Chapter 44: The scale of a delicate relationship
Lockhart didn't know how he got back to his office.
His head was exploding with a multitude of thoughts, chaotic yet seemingly connected by a clear thread that he couldn't quite grasp.
Harry Potter seemed to have followed him all the way, buzzing on about something beside him.
On the way, they saw Peeves, the poltergeist, preparing to push over and break the school's precious Vanishing Cabinet. Upon seeing Lockhart, Peeves shrieked in terror and fled.
There also seemed to be a ghost floating nearby, whispering to Harry Potter, apparently discussing the celebrations for its deathday.
But none of that mattered.
Thump.
As the door closed, he sat alone on a tilted tree trunk in his office. Little Goldie and the others had all retreated to their little nooks, not daring to disturb him.
Only the Wornged Fary found a towel and stood behind him, wiping the blood water from his hair.
Lockhart just stared blankly at the wand in his hand.
It was glowing.
He was still in the 'Forest Darling' state, and as he returned to his office, this 'little woodland,' the feeling grew even stronger.
"Flora Curo!"
He waved his wand, and purple flowers bloomed everywhere in the little woodland, their fragrance filling the air.
"Lupi Gregem!"
He waved his wand again, and a mist drifted through the little woodland. The mist churned, and three gray wolves stepped out. Not receiving any further instructions, these forest spirits simply circled him, each finding a place to rest in the woods.
See, he did have some talent.
Truly practicing the 'romance of the fairy tale,' truly applying the wisdom he had learned from the memories in his mind.
Now, these two spells were already different from the 'Forest Witch's' original techniques.
The biggest difference was in the changes to those spells that the Forest Witch had naturally understood.
The spell 'Kind flowers, heal the wounds' had become 'Flora Curo,' and the spell 'From the depths of the forest, a pack of gray wolves' had become 'Lupi Gregem.'
He was properly digesting the Forest Witch's memories and wisdom, completely turning the other's adventurous fairy tale life into his own.
He had even begun to grasp the Forest Witch's rhythm of casting spells, able to transform his own magical state into the Forest Witch's 'Forest Darling' state.
But it was precisely this extremely unique state that he found so difficult to control.
"The subtle relationship between me and the world?"
He murmured, looking at the wand in his hand, "And this wand in my hand, is it the measure?"
He suddenly understood a little why Ollivander asked so much about oneself when selling a wand, and also why it was necessary to try holding one wand after another that seemed to fit the criteria.
At that time, the wand held in hand was actually being embedded into the connection between him and the world, just like a circuit being connected. When the connection was good, the effect of magic would naturally burst forth.
Pick me, light up for me!
Therefore, the answer to everything lay in this wand that was chosen and matched oneself!
Thinking of this, his heart stirred, and he began to rummage through the original Lockhart's personal belongings.
He had packed them up before, and there were some things he had planned to deal with when he had the chance, including the original Lockhart's wand.
He found it.
Holding one in each hand, the feeling instantly became clear.
The wand he had bought himself was glowing at this moment, while the original Lockhart's wand showed no signs of activity.
"Let's try..."
He took a long breath, allowing himself to calm down as quickly as possible, clearing all thoughts from his mind, and truly experiencing the original Lockhart's memories.
Unlike the memories of more than a dozen powerful wizards, the original Lockhart's memories were so complete. Among the usual chaotic noise in his head, this one was the loudest.
He had actually been very cautious about not touching this part.
After all, even digesting a small, simple wizarding adventure was so dangerous, let alone the original Lockhart's complete memory personality.
Slowly...
Slowly...
He didn't know how much time had passed, but the muscles in Lockhart's face, his posture, and his aura were all changing as he sat on the tree trunk.
That feeling was so foreign to dark magical creatures like the Wornged Fary.
So foreign that the Boggart and the Winged demon were restless, intending to deal with this wizard who dared to approach their territory.
The Wornged Fary looked at Lockhart with some confusion, not understanding why he seemed to have become a different person.
Only Little Goldie ran quickly like a golden lightning bolt and jumped onto Lockhart's shoulder, baring its teeth at these monsters, ready to fight them at any moment.
Thus, the office fell into dead silence again.
He didn't know how long had passed, but Lockhart's aura began to undergo an extremely clear change, instantly making the Boggart, the Winged demon, and the Wornged Fary completely regard the wizard in front of them as someone else.
But Little Goldie stared intently at them, preventing them from making any rash moves.
Seeing that these scumbags were completely suppressed, Little Goldie then looked at Lockhart with some concern, not knowing what state its master was in now.
Unlike the last time, this time the master hadn't told it anything in advance, which made it feel somewhat at a loss.
The Lockhart before its eyes was so different.
His heart was boiling with unparalleled madness, an extremely twisted madness.
It was that of a proud young man who had grown up amidst countless praises, entering the wizarding world and going to magic school, only to find that everyone around him was a wizard just like him, and that there were far too many people who were countless times more talented than him.
There was even that extremely backward and foolish blood purist ideology prevailing here. He, a person favored by the heavens, so handsome and intelligent, would actually be so discriminated against because of so-called innate bloodline?
It had always been him who discriminated against others because of his own unique advantages!
He couldn't accept it!
Absolutely couldn't accept it!
The young man had suppressed it, despaired, resented, and finally vowed that he must become the most unique person, the most dazzling person.
