"Co in, Professor Lockhart," Adrian said with careful politeness, his voice carrying the warm tone of a concerned colleague as he opened the office door.
"Thank you," Lockhart replied, his famous smile flickering across his face like a candle in the wind. He followed Adrian into his office with the reluctant steps of a man walking toward his own execution.
Once they were inside, Adrian began his examination of the space, taking in every detail of the surroundings. In fact, this was his first ti entering Lockhart's office sanctum.
It was pretty much as he had imagined.
The office was a shrine to narcissism in the flashiest things money could buy.
Lockhart's preference for gorgeous, eye-searing colors had transford the office space into sothing that resembled a gaudy carnival more than a professor's office. The walls were covered with gold-frad portraits of the himself. Each painting showed that signature toothy smile with chanical precision.
But the crown jewel of this temple to self-worship stood in the corner: a life-sized marble statue of Lockhart himself.
After sitting down on a plush purple sofa that probably cost more than most wizards earned in a year, Lockhart tried to regain so facade of control over the situation. His voice had a strained tone as he addressed his unwelco guest. "Why don't you... go about your business? I'm feeling much better now... really. I'm sure you have important matters to attend to."
Adrian, however, had no intention of leaving so easily. He wandered through the office with leisurely confidence, his fingers trailing along book spines and examining trinkets with the air of a man who had all the ti in the world.
After hearing Lockhart's obvious attempt to dismiss him, Adrian turned and gave him a warm smile.
"Oh, I'm not in a hurry at all," He said with the easy grace of soone settling in for a long visit. "Let's have a proper chat, Professor Lockhart. It's been far too long since we've had the opportunity for a real conversation."
"All... all right," Lockhart replied dryly.
The irony of the situation wasn't lost.
At the beginning of the school year, Lockhart had been very sociable, constantly cornering fellow professors in corridors and common areas to entertain them with tales of his supposed adventures and achievents.
But tonight was a complete reversal of that—Lockhart sat in unusual silence, his usual talkative nature replaced by an almost painful reluctance to talk.
But Adrian knew that Lockhart was probably secretly cursing him in his heart right now. And honestly, it felt quite good.
He even leisurely made two cups of tea using the tea leaves Lockhart had on his desk, naturally handing one cup to Lockhart.
"...Thank you?" Lockhart accepted the cup with an expression that looked like he suspected it might be poisoned.
Adrian savored his tea with appreciation, while Lockhart held his cup like a shield, the tea growing cold as he forgot to drink.
Then, with the casual air of soone making polite conversation, Adrian suddenly spoke.
"Professor Lockhart, who do you think the 'heir' in the castle really is? I find myself quite puzzled by recent events."
Hearing Adrian's words, Lockhart's head jerked up with such intensity that tea splashed close to the rim of his cup, nearly flowing over the edge to stain his expensive robes.
However, Lockhart quickly composed himself.
"The heir?" Lockhart said, his voice pitched slightly higher than usual as he fought to show confidence. "Wasn't that big fellow already taken away by the Ministry? It's obviously Hagrid! Since the Ministry of Magic saw fit to arrest him, there must be substantial evidence of his guilt!"
His words ca out in a rush, falling over each other with the desperate energy of a man trying to convince himself as much as his audience.
"But all the professors believe in Hagrid's innocence," Adrian observed mildly, taking another sip of his tea as if discussing the weather. " Hagrid just doesn't seem like that kind of person who would do such things."
"That's exactly where you're wrong, Professor Westeros!" Lockhart exclaid, suddenly vigorous by a burst of nervous energy that propelled him to his feet.
"In this world, many people's face and heart are completely different. "Who knows what darkness lurks behind even the most innocent.... Of course, I'm not speaking ill of Hagrid personally, you understand, but based on my rich experience dealing with all manner of people, the Ministry of Magic is probably not wrong."
Adrian watched this performance with the interest of a theater critic observing a particularly poor production. When Lockhart's nervous energy was finally exhausted, he spoke gently.
"Oh, well, I think we should change the subject,"
Lockhart seed to breathe a sigh of relief. It seed this topic was sowhat sensitive for him.
The relief, however, was destined to be short-lived.
"Do you know that Hogwarts has many interesting rooms?" Adrian asked like soone making idle conversation, though his eyes remained focused on Lockhart's face.
"Interesting rooms?"
Lockhart showed a puzzled expression. He didn't know why Adrian was bringing this random topic at this ti.
