Dumbledore feigned surprise as Cassandra's name was announced. In reality, the most important positions at the English Ministry of Magic were now occupied or controlled by Death Eaters. The Ministry had effectively become a "Death Eater branch," and their decisions were entirely predictable, especially when it came to favoring their own heiress.
While Dumbledore personally favored Harry Potter, he had to grudgingly admit that Cassandra Volle deserved the honor, and only Tom Riddle's insistence on a joint victory had prevented her from winning outright. Even Minerva McGonagall quietly conceded the girl's brilliance.
Unbeknownst to Dumbledore, the decision to break tradition and award a dual victory wasn't driven by Tom Riddle himself. He genuinely believed the victor's glory rather unnecessary. However, the "Death Eater branch" held a different view. They would tolerate Harry Potter as champion, but their own prodigy, who had trounced the competition, being denied a sole victory? Unthinkable!
They considered any argument about the sanctity of the Triwizard Tournament's rules as utter nonsense. After all, if Voldemort could be appointed a professor, why couldn't this ridiculous tournament be bent to their will? Besides, given Cassandra's undeniable dominance, who would dare openly object to their proposal for a "double winner" system? (In truth, objections were pointless.)
...
After bestowing upon Cassandra and Harry Potter their shared "Harry's Bounty," Dumbledore prepared to announce the House Cup results.
Here comes the heartbreaking part, he thought, sighing internally. Tom Riddle excelled in so many ways, yet he stubbornly refused to give the old Headmaster even the slightest concession.
"In fourth place, Gryffindor... with a grand total of 102 points!"
An eerie silence descended upon the Great Hall.
Then, a jubilant roar erupted from the Gryffindor table!
"Whoa!!!"
"We broke a hundred!"
"Time to celebrate! And mess with Filch later!"
"More points! I can actually get away with causing trouble now!"
"We thank you for sparing our lives, Professor Tom!"
...
Minerva McGonagall silently lowered her head, her face a mask of disappointment. Spineless fools, she thought, her gaze darting to the barely suppressed smirks of the other professors, only deepening her embarrassment.
At least she wasn't alone in her misery. Dumbledore seemed to share her pain.
...
The old wizard remained silent. Even though the score is higher than before, why can't I feel happy?
Gellert Grindelwald, a recent addition to Hogwarts, looked on with amusement. "What's going on, Albus? Are those points actually considered high?"
...
Dumbledore hesitated, reluctant to speak. Instead, he continued reading, "In third place, Ravenclaw, with 734 points!"
The Ravenclaw students, led by their prefect, clapped in orderly unison, a picture of restrained academic pride.
...
Gellert Grindelwald remained silent, resisting the urge to burst out laughing and further embarrass Dumbledore.
Dumbledore shot Gellert Grindelwald a disapproving glance before announcing, "In second place, Hufflepuff, with 1016 points!"
Heavily influenced by Cedric Diggory's shining example this semester, the Hufflepuffs, determined to honor their school hero, had actually exerted themselves. Under Cedric's guidance, they'd amassed over a thousand points! They celebrated their achievement by showering Cedric with praise and gratitude.
Professor Sprout beamed with pride at the scene.
"And then…"
Dumbledore discreetly glanced at Tom Riddle, who was being pampered by Nagini, before continuing, "In first place, Slytherin…"
"Hmph!"
Severus Snape couldn't suppress a smug smile; these were the moments when he felt happiest.
Minerva McGonagall and the other professors took it as a personal affront.
And, in truth, it was meant to be.
"With a staggering 9783 points!!!"
...
Aside from Gellert Grindelwald, no one was particularly surprised. It was utterly expected… though less than 10,000 seemed, if anything, complacent. Perhaps Professor Tom Riddle was slacking off, they mused.
Severus Snape shared the sentiment. If only he applied himself more…
At the Slytherin table...
...
Draco Malfoy instinctively started to rise, only to be met with a lightning-fast punch to the chin from Harry Potter!
Fortunately, he wasn't knocked unconscious, but Harry Potter was very far from solving Draco Malfoy's little issue.