He would not allow himself to become mediocre, he would not allow himself to fade into the crowd, he would not allow himself to live as if this world had never had such a person!
He succeeded!
In the short few years after graduation, what nonsense about being the best friend of the Urquart family, what nonsense about being Dumbledore's old friend, what nonsense about being the most vigilant witch of the American wizarding congress...
Those so-called powerhouses of the wizarding world were all personally dealt with by him, taking their proudest experiences as trophies.
He was proud, he deserved to be proud, raising his hands high, pointing at the wizarding world, sneering—all of you present are trash!
He knew that such a practice was extremely dangerous. A slight carelessness could lead to being killed by these powerful wizards, and a slight slip-up would mean disgrace and being sent to Azkaban forever.
But so what!
Having walked this path, he had long been prepared to die at any time. He wanted to die brilliantly, not silently and unnoticed.
Even if he was ultimately mocked to death by everyone, it should be in the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, Wizarding World News, and other newspapers that radiated throughout the wizarding world, dying in a headline-grabbing news explosion!
Dying brilliantly!
"Haha~"
An extremely standard perfect smile appeared on Lockhart's face. This wasn't deliberately trained, nor was it painstakingly maintained. It was given to him by heaven; he was born with a perfect smile.
He stood up so elegantly, then looked at the two wands in his hand with some confusion.
The wand in his left hand was so unfamiliar, and the soft glow on it was rapidly fading.
The wand in his right hand, the one he had used since childhood, was excitedly shooting out brilliant golden sparks, as if saying—my old friend, you've finally returned!
Returned?
Lockhart was somewhat puzzled. He casually flicked the wand in his left hand, intending to throw it away directly.
However, he didn't succeed.
It seemed to be stuck to his hand.
"Hmm?"
He picked it up again with some confusion, only to see it light up again. Unlike the gentle glow just now, it was so bright, so dazzling.
So bright and so present!
Bang~
A violent gust of air surged, directly repelling and blasting his own wand away, also blasting him unconscious again.
"Hehe..."
Lockhart's expression changed rapidly. Before he could fall, he steadied himself again, his eyebrows slightly raised, muttering, "So that's how it is."
"Goo-chee!" Little Goldie on his shoulder called out excitedly, as if cheering for its master's return.
"Don't worry, this was just a small experiment. I'm confident."
Lockhart stroked its head and looked at the wand on the ground with a smile. "Do you know why this memory of yours can't occupy my body?"
"Because you are not Lockhart, you are just a memory of Lockhart."
"And I, a real person, truly connected to the entire world, subtly interacting with it."
"This, is life!"
Life, this was the biggest difference between humans and ghosts, portraits in frames, and other such special existences.
Lockhart gently waved the wand in his hand, his eyes full of smiles. "And it, confirms the existence of life in the world!"
This was his confidence.
Magic was strange and dangerous, but in fact, as long as one understood it, there was nothing to worry about.
Danger came from the unknown.
And he understood!
Just like Head Boy Snape said, magic was the expression of self-will. Then the wand was the extension of self-will, an extension towards this world.
This was really too interesting.
Lockhart was unwilling to let things remain at just the level of understanding. He had to use it; he had always been good at using his intelligence.
He waved his wand, pressed it against his temple, and with a gentle flick, a silver thread floated in mid-air.
Then it fell into the Pensieve made of a crystal Occamy skull, turning into a pool of silver liquid.
"I'm not greedy either."
"I just want a Scourgify charm. My life desperately needs this spell!"
"Yes, I need it very much, so I should be able to digest this memory very easily without any influence!"
"This is the measure between me and magic, this is the measure that should exist between me and these memories!"
It should be his, it could be his, then it was within reach.
If it wasn't his, forcing it would only bring disaster.
So, if he wanted to continue digesting more magical wisdom, he had to experience it, make himself have more desires, and those would become opportunities to digest memories.
And this, precisely, was the principle of so-called 'entering a fairy tale, magic blooming.'
Lockhart stood smiling in front of the Pensieve, not immersing his head in the memory as one normally used a Pensieve, but gently inserting his wand into the pool of memory.
Let the wand be the measure between him and this memory!
That's how it's used!
No, it should go further.
Lockhart even used the techniques for stirring potions in a cauldron with a wand described in Snape's Severus's Potions Classroom manuscript, combining them together.
Puff puff puff~
The silver liquid in the Pensieve began to boil, as if there were bubbles inside, gradually turning into mist and dissipating into the air.
And Lockhart, standing in front of the Pensieve, his eyes half-closed, sank into everything the original Lockhart and those dozen or so powerful wizards had ever seen, used, and felt about the Scourgify charm.
Finally, he didn't know how long had passed.
The Pensieve was already empty, with only Lockhart standing thoughtfully in place, gently stroking the wand in his hand.
"Scourgify!"
In just an instant, all the blood water and other filth on his body disappeared without a trace.
The wave of this magic even spread outwards like ripples, touching the Wornged Fary, touching Little Goldie, touching the Boggart's tree hollow, touching every hair on the Winged demon, touching every corner of the wardrobe.
"Perfect!"
Even though the lights in the room weren't on, it was so clean that it reflected the lightning from the thunder outside the window, sparkling brightly, clean and transparent.
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