When it came to running away and sneaking around, Lockhart was one of the finest in the wizarding world. Even some famous experts had fallen prey to him, fooled by his expression and manner. Caught completely off guard, they had had their minds wiped clean with a single "Obliviate," their own experiences made to serve Lockhart's fame.
Vacation with a Hag.
Voyages with Trolls.
And behind some of those catchy titles were the blood, sweat, and tears of wizards who had truly dealt with Dark Creatures!
They had all been fooled with ease by the young man before them, who had stolen the glory that rightfully belonged to them with the Memory Charm.
It was a pity, though.
At the peak of his glory, his wand had backfired, and he had forgotten it all.
In the darkness of the townhouse, Lockhart's hand found the front door. He turned his wrist and quietly opened it.
Even now, he kept his heartbeat at a steady, calm pace. His heart beat in a way that wouldn't alert anyone.
At that rate, his heartbeat wouldn't give him away in the stillness, either.
There was no difference between his heartbeat now and at any other time.
What did it mean to be a professional?
This was professionalism!
His expression was even more composed.
He felt no relief at all about escaping the wolves' den.
He had mastered his expression and heartbeat to a remarkable degree. He was a born performer, able to control even his body's hormone production at a moment like this.
Unfortunately,
none of it mattered in front of someone who never fell asleep.
Before Lockhart opened the door, Dewey was already standing behind him.
Like a statue, he watched it all unfold without expression or feeling.
As Lockhart opened the door, on