Seeing Harry Potter about to stand, Draco Malfoy, still upright, yanked Harry Potter back down, attempting to drag him down as well.
...
The professors and other students watched the ensuing scuffle in silent amusement, only Gellert Grindelwald showing genuine interest.
...
Cassandra Volle, sitting in the front, glanced at the two idiots with a hint of annoyance before slowly rising to her feet. "All Death Eaters! Stand!"
The rustling sound as they stood in perfect synchronization filled the hall.
"Victory is assured!"
"Hey!!!"
...
Gellert Grindelwald froze. It looked so… Why did it seem so familiar?
A realization dawned on him as he turned to Tom Riddle, catching the mischievous grin on the Dark Lord's face.
Hmph… that kid really is… great minds think alike.
A slight smile tugged at Gellert Grindelwald's lips as he looked away, picked up his teacup, and took a sip of strong tea.
"Sigh… no fun at all."
Dumbledore slumped back into his seat, finding the display utterly tiresome. He grabbed a handful of candy and stuffed it into his mouth, mumbling to Gellert Grindelwald, "What do you think?"
"Me?"
Gellert Grindelwald paused, his smile still lingering. "I think it's quite good, isn't it?"
...
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. "I should seriously reconsider your earlier proposal."
"Heh, with that kid Tom Riddle running around…"
Gellert Grindelwald remained unconcerned. "What difference would it make?"
They were referring to Gellert Grindelwald's "application for a position." The old wizard had recently decided to follow Tom Riddle's example and become a professor at Hogwarts, conveniently justifying his desire to remain by Dumbledore's side.
However, Dumbledore worried that Gellert Grindelwald would corrupt the child.
Gellert Grindelwald retorted, "With Tom Riddle around, why would he need to corrupt him?"
Understanding Gellert Grindelwald's meaning, Dumbledore could only sigh in resignation. "Sigh~"
He cast a frustrated glare at Tom Riddle, who was still being waited on hand and foot. "It's all your fault, you brat!"
Meanwhile, Tom Riddle's attention remained singularly focused on the system's reward…
[Ding! Congratulations, host, on completing this stage of the mission!]
[Ding! Congratulations, host, on receiving the mission reward: A Forging Materials Gift Pack!]
Similar to the previous "Alchemy Materials Gift Pack," the "Forging Materials Gift Pack" contained most materials needed for special forging techniques within the magical world.
Of course, it lacked the extremely rare and precious materials; those alone would be a reward on the level of completing the entire mission.
---
Chapter 222: Could Fairy Forging Mend a Divine Artifact?
Tom was in the Room of Requirement, attempting to impart the secrets of goblin blacksmithing. In the magical world, blacksmithing and alchemy differed in their specializations. Alchemy focused on imbuing objects with inherent magical abilities upon creation. Blacksmithing, however, used specialized forging techniques to weave intricate magical circuits into an item during its creation, granting it magical power.
These circuits were unbelievably complex; a single error could ruin the entire piece. Yet, they also bestowed incredible abilities, and the more complex the circuit, the more potent the magic. This demanded high-quality materials, capable of withstanding the intricacies of these circuits.
...
Presently, the Room of Requirement looked less like a blacksmith's forge and more like the "Gryffindor-style gymnasium" it had been previously. The rhythmic clang of hammer against metal echoed through the chamber. Tom, demonstrating masterful control, guided the hammer with magic, striking a piece of ordinary enchanted metal and inscribing intricate magical circuits as it was shaped.
Traditionally, goblin forging separated the "hammering" and "circuit inscription," but Tom saw no need. Multitasking came easily to him, and controlling the forging process with magic offered far greater precision than manual labor. He sat at the forging table, legs crossed, sipping tea, and watching the "automated" work progress.
Two spectral figures observed the scene. Slytherin remained silent, but Godric Gryffindor could no longer contain himself. "Much as I hate to admit it, Tom, aren't you concerned about producing a flawed piece with this method?"
Gryffindor, a staunch traditionalist, clearly disapproved of Tom's "unorthodox" approach.
"..."
Me, the God of Magic, swinging a hammer myself? What would be the point of learning magic, then?
