Lockhart is panicking.
The one targeting him was none other than Vincent, the nemesis of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who had just earned the title of "Snake Hunter".
Is it really so bad that we can't even pack our things and run away?
Hello everyone, can't we just cut ties with Hogwarts from now on and be complete strangers?
"Professor Lockhart, where are you—"
Lockhart, hiding in the Trophy Room on the fourth floor, covered his mouth tightly, trying his best to keep quiet and not make any noise.
He suddenly remembered his predecessor, Quirinus Quirrell, and his tragic end.
All I did was steal a Sorcerer's Stone, and now I've lost an arm, a hand, and my sewn-up body is ruined.
The key issue is that it damaged his brain, turning him into a seemingly intelligent person with a blank stare, drooling, and only able to babble.
He, Gilderoy Lockhart, is an internationally renowned figure and author, a recipient of the Order of Merlin, Third Class, an honorary member of the Defense Against the Dark Arts League, and a five-time winner of The Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award.
If he becomes as clever as Quirrell, wouldn't that disappoint the expectations of countless fans?
"Professor Lockhart, I know you're here—" These were the whispers of a demon from hell.
My heart is racing, and blood is rushing to my head.
Lockhart had never experienced this feeling of palpitation before.
"Tap-tap-tap" The footsteps outside grew closer and closer.
At that moment, he thought of more past events.
I first met Vincent at the awarding ceremony of the Order of Merlin.
The second time we met was at a book signing event at Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley.
Then, before the first Defense Against the Dark Arts.
He knew perfectly well everything from the initial indifference to the coldness, and then to the undisguised disgust.
"Creak—" The door to the Trophy Room was opened from the outside.
"Professor Lockhart, are you there?"
That's terrifying.
Vincent seemed to know where he was, and after arriving on the fourth floor, he deliberately walked into this area.
As expected of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, he was able to pinpoint the location with remarkable accuracy.
Lockhart leaned back against a large trophy, raising his eyes with difficulty to look up.
A very faint light illuminated a handsome young face.
Those large, deep blue eyes seemed to conceal endless killing intent beneath their calm surface.
Is it coming?
Will it be a severed arm or leg, or a severed head this time?
Will I be disfigured? Or will I become incredibly intelligent?
"Ah—" He suffered a violent blow to the back of his head and slid to the ground with his neck twisted to the side.
Vincent, holding the wand, was a little confused.
Lockhart was acting suspiciously, and he even shrank back into the stairwell with a briefcase. Even a fool would know he was about to pack up and run away.
The footsteps were quite loud, which was a good way to pass the time.
After strolling in slowly, Lockhart deliberately bumped the back of his head against the trophy.
Self-harm?
I never expected him to have such a peculiar fetish, and I never expected him to faint so suddenly.
Merlin testifies! Vincent really didn't even touch him!
Perhaps Tom drained too much of her life force, because she was knocked unconscious by Sprout just now.
After comforting the fragile little heart, Vincent half-squatted next to Lockhart's big face.
After gently patting him a few times to confirm he was unconscious, he looked at the suitcase that had fallen to the ground.
If nothing unexpected happens, that diary that records my embarrassing past should still be there.
After rummaging through those flashy clothes, I indeed found this little black notebook.
In this day and age, who among respectable families would write their innermost thoughts in a diary?
Can what you write in your diary be called your innermost thoughts?
Vincent quickly shook his little head and casually flipped through the diary.
There wasn't a single drop of ink on it; it probably really contained some heartfelt words.
He closed his diary and looked at Lockhart with a rather depressed expression.
It's disgusting, but it's better than letting them get away.
He had only taken two steps, dragging his arm, when he spotted a very familiar name in the glass cabinet in front of him.
Hogwarts Special Contribution Award – Tom Marvolo Riddle
This full name looks more familiar.
Vincent threw off Lockhart's arm and wrote the name in the air with his wand.
Tom
Marvolo
Riddle
By lightly tapping a few letters with the tip of the staff, removing three, and rearranging them, one obtains "Lord".
"Voldemort" is the name of Voldemort.
Reversing the remaining "m", "a", and "i" still results in a simple self-introduction:
I
am
Lord
Voldemort
I am Voldemort!?
He twitched the corner of his mouth, finding it hard to believe that this was true.
The Dark Lord, whose shadow looms over the British Isles, has surprisingly changed his name in a very childish way.
Look at his teacher Grindelwald; unless there are special circumstances, he would never change his name or appearance when traveling in the Wizarding World of various countries.
Wait— Riddle?
This surname is neither from the Sacred Twenty-Eight nor does it seem to belong to a historical wizarding family.
But in the Wizarding World, only the Gaunt Family remains who Parseltongue, the Gaunt Family that is so crazy that they even engage in incestuous marriages.
The Potter Family is alright, but where did this unknown Riddle come from?
Want something dramatic, Muggle?
Vincent removed all the letters from the air in front of him, grabbed Lockhart by the leg, and walked out of the Trophy Room.
Perhaps the news was too shocking, because it wasn't until he was dragged into the ruins of the armored corridor that he realized he should have grabbed his arm.
The cloak was worn through, and there was a bald patch on the back of his head.
Merlin testifies! He didn't do it on purpose!
To prevent Lockhart from turning on him after waking up, he had no choice but to cast Levitation Charm on the flashy outfit.
Upon reaching the second floor, Cedric, who was on guard nearby, immediately gasped in shock.
They went up one after the other, and they came down one after the other.
What did you do to him?
Vincent blinked innocently, "You might not believe it, but I didn't actually do anything."
"So he can do that?" Cedric instinctively took a few steps back.
"Um—even if I did, it wasn't intentional."
"I believe you." Cedric forced a smile. "Although he was a victim, he was still connected to that person."
"I'm serious." Vincent, sounding a little aggrieved.
"I'm serious."
The title of "the bane of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor" is likely to be firmly attached to him.
"Never mind him for now, where are Fred and George?"
"I'm going downstairs to kill some time."
Lockhart was the second victim tonight, but who will have the honor of becoming the third?
Vincent had just come down to the first floor when he saw Marcus whizzing past him.
This is probably the third victim, after all, Percy was also chasing after them.
"Merlin bless us, and may Tom be the only victim tonight—"
After making his wish, he entered the Great Hall and calmly placed Lockhart on the long table opposite Trelawney.
Sprout reached out his hand.
That's great, the person is still alive.
"What's wrong with him?"
"I saw him accidentally bump the back of his head, so I kindly brought him back."
"I see—" Sprout patted his heart.
Kind-hearted, she feared that she had knocked Lockhart bald because she had used too much force.
Since he did it accidentally, it has nothing to do with her.