"For example," Adrian looked at Lockhart with a half-smile, "on the eighth floor of the castle, near a rather amusing tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy's unfortunate encounter with trolls, there's a quite wonderful room. Those of us who know of its existence call it the Room of Requirent."
"Oh," Lockhart said, his voice pitched just a note too high to sound natural, "Room of Requirent? That does sound interesting. I'll definitely have to check it out when I get the chance."
Even as he spoke, fine beads of sweat had already appeared on his forehead.
Adrian observed these signs of distress.
"Tsk," He said softly, putting down his teacup shook his head with theatrical regret, his expression showing disappointnt. "I had hoped you could act more convincingly, Professor Lockhart. Really, for soone who built a career on fabrication, your performance this evening has been quite subpar."
Although Adrian wasn't as perceptive as Dumbledore, he could clearly sense that while Lockhart's tone was calm, his breathing was very erratic.
The man was lying, and doing so with all the subtlety of a rampaging hippogriff.
"You... what do you an?" Lockhart still insisted stubbornly on maintaining his facade of innocence. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about, Professor Westeros."
Adrian looked at Lockhart with a patient expression. Devil's Snare was already ready beneath his clothes.
"I lost sothing in that room," Adrian said, smiling slightly atLockhart. "It was a piece of paper—sothing quite important to . Do you happen to have any clues about its whereabouts, Professor Lockhart?"
Lockhart's expression imdiately darkened.
The temperature in the office suddenly dropped.
Then, Adrian took out an empty bottle from his pocket and placed it on the table.
Lockhart looked at the bottle in disbelief, "You actually—"
He was all too familiar with this bottle.
Before Lockhart could finish speaking, Devil's Snare vines had already burst from beneath Adrian's robes, heading straight for Lockhart.
At the critical mont, Lockhart lunged forward rolling awkwardly to avoid the grasping vines.
He lay sprawled on the ground in a sorry state, his golden hair disheveled across his forehead. But when he looked up at Adrian from his position on the floor, a cold glint flashed in his eyes.
However, Adrian didn't see fear or terror in his eyes.
"Ah, so you actually discovered it," Lockhart said as he gracefully rose to his feet. He dusted off his robes like soone who had just stumbled during a walk. When he looked at Adrian again, his entire deanor had shifted like a mask being removed.
"But I must say, peeking at other people's mories is quite impolite, Professor Westeros."
Seeing Lockhart's deanor, Adrian knew he probably had so backup plan and imdiately controlled the Devil's Snare to approach.
However, instead of attempting to fight or defend himself, Lockhart—or whatever was controlling him—did sothing entirely unexpected. Instead, he made a desperate dash straight to the corner behind the statue.
With a "click" sound, he disappeared there.
Adrian approached and discovered a pitch-black opening in the floor, just large enough for one person to pass through. He really hadn't expected such preparations.
But even with such precautions, where could Lockhart hope to escape to?
"Lumos!" Adrian said, sending a sphere of brilliant white light down into the darkness below.
The light showed rough stone walls and what appeared to be a tunnel extending beyond the reach of his light.
After ensuring that his Devil's Snare was in front of him to guard against any surprise attacks from above, Adrian made his decision. Without hesitation, he jumped through the opening.
The passage wasn't long. In just a few seconds, Adrian was standing on solid ground. The light ball illuminated the entire space. Adrian held his wand, vigilantly looking around.
This was an underground chamber. The not-too-large space was dark and damp, empty except for the sound of water droplets seeping from the walls and dripping to the floor.
Looking at the ground, Adrian discovered many strange traces—like those left by a basilisk crawling. He even saw so basilisk blood, probably left when it was injured before.
Obviously, the basilisk had been hidden by Lockhart in this place all along.
No wonder they couldn't find the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets—it had already been moved by Lockhart.
"Lockhart?" Adrian called out, his voice echoing strangely in the space.
At that mont, in the shadows at the depths of the room, Lockhart was standing in front of a massive stone door.
"Oh, you actually dared to chase down here, Westeros, do you have any idea what you're facing now?"
Lockhart shook his head and said regretfully,
"If you had simply turned back just now, you might have had a chance at survival. But now..."
The words trailed off into silence.
Before Adrian could answer, Lockhart's mouth suddenly began making "hissing" sounds.
Adrian was naturally very familiar with this ability.
That was Parseltongue.
Now, Adrian could basically confirm that Voldemort was currently in Lockhart's body.
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