Tom glanced at Godric Gryffindor. "I am watching, am I not? There is no chance of error."
In truth, Tom was being quite diligent. Otherwise, he would have simply relied on "sensing the changes in the metal's magic and the smoothness of the magical circuits" to complete the task.
"..."
Gryffindor looked frustrated. Knowing he couldn't sway Tom with words, he decided to wait for a mistake. But as time passed...
"I must say, your talent is truly unnatural."
Gryffindor's lips twitched as he examined the finished swords. The materials had been unremarkable, so the swords weren't of particularly high quality. Only one or two were "excellent"; the rest were merely "fine."
But one could only achieve so much with common materials; one couldn't expect to create a legendary artifact from scrap. Not even the most skilled blacksmith could forge Mjolnir from an old bucket. The two "excellent" swords were only of that caliber because Tom had inscribed magical circuits that pushed the metal's tolerance to its absolute limit. Typically, such ordinary metals could only be forged to "fine" quality.
"Not bad."
Tom picked up a sword and tested its weight. The magically enhanced "sharpness" attribute alone would make it a divine weapon in the Muggle world.
Perfect for Harry and the others who enjoy melee combat. And if they don't need them, I can always sell them.
Casually storing the swords in his silver snake ring, Tom suddenly remembered the two large pieces of goblin metal Godric Gryffindor had provided. He was confident he could forge weapons rivaling the Gryffindor Sword from them.
But he saw no point. Even if he succeeded, it would only be for Harry and the others to play with. In Tom's opinion, weapons were ultimately less practical than his treasure box.
So, Tom had another idea, retrieving the artifact he had once acquired—the broken Mirror of Bastet.
It had been damaged when he tried to save Malfoy previously.
Now, as the "God of Magic," possessing advanced alchemy and forging expertise, he wondered if he could repair it. After all, legends always depicted dwarves and goblins forging mighty artifacts.
With this in mind, Tom examined the mirror, and finally discovered...
There seemed to be some potential, but the mithril pilfered from Godric Gryffindor would be insufficient. Mithril's primary strength lay in its magical storage capacity.
The "Mirror of Bastet" was missing its magical core, the "Cat God Incarnation," which Tom had destroyed with runes. A complete repair would require finding sufficiently powerful magical material to serve as a new core, adding other materials, and reforging the mirror. It might not be stronger than the original, but it would be superior to its current ruined state.
If the essence material was potent enough, restoring its "Mythical" quality might even be possible.
"..."
A sufficiently powerful magical material?
Tom leaned back against the forging table, pondering. His first thought was the "Heart of the Ocean" he had given Cassandra.
Even as a "Legendary" magical item, it's a bit lacking, but it's the best I had to offer.
He wondered if he could trick his foolish apprentice into surrendering it for two lollipops.
"Ahem..."
"..."
Tom raised an eyebrow. "What is it? Do you have another offering? Another quest?"
Fortunately, Gryffindor, still sulking, had dragged Salazar Slytherin away after Tom finished forging the sword. Otherwise, seeing Tom talking to thin air might have elicited exclamations of disbelief.
Even from ghosts.
"Uh... I don't have what you need right now, but I know where to FIND what you need!"
The System's voice sounded a little sheepish.
"Let's not dwell on that, System. Something has always puzzled me."
Tom settled into a more comfortable position. "Why don't you have mission points or a system shop or anything like that? Even just missions and rewards would be fine, but everything you give me feels... haphazard."
"..."
Tom felt a growing sense of unease. "You're not just handing out whatever happens to be within reach, are you?"
"..."
His premonition was confirmed. "..."
---
Chapter 223: Hagrid's Homecoming: A Giant-Sized Reunion—and a Little Theft?
As if sensing Tom's silent complaints, the System began to explain itself in a pleading tone.
"I couldn't help it! I was always 'joking around' with my colleagues, and I accidentally got blacklisted. All my original functions were disabled, leaving only a task template."
The System cried out, "Besides my own collection, there's no other way to get task rewards. This is the only way I can help you now... but don't worry, even in this state, I still have some good stuff!"
"..."
What an idiot.
