"Draco! Where's your broomstick?"
Malfoy's expression instantly darkened.
"Big sister, did you forget there's anti-flight magic around the castle?"
"Oh, co on. If Lucien dares fight a monster like that, then he must be confident. He's a Ravenclaw, not a Gryffindor!"
Malfoy paused and looked toward Lucien's faint figure illuminated by the distant firelight before speaking darkly.
"You ca late. You didn't see that massive storm of lightning earlier. Lucien was standing right in the middle of it and wasn't affected at all. I seriously suspect he summoned all that lightning himself."
"If that was really magic, then it's completely ridiculous. Anyone else would've been blasted to death. I wonder how many magic books it would take before Lucien teaches that move…"
Hearing this, Daphne imdiately beca furious.
"Draco! Is this really the ti to be thinking about that?! Even if Lucien used such powerful magic, how long can his magic reserves possibly last? What if sothing goes wrong…"
Having personally witnessed the terrifying might of that lightning storm, Malfoy was not especially worried about Lucien.
As for Daphne's anger, Malfoy felt this was what Lucien referred to as "impotent rage."
He curled his lips and muttered quietly:
"Honestly, it's a sha I don't have a sister. Otherwise I could've tried arranging a marriage alliance with Lucien…"
Perhaps the sound of the storm outside was too loud, or perhaps Daphne's anxiety was too overwhelming, but she did not seem to hear what Malfoy had just said.
At that mont, Crabbe and Goyle finally clumsily pushed their way over through the crowd.
Malfoy's eyes lit up imdiately.
He quickly snatched another pair of binoculars from Goyle's hands and looked back toward the battlefield.
"Oh, I knew it!"
His tone sounded noticeably relieved, as though he had just confird sothing.
"That snake already looks half dead. It's smoking all over like it's been roasted…"
Malfoy suddenly stopped speaking and adjusted the focus of the binoculars.
"When did Lucien get a sword?"
"It's shiny…"
"And honestly, it looks pretty cool…"
The gasps, whispers, and frightened discussions of the students blended together into a noisy backdrop.
Amid all of it, a series of clicking and clattering sounds stood out especially clearly.
Harry temporarily lowered his binoculars and looked over curiously, only to discover that Colin Creevey nearby was holding a dark, bulky "short cannon" while frantically pressing the shutter.
The cara was aid directly at the distant battlefield on the lawn.
"Colin, what are you…"
Colin's eyes remained fixed on the cara's viewfinder while his fingers continued moving nonstop.
"My old cara broke, so Lucien lent this one. The magical world is seriously amazing! That giant snake is the sa thing that attacked last ti!"
"This is absolutely explosive news! Lucien even suggested a while ago that I should consider becoming a reporter…"
Sohow, this seemingly absurd behavior slightly eased the suffocating heaviness in Harry's chest.
Shaking his head, Harry raised the binoculars once more and looked back toward the devastated lawn.
The torrential rain, the blazing wall of fire, and the steaming mist all rged together into a blurred, flickering barrier that separated the man and the serpent from the outside world.
Then suddenly, everyone holding binoculars witnessed a scene they would never forget.
Lucien charged straight toward the Basilisk.
His longsword cut through the rain curtain as it powerfully slashed downward toward the Basilisk's roaring head.
Across the surface of the slender silver blade, scorching magical flas erupted brilliantly, while thick purple-and-cyan arcs of lightning crackled wildly through the fire.
This single strike carried unstoppable determination as it descended straight downward.
BOOM!!!
White lightning fell from the heavens.
Golden flas surged upward from the earth.
The lightning was blinding.
The flas were monstrous.
At that instant, everyone's vision went completely white.
All that remained was the thunder, the storm, and the pounding heartbeats of every witness.
The cold and gloomy Chamber of Secrets.
Gurgle, gurgle—~~!
Lockhart added the final ingredient into the boiling cauldron.
"It's finally finished."
Tom had told him that this magic-enhancing potion possessed an extrely short shelf life, leaving him no choice but to brew it at the last minute.
Lockhart raised his head and stared toward the enormous pitch-black pipe overhead before taking several deep breaths.
"Now that the Basilisk is attacking throughout the castle, Harry Potter should already be petrified. As long as I drink this potion…"
The mont he drank it, Lockhart would make his grand entrance as a "hero."
He would display spectacular and refined magic, relying upon unparalleled courage and wisdom to repel the Basilisk.
None of this would be difficult.
After all, the Basilisk itself was under his control.
The only troubleso part was directing the Basilisk to cooperate properly with the performance.
Defeating the Basilisk.
Saving the petrified students.
Protecting Harry Potter.
Safeguarding the future of the magical world.
Lockhart could already see endless glory and fa beckoning toward him.
"I might even receive a First Class Order of rlin. An achievent like this should definitely qualify…"
As soone who already possessed a Third Class Order of rlin, Lockhart understood the standards for the award very clearly.
Third Class was relatively easy to obtain.
Second Class, however, required advancing or promoting the developnt of the magical world, with the simplest thod being a major contribution to a particular field.
As for First Class, that was truly difficult.
It required the right timing, the right circumstances, and the right connections, because crises capable of affecting the entire magical world were extrely rare.
Not to ntion personally stopping such a catastrophe.
Now the opportunity stood right before Lockhart.
A terrifying monster had nearly rampaged through Hogwarts, the very place where young witches and wizards were educated, yet all of it would ultimately be stopped by a "hero."
The smile on Lockhart's face was no longer his usual polished and composed expression.
Instead, it carried an exaggerated theatricality that he would normally never reveal.
He lowered his head toward the old diary in his hands, preparing to share the joy of his imminent success with Tom.
Then he suddenly saw a new line appear across the page.
"No, you missed a few ingredients…"
Unlike the usual black handwriting, these words were blood-red.
Lockhart's brows imdiately furrowed.
For so reason, an uneasy feeling began rising within his heart.
He quickly picked up the peacock quill, preparing to write a reply inside the diary.
"I'm certain I added everyth—"
In the very next second, Lockhart's eyes widened violently.
Wisps of black smoke suddenly burst from the surface of the diary pages, writhing outward like venomous snakes spilling from a nest.
The pitch-black smoke rapidly gathered and condensed together, instantly forming a human figure.
A young man with black hair and black eyes appeared before him.
His features were sharp and cold, while a faint mocking smile rested upon his lips.
Yet his eyes were utterly indifferent and devoid of life as he silently looked down at Lockhart.
"You…"
Lockhart was genuinely frightened by the sight.
This kind of appearance clearly belonged to sothing evil.
It resembled the dark creatures tied to curses and the Dark Arts from those adventure stories he had stolen and republished.
No.
Lockhart suddenly felt that this young man, handso though he was, seed even less human than the ugly dark creatures described in those books.
"You don't recognize already, my 'friend'?"
When the black-haired young man spoke, Lockhart involuntarily swallowed hard and slowly stepped half a pace backward.
"Oh, haha, it's Tom! This is the first ti I've seen your true appearance. It's… truly astonishing."
Lockhart forced himself to remain calm as he slipped the peacock quill back into his pocket, where his wand was also hidden.
"Um, Tom, you said I missed an ingredient. Which ingredient was it?"
________
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