time for them to wake up yet, Professor Lockhart."
He dodged a red Expelliarmus smoothly while speaking with calm politeness.
Lockhart kept smiling as if he had heard nothing.
"I am not sure I understand what you mean."
"Why not put down your wand and come with me to Professor Dumbledore, and then we can talk properly and resolve this."
"There is no need for such hostility between a teacher and a student."
Tom's expression darkened slightly.
Right now, he was limited by this young body.
He could not access the full strength he once possessed.
If he pushed this body beyond its limits, he could temporarily regain power close to his peak.
Defeating Lockhart would then be simple.
But he did not do it.
He was no longer the same Tom Riddle from the past, nor the future Lord Voldemort.
Now, he was simply himself.
And because of that, he would not sacrifice this body.
He was not just Tom Gaunt.
He was also the mentor of this body's owner.
And a mentor would not harm his own student.
Because of this, he could not overwhelm Lockhart instantly.
Instead, he was forced into a drawn-out fight.
Lockhart continuously cast Expelliarmus along with defensive magic, disrupting Tom's rhythm.
This opponent was troublesome.
Every spell was timed perfectly, not enough to defeat him, but enough to constantly interfere.
If Lockhart had used more aggressive Dark Magic or complex combined spells, the situation might have been easier to handle.
But instead, he relied on simple spells executed with precision.
One for attack.
One for defense.
Combined with sharp awareness.
It was enough to control the flow of the battle.
He truly deserved his position as Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
Tom could not help but rethink his earlier assumptions.
He had believed Lockhart was nothing more than a fraud.
Clearly, that was wrong.
Rumors could not be trusted.
With a silent sigh, Tom raised a Shield Charm to block an incoming spell, then flicked his wand forward.
A streak of blue light shot toward Lockhart.
"Stupefy."
...
📢 Author's Note
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