Tom sighed, a hint of helplessness in his voice. "But I must admit... you've been a huge help. Although the source of the rewards is somewhat... unconventional, what you've given me has been very useful."
"Hmph... I told you! I carefully selected everything, only taking the right things! Only taking the good things! I would never take the junk!"
"..."
This stupid System gets carried away with the slightest praise.
Tom decided not to dampen its enthusiasm. Instead, he shifted back to the previous topic. "You said you knew where I could find what I needed?"
"Yes, yes! In the world of Harry Potter, there are many treasures that haven't appeared in the original stories, like the mirror you acquired in Egypt."
The System energetically continued, "I know another place where you can obtain materials that perfectly match your requirements, but its location is a bit special."
Hearing this, Tom raised an eyebrow, a cold glint in his eyes. "Which god possesses it?"
"No one. It's in the giant settlement located in the Scottish Highlands."
"Giants?"
Tom was surprised. He hadn't expected this to involve giants. After centuries of conflict with wizards, their numbers had dwindled dramatically.
However, as one of the oldest intelligent races, he still believed that giants possessed valuable items.
...
Tom remained silent, weighing whether to simply steal the item or find a plausible reason to procure it later.
"Wait, the Scottish Highlands?"
Tom seemed to recall something. "Isn't Hagrid's mother a giant from the Scottish Highlands?"
A cunning plan began to formulate in Tom's mind. I'll take Hagrid home to visit his family, let him have a heart-to-heart with his mother, who's even bigger than him, and figure out how to persuade them to hand over the giant's treasure to 'the greatest wizard of all time.'
If that fails, then I'll just have to 'borrow' it from 'the most powerful dark wizard of all time.
Doing what he set his mind to was always Tom's habit.
That afternoon, he went to the Headmaster's Office and found Dumbledore, who was enjoying an intimate moment with Gellert Grindelwald.
"Dumbledore, I have to go out for a bit. Do not allow your…lovey-dovey moments to result in the castle being overrun by the Voldemort remnant soul and his men. I do not wish to return and have to clean it all up."
With that, he ignored the old men and turned to leave.
After all, he had only come to remind them that the Voldemort remnant soul remained a threat and to needle them.
Leaving the Headmaster's Office, Tom found Nagini and asked her to summon Cassandra and Harry.
This time, he was keeping the group small, as Hermione and her family were on holiday, and Luna Lovegood had gone to France with her father. It was likely that they were also vacationing.
Because Tom had successfully created a Curved-Horned Snorkack for them, Mr. Lovegood's The Quibbler had seen a significant increase in sales over the past two years, so it wasn't surprising they were going on a trip.
However, Harry and Malfoy remained, not because Sirius Black and Lucius Malfoy didn't want to take them out.
They knew that at the end of most school years, "the teachers would take them on a trip," and they would experience amazing things, which was far more interesting than a simple vacation.
Therefore, when Sirius Black learned that Harry was staying at school, thwarting his travel plans once again, he stared silently at Harry's letter for an entire day.
Then, at dawn the next day, he wrote to Frederick Volle and summoned him. The two of them drank at the Leaky Cauldron from night until morning.
If they hadn't been wealthy, they would have been thrown out long ago.
...
In a cabin on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.
Hagrid was sorting through a pile of "junk" he'd gathered from the forest—unicorn hair, Cerberus teeth, and the remains of an Acromantula.
"Hey! Hagrid!"
Hearing Harry's voice from afar, Hagrid poked his head out from behind the pile. "Hi! Harry! Wait for me! I'll be done with this soon!"
Hagrid said, as he yanked open the large wooden door of his hut. He emerged a moment later.
"Harry?"
Hagrid patted his thick coat, then looked up. "Oh, so many people. Draco Malfoy, remember the homework I gave you? Cassandra Volle and Nagini…long time no see. And you, Tom Riddle, thanks for last time."
When he was pursuing Madame Maxime, Tom Riddle, whom he'd occasionally seen, gave him advice. Without Tom Riddle, he wouldn't have won Madame Maxime's heart!
He remembered when Tom Riddle told him, "If you like a girl, simply ask her out. It is that simple."
Although he was skeptical, he listened to Tom Riddle and invited Madame Maxime out, and it actually worked!
Now, thinking back, perhaps Tom Riddle was encouraging him to express his feelings.
Tom is such a fine man!
Whenever Hagrid thought about this, he felt guilty for ever doubting Tom Riddle.
"No, that has nothing to do with me. Madame Maxime already harbored feelings for you."
Tom Riddle knew what Hagrid was thanking him for, but he was merely an observer. Besides, Hagrid and Madame Maxime were both half-giants; it was inevitable that they would get along. Even without his "advice," Hagrid would have succeeded.
"Then next time I'll treat you to some rock cakes, the crispy kind, freshly baked!"
Hagrid's beard twitched with laughter. "By the way, is there anything I can help you with?"
After sending Fang, his boarhound, off to play with Harry and the others, Hagrid asked Tom Riddle with a puzzled look.
"I need to go to the giant village in the Scottish Highlands. I'm taking Cassandra Volle and the others with me to broaden their horizons."
Tom Riddle chuckled, explaining, "I believe your mother was also a giant from the Scottish Highlands, was she not?"
"Fridwulfa!"
Hagrid smiled awkwardly. "Yes, she was a very beautiful giant."
Beautiful?
Cassandra Volle, sitting next to Tom Riddle, raised an eyebrow. She couldn't comprehend what a giant could possess that would be considered "beautiful."
However, though she was curious, she wasn't in a hurry to ask.
Tom Riddle didn't mind Hagrid's words; giants' aesthetic standards differed from humans'. "Precisely. Hagrid, would you like to accompany us? To see your mother again. Of course, if you prefer not to, that is your decision. I understand."
---
Chapter 224: Why Did Hagrid's Mother Abandon Him? An Unlikely Reunion
Tom spoke with such certainty because he knew Hagrid's relationship with his mother was practically nonexistent. She had abandoned him. His father was a wizard, and his mother was a giantess. Giants and wizards rarely saw eye-to-eye. Although Hagrid's parents had once been deeply in love, defying the prejudice their respective races held, everything changed after Hagrid's birth.
Hagrid had been considered too "small" at birth, only one-sixth the size of a typical giant infant. To giants, who equated size with health and strength, Hagrid was seen as a failure. So, his mother abandoned Hagrid and his father, returning to her giant tribe. For Hagrid, "mother" was a distant and unfamiliar word, though that didn't diminish his yearning for her.
"I don't know... maybe I shouldn't go," Hagrid said, his expression troubled.
"Why not?" Tom asked, walking over to pat the massive man on the arm. "Fridwulfa has been with the giants for many years now; perhaps you have siblings you don't even know about. Wouldn't you like to meet them?"
"Brothers and sisters?" A flicker of longing flashed in Hagrid's eyes, a clear indication of a desire both strong and distant.
Tom noticed this. "I seem to recall Albus Dumbledore mentioning Fridwulfa. She was only about sixteen feet tall, wasn't she? That's remarkably short for giants, who average around twenty-five feet."
Tom mused, "And giants tend to discriminate against those of shorter stature. Factor in her marriage to a wizard, and life there probably isn't easy for her."
"..."
"And if her children inherited her short stature, they might face discrimination or even bullying from other giants."
"..."
Hagrid's brow furrowed deeply, and he seemed to visualize the scene Tom described. After a long silence, Hagrid finally spoke, "Tom, maybe you're right. Maybe I should go see her." He stood, looking at Tom, who was so much smaller than him, his tone full of anticipation. "When do we leave?"
Tom's lips curled into a smile. "Now."
...
The setting sun painted the world in shades of orange and gold.
"Whoa!!!" A carriage, seemingly floating on its own, flew across the sky, followed by a massive three-wheeled motorcycle. Malfoy, riding in the sidecar, shouted, "This is thrilling!"
Having never been in such a flying Muggle vehicle, he had insisted on riding Hagrid's motorcycle before starting their journey. Harry, having been "snatched" by Tom when he enrolled, had never ridden it either, and he immediately protested.
Malfoy promptly exploited Harry's weakness, while Harry retorted with Malfoy's scandal. The two listed each other's embarrassing moments, but Malfoy ultimately won, having more "Harry scandals" to his name.
So, Harry conceded, and Malfoy got his wish, settling into Hagrid's passenger seat. However, Malfoy soon realized something was amiss. This flying motorcycle was exciting, but it also seemed a tad unsafe. When Hagrid turned, Malfoy could feel his backside nearly lifting off the seat. It then dawned on him that besides flying and being enchanted with an Illusion Charm, the motorcycle seemed devoid of any other magic.
That meant he had no safety protection save for his helmet...
Oh well, it's like riding a broomstick anyway. Malfoy shrugged. As long as he held on tight, he shouldn't fall off.
"Want to go faster?" Hagrid grinned.
Malfoy excitedly pumped his fist. "Let's go! Big guy!"
"Hold on tight!"
"Whoosh!!!"
…
Because they had set off close to dusk, they didn't fly for long. Night fell quickly, another night bathed in the light of a full moon. Shortly after nightfall, the group spotted a nearby Muggle village.
It was a small, settlement-like village, probably fewer than one hundred households. The buildings were linearly arranged along the road, following the terrain, and separated by dry stone walls. Though evening was still young, white smoke rose from some of the chimneys.
Because the carriage and motorcycle were under the effects of an Illusion Charm, Tom and his companions landed without attracting the Muggles' attention. Not far from the village, Tom and his group parked their vehicles. After patting the Thestrals' black bodies and feeding them some meat, Tom led Harry and the others toward the Muggle village.
Malfoy, feeling a bit queasy from the ride, stayed behind, leaving only Harry to eagerly search for accommodations in the village. After searching for a while, Harry found only a very small tavern, much like Jack's House.
Ding-ling~
Pushing open the tavern door, warm light spilled out, dispelling the night's chill. The tavern was nearly empty, save for a few burly, drunken men and a handful of young tourists carrying backpacks. They likely sought refuge here after finding no other lodging. Although there was nowhere to sleep, it was better than braving the cold wind.
To Harry and his friends' surprise, a familiar figure sat in a corner of the tavern. However, it wasn't only them eyeing the man; the man was eyeing them too, especially when Hagrid ducked to enter. They were all dumbfounded. "So tall?"
Expected, they thought, knowing the Muggles' reactions. Gigantism exists in the Muggle world, so there was no need to worry about them overthinking it. Besides, they were more concerned about the familiar face sitting in the corner.
"Lockhart?" Tom said, surprise evident in his tone.
In the corner sat Gilderoy Lockhart, the man in the green robe who had been Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts professor two years prior. Now, however, he was a Death Eater. Beside him sat a young man with short blond hair and a backpack. He looked like a Muggle, a recent graduate traveling. The Muggle was chatting animatedly with Lockhart, who seemed quite fond of him.
---
Chapter 225: Lockhart's Literary License: Muggle Mischief Afoot?
Lockhart, mid-chatter, froze at the sound of Tom's voice, glanced up, and scrambled to his feet. "M-Master..."
"The Master wishes to speak with you," Harry interjected smoothly. "Could you spare a moment?"
"Of course, right away!" Lockhart agreed instantly, then turned to the Muggle youth beside him. "Jim, I'll be back shortly."
Jim, the aforementioned Muggle youth, was eyeing Tom's group with undisguised curiosity, Hagrid in particular. He wandered over and nudged Hagrid's elbow with familiar ease. "Hey, mate! You're a giant! Taller than me by a mile! Do you play basketball?"
"Uh... basketball?" Hagrid seemed distinctly uncomfortable.
"No? That's a pity." Jim's disappointment was fleeting as he peppered Hagrid with more questions.
"Hagrid, we'll be right back," Tom said, ignoring Hagrid's silently pleading gaze. He led Lockhart out of the tavern, leaving Hagrid behind to wrangle the loquacious young man. Harry and the others trailed after Tom.
...
Once outside, the group found a secluded spot. Lockhart, sensing their curiosity, launched into an explanation.
He'd met Jim, the Muggle youth, in the village recently. Their meeting was somewhat unusual, as Jim was a fan of Lockhart's books. Lockhart had been selling his books to Muggles, adapting them into the "science fiction" genre. Thanks to Lockhart's flair for writing and the novelty of a "wizard's first-person perspective," his books were surprisingly popular among Muggles. Jim was one of his avid readers and had stumbled upon Lockhart during a graduation trip to this remote town. Lockhart, being affable to his fans, struck up a conversation with him, and then they were interrupted by Tom and company.
"You..." Tom smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "What prompted you to sell your books to Muggles?"
"I thought that should you ever need it, sir..." Remembering Harry's earlier prompting, Lockhart corrected himself, "It would be beneficial to increase my influence amongst Muggles." While it might not be particularly useful, it was a gesture of goodwill.
Tom, however, was more interested in another matter. "Why are you here?"
"Actually, I came seeking inspiration." Lockhart explained that he had learned of a Muggle town nearby, where a church was rumored to imprison a "demon." Previous expeditions into the church had resulted in fatalities, leading to its abandonment. Lockhart was there to investigate the forsaken church. Having sworn off "borrowing" other people's adventures, he had decided to seek out his own stories. "We should be able to reach the town where the church is located with a short drive," Lockhart added.
Lockhart paused, noticing the peculiar expressions on Harry's and the others' faces. "What's wrong?"
Cassandra spoke for Tom, "Have you relearned your spells yet?" After Lockhart's departure from Hogwarts, Tom had arranged for a senior Death Eater to tutor him. Two years had passed; surely he had learned something. Otherwise, relying solely on his maxed-out Forgetfulness Charm might leave him vulnerable to this "demon."
"Of course!" Lockhart smirked. "Disarming Charm (Expelliarmus), Summoning Charm (Accio), Armor Charm (Protego), Blasting Charm... I wouldn't call myself an expert, but I've mastered the basics." Lockhart shuddered inwardly as he recalled the Death Eater's rigorous lessons. Thankfully, that ordeal was over.
"Mr. Lockhart!" A voice startled Lockhart from behind: Jim. "What are you all chatting about here? I thought about grabbing a drink, want to join me?" Jim seemed unnervingly enthusiastic, unafraid of strangers.
Hagrid, standing behind him, simply shrugged helplessly. The kid was too impulsive.
...
Back inside the tavern, Jim was animatedly discussing his love for Lockhart's books. Harry, Malfoy, and Cassandra exchanged awkward glances. The books Jim was praising were their textbooks from two years ago!
Jim, oblivious to their discomfort, assumed Tom and the others were Lockhart fans, too, particularly after spotting their robes, which only reinforced his belief.
He even draped an arm around Tom's shoulders. "Hey, mate! You're handsome, but you look more like a nobleman than a wizard. You'd look much better with a wizard's hat on. I just happen to have an extra one; how about I give you one?"
!!!
Lockhart nearly fainted. Was this Muggle youth truly that fearless?
He was about to intervene when Tom waved him off, seemingly unconcerned, and answered Jim's offer. "A wizard's hat? I have one. I simply choose not to wear it."
Tom didn't take Jim's actions as offensive. He sensed the other's genuine enthusiasm and goodwill and saw no reason to lash out – unless Jim possessed something that Tom wanted.
"Is that so?" Jim wasn't disappointed. "Alright then, feel free to contact me anytime if you need anything, you know that."
He returned to Lockhart's side. "Mr. Lockhart, what are you planning to write about in your new book? I have some suggestions; would you like to hear them? I think... Mr. Lockhart?"
Jim noticed that Lockhart's expression was strained.
At that moment, Lockhart's mind was replaying the last few seconds...
Was that sweat?
Wait, it was "psssh."
How embarrassing. No wonder I broke out in a sweat...
He had relaxed after the initial shock and accidentally...
His pants weren't soaked, but he was definitely warm.
"Ahem... I think I need to be excused." Lockhart tried to maintain an air of composure as he stood up.
Jim, however, stopped him with concern. "Mr. Lockhart, do you need assistance? Please don't hesitate to ask."
"..."
This is all your fault, you brat! Let go of